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New Eden 26

Stephanie

It's Hard to be a Man

"You're going to have to stall Patrick," Abigail said over the phone. "I won't be able to get there before he does." "But what do I do?" Ian replied fearfully. "Just talk about anything. Just keep him occupied for as long as possible. I'll give the signal to Amanda. With luck, she can get out in time without meeting Patrick or alerting Hank. Now move!" Ian headed as quickly as he could down to reception. His heart was racing. What was he going to say to Patrick? He was the last person on Earth Ian wanted to talk to. It meant having to face up to having had sex with a man. The minutes passed slowly, and Ian was beginning to hope that Abigail had got it wrong and Patrick had gone somewhere else. That hope was dashed when he saw Patrick's car pull past reception and into the car park. Ian tried to act casual as his boss walked into reception. He had to keep Patrick from realizing what he was doing. Despite himself, his mouth dropped open when he saw what Patrick had on. His boss was wearing a short, and rather tight, black mini-skirt, a revealing blouse, and a dark jacket. He also had several rings and bracelets on. The effect was topped with makeup and clip-on earrings. Patrick turned to look at Ian. "Hiya," he said brightly. "Uh...hi," Ian managed to reply. "Are you okay? You're looking an odd color." "Sorry, I was just thinking about what happened last time we met." Idiot! he berated himself, couldn't you find something else to talk about? "It's disturbing you, isn't it?" Patrick asked softly. "Well, yeah, obviously. I mean you're a man after all." Patrick shook his head. "Not anymore. I'm a woman now and I always will be. Anyway, Hank doesn't have a problem with my body." "Of course he doesn't! He doesn't know you're Patrick!" Pretending not to notice what he was doing, Patrick brushed back the jacket, revealing the curve of his breast through his blouse. He was amused to see Ian's eyes flick over his curves. Men were so easy to control. "Look, Ian. I'm a woman, a very sexy one in fact, and I turned you on so much you lost control. It's hardly your fault. It's a pity I'm with Hank; you're not bad looking yourself." Patrick moved closer and was amused to see Ian stumble backwards. "Don't worry, I don't bite. Unless you want me to." He turned and walked over to the elevator. It took Ian several seconds to recover and remember what he was supposed to be doing. He barely had time to catch up with Patrick before the elevator doors closed on him. "You... you shouldn't deceive Hank like this. It isn't right." "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not deceiving him. I'm exactly who I appear to be. Anyway, what are you going to do about it? Tell Hank?" Ian was silent. Of course he couldn't tell Hank. He'd never be believed. They arrived on the fourth floor, and Patrick set off as fast as he could on his high heels towards his office.If only Abigail had managed to stop him escaping his apartment on Friday and had succeeded in breaking the curse. Patrick's stomach gave another lurch as he remembered how he had escaped by giving Ian a blowjob and then breaking free. He couldn't turn back into a man just yet; the clothes he had on were too obviously feminine. He calmed himself down, dried his eyes with a tissue, and started driving again. He would go back to his apartment and dress in his male clothes. Then he'd burn every piece of female clothing in the place. Ian rode his motorbike the few streets to where Abigail and Amanda were waiting. "Did Hank see Patrick turn male?" was Amanda's first question. "I don't think so," Ian replied. "He seemed more worried about what Patrick would do when he found out. He wasn't too happy you'd disappeared either." "Typical," Amanda remarked, "he wanted two women at once and now he's surprised he's lost both." "The big question, though," Abigail pointed out, "is: Has this worked? Are we still dealing with 'Rebecca', or is Patrick back in charge?" "I hope it worked," Ian said fervently, "I do not want to go through that again." "You two get some rest," Abigail said. "You've done everything possible for one night. I'll go over to his apartment alone and see what sort of state he's in." Amanda was a little reluctant to leave at that point. She wanted to know if her plan had worked. Ian, however, was only too happy to get home and relax. Abigail's car was still playing up a little, but it worked well enough to allow her to reach Patrick's apartment building. She knocked quietly at the door to his apartment and waited. She wished her own psychic powers were good enough to see if he was in there or not. She knocked again and waited nervously. She was about to leave when she heard a movement behind the door. Then the door opened a crack, and she was relieved to see Patrick's male face poking around it. He looked so forlorn that she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Without saying a word, Patrick let her into the apartment. They looked at each other in silence for several long seconds. Finally, Patrick spoke, "You three planned that, didn't you?" "Yes," she admitted, "it was Amanda's idea, but we all went along with it. It was a desperate move, but we had to do something. I'm really sorry, Patrick." He sighed and slumped down in an armchair. "I don't think I've ever been so happy than I was this weekend. Everything was perfect. Or so it seemed at the time. Now I can't believe a quarter of the things I've done in the last few days. I was totally and completely in love with Hank. I would have done anything for him. Anything! I was even playing with the idea of getting pregnant! I thought that would bind us together forever. I probably wouldn't have seen him for dust if I had told him he was going to be a father." Patrick's hand flew to his belly. "You don't think I did get pregnant? We didn't use any protection!" "It probably doesn't matter. You're a man right now, and even if... something did happen... it probably disappeared when you turned male." Patrick managed a weak smile, "That's probably a good thing. I don't think I'd make a good Mom." He was uncomfortably aware that a part of him was upset by the idea of a lost child. "I really, truly, am sorry about all this," Abigail told him. "We will do everything we can to sort this out, but it is going to be a few weeks before we can perform the ceremony again." "I'm stuck like this for several more weeks?" he asked despairingly. "I'd forgotten the strain it took just to stay male. I can feel the pressure already building within me." "Perhaps you should take the next few weeks off work. Just until everything is sorted out." "I can't do that! There's far too much to do." "It can wait," she replied exasperated, "Your health is more important." "Don't worry, Abigail. I'll be fine." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." "Okay, but I want you to call either me, Amanda or Ian if you need help." "I will," he replied. He felt a little reticent at going for Amanda or Ian for help, but it wasn't like he'd have much choice. He would have to depend on these three considerably over the next few weeks. He hadn't needed to be supported like that since before he had gone to University, and it hurt his male pride a little. Abigail didn't want to leave Patrick alone, but he insisted. He said he had a lot of things to think through, so she left him to it. After she had left, Patrick returned to the main room and sat back in the chair. His emotions were a jumbled mess, and nothing seemed certain anymore. His affair with Hank went against every fiber of his being, and yet, it had felt good to be held in those powerful arms. He winced as he remembered how he had tricked Ian into freeing him. He was a good few years younger than Patrick, but he was so cute. Patrick wished he could stop those odd little thoughts entering his head. He knew it wasn't a sign that he might snap back into sex-kitten mode, but it showed that his whole perception of the world had been permanently altered. Soon, he was going to have to change into a woman again. Every second spent male meant he had to expend effort to stop himself changing sex. He was going to have to spend most evenings as a woman to give himself the mental energy to last the day at work as a man. This was a battle he could win, he decided. All he had to do was hold back the female desires for the several weeks necessary. Then, when fully male again, the female desires would slowly disappear. A part of him didn't truly believe he had the stamina. The way he had so disastrously lost control before deeply worried him. The knowledge of what could happen if he slipped again only increased his determination to resist it. He allowed his body to turn female again. He was relieved to find that his mind didn't change as well as his body. It looked like 'Becky' was gone for good. He just wished that his male body felt half as comfortable and familiar as this one did. The office was filled with a tense atmosphere the next morning. Everyone was worried about something different, but it all led back to 'Becky'. Hank was worried about what Becky might have said to Patrick. She had been a weird girl, but very good in bed. He still couldn't make any sense about what Amanda had been up to the previous evening. It was almost as if she had been trying to drive a wedge between himself and Becky, but why would she want to do that? He wondered if Amanda really was available. It would be best to leave that well alone as he was probably in enough trouble over Becky as it was. Ian was terrified about meeting Patrick for the first time since his boss had regained his senses. How would Patrick react to what he and Ian had done together? Susan was wondering what the hell was going on with everyone and how it could affect her job. Outside in the car park, Patrick was trying to calm himself down before heading up to the office. He had let his body become mostly female so he would be able to concentrate on driving. Now he had reached work, he gathered his will together and concentrated until his body turned fully male again. He adjusted his clothing and then headed inside the building and into the elevator. He worried over meeting Hank again. How could their friendship survive the intimacy they had shared? Even if only one of them knew they had been intimate with the other. "Hiya, Patrick!" Hank said smiling broadly as Patrick walked into the office. "I was sorry to hear about your cousin." Hank's eye was bruised and swollen. Patrick remembered the cover story he had given as Becky to explain his disappearance. "It's okay, we weren't that close, but there was no-one else to deal with everything." He frowned at Hank's black eye. "What happened to you?" "Oh, that," Hank said and laughed a little nervously. "I...uh... walked into a door." Patrick couldn't help but smile at the lame excuse. "I hope she was worth it." Hank relaxed a little. He assumed by Patrick's attitude that his friend and boss had no idea what had happened between him and Becky. "She was." Patrick looked up at the rest of his staff. He saw Ian at the back looking nervous. "Right, we've got a lot to do, and no time to do it in. So I need one-hundred and ten percent effort from all of you today." He headed into his inner office and sighed at the mountain of work. It had certainly built up while he had been playing the bimbo. He settled down behind his desk and relaxed his control on the lower half of his body. Within a few seconds, his hips widened as he felt a by now familiar pulling sensation in his crotch as he turned physically female. He squirmed in his chair to get comfortable and then turned to the reports. Despite his attempts to concentrate on the files, he couldn't help but return to thinking about his condition. It was only natural that his female form would feel more comfortable than his male one as he had spent so much time in recent days as a woman. As the hours passed, his headache started to return with a vengeance. If only he could be a woman and keep his job, he thought to himself. Then he wouldn't feel so sick all the time. It was, of course, impossible as his female self did not officially exist, had no qualifications and had no job history. Was being a woman so bad anyway? As long as he kept his own mind instead of becoming Becky again. Sex on the opposite side had been fantastic. Patrick looked through the glass partition at the rest of the office. He'd always see Hank, Ian and perhaps all men in a different way from now on. He could now see the beauty in men's bodies. He found himself scanning male bodies just as much as female ones. That was discomforting to him, and he hoped that his bisexuality would fade in time.Even if it did, he doubted it would be a door that would ever fully close. By lunchtime, his headache was getting serious. He knew he'd need to take time out and rest in his female form at Abigail's bookshop. Patrick would have preferred to have set an example to the rest of his staff and work through his lunch break, but he knew he'd never survive the day if he did. Barely able to keep his body male, he headed down and out of the building and over to Abigail's shop. Patrick sensed someone following him and he turned to see Ian a few feet behind him. Ian looked embarrassed, "I-I need to talk to you." Patrick nodded. If anything, Ian was more disturbed about what had happened between them than Patrick was. "Okay, let's keep walking. I need to get to Abigail's for a break." Ian clearly didn't want to say anything in public so they walked in silence the short distance to the New Age bookstore. Abigail smiled as she saw Patrick enter. "How are you?" "Splitting headache, but other than that, I'm okay," Patrick replied. He could see she was surprised Ian was with him. "Could I ask a favor?" "Of course," Abigail replied. "Ian and I need to talk in private and..." "Say no more," Abigail interrupted. "Go on upstairs." "Thanks, Abigail." Abigail smiled at Ian as he passed her on his way upstairs. He smiled back nervously and then followed Patrick up the narrow stairs to Abigail's apartment. Patrick slumped down in an armchair when he got there and undid the top few buttons of his shirt. Ian was about to ask Patrick why he was doing that when Patrick's body started to writhe and change. Ian's jaw dropped open as he watched his boss' body turn female. He had never seen the change up close before. His eyes ran over the voluptuous woman's body enclosed in a male suit with a mixture of horror and lust. Despite himself, Patrick's feminine form was turning him on. He consciously avoided looking down Patrick's exposed cleavage. This only confirmed that the decision he had reached was the right one. Patrick broke the silence, "So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked in, what seemed to Ian, a devastatingly sexy female voice. "Well..." Ian started. "I can't get over what happened, and being around you and Hank every day only makes it worse. I've decided to resign. It'd be better for both of us if we didn't see each other." "You don't need to do that," Patrick replied quietly. He could see how much pain Ian was in. "The last few days have been traumatic for all of us, but we can work it out. In time everything will get back to normal." Ian realized his gaze had slipped down to Patrick's barely concealed breasts again. He looked away and shuddered. "You don't understand. Part of me doesn't want anything to change; it wants you so much. That's why I have to back off." Patrick took in several long gasps to try to calm himself down. "I gotta go," he said abruptly before bolting for the stairs down to the shop. "Ian, wait up!" Patrick called, but Ian didn't listen and was out of the shop as fast as he could go. Patrick walked over to the window and watched Ian run off. He could feel tears in the corners of his eyes, but couldn't quite work out why he felt so sad.

Part Eleven

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/15109.txt

MarArch

Time Of Possession

"Straight" she said, her voice tolerant yet firm. Ralph instinctively felt his spine straighten, his head lift, his shoulders square, though his hands remained lightly placed on his folded thighs, relaxed and at rest. Donna sat in the chair before him, leaning back, legs crossed, fingers laced, eyeing him as he knelt, naked, on the floor at her feet. She had on her corset still but the thong and boots were discarded somewhere for the moment. "Do you feel silly, baby" she said quietly. "No, Miss" he said. "Why not. You're kneeling, buck naked in the middle of your own den, at the feet of some strange woman. You don't feel the least bit foolish?" "No, I don't." "So.... what do you feel." "I - " he hesitated, unable to find the correct words. "I don't know, Miss. Not foolish." "Happy? Aroused? Warm?" she asked. He did not respond but she could see from his face that he was probing his own reactions to this completely new situation. She smiled at him. "Well, don't worry about it for now, pet. We don't know what your nature is yet, do we. But we will. We will." She studied him for a long moment then... "What do you want, pet. Right this moment. What do you want." He hesitated only a split second. "My wife" he said, quietly. "Why" she said. "Because I love her. I need her." "In spite of everything she's done." "Yes." "In spite of all the pain she's caused you." "Yes." "In spite of the selfishness she's shown. The disregard for your feelings." "Yes." Donna nodded slowly, considering all this. "Well then" she finally responded with a sigh "we have a lot to do, don't we." She uncrossed her legs and extended a foot until it was pointed at his face. "Kiss" she said. Ralph leaned down, taking the heel of her bare foot gently in his grasp and brushing his lips along the top of the arch. A light sigh escaped from Donna as she felt herself relax into the chair, and then she felt his teeth, lightly raking the skin of her foot, the tip of his tongue tickling between the faint scratch they produced that rippled up her leg as a shiver. Her gaze fixed on him, now almost wary, as his lips trailed down toward her toes, and then they parted from her skin and he leaned back up, still holding her heel, his thumb gently stroking it. "Why did you do that" she said, a touch of amusement and surprise in her voice. "I wanted to make you feel good, Miss" he said and she could see the smile that he wasn't allowing to be displayed on his lips. "Did you." "Yes, Miss" he said, and now the impudent little puppy was actually smug, she thought. "Well, if that's the case" she said, lifting her buttocks and sliding down in the chair so her pussy rested just on the edge of the seat and spreading her legs "then you'd better do it properly." And now the grin flooded his face and he began to lean down onto all fours, his head approaching her openness. "Stop" she said, suddenly, sharply and though his body jerked to a halt and his gaze flicked to meet her, questioning, she could see the disappointment in his eyes. "Stand up" she said. He rose, his brows beginning to furrow in confusion. "Turn around." Slowly he rotated until his back was facing her. "Hands back" she said, reaching down beside the chair to scoop up the short length of rope she had placed there along with the other little items before he had arrisen that morning. Ralph slid his arms behind his back and grasped one wrist with the other hand. She smiled to herself, knowing that he was in for a bit more of a surprise than he must have been thinking. Deftly she took his wrists, pulling his hands apart and bending them, pressing them up and into the small of his back until the forearms crossed along their length. His body bent back slightly and he cried out in surprise and pain. "Shh!" she hissed, sternly, gripping both of his forearms in a single firm hand and quickly swatting his backside with a resounding crack. "Relax!" she said, forcefully. "I - it hurts!" he whined. "And it will as long as you fight against it, now relax!" The pain of the strained joints of Ralphs shoulders throbbed through him and he wanted to pull away, forcefully, knock her away, get to a safe distance... but instead he struggled to focus and will his muscles to unbind and stretch. The pain peaked for a brief moment but then it began to flow away, like a sound fading into the distance, and soon he was merely aware of the tightness, the sensation of restriction as he felt her expertly feeding the rope between his arms and spine, over and over and drawing it tight, roping his arms together in place and immobile behind him. He felt odd, his chest forced out in an unnatural posture as he allowed his shoulders to ease back, the discomfort slowly dissolving to.... to what, he thought.... not pain any more... not even particularly unpleasant. Just an odd feeling... a helplessness that was, in a way, strangely appealing. "Now" he heard her say behind him "turn around". He slowly rotated in place and saw that she was once again leaning far back in the chair, her legs thrown up over the padded arms, her naked, smooth pussy open and glistening before him. "Now... please me, pet." He slowly, carefully lowered himself to one knee and even as he moved he felt a sense of gracefulness, his need to control each shift of weight and angle of his body as it descended, lest he topple over, forcing him to make each motion smooth and fluid, as if he were some sort of dancer. The wonder of the sensation, the realization that possibly for the first time in his life such a simple act was so much more significant than it had ever been before flooded through him and by the time he came to rest on his knees between her spread thighs, he felt a sense of glowing within himself of... what... pride? Wonder at his own grace? His eyes fixed on hers and she could see his startled confusion. "I know, baby" she said quietly. "It doesn't feel at all like you thought it would, does it." "No, Miss, it feels.... good" his tone full with surprise. "Good. Now, make me feel good, pet." Ralphs eyes fell to her pussy, flicked up to catch her own once more, briefly, then slowly, carefully, he bent over from the waist, until he could smell her arousal, feel the heat of her and finally scoop the tiny drops of her lust onto the tip of his tongue. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to loosen, melting down into the chair as the firm yet soft and flexible tip of his tongue slipped along the lips of her tingling pussy, oozed between them and found her clit. When it slowly, deftly, began to stroke back and forth over the tight, throbbing nub of flesh she felt herself shudder with the tingles that flowed through her body. "Oh baby, you know what you're doing, don't you...." she moaned, allowing the waves of tingling pleasure to sweep over her. "Don't spill a drop, pet... not a single drop..." and she allowed herself to float on the pleasure until she felt the icy-flaming stab of her climax shudder through her.... He was resting back on his haunches, his face beaming with pride and adoration when she slowly slipped her eyes open with a sigh. She saw him, kneeling there, glowing at her, and arched an eyebrow. "What" she said. "Nothing, Miss" he said, airily, his voice smug. "Oh" she said, hoping her tone was sarcastic instead of simply admiring "you like making me cum, do you?" "Yes, Miss" he said. "Why, because it pleased me?" "That too, yes." "But also.....?" He glanced down, a blush rising in his cheeks, before fixing her with his gaze again. "Also..... I'm good, Miss. I'm damned good at that." "Oh ARE you" she said, trying to sound cross but in spite of herself the laughter bubbled out and he joined her, the moment floating between them with a kind of magic. At last she moaned, stretched and pulled her ass back into the chair, straightening, becoming more business-like. "Now, pet, how are your arms." "Fine, Miss" he said, mild surprise in his voice at this admission. "You sure?" "Yes Miss. In fact...." Again the blush rose in him. "What, pet" she said, coaxing. "Well... I kind of like it. It feels... that is, it makes me feel.... I don't know. Something... something good." She emitted a wise sounding "hmmmmm" and stood. "Well, in that case..." She extended a hand and flicked it, indicating for him to rise. His face positively glowed as he planted a foot and pushed himself up to his feet, slowly, magestically. She turned and moved toward the doorway and he fell into step... no, more of a proud prance, he thought with an inner smile, behind her....She looped and pulled the last of the knots tightly, then stepped back to admire her work. God, she thought, lust boiling up in her, how she wanted to own him, rape him, have him screaming and sobbing and hers. He was on his back in the bed, his still bound arms pressing into his spine causing his chest to bow up obscenely, his legs bent double and lashed tightly from upper thigh to ankle but spread wide and held in place by the rope running under the bed that pulled his knees outward. His mouth was held wide and sealed by the bright red ballgag and when she reached down to scoop the chain connecting the nipple clamps over her finger and lifted it until it tugged on him, the muffled groan that welled from him, the tightness with which his eyes locked shut and the straining arch of his body almost caused her to cum right there. But not yet, she thought. Not quite yet. She gently laid the chain on his chest and saw his body relax as the wave passed, his eyes opening, now not quite as focused as they were before and she grinned with her own smugness as she picked up the candle and lighter, igniting the wick and moved back to slip onto the bed, coming to kneel beside him. "So, pet" she said, her eyes fixed on the flame before her. "Are you scared?" He nodded his head sharply, a small whimper bubbling from him. She looked down at him, her expression probing him. "Are you? Really?" He hesitated and then his head shook, his face flushing. "Do you trust me" she said quietly. His nod was emphatic, even though his eyes were wide and doe-like. "Good" she said, and tipped the candle. His body arched and he shouted into the gag as the first drops of the molten wax splashed against his stomach, but she saw his already hard cock twitch and swell. She reached out and wrapped her hand around it, beginning to stroke it lightly even as the wax pattered onto his flesh like burning, pure rain. She could tell when he was about to cum and she quickly slipped down to tightly pinch the root of his cock while she righted the candle, allowing him to drift on the overwhelming flood of sensations. As he began to calm and relax, she tipped the candle once more, drawing more screams... By the time she blew the candle out and gently released his cock, he was cooing quietly behind the gag, his eyes shut, his head lulling back and forth in slow, steady rhythms that seemed to match the pulsing swells of his hard cock. Quickly she scooped up the vibrator, already glistening with the lubricant and placed the blunted tip of it against his ass. He whimpered at the sensation but was not pulled back from his drifting. She turned the switch and the toy leapt to life in her hands. Instantly his body tensed, his head pressing back tightly into the mattress and slowly she pressed the invader against his virginal opening. "Relax, pet" she crooned "just relax and open... you can't prevent it... it's going to happen.... just relax and open and take it into you, take me into you, feel me fuck you, deep inside you and welcome me, pet.... take me inside, baby...." She pressed gently on the toy, slowly adding force and then she felt him relax and open and the toy was sliding into him and he was gasping and shuddering and whimpering and melting all at once as slowly his final sense of virginity flowed from him and into her, the toy slipping deeper and deeper until only the end remained outside his body. Quickly she shifted, lifting a leg and straddling him, holding the impaling impliment deep inside him with one hand, reaching out to lightly slap his face with the other. His eyes shot open and the expression they bore was that of an animal on the point of joy and death. "How does it feel, baby" she crooned, beginning to slowly stroke the humming vibrator in his ass "does it feel good?" His head thrashed, shook and nodded in sequence, confusion overwhelming him. "Your ass is getting fucked, baby, fucked so good..." He nodded sharply, every muscle tensing at the onslaught. "Just like Debras' ass got fucked, right, baby?" A sharp nod, then his eyes rolled back, head pressing hard into the mattress and the tears began to well and spill down his face. "Look at me, baby" she said, quietly but sternly "look at me." His eyes opened and fixed on her once more and there was the pain, flowing out with the tears, but not the pain of hurt or loss. This was the pain of growing understanding. "And you want it, don't you, pet. You want it so badly..." He nodded deeply, tears splashing into small puddles beside his head on the sheets. "You never knew, did you, baby... never knew...." He shook his head, violently, now the sobs starting behind the gag to flavor the flowing tears. "Look at me, baby.... Look..." She shifted, nestling down between his spread legs, as if in a hammock, facing one captured thigh, her own ass resting on the other as she continued to work the vibrator slowly, steadily, gently raping his now open ass. She reached down and took his cock in her hand, raising it and positioning it against her pussy. "I'm going to fuck you now, baby" she said, her voice low and hypnotic. "You're going to feel my cum flood over your cock, and you're going to spray your cum deep inside me." His gaze was fixed on her, but the tears flowed in rivlets down his face, the moist stain beneath his head growing. And she could see it in his eyes... his deepest core... his private, secret place where no one had ever touched, not even his wife whom he loved and cherished and thought he knew... he was open now, helpless and hers to take and possess and own and devour... "Do you want that, baby? Do you want that?" And the sobs burst forth from him even as his head snapped up and down, as if in the last act of a man dying in agony, pleading, hopeless... She pressed down just enough to pin the head of his cock against her pussy and leaned to slip her hand quickly behind his head, unsnapping the gag and pulling it free, tossing it aside, then her hand was back on his cock, holding it captured and hers to consume with her body. "Say it, baby... say it" she whispered. "I - LOVE - YOU!!!", the words boiling out as a desperate cry between the sobs and she plunged down, his cock filling her, splitting her, joining them as one flesh, one heart, one soul, one sensation... one undreamed, fiery, blazing, screaming, blinding of explosion of cumming... together...

M/F+ sm tort ws spoof hardcore cons

part eight

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12004.txt

deirdre

Dress

"Well, you know why Lisa dropped Paul?" It was my sister-in-law, Susan, offering me a tidbit from my wife, Lisa's, past. The three of us were eating dinner one evening, and we had had a few beers. "Susan!" Lisa said it almost as a whine. She looked alarmed. Naturally, I was intrigued. "Paul wanted to do it with Lisa with himself dressed up as a woman!" I giggled, but stifled it quickly when I glanced at Lisa. She was blushing and obviously embarrassed about it. I tried to hold a straight face. "Susan, you didn't have to bring that up!" Lisa had recovered enough to protest verbally. I glanced back at Susan and realized she was watching me closely, out of the corner of her eye. She quickly moved her eyes. "You never told me about Paul." I brought up the subject again on the way home. "I... it isn't *that* weird," Lisa was obviously having trouble talking about it. I don't know why I tortured her. "Weird enough for you to drop him?" "Please, can we drop the subject?" Lisa had found her assurance again. "OK by me." I added, innocently, I hoped. I still couldn't believe that old-fashioned Lisa had been in a situation like that! I could believe it of Susan--she was something else. She was a flirt and a definite cock-tease: whenever Lisa wasn't looking, she seemed to be seeing if she could keep me panting. She was definitely a looker, with long dark hair and a small, but hard body, and she did get me hard often enough, but I knew her type. Well, two nights later, when Lisa was at work, Susan showed up at our front door and invited herself in when I opened it. Now when Susan and I are alone, she always teases me all the more. So I was wondering what she would try this time. One thing: she was dressed to kill, in tight-fitting jeans and a tight body-suit. Oh, I could just reach out and touch... And she wasted no time showing me what I was in for--as soon as the front door was shut, she grabbed my cock! This was way beyond anything she'd done before! "Are you interested?" I was definitely hard. She was grinning at me and rhythmically squeezing my cock through my pants. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself. I reached for her, but she immediately fended my grope with her other hand, dropping a bag on the floor in the process. In seconds, she had my hands in hers, and she was holding my hands against the sides of her hips. She was still grinning at me. She raised my hands so they came up to the sides of her body. "I've got something for you to do," she said, and she put my hands back to my side and picked up the bag. She still had this sly smile. Then out of the bag, she pulled a dress. For a second, I was confused. Then my jaw dropped. "I believe you guessed wrong," I returned. But she had dropped the dress and immediately had my cock in her hand again and was squeezing and massaging it again. I was going crazy. "Come on, just try it!" She taunted me. "It'll be fun just to see what it looks like on you!" She didn't stop working my cock, and I was afraid I might come in my pants. She rubbed her hands up my chest and started unbuttoning my shirt. She was still smiling at me, and she was undoing my pants in seconds, and was pulling down my shorts! She had me sitting on the couch and had my shoes and socks off. Then she had some panties from her bag and she started putting them on me. I couldn't deny that the silky feeling against my skin was erotic. "This'll be great, you'll see," she added. She put the dress over my head. It was black and obviously made to cling, but she seemed to have my size. Then she pulled some high-heels out of the bag and proceeded to put them on my feet. "I got your sizes from Lisa so I could buy you clothes for Christmas," she said with a giggle. Then she pulled me to standing and pulled and adjusted the dress. Then she pulled a wig of long blond hair out of her bag and soon had it on my head. "This'll work great," she said, and she pulled me over toward a mirror, almost toppling me since I had no idea how to handle the high-heels. We got to the mirror, and I looked at myself and I was in awe. "Just a little bit of makeup, and you'll be perfect!" I hate to say that I have a feminine face, but the truth is, I could see right there that I would have no trouble passing as a woman. And I hardly recognized myself! She put a bit of makeup on my face and then wanted me to try the shoes, practicing walking back and forth. In a little while, I was doing a bit better. In fact, that is how we spent the next hour, Susan coaching me on walking and movement. Then she had me just stand in the middle of the room. She went around behind me and reached around my body and started feeling it as I just stood there. Her hand went down to my cock and rubbed it. She started lifting the dress off me, and soon had it off. She told me to step out of the shoes and then she pulled the panties down to my ankles and told me to step out of them and she lifted the wig off my head. Then she reached around and stroked my cock, in long slow strokes, until it was hard as a rock and sticking straight out. "Just a minute," I heard her murmur. The next thing I heard was the front door, and I realized she was gone! I looked around immediately. The dress was gone! I stood there feeling like a fool, grabbed my clothes, peeked out the front window to see her driving away and waving, and headed for the bathroom for you-know-what. I spent the rest of the night amazed at what I'd done and wondering what I'd do the next time Susan and I met. I couldn't believe I'd let her do that to me. The next night, Susan was back, and I wouldn't let her in. I told her I wasn't interested and I knew her games and she should go home and forget it. She insisted on showing me something and handed me a photograph. It was me in the dress. But without the wig, and it was obvious that it was me. "Where did you get that?" It was a stupid question to ask, I admit. I let her in. "Doesn't matter. There are more." She watched me. I was thinking furiously. "Strip." She had obviously waited until she figured I had thought things through and knew what the score was. "Listen..." I started. "No talk, just strip." I hesitated. Then I got undressed. She wordlessly handed me the bag in her hand, and I put on the outfit. She got out some makeup and started putting it on my face. "Let's see some more walking, honey," she said when she was satisfied. She kind of drawled it. "Aren't you cute," she added, and she patted my ass. Then her fingers edged down the crack of my ass. I couldn't stand it. "OK, we're going out," she said. "No way." "Look in the mirror. You're ready. You'll pass easily." I looked. She was right. "But why?" "Oh, just for kicks." "I'm not interested in those kind of kicks." "Oh, you're not?" She sounded like she didn't believe me. "Well, you don't really have a choice, do you?" I thought of the photographs. "Just a walk around the neighborhood, that's all." We walked. I was afraid of people looking at me. I was afraid of people recognizing me. I was afraid of falling. It seemed like forever. Finally, we were back inside. Her hand was immediately on my cock. "Looks like you are pretty hard." She smirked at me. "I... I can't help it if I respond to sexy women." "Oh, I'm sexy? Why, thank you!" That drawl again. "But I think you got hard from walking around like that." She kneaded and squeezed my cock, and I was in danger of coming. In fact, I did come. "Oo, you messed up your clothes. You'd better get them off and clean up!" There wasn't anything else to do. Soon I was naked, and I went into the bathroom. When I came out, she was gone, and so were the clothes. I got dressed again. Susan was there again the next night and took me for a walk again. Then she told me to tell Lisa I had to go away on business for a couple of days. She wouldn't let me refuse, and she held those photographs over me. I ended up lying to Lisa, that Sunday telling her I was off to the airport to fly off to Boston. Really, I drove to Lisa's. After letting me in her front door, she immediately had me in a dress and had me practicing. I slept that night in a sheer nightgown... on the couch. The next day, she told me to practice while she was at work. She took my regular clothes with her. That night, she told me we were going out to a bar. "No way," was my automatic response. I should have known better--there was no stopping her. Soon we were downtown, sitting at a table, drinking beers when in walks Lisa.Susan waved to get her attention, and soon I realized that Susan had set this up. She introduced me to Lisa as Jackie and sat there and grinned. I tried to keep Lisa from getting a good look at my eyes, but even when I gave up trying, she didn't show the slightest sign of recognition. We had a few more beers, and Lisa and Susan gossiped, leaving me out of the conversation. Lisa apologized a couple of times to me for the two of them conversing without me. Finally, Susan said, "Guess what." She was talking to Lisa. "What?" "Jackie is a man." "Stop it!" Obviously, Lisa took it as an embarrassing joke. She looked at me a little. "Here!" said Susan, grabbing Lisa's arm. She pulled her arm over her own lap to me and pushed her hand right to my crotch. Lisa looked shocked at what Susan was doing, but Susan managed to get her fingering my cock. She didn't lose her look of shock. "What do you think?" asked Susan. Lisa looked closely at me. I just knew she was going to recognize me, but even though she was inches away and staring right into my eyes, she showed no sign of recognition. Finally, Lisa said, "I'm going." "No, you're not," returned Susan, laughing. Lisa stayed. I think she let Susan push her around. There was an awkward silence. Lisa looked nervous. "She likes to have her cock sucked," it was Susan talking to Lisa! "Take her out back and do it." She stood up and pulled Lisa up and brought her over and put my hand in hers. We stood there. "Go!" Lisa pulled, and I stood up. "Take off all your clothes and kneel in front of her." She was still talking to Lisa! "And put these on, behind your back." She handed Lisa a pair of handcuffs! I couldn't believe it, but Lisa did it. She led me out back and into a dark corner. She had everything off in seconds, and knelt in front of me and lifted my dress and pulled my cock over the top of my panties. She didn't say anything--just did it, exactly like Susan told her to. Then she put the handcuffs on one wrist, handed me the key, and stood and turned around with her hands behind her so I could fasten the other wrist. As soon as I did, she was on her knees again, and had my cock in her mouth. I couldn't believe it! My wife, kneeling and sucking my cock. She never did that! Did she know it was me? There was no indication that she did. She looked so desperate, sucking as hard as she could. I couldn't help it. I had my hand behind her head and pushed my cock in. She didn't mind a bit, but seemed even more excited. She kept sucking and sucking. She was so excited you would have thought someone was fingering her... or eating her. Soon I was coming. She swallowed every drop and it seemed like she couldn't get enough. I undid the handcuffs, and she got dressed, and we went back in. Susan was talking with some guy. She immediately split with him and told us it was time to go. I just sat there thinking when she drove me home. That night I slept in a nightie again, and the next day she had me practice more. She got home again, and after supper, we went out. We stopped at Lisa's and my house and picked up Lisa. She was wearing a tight, sexy outfit that I didn't remember seeing before. We drove to the local high school, which was just about deserted that night. Susan took us to the football field. It was empty and dark. "Take her in there and strip, lie face down on the ground, and let her push her cock into your ass." Susan was telling Lisa what to do again. She handed me some K.Y. Jelly. We walked to the middle of the field. Lisa didn't say anything. She wordlessly stripped and lay down. I looked down at her. I had never done her rear before. I knelt beside her, covered my finger with lubricant, and pushed it into her. I heard her breath catch. Then I covered my cock and lay face down on top of her. I lifted my dress and pulled my cock over the waistband of my panties. I pushed my cock right against her rear hole. She was holding her breath. The head entered. Suddenly, she was breathing hard. She started pushing her rear up against me. She reached her hands behind her and pulled my rear down against her. I could tell she wanted me to fuck it. I couldn't believe it. Lisa! I fucked and fucked. She moaned, louder, and finally came. I came in her at the same time. We lay there for a minute. She didn't complain at all that I was laying on top of her. Finally, I stood up and straightened my dress. She got dressed. Susan was waiting at the car when we got back, with a grin on her face. Lisa never said a word as we drove her home. That night and the next day was much the same. When Susan got home, she changed me to another sexy outfit and was really careful with my makeup. Then we just sat in her living room. Finally, my curiosity overcame me. "Are we going to see Lisa tonight?" "Oh, no--Lisa is gone." "Gone?" "She went to San Francisco, looking for Paul." My jaw dropped. "But I'm supposed to be 'back' *tomorrow*." She just shrugged. I couldn't believe it. "Paul is married now," added Susan, "but he said he'd take Lisa in if she's willing to serve his wife too." She had stood up and was behind me. Suddenly, something was in my mouth and fastened around my head. A gag! I stood, and she immediately had my hands fastened behind my back. She pushed me over an ottoman and had my legs tied together. Then she was raising my skirt and pulling my panties from down over my ass. I felt fingers going to my rear hole. "It's time for you to find out what it *really* means to be a woman." I heard more noises in the room. I looked around. A guy was there. He was muscular and huge. He was taking off his pants. I couldn't stand up--Susan was holding me down.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7006.txt

losgud

Pollywanna

"I always look on the sunny side," Polly leaned over, breathing beer in my ear. I was still too scared to venture even a furtive panoramic of the place. Nevertheless, I couldn't imagine what sunny side my sister saw in this thoroughly dark and dank dive. "You always were a regular Pollyanna," I managed to mumble back. I got a regular elbow-in-the-ribs for that observation. On the long drive down from New York, I'd half-jokingly frightened myself with the notion that when I finally arrived at Polly's, that, well--she-woman in Florida that she was--she'd want to take me 'gator-wrestling as entertainment. Instead, she'd dragged me out to the _Gator Bar_. From my perspective, it was an even more dangerous sport. I was sure Polly wasn't the only woman in the place, but I couldn't tell the other women apart from the men. They all looked like big beefy carnivores, put in a permanently sour mood by a lack of teeth. Ready enough to gum you to death and swallow you whole for the nourishment. Dice you up and pack chunks of you in their jaws like chaw. I just did not get why Polly would come to such a Cro-Magnon watering hole. Nor why she would wear poured-on jeans and a shrunken t-shirt and openly flirt with every guy in the place. She could have had any guy in the place within a minute--and every guy inside of an hour--but if she wanted to be the gang-bang queen of the pool hall, why settle for a cess-pit like this? She could easily do better. _He-woman_ was the wrong phrase. Polly was _She-Ra_. She could whip the shit out of any guy around--and they all seemed to respect her for this--but in that albeit self-limiting sense, Polly was all-woman. A rather striking looking woman. Always had been. Though she'd never been the type to fret about her waist--and granted, genetics and a physical lifestyle were on her side--she took pride in her looks and would never let herself devolve into the sort of butt-in-front physique that seemed to be the neighborhood standard. The question lingered unanswered: what the hell _were_ we doing here? I was tired and feeling somewhat uncharitable at being perceived as some sort of threat. Even though everyone in the bar knew who I was--"My long-lost brother, the _poet_ from _New York_!"--it really was as though I'd become a chip on everybody's shoulder. As though if I'd just evaporate, then the blanket could be tossed over the scarred pool felt, and the _real_ party could begin. "What's the matter?" I sneered. "Polly wanna cracker?" She turned to me coolly. "You bet. One with a big thick sausage." I blinked. I wasn't really shocked, just shocked into remembrance. It'd been a few years since I'd been around Polly-in-the-flesh, as opposed to the Polly-of-anecdote. She'd always been family-famous for her direct and untempered bawdiness. But Polly's words coming straight from Polly's mouth had a whole different intonation than when whispered down the phone line second- or third-hand. The last time I'd seen her was at a cousin-of-sort's wedding. Some poor maiden great-aunt had made the miserable mistake of asking Polly how soon she intended to settle down with a man. It was one of those moments where, in a room crowded with people all talking at once, there's a sudden lull of complete silence. Which Polly filled fully with her sharp laugh. "Why would I want to settle down with one man when I can stay riled up and have them all? Hell, keep my pussy elastic, one-size-fits-all; and I intend to have them all!" Back in the dreary here and now, I fiddled with my beer and shrugged as if to say _whatever_. "Shit yea, I want some. Fucking Friday night--you expect me to lay at home and spread my legs like the goddamn Yellow Pages, let my fingers do the walking. _I don't think so!_ You drove me to the store; I intend to do some serious shopping." That, really, was the crux of the problem. I didn't give a shit what she wanted to do with her night. But Polly had fancied my rental car from its first crunch on the gravel of her drive. She'd insisted we leave her battered old pick-up at home. And now I was feeling stuck. And sort of sick with myself because I'd brought on the situation myself. Though it would have been all homey to have stayed in--or gone somewhere I might have felt comfortable--and had an evening of sibling chatter, we'd never really had that many hours of things to talk about. Which of course opened the door to my own culpability. I was due in to Miami the following day for a significant poetry slam, where I was high enough on the roster to make the drive worthwhile, but not high enough to warrant an airplane ticket. I'd fucked up and gotten a late start out of New York--I hated driving long distances anyway--and I'd already eaten the price of a motel in Virginia. It would be a good gesture, I'd thought, to drop in on Polly. But it was well with the consideration that if I had to spend another night in an uncomfortable bed, I might as well get it for free. I made Polly buy me another beer before she again flitted off looking for a fuck. My sister the social butterfly. No longer under the protection of her wings, I wanted to run. I had the keys. And I was tired of the glares. The thing was, I didn't think I could make it out the door, into the car, and way down the road without the glares catching up and turning into fists. I watched, shaking my head, as Polly's fine form sauntered from table to table, shaking her rear. But then my reverie was interrupted. "Then you the poet-boy from New York, huh? The spoiled apple," the bleaty voice laughed long at its stupid joke. "So, you must be pretty faggoty, that right?" The man speaking sat several stools away. I was relieved, and certainly not worried, directly. His stool was like a rotten stump, drenched by a week of rain, and with a day of sunshine there he had swollen alive, some gigantic fungus. The man was such a mountain of fat I doubted he could get up and move even to pee. In the next few days he would either wither in the heat or explode with spores. I scratched the side of my nose, inviting danger as I spoke. "Yea. The sort of faggot poet from New York that got more pussy last week than you'll see in your entire life." The guy sort of sputtered, so I continued. "In case you're trying to count, that's genuine _human_ pussy. Chickens don't count. Especially not the kind you buy in the supermarket already plucked." I took a genuine satisfaction in the way he began to wilt, but then a far scarier guy on the stool closer to me spoke up, "So, you're like the Rimbaud of your generation, huh?" A chill ran up my spine even as the mushroom-man spluttered a mouthful of beer all down his front, "Damn Jake, that's a good one. Like him like Rambo, like he's fucking Rocky, sitting there goddamn Sly himself, the only real man what lives in all New York?" This Jake guy didn't bend his neck at all towards his companion. In a conversational monotone he answered, "No." I knew I was in trouble, of a type I couldn't even imagine. Me the modern Rimbaud. I hated that appellation, but it had stuck. And it had increased my fragile cachet. "I've been called that," I chose my words carefully, "though the assessment is far from mine." Who doesn't love the French Symbolists? That is, of those who know who they are. Jake gave me a full pan, again without moving a muscle. "So where's Paulie, huh?" My mind drew a blank. "What?"Well," he guffawed, "if you're Arthur Rimbaud, then why don't you bend over and take my big Verlaine." He cupped his crotch as if the point needed to be made. What the fuck?! Oh, fuck! Variation on the suck my dick you goddamn faggot line I'd been hearing for years. But with quite the unexpected twist. Then, as if things couldn't get any more unnerving, he began reciting, all namby-pamby, "Les anciens animaux saillissaient, même en course, Avec des glands bardés de sang et d'excrement . . ." Immediately I recognized the sounds he was saying, though I couldn't translate a word of French if my life depended on it. The moment contained the greatest stroke of luck I ever dared hope to see. Just a few months prior, an older poet and myself had had parts in a short film, trading off the alleged voices of Verlaine and Rimbaud between the quatrains and tercets of the "Defilements". The French I spat back was pure phonetics: "Mon rêve s'aboucha souvent à sa ventouse; Mon âme, du coït matériel jalouse, En fit son larmier fauve et son nid de sanglots. C'est l'olive pâmée et la flûte câline, Le tube d'où descend la céleste praline, Chanaan féminin dans les moiteurs enclos." Jake snorted, then gave a short nod. "So your plug isn't polarized--big deal." I was immediately off at Polly's elbow. It took me forever to interrupt. "What?" she cried. "I'm going home. I mean, back to your place." "Huh? Sure. That's fine . . . that was the plan, right?" "No, I mean. No, that is, yes. The plan, yea. But I mean like right now. I'm going." "What? But I'm not ready." "Fine! But, you know, I'm out the door. Passing through on the way out. To let you know." Polly put on a pout. "But I don't wanna leave yet." "You don't have to." "But how will I get home?" "Well," I just sort of rolled my eyes, "I'm sure you can get all the rides you want right here all night long." I didn't know why, but she gathered her stuff in a huff and followed me out. As though she was doing me some sort of favor. As though I was doing her some sort of wrong. When, in fact, I kept my observation to myself, the Gator was her favored bar at least because it was within easy walking distance of home. Polly was still in a snit when we got back to her place. Her shack. I wasn't quite sure how to deal with her mood. I mean, sister wants some dick. That wasn't part of my accustomed vernacular. Snippy this, snippy that--I got sick of it! "Hey listen, Polly. You don't need to baby-sit me anymore. Go out and get what you want; bring it on home . . . I don't fucking care. Geez! Hop in your pick-up and ride the roads 'til dawn, fill up the bed with all the trash you want. It really doesn't matter to me. I certainly don't want to cramp your style or anything. I can take care of myself. I know how to tuck myself in. And if my presence is a hindrance, hell, point me to the closest motel." She shot me an evil look. It was answer enough. I remembered it from years back. She wasn't going to do a thing. Martyr-time. And guess who would get to pay? It was just like old-home time. Polly stormed off into her room. The only difference was she didn't beat the shit out of me first. No, there was a critical other difference as well: she didn't slam the door to her room behind her. I supposed she was afraid it might make the whole damn house collapse. So there I sat in the living room twiddling my thumbs. The chair facing the doorway to her bedroom. With Polly in full view as she reached to her waist and savagely pulled the hem of her t-shirt out of her pants. Then lifted the garment upwards, inside-out, baring her torso as she obscured her head. My guess was confirmed: Polly hadn't bothered with a bra. Fortunately she was turned so that her breasts were out-of-sight if not quite out-of-mind, but there was that sudden moment, as she tugged her head through the neck of the shirt, where the supple maneuverings of her back revealed a beauty and tenderness that left me inwardly gasping. Women's backs, my god! that's the very reason the doggy position was invented; otherwise such sinewy loveliness would be forever hidden flat against the mattress! Finally pulled free, Polly gave her head a shake, waving her hair all around, before she flung the shirt to the floor like a discarded lover. She kicked off her shoes, then she reached over and rummaged around the rumpled bedding, pulling free and pulling on one of those oversized t-shirts that sell as sleepwear. It covered her rump well enough, so I couldn't see if she'd neglected her other underwear as she wriggled out of her jeans. Tight jeans indeed. What'd been poured on had to be peeled off. Polly spent quite a bit of time and motion shimmying out of those things. So much that I found myself wishing--appalled!--that she'd taken the pants off first, without the cover of the long-hemmed nightshirt. Such a thought left me mortified, and more than a little petrified between the legs. This was not good; this was not good at all. Though Polly had always been pleasing to the eye, I'd never entertained any such excitement. Even in the hormonal onslaught of teendom, my fantasies about Polly had never involved sex, not even rape. I'd skipped to the chase and simply slit her throat, ridding my life of hers. When she returned, I maintained my composure as best I could. Hell, it wasn't like we came from a family of mind-readers. Half the kinfolk couldn't even read; nor was there a surfeit of great minds. Polly sort of floated back into the room without talking to me, without even looking at me. She picked the TV guide up off the coffee table, flipped through it, then tossed it back down as she turned to go in the kitchen. I heard a bit of rustling, a few slams, then a sort of whirring noise. Following this were some distinctive pings, then a sound like machine-gun fire. Nearly immediately, the entire shack was filled with the thick sticky stench of heavily buttered popcorn. She came back with a huge bowl of the stuff, which she set down over on the coffee table along with a can of beer before she plopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote. "May I have a beer?" I asked. "Help yourself," she replied. Then the TV blasted on to cure us of further conversation. I marveled at the conditions as I made my way into the kitchen. It was fucking amazing--here in this ramshackle hut, where even the couch looked like some large scale culturing project at the Center for Disease Control, and yet she had this huge shiny new TV that made every other TV in the world look small. And then in the kitchen there's the stove that looked like it postdated the discovery of fire by only a handful of years, while on the counter sat this huge shiny new microwave that, well, that made every other TV in the world look small. The fridge, I quickly discovered, didn't work, except as a sort of pantry for canned goods. Fortunately I spied the cooler tucked under the table. Cans of beer were sunk in vaguely cool water amid swirls of plastic bags labeled ICE in a chilly font. No danger to the Titanic in there. I plucked out a can, opening it as I sat down at the table. The can and I gave out equally expressive sighs. And there I sat and sipped. Listening to the TV shout away in the other room. Finally fortified by the beer, I grabbed another, having decided to be brave and good and go back in the living room to make nice. I didn't even make it into my former chair. I just stood there, hovering behind it, realizing the views I might have for the next several hours. If I didn't want to stare at the TV screen, I could look to the left and exchange it for a blank wall. Or to the right was Polly on the couch. Polly lying on the couch. Polly belly down on the couch. Polly lying belly down draped over some small pillows on the couch. Or to be specific, Polly's plumped-up ass smiling at me from under the hem of her nightshirt. Shirts, shit, they ride up on their own volition. I was sure Polly had no clue how much she was putting on display. And though I still couldn't say for sure what she'd had under her jeans at the bar, the skimpy bit of pink silk slipping up through her ass cheeks was a good bet. An evening of viewing an empty wall, a boring screen, or a cute ass; my cock quickly voted its choice. The front of my pants went stiff against the back of the chair. I decided it best to take the beer into my bedroom and go over some notes for the next day. "Well," I drawled. "Um. Hate to be the party pooper. Big day tomorrow. So . . . I think I'm going to turn in early. Okay?" Polly didn't even budge in reply. Not a grunt of recognition. I turned and went down the small hall to my room, my erection leading the way. Curiously, the air conditioning was one item that Polly hadn't updated. There was just the one gasping little window unit in the living room, though I thought I detected a slightly higher pitched sputtering coming from her bedroom. My room had a ceiling fan, turning lazily, with a creak on each rotation as a taunt: hot! hot! hot! I opened the pair of windows in my room. There was certainly no danger of letting any cold air out. My hope was that, eventually, later in the evening, some cooler air might be coaxed inside. But any immediate effect was unnoticeable. I bared the bed to the top sheet, then sat on top of it, myself peeled down to just jockeys and a t-shirt. A tiny, worn-out pillow cushioned my back against the wall as I began rifling through my papers. Fucking words on paper. Words fucking on paper. Fucking as words on paper. I had no attention span. My beer was quickly room temperature. I took the can on tip-toe into the bathroom-in-a-closet and poured it out.As long as I was there, I brushed my teeth and had a goodnight pee. Back in my room, I turned out the light, stripped to my skin, and slipped under the sheet. Not that I could sleep. My erection had returned in full force. I thought briefly about jerking off, but I didn't want to do that with my sister in the next room. I certainly didn't want to do that because of my sister in the next room. I tried to fathom out what was going on, why all the blood in my body had turned to some thickened carnal fluid, why—for god's sake—the intimations of Polly's sexuality had me all stirred up. It wasn't because I was desperate. My part-time girlfriend had stayed over the night before my departure—part-time, in her words, because she refused to become the first full-time aspect of my life. And my part-time girlfriend had given me an exceedingly thorough, full-time fucking. Tomorrow, as well, would likely hold out some promise. Inevitably, and especially if I was radiating that I was in the mood, the crowds at these readings invariably parted to allow some black-lipsticked woman to slink to my side. "Hi. I just wanted to let you know that I was really, um, _moved_, by the way you pronounced _pussy_." As though I was some French super-lover. Not as though I'd grown up with a lisp and overemphasized my sibilants to this very day. Pus-_ZY_. Though the tongue exercises of my childhood had tended to make me a popular guy with those in the know. As I slowly succumbed to the dark, I began to think of the whole evening—at the very least—in terms of poetic structure. I'd have to change names and locations to disguise... but why? It's not like Polly or any of her friends would ever read anything I might ever publish. I thought about how I would have to crop the ending... which was a pity because my erection in the dark at the memory of Polly's pussy hidden under a thin gusset of pink silk really was the perfect ending... and then what did it really matter? Fuck all the people who insisted on interpreting moments of literature as purely autobiographical fact even when they were!!! And there I sank. Old words on paper might not have held my attention, but new words swimming in my brain sent me swirling down until—BANG—some small sound broke me back up wide awake. The bed was creaking under a shifting weight not my own. In the soft glow of light filtering down the hall from some other room, I saw Polly, scooting on her knees up from the foot of the bed. While she was mostly in shadow, I could see well enough to know that all questions about what sort of clothing she did or did not choose to wear had been cast aside. There was nothing but flesh hanging from her bones. "Polly?" "Did I wake you up?" "Polly, what are you doing?" "Good, because Polly wants a crack at you." Before I could answer, she was slowly sliding the sheet down off my body. Just that small, drawn-out friction was enough to make one part of me very wide awake. Laid bare, my body was a parade ground; at the center was the flagstaff. "And looks to me like you'd welcome some of Polly's crack." I was trying to think of more words—think of anything—but then Polly hoisted herself up and settled back down. I groaned, ceasing to think of anything but how my cock was suddenly sunk deep in cunt. Warm wet cunt, tightly gripping cunt. Almost immediately, before the full realization struck me, Polly was plunging up and down at a frantic pace. I burbled and squealed, my hands flailing in a wish to snag her hips and hold her steady, slow her to still for a moment, but she was fucking me too fast, too madly, and before I could even gasp, my balls were spilling their load. Just then, she gave a paint-peeling scream. Within a minute, Polly was dead weight—warm, soft, sweet-smelling dead weight—collapsed atop me, the both of us thoroughly spent. I lay there beneath her, absolutely stunned. To some extent, it was my post-orgasmic glow, and my confusion over what had just happened. But just as much I lay there in awe. Never in my life had I witnessed a woman coming so quickly and so violently. Little wonder then that her mind was always so thick with thoughts of sex. Eventually Polly recovered enough to roll off to the side, my cock slurping out of her though she kept the rest of me firmly in her grasp. She murmured little kisses all across my face as my hands found, felt, and held her breasts for the first time. Her mouth whispered across mine, our lips touching, my tongue slipping out to greet hers. We lay there like that, kissing and fondling one another for nearly fifteen minutes. But then the press of her thigh against my spent member began to work an extraordinary miracle. The penny was spent; might as well get my pound's worth. I drew away from her and raised up on my elbows. Wordlessly I reached out and pushed her onto her back. Then I slowly scrambled over between the spread of her thighs. She had a hand already waiting to guide me back inside. Polly stuttered a little giggle, "Boy, you must be reading my mind." My only answer was the silent resolution that—to the best of my abilities—I give her the best fucking of her life. Polly was easy enough. I felt like I'd spent my life in band practice, drifting from instrument to instrument, making satisfying enough squawks and blats. But with Polly, no matter what I did, I elicited tones most pure and true. After she came down from her next orgasm, Polly began hunching back at me in earnest. She nipped at my lips, then with a toss of her head began talking. "I've read a couple of your books, you know. Jake turned me on to them. He thinks you're tremendous. Here I thought this poetry was all faggoty flowers and fruit bowls shit. But you, cocks and cunt, drugs and depravity. Uhummm, I just had to find out for myself." I gave her several successive slams, held back, drew back, teased her dewy opening with swelling sworls, then sank back into her hard and fast. Polly began reciting: "I lunge into loins no flower this this cunt-flesh slippery and greedy grasping with need and I am the flower and her the gardener's fist gripping and yanking, seeking to rip me out by the root." Hardly my best effort, but how perfectly it described exactly what she was trying to do to me. And I decided to do something about it. I raised myself up, my hands pinning her shoulders to the mattress. Polly's hands gripped my wrists, tightly, but as her eyes stared into mine, I saw that that was all she was going to do. Never before in our lives had Polly allowed me to overpower her. I'd never really even tried. Now that I had, she let me willingly. That established, I lowered myself, letting my hands slip down. My mouth found hers and our teeth began gnashing, lips sucking lips, our tongues a pair of dueling daggers. I grabbed handfuls of tits and began slamming into her with a new-found surety. Polly certainly seemed to like it, mewling and growling and swiveling her hips. I tilted her pelvis slightly, hooking one of her knees over my shoulder, running my hand up and down the silky expanse of her thigh. Lower and lower I went until I had a side of her ass firmly in my outstretched palm. I gave a violent thrust and squeezed the cheek hard. Polly's eyes nearly popped out. "Geez, please," she squealed, "do that _again!_" I did, and she grimaced, then let go, another wild orgasm racking her body. As she slowly simmered down, I let my hand drop lower, brushing through the damp tendrils framing her mons, tracing a finger lightly around our juncture, the perpendicular meeting of my hard cock and her soft cunt. Our crotches were soaking wet. "God, Polly, you're _so-o-o_ juicy." She set her mouth in a grinning gum-chewing motion. "That's 'cause that's my juicy fruit down there. Super juicy for you." I let my finger dip lower, massaging her perineum with my slickened digit, smearing the overflow of her lubricants around. Trickles of the stuff ran down even into the crack of her ass, and from where I was it was just a small fraction of an inch until I felt the pucker of her anus. I tickled that little pink star with my finger tip, getting it nice and wet. I could feel her butt muscles clenching and unclenching with this unexpected attention as I continued playing with her. Polly went wide-eyed and groaned, "Oh boy, you boy, better watch out or you'll make me come again!" With that encouragement, I started screwing her with a steady, swift pace, suddenly sliding my finger fully up her ass. Polly reached around and grabbed my ass with both hands, pulling me tight against her while she bit my neck to stifle her screams. Goddamn, but it made me wish I was a girl. I'd never get out of bed in the morning. I'd play with myself from dawn to dusk, dusk to dawn, day to day until I just dropped dead to the bed of a heart attack. But barring that impossibility, I'd have to content myself being the conductor of her orchestra. In a moment of tenderness, I gazed down at my panting Polly. "What are you doing here anyway?" She growled back, "Getting my brains fucked out by my baby brother, what does it sound like?" "No," I lightly stroked her cheek, "why do you live here, like this? What are you doing here anyway?" Polly swiveled her hips in response. "Living the wrong sort of life, apparently, 'cause I sure ain't been getting any lovin' this good in a damn long time." Slowly I began thrusting in and out of her sopping cunt again. Polly twitched and groaned, a hand snaking between us to caress my balls. "That's it, baby, that's right. Give it to me, baby, gimme everything you got." I was on the high-wire and soon fast to fall, so I plunged ahead, hard and fast and deep and wide, Polly singing along, coaxing me to the end.I felt my cock stiffen, thicken, and she did too, her cunt clamping down as my magic wand began waving around inside her. "Oh FUCK!" she screamed, "I'm coming _again!_" exactly as I began pumping eye-popping jets of sperm into her very core. As our tensions slowly dissipated, our bodies melted from the stoniness of rigor mortis to the softness of supple dough. Sleep descended as though induced by drugs. I didn't remember slipping out or sliding off of her, but had a final moment of cognition, finding myself on my side facing Polly as her lips found mine for a last, delicate brushing of a kiss. Next was low slanting sunshine and the high keen of birdsong. Bars of light through the blinds on my face and a bar of lead across my legs. There was that initial moment of enormous confusion. My eyes opening to find a strange bed and myself not alone. The plushness of breasts pressing against my chest, a tangled head of unfamiliar hair resting on my shoulder, the heavy softness of a female leg weighted with slumber slung across my thighs. _Oh my god!_ I then remembered. _Polly!_ Lying beside me. In the bed we'd shared. Everything we'd shared. My sister, fully fucked by myself. I lay there with my morning erection, the memories of the previous night, and the warmth of her womanly flesh pressed against me. My first instinct was to just roll her over and fuck us both silly again. But then I grew quickly terrified. It was a new day; maybe the old rules would apply again. And of course there was the long-held knowledge that Polly was an absolute bear in the morning, especially if she didn't wake up on her own accord. I gradually and gently extricated myself from under her flung leg. Polly's only response was to sigh and snuggle more deeply into the little pillow we had shared as I climbed out of bed without a noise. Standing up, I took a slow, deep breath. The room stank of sex. I suddenly remembered reading about how the olfactory sense functioned, that what you smelled was actual molecules of what you smelled floating in the air. It was a wonder the room wasn't raining semen and pussy juice, the scent was that thick. Quietly I gathered up all my stuff and carried it into the living room, delighting in the sensation of walking through rooms absolutely naked. My cock, finally deflating, hung heavy with the dried sheen of sex. I decided to hit the shower. The spigot-in-a-box. Once clean and dressed, I peeked back in the room. Polly had shifted in the bed, but was still fast asleep. I went into the kitchen. From the digital clock on the microwave I saw I'd need to be leaving within the hour. I found some cereal in a cupboard, but with no clue if or where there might be any milk, it seemed pointless to locate a bowl and spoon. I ate my breakfast dry, by the handful, straight from the box. I knew I should at least leave Polly a note, but I balked at the actual composition. I decided to leave it for the last minute, relying on brief inspiration rather than bogging down in time-allowed details. That settled, I felt nearly vibrant, brand-new, well-sexed and ready for the rest of the road. I packed up my bag, organized my papers, reading through some stuff and making annotations as I enjoyed a cup of instant coffee made from hot tap water. Then I began carting stuff out to the car. I was out on the drive finishing up when I heard a sultry, "Good morning." I nearly jumped, I'd been so caught up in my solitude. Polly swayed towards me from the front door, her look sleepy and dreamy, hair wet from the shower. She stopped and stood there a few feet away, wearing denim cut-offs and a grey sweatshirt cropped at the neck so it hung well off one shoulder. "Getting ready to go, then?" "Y-y-yea," I stuttered, "I've about got everything loaded up for the drive." Polly stood there looking at me. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't sure if I should wake you up or not." She gave a noncommittal shrug, the sweatshirt falling even further off her shoulder. Then she smiled. "Thanks for stopping by. It was an excellent visit." "Oh yea," I seconded. "Very, very nice." Her brows furrowed. "Sorry if I was such a bitch at the bar." "Oh no," I shook my head, "doesn't matter." Then her brows lifted. "Have everything? You sure you didn't leave anything? Hold on, I'll go have a quick look." Polly turned and sauntered back to the house, her ass swinging in that marvelous way women can have. After several minutes had passed, I got in behind the wheel and started up the car. It was nearly ten full minutes before Polly came back out, pulling the front door hard behind her. In the rearview mirror I could see she was carrying something, but keeping it hidden. Polly came up and opened the passenger door. "I was right. You did forget something." "What?" I asked, genuinely puzzled. She slung a small bag into the back seat, then slid in beside me, slamming the car door shut. "Me!" she announced brightly. Before I could react, she continued, "I want to come see you read. Do you mind? If you do," she gave me a poke, "I'll put you in a cast and you won't be able to leave me." She patted a pocket. "I've got plenty of cash." Perhaps then an expression did develop fully on my face. "Ohh, don't worry," she soothed, "if some pretty little pussy comes on to you after the show, I won't mind sharing." I sat there slack-jawed. Polly reached over and groped my crotch with a giggle. "I don't want to make you late, but if you don't get going I'm going to climb over there and sit in your lap." I eased the car into gear as she sat back with a smug look. I tore down the sidestreet off towards the highway interchange. Polly gave me a final squeeze then settled back in the seat. "That's okay. I'll get all I want later on." Once on the highway, I was passing like mad and concentrating hard on the crazed parade of old people in big cars with northern plates going so slow. There was so much motion going on in front of me I didn't have time to spare for my peripheral vision. I scarcely knew what was up before Polly had undone her shoulder belt, scooted over, bobbing her head in my lap above my unzippered pants. I was what was up, thick and hard, buried to the hilt between her lips. "What do you think you're doing?!" I nearly screamed. Polly gave a chortle, of the muffled sort when you've a mouth stuffed full of cock. She pulled away long enough to give me an undistorted smile. "Sucking your dick, what do you think?" Good lord, but my balls were tingling already. This was not a time for high-speeds and automotive acrobatics, so I settled into the slow lane. The big rigs blew by, airhorns shrieking in encouragement. Worst of the spectators were all the appalled families in their high frame SUVs and mini-vans . . . their blanched faces as they stared down at the nearly completed sin of emission. There didn't seem any point in flipping them the bird; as I wound up I got real cocky, waving at them like I was a hero. Finally we hit a relatively clear straight stretch. I locked my elbows, hit the cruise control, then dimmed my eyes to slits as I shouted along with my eruption. Fuck, but did I have a full tank of gas! Rivulets of semen were dribbling out the seal of her lips, trickling all over my trousers. After the pulsations tapered off, Polly gave a contented sigh, then some other noises that sounded like words. "Come on, girl, where's your home-training? You know better than to talk with your mouth full." She spat out my spent cock. "God! Not as full as it was a minute ago. Where did all _that_ come from?" "I told you this morning I got everything loaded up for the drive down." "No kidding. Geez! Don't stop for lunch on account of me." She darted her tongue around like a cat, catching the stray drops from my pants. Then she moved back to my softening cock, eventually popping it back into her mouth. She closed her eyes and began sucking on it like a thumb, making purring noises as I caressed her hair. I returned my concentration to the road, not breaking to gaze back down until I noticed she'd stopped sucking. There Polly lay, her head in my lap, my cock in her mouth, fast asleep. I thought about letting my free hand do a little wandering among her bodily landscape, but a glance at the dash clock convinced me of the need for some two-handed driving; I had to make some fast time. With that, my thoughts turned to the destination ahead, the destinations in the future, the forces that might come to bear on the future of my life--immediate and distant. Hell--Miami was a big town. I could lose Polly easily enough. Drop her off to go park around the block and never come back. But did I really want to?

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17163.txt

Tigger

A Change of Direction

"Where the hell was he?" his still sleep-fogged mind demanded. Slowly, he fought his way to full wakefulness and tried to take stock of his surroundings. Nothing was familiar. Nothing was as it had been when he had fallen asleep or as it had been for the last four years of his life. Only his window that overlooked Mum's garden was where it belonged, but everything else was... wrong. His basketball poster, his model planes and cars, his sports memorabilia - every single thing that had been his was gone. In their place were odd, fragile-looking little knick-knacks, crystal statues, dolls, and a rock singer poster. A male rock singer that Jack could not stand in the least. And all *his* furniture was gone, too, replaced by a very feminine, ivory-colored ensemble. Even the bed he'd fallen asleep in was gone, replaced instead by a frill-laden canopy bed. Mother. It had to be Mother. His hands came up to cup the soft mounds of flesh that were now a part of him. It had not just been a dream, after all. A nightmare, maybe, and from the looks of his room, Mother had used her magic to up the ante while he'd slept. He started to get out of bed and nearly fell when instinctive movements learned over the course of a lifetime did not take into account his new center of gravity. Overbalanced by his new weight distribution, he only just caught himself on the bed frame. Carefully, and with a great deal of conscious effort, he rose again and moved about to inspect "his" room more closely. His large dresser had been replaced by an ornate armoire, while his desk had become a vanity table covered with a variety of tubes, bottles, and pots that held things he really did not want to think about. On entering his walk-in closet, he was greeted by nothing but rows of empty hangers and shelves. Every hint of his male identity had been ripped from the room, as ruthlessly and as completely as his masculinity had been ripped from him. In stunned disbelief, Jack stood there in the door to his closet and quietly mourned the loss of all the little prizes and treasures of a lifetime. A stray lock of hair fell across his face and resisted his best effort to clear it out of his eyes. Slowly, he walked over to the vanity and found the very feminine hairbrush he knew would be there. His mother was nothing if not attentive to the fine details. Jack quickly came to rue that he'd never gone through a "long-hair" stage as a male so that he could have known how to deal with the shaggy mane. Brushing that tangled black mass was itself a tortuous experience in self-abuse. He quietly admitted to himself he should have listened to Mum's advice and brushed it out more thoroughly the previous morning. He brushed it furiously until he could not find any more snarls and then tried to figure out how to keep the damn stuff out of his face. Rubber bands seemed the simplest solution, and soon his mane was gathered behind his head. It was not elegant, but he could see again. A butch cut was looking better and better to him. What to wear was the next question, and there was only one answer immediately evident. A pair of white panties and a folded white cotton terrycloth robe rested on the cushioned stool in front of the vanity table. A pair of pink rubber shower slippers rested beside the stool on the floor. Jack stripped off the sweatshirt and man's jogging shorts he had worn since yesterday and donned the garments his mother had left for him. He was disappointed, but not especially surprised, when his discarded clothes had simply disappeared before his eyes. As ready as he was likely to be, Jack moved out of the relative sanctuary of his room and went off to face his Mother. He found her seated at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, a plate of toast in front of her. Her chin rested heavily in the palm of her free hand. Dark smudges bagged under her half-open eyes, and fatigue lines cut starkly into her normally smooth face. Walking past her to pour a cup for himself, he turned back to her. "Busy night, Mother-darling?" he asked with heavy irony, as he sat down across from her. She cocked one of her eyes at him, but displayed no other emotion at his jibe. "Obviously, Jacqueline. There was a lot that had to be done if we were going to be able to start your training today." She reached down and pulled up a stack of papers from the chair beside her and slid them across the table. "You will need these. IDs, driver's license, health insurance card, and all your other personal effects and accounts, but all now set up in the name of Jacqueline Donovan instead of John." "And my friends? The people who know me?" "Now remember only Jacqueline, and as for friends, some adjustments had to be made there, too. You have a history of being one of the girls instead of one of the boys. You are the cheerleader instead of the cheered. And before you jump on me, no, you don't have a boyfriend. Given your looks, that may raise some issues for you, but I figured you would rather deal with those questions instead of having to deal with a man." Jack's face fell as he took it all in. Finally, he sighed and took a bracing sip of his coffee. "So, my life is wiped as clean as everything that was mine was blotted out of my room. Is nothing mine, anymore, Mother?" She was simply too tired to argue with him. The magic she had expended the night before had taken its toll on all her resources. She was exhausted and needed rest. "Had to be done. Step one of your trip back to your old male self. Every little reminder of your masculinity will set back your progress. Remember, the requirement is that you must fully acclimate to being a woman." She looked up and saw the pain in her daughter's face and immediately understood. "Oh, don't look that way," she said disgustedly. "None of your things are gone forever. The instant your chromosomes are XY again, they will reappear. Just like magic." Jack could not quite hide the glimmer of a smile at her little joke, but tried anyway. "So, what is the plan for today, teacher? What little punishments are on the docket, today?" Laurie wanted to scream, but didn't. It wouldn't do any good, and she needed to conserve what energy she still had. With a calmness that did not remotely resemble her actual feelings, she answered, "As long as you consider it punishment, Jacqueline, we might as well do nothing. Get this straight, okay? You have to work at this. Moreover, you have to want it. It would be best and perhaps even easiest if you could want the experience for itself, for the simple pleasure of being a beautiful woman. But if you cannot want it for that, then at least want it because it is the only way you are going to achieve your goal." With great effort, Laurie used both hands to push herself to her feet. She kicked a shopping bag over to Jack. "You have two tasks today, one fairly simple; the other will apparently not be so simple. In that bag, you will find a full set of clothes in your new sizes. Skin out. You need to learn how to dress yourself, and to get used to how women's clothes feel on your body. I suggest you dress and undress yourself several times until you get the hang of it." A sly grin momentarily lit her face. "There are several pairs of hose in there since you will probably run the first couple of pairs. Try to get it right before you ruin the last pair." "It might be easier if you would try not to have quite so much fun with this at my expense, Mother," Jack said darkly. Her momentary pleasure instantly evaporated. "I wanted to have fun doing all of this with you, Jacqueline. I'd always believed that when this time came for us, I would relive through you all the lovely and joyful things I discovered with my own mother when she taught me. Can't you let me have what little crumbs of pleasure that fall my way in this?" Jack was not going to let her make him feel small in this. He wasn't - this was her fault, and if it was not as pleasurable as she had wished it would be, well, that was a small thing compared to what she had done to him.He ignored her question and instead asked one of his own in a toneless, inflectionless voice. "You said there were two things I had to accomplish today. What was the other task?" Recognizing the implicit rejection of her request, Laurie responded in equally cold tones of her own. "You need to start thinking of yourself in the feminine. Understand that I can hear your thoughts, feel your emotions, Jacqueline. You are trying to perpetuate the image of yourself as a man stuck in a woman's body." "Well, that is exactly what I am, thanks to you!" he snarled. "As long as that is what you think you are, that is all you will be, daughter. And we can go no further in your training until you start accepting the reality of your female state." Laurie turned and walked back to stand before her child. "Believe me, Jacqueline, if I could somehow undo the Transformation, or if I could somehow go back in time and make it so that none of this ever happened, I would do it. No matter what the cost to myself. If my last drop of heart's blood would make you what you long to be, I would cut my wrists here and now. But those are not options. Only you can do what needs be done." She absently brushed an escaped lock of black hair from Jacqueline's eyes. "Only you. I am going up to bed and get some rest. Later today, we will go out and get you some more clothes." She spun on her heel and left the room. Jack, no, *Jacqueline* sat sipping *her* coffee in the eerie silence. *She* was at a loss about what to do next. This thinking in the female tense was going to be a bitch. *She* sat there for a little more than an hour, practicing *her* feminine thinking. Toward the end of *her* mental recitation period, *she* only had to correct *her*self about every fifth or sixth time. Progress was progress, *she* supposed. Maybe it would even be good enough for a start, anyway. There was one problem, though. Maybe it was a holdover from the way *her* Mother had introduced *her* to *her* new self, but one thing was very, very clear. He/She/Whatever *hated* the name "Jacqueline" and He/She/Whatever *always* would! Well, there was not much to be done about it now. Not with all those records already done. *She* did not know much about how magic really worked, but *she* did know that changing all those records and memories had cost *her* mother dearly, and the strength Mum had expended doing that magic would not likely be replenished any time soon. Sighing, *she* decided that it was not a battle worth fighting and picked up the bag with *her* new clothes and trudged off to practice dressing. Five hours later, Laurie, alert and refreshed, came downstairs where she found her daughter sprawled on the sofa watching the 24-hour news channel. Apart from her ungainly and totally unladylike posture, Laurie's discerning eyes (and other, less common senses) could find definite improvements since that morning. The simple knit sweater and skirt set had been selected because they would not pose too many challenges for her daughter who still thought and acted like a son. No buttons on the "wrong" side, no zippers in the back - just a simple, loose pullover sweater blouse that draped casually over the waist of an equally loose, knee length skirt that zipped up the side. The pantyhose weren't rent from ankle to thigh with ladders and runs, and the simple black pumps with only the merest hint of a heel fit perfectly. Jacqueline had not ventured so far as to try any of the cosmetics her Mother had carefully selected and arrayed on her vanity, but she had made a fairly good attempt at taming that gorgeous hair of hers. She had done a reasonably good job figuring out how to put on the hair band that pulled the curling mass away from her face. Of course, that particular invention was probably the daughter of necessity since seeing clearly through long hair was annoying at best. "I can see that deportment and posture will be among our first lessons," she said aloud. Her voice obviously startled her child for she jumped and nearly slipped off the couch in her surprise. "Well, Jacqueline, stand up, please and let me get a good look at you." The eyes that met Laurie's were still cold and distant, but with great deliberation, the body moved to obey her request. Stage one begins, she thought - sullen, malicious compliance to any order, intermixed with enough body language to show just how obnoxious you and obeying you really are. Laurie moved behind her daughter, as much to gain a moment's respite from those eyes as to check out the rest of the outfit. "You need to be more careful with laying out your skirts before you sit, dear. The back of your skirt is frightfully wrinkled and crushed from the way you sat upon it, Jacqueline." "Jackie." The response was not at all what she was expecting and Laurie was momentarily at a loss for words. "I beg your pardon?" "I wish to be called Jackie. I detest the name Jacqueline - it reminds me too much of our confrontation yesterday and last night and therefore is non-productive - like the possessions I *used* to love and own. Since I suspect that you won't have the strength to change the world for me again anytime soon, Jackie is the best compromise I can come up with." "I see. That may be difficult for me as Jacqueline was the name I had chosen for you since you were born. That is really why you were called Jack. Since I always knew it would be my duty to bring you to your full powers by exposing you to the Transformation Spell, you have always been Jacqueline in my heart." That had been the wrong thing to say and Laurie knew it the instant she saw her child's face. "I was not born female and I will not respond to Jacqueline, so get used to calling me Jackie or perhaps just 'hey, you' will do. What is in your heart is not something I am greatly concerned with at this point in my life, Mother." Laurie coughed to choke back the sob. "Very well. Jacqu... I mean, Jackie. I will try." The love Jackie still felt for his Mother twisted inside her own heart and *she* tried to make it a little easier for both of them. "It will do you good, Mum, to have to stop and consider *your* words before you speak or even think. It will give you an idea of how hard thinking of myself as *she* and *her* has been and continues to be for me. Tell you what, we can spell my new call name with a 'cq', instead of a 'ck'. Jacqui." She spelled the name out aloud. "How's that for a compromise? Best deal you are going to get today." A little bubble of hope rose in Laurie's breast. "Okay," she whispered and then added. "Sounds fair." She shook off the emotion. They had much yet to do this day. "So, I will ask how the dressing up practice went since I can already sense your effort to think 'girl'. I applaud you progress there, by the way." You only have about 99.99% of the way yet to go, but that is further then I expected to find you given the way you reacted this morning, she thought. "So, are you ready to go shopping for new clothes? You need skirts, blouses, dresses, shoes and of course, some lovely knickers and other undies," she dropped her eyes to Jacqui's legs. "How many of your pantyhose are left intact?" A rosy blush crept up her daughter's cheeks. "Ummm. Just these." Laurie cocked an eyebrow. "They, uhhh, seemed to run awfully easy." "Those were the industrial strength, heavy weave nylon, dear, designed specifically *not* to run. I suppose you just tried to pull them on like trousers?" A hesitant nod was her answer. "Yes, well, there are tricks I will teach you before you put on any of the really silky stockings we will buy today. Any other troubles?" Another, even redder blush and a cough to clear her throat. "The bra. I am not flexible enough to reach behind me and latch it while trying to look in the mirror. I finally had to hook the thing in front and then spin it around behind me." "Good on you, girl. That works, particularly with everyday things. Some of the frilly stuff might need a little gentler hand, but we can work up to those. Other than that, how do you feel in those clothes?" "Underdressed. I notice drafts a lot. Very uncomfortable." Laurie nodded. The answers were honest and were to be expected. At least Jacqui was talking with her with some degree of openness again. "All right, then. You will get used to those feelings. We'll have you turned out to a fair-thee-well after today and you will have ample opportunity to get used to skirts and their little foibles and traps." "What about trousers, jeans? I would like some jeans, Mother." That was a problem. Mentally saying goodbye to their momentary peace, Laurie answered. "That is not in your best interest, dear. You already know how to wear pants. You will learn what it is to be a woman much more quickly if you work at being an especially feminine woman. You have so much to learn in a short time. Don't forget, besides your own goals in this, you will start school again in a few weeks. You will need a whole range of behaviors at your command to deal with school as a girl instead of as a boy." "Just one pair? For knocking about? Won't it seem strange to my girlfriends if I never wear anything but dresses and skirts?" Jacqui pleaded. "How about if I promise to always wear my frilliest bra and knickers when I wear the jeans?" Pleased that Jacqui had not gotten her back up, Laurie smiled. "All right, but just one pair. They will be very, very tight and you will also agree to wear only high heeled shoes when you wear the jeans, too." That would serve two purposes, Laurie thought. It was nearly impossible to forget you were a girl when wearing jeans that were a couple of sizes too small, and it would get her daughter into real heels more quickly. "Heels?" Jacqui momentarily bridled, but then deflated."Okay, I agree." "Let's go get ready to leave. Your purse is with mine in the foyer, and your new ID is already in it." Laurie turned toward the front door. "Mum?" The name she had not heard without sarcasm in over 48 hours brought her up short. She turned and cocked a brow at Jacqui. "Two things, first. One, I want to see a doctor - a real one, not one of your witch cronies. I want advice on birth control, and I don't want you to interfere in any way or to try to stop me." Laurie understood where that was coming from. Jacqui was starting to understand the full erotic potential and demands of her new body. She was still female because she had been unable to resist the demands of her new sexuality. Conceiving a child was not on her agenda, *yet*, and she was trying to take action to avoid getting caught between some guy and her own burgeoning hormones. "All right. We can select one of your choice from the phone book, completely at random if that will make you feel more comfortable. However, you should understand that the proper term for the type of doctor you want is a gynecologist." The "so-what" look that revelation elicited made Laurie decide to change the subject. "One other thing, dear. You need to know something about Transformed women. Whether we use contraception or not, we get pregnant when we want the child of the man making love to us." "I want to see a doctor, Mother, and I want birth control." Jacqui's tone brooked no further discussion on the issue. Sighing, Laurie wondered what the girl was thinking. Obviously, she did not believe her regarding the effectiveness of the contraceptives. "Very well. We can set up the appointment right now and go as soon as the doctor can see you. I can go with you or you can go alone, but you have my personal word of honor that I will do nothing to influence or impede you in any way. And the other thing?" The look of relief on Jacqui's face was painful to Laurie, who was only just beginning to really understand how thoroughly she had shattered her only child's faith and trust in her. "I'd like to get my hair cut. Lots of women have short hair. I don't want to have to deal with this mop for the rest of my time as a woman." Damn, damn, damn! thought Laurie. "Jacqui, could we hold off on that, please? At least for a little while, until you have had a chance to learn how to care for your hair? You can always get it cut, but it will take months and months to grow it back. I think you should wear it long, just as I think you should stick to skirts and dresses, but if, after a reasonable attempt to live with it, you still want to cut it, then I won't stand in your way." "I could just hack it off in my room, Mother." The frustration was back in her daughter's voice. "Yes, you could. If you get to the point where you are that unhappy with it, then tell me and we will go straight off to the beauty parlor. Please, Jacqui, all I am asking is that you give me a chance, luv." Her eyes were wide with entreaty as she looked at Jacqui. "Please," she said again. The pleading in his, *her* mother's voice touched that hurting core of love inside Jacqui. "All right. I will give it two weeks, halfway until school opens. That should give you time to teach me how to deal with it so that it does not get in my way. If it is still a hassle after that, it goes. Fair enough?" "Fair enough. Now, can we please go? I want to go **SHOPPING** with my daughter." "Shopping." There was a world of difference in the way the two women said the word. "You sure you can't just get everything mail order? I'd wait." "Over my dead body, young lady. I am determined to enjoy this, and nothing is going to ruin it for me. Now move that cute butt and let's go."

RP TG, Magic, TG

Part 2

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16089.txt

Chrissy Lorens

Debasement of Donna Ff F/f bd sm ds PART 3.

"Oh god, Oh god, M-Mrs. Lowen, Please I'm just not use to..I....OOOH!" I manage to stammer out as she attaches the spring and hook dangling from the bottom of the nipple clamp to the lower eyelet on the side of my 'platform.' My right nipple and breast are pulled downward slightly. She attaches the spring and hook dangling from my left breast as well. Now my nipples are clamped and attached to short springs on the eyelet hook. Now if I move or sway left or right, or forwards and backwards, my clamped nipples will be pulled downward in the opposite direction. "Oooh, oh God, Mrs. Lowens, you really got me secured here, that's for sure." "Yes, Donna, that's the idea. Now lets take a look of that little pussy of yours!" The older woman gets directly behind me. I can feel her fingers sliding up the insides of my thigh. Never before have I felt so totally exposed. Her fingers trace through the pussy juice dripping down the inside of my legs. "Hmm, very nice, you're certainly a wet little whore back here aren't you?" I don't know why, but whenever she calls my a 'whore' or 'bitch' or 'slut' I just get more turned-on. How do I answer such a question? By now I'm truly beginning to go out of my mind with lust! I feel her thumb on the bottom of my pussy lips, then with a sudden loud "squish" she inserts it, full-length into my pussy. I'm pushed forward slightly causing my nipples to stretch downward and backward. Then she slowly moves her wonderful thumb forward slightly, sliding it deliciously along my clitoris. "Oh, oh aah, Mrs. Lowens that feel so good." "Tell me little one, I don't suppose you've ever been bound and fucked in front of a group of people?" she asks me as she gently massages my inner pussy lip with her wonderful thumb and hand. "Oh God, Well, aaah, well no I guess not," I stammer It's hard to concentrate as I try to gyrate my hips against her beautiful hand. I try to push myself into her thumb but I'm thwarted by the fact that my nipples are 'hard-wired' into the table. I find myself testing just how far I can really 'stretch.' I realize that Mrs. Lowens knows exactly what she's doing, setting up this terrible dilemma for me. She take her hand away. I whimper and moan, twisting in my bindings. I hear her rummaging through her stuff. I brace myself for whatever is next. "Have you ever seen one of these?" The older woman holds a funny, squat looking dildo in front of my head. It's bumpy black molded plastic with a spiky head, about five inches long, fat in the middle, then thinning off until it flares out into a wide disc. "Um, No, Mrs. Lowen, I've never seen anything like it before." "Good, good because one of my friends is publicly going to very slowly fuck you up the ass with it. Since this night is going along so well we'll make a bit of a party of it. Let's invite some friends over to document this special event!" I gulp and turn white. "P-public? D-D—document, h-how do you mean, document?" "With video and photos of course, you silly girl!" "Oh, oh, Mrs. Lowens please, no friends please, this is just between the two of us. I don't know how much I can take..." I'm trembling and shaking, my pussy is openly drooling. Here I am, tightly bound, nipples and all, to her special 'pleasure table'. Getting fucked in front of a group of total strangers would just push me over the edge. "Well, I'm a firm believer in sharing among my special friends, and you're just too good to keep to myself. I'm also beginning to realize that you're a bit of a complainer, and I have the perfect cure for that. You'll be so cute with those pouty little lips stretched around a nice, big red gagball, I know I have one somewhere here..." In no time she's standing in front of me with a big red ball with two ropes coming out of it. Mrs. Lowens holds the bottom of my chin, bringing my eyes up to look directly into hers. "Donna, I think you know where my little scene with you is going tonight. My friends and I are going to completely humiliate you. We're going to perform perverse acts on your bound and gagged body, probably by fucking you in both holes at once." Mrs. Lowens gently caresses my bare backside with her hand, which only serves to further my mounting frustration. "Donna, my little dear, I want to give you a chance to leave, right now if you'd like, no questions asked. I'll still be your special friend, always. In a little while our scene here is going to get very intense for a young woman like yourself. So how about it Donna? Leave now or enjoy the ride?" "Oh, Mrs. Lowens, please, I'll stay, I'll stay." I blurt out quickly. "Great." She tells me about the special safe-gestures I can use if I want to quick. "Well, now that that's out of the way, open-up sweetie." I am beyond resistance. I open my mouth wide and she stuffs the soft plastic ball into my mouth. For a moment I fear I'm going to choke on it, but it stops at my mouth. Indeed my lips do stretch thin around the ball. The ball forces my mouth to open as wide as it's ever been. My lips and cheeks to push forward and my tongue is pinned to the bottom of my mouth. Mrs. Lowens ties the ball-gag tightly behind my head. "Mmmf, mmf, mmmf!" "There, there now that's a good little slut isn't it?" She tussles my hair slightly. If only she would shove one of her many thick dildos or vibrators in my pussy. I'm totally ready! Being bound to the low table like this and having my nipples clamps and mouth gagged is making me unbelievably horny! Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. The restraints on my legs and hands hold me tight to the table. I'm on my elbows and knees with my head down. I can move a tiny bit, but the attached springs on my clamped nipples gives me good reason to hold as still as possible! I am completely open to this older woman, she can do whatever she wants to me now. This situation is turning me on to no end! Waves of tingling pleasure roll-up from my pussy! "Just one more thing, I'll need to tie a scarf around your eyes, just in case there's someone you know coming over for our special event tonight, it just saves a lot of embarrassment to everybody." Suddenly my world goes dark as I feel Mrs. Lowens gentle hand tying another knot around my head. Someone I know? I twist and turn against my bonds and try to talk but it comes out only as "mmmf!" Just how far I'm I going to be humiliated tonight? Why am I so turned on by this? My pussy continues to dribble down the back of my thighs. And people are going to see me like this! OhMyGod! What have I gotten myself into? The next twenty minutes are excruciating slow for me, in my bound, mute and blind world. Every time I move or shift slightly I feel my sore nipples are pulled by Mrs. Lowens wicked spring-clamps. Mrs. Lowens is in her bedroom, making a long series of calls for her 'special event' tonight. I can hear snippet of her conversions: "Yes, yes the poor thing is tied up right with the wettest pussy I ever seen, yes you know how some young woman are...." "She's blindfolded and gagged, yes, photo are encouraged!" "No, no, no I plan to have her for the rest of the night..." I hear Mrs. Lowens return from the bedroom. I try to communicate, but it only comes out as desperate whimpering and moaning. "Hang in there my sweet little tramp. The guests will be arriving soon. I know at this point you desire penetration in the worst way, well it won't be long now. And let me just say now you look truly divine, bound and clamped, with your little pussy oozing all over the backs of your thighs, simply lovely." I gulp and nod. I can't believe this is happening! I'm a mass of crazy sensations, slowly rocking back and forth on her 'pleasure table.Being bound on my elbows and knees, blindfolded and ballgagged I find my sense of hearing acute as Mrs. Lowens shuffles around the apartment getting ready for her 'guests.' I can't believe people will be viewing me in such a state! Her doorbell rings and she briefly talks to the doorman. "Our guests will be right up sweet-ums, they're in the elevator now." I moan and whimper and pull at my bonds. She going to display me like some kind of farm-animal! Despite myself my pussy is churning out juice, which is indignantly oozing down my legs. I must be dripping on Mrs. Lowens carpeted platform. The door buzzer rings and I hear it open and hear the sound of a number of people shuffling in. I can't believe this is happening! I'm completely mortified and embarrassed being seen like this, bound, clamped and naked with my bare pussy waving around in the air. I am also strangely thrilled and turned-on by my compromised position. In Mrs. Lowens bondage I'm find a total sensual liberation! "Please, please come into the living room, that's where she's tied-up, and shh!" I hear my mistress admonish her guests. I hear the group moving into the living. A shiver rolls up and down my spine. The group giggles. I hear their hushed exclaims as they view my bound and gagged state. "Wow!" "Nice, very nice." "Unbelievable, it really is Donna!" "Oh my! She's oozing! "Mmmm, I like the way the little bitch's tit's are stretched!" Oh God! I all most faint! All the voices are female, and some a vaguely familiar. It sounds like they're around the couch, with a full view of my ass and pussy! "Can someone help me move the little slut's platform around, so you all can get a nice side-view of the night's activities. Yes that fine, setup the video wherever it'll work best." Video? I feel people moving my platform around. Every shakes and wobble translates to the springs pulling on my poor, clamped nipples! Anyone on the couch now must have a profile side-view of my prostrate body. "Thank you, thank you," Mrs. Lowens says as her fingers lightly trace up and down my back. I tremble at her touch, never have I felt more exposed, or turned on. "Look and behold Ladies. Yet another young bitch is professionally attached to my 'pleasure table.' And doesn't she look quite good in her predicament here? It's as if this slut was born to be on her hands and knees. Lets take a tour of my little whore's body." I groan and tremble as I hear her walk around to my front. "I just love the way her mouth takes the gag, notice how these pouty lips deliciously stretch around the ball." Her fingers move through my hair and pull up my head towards the crowd. Her wicked fingers trail around my ball-gag engulfed lips. Mrs. Lowens moves down my body, she reaches under me and gently holds my clamped breasts. Even her slight touch causes the springs to pull on my sore nipples! "And just look at these beautiful, peachy, young breasts. This little whore has great long nipples, don't they look great in these clamps. She's also very sensitive, watch what happens when I pull on the attached springs." My torturess cruelly pulls down on my nipples 'springs.' Pain and pleasure wash over me through my clamped breasts. "Mmmmmmf! Mmmmmmfth!" I moan and shake against my bindings as her guests murmur and giggle in response to my dilemma. Her fingers travel up, then down my back. She gently caresses my bare ass. "And here's is my little slut's, 'piece de resistance,' her gorgeous, saucy butt, and her cute pussy. These are the reasons why you're all here tonight." Mrs. Lowens cool fingers knead and pinch my ass, I moan and squirm around. My God! This older woman has turned me into a sex-show for her friends! "What do you think folks? Isn't this beautiful young butt just crying out to be punished?" Punished? I gulp and tremble in my bonds. Since I'm still blindfolded I can only hear her guests titter. Mrs. Lowens fingers trace down my ass and thighs, grazing my oozing pussy. "Hmmm very nice, Perhaps the judicious application of a paddle to young Donna's ass here would do the trick nicely. How many wacks do you think our little slut can take?" Her guests giggle once again. I hear Mrs. Lowens moving around the living room. I hear women's voices call out their feelings about how many 'wacks' my poor bottom can take! "Thirty, at least thirty for an ass like that." "Thirty? This little bitch could take at least forty, maybe fifty!" "I believe our saucy little wench here needs one hundred stiff wacks!" Bound fast to Mrs. Lowens pleasure table, on my elbows and knees, I tremble and twist in my bindings. My poor clamp nipples are sore. One hundred wacks? Her 'guests' are absolutely relentless! "Well, poor Donna is new to this scene. Lets start her off easy," I hear Mrs. Lowens tell the crowd. I feel a broad, cold surface caressing my ass. She must be standing near me with paddle in hand. "I think ten good wacks will do our little bound lady a world of good." In relief I sigh into my ballgag. The crowd grumbles in disappointment. The first wack hits me hard on the ass. A sudden sting and intense heat rises from my rear. But what's so devilish is that I'm suddenly push forward in my bent-over and bound state. My clamped and hardwired nipples are pulled backward as the force of the blow pushes me forward! Mrs. Lowens planed this from the start! "Woommmh! Owwwmmmph!" I moan and groan uncontrollably with my blindfolded and gagged head down. "One!" Mrs. Lowens quips triumphantly. As the spanking proceeds it has a delirious effect on me; the sharp sting on my ass, the pull on my clamped breasts. Mrs. Lowens has purposely forced me into this predicament, a crazy zigzagging of pain and pleasure washes through my prostrate body It seems like an eternity, but the count finally gets to ten. My lips quiver around the large rubber ballgag, tears run down past the blindfold and streak across my hot face. "There, there my little strumpet, that wasn't so bad was it?" Mrs. Lowens comforts me as her fingers trace lightly along my spanked bottom, her guests giggle. "Wow! Donna," Mrs. Lowens tells me. "Your saucy little ass is quite hot. Okay, the time has finally come. Let's face it, our young whore here is sizzling and needs relief fast. I already fucked this little cunt once the other night, and now want to give one of you in the audience an equal chance to freely play with the body of our bound young friend here. You all know where my wide array of special toys are, feel free to use them completely without prejudice on this bound twat before you. Do I have any volunteers?" I can't believe Mrs. Lowens is doing this to me, saying this things. It's pretty close to my nasty fantasy she made me blurt out the other night when bound to her bed. I groan and shake on the table, feeling completely exposed to these unknown strangers, and tremendously excited. "Hmmm, so many! Okay you, your most appropriate I suppose!" There's some shuffling, I then hear someone opening drawers, they must be gathering Mrs. Lowens' 'toys' to try out on me. Someone approaches my rear. I feel cool, wet lips gently kissing my now-sore bottom. I can't believe this is happening! A total stranger is kissing my butt! I can't believe what Mrs. Lowens is putting me through! I want to tell them all that I'm not a twat, cunt or a whore. I'm a good college girl who lives at home with her parents, I've always tried to be a good girl! Of course it's a little hard for me to say anything with this over-sized rubber ballgag stuffed into my mouth. And would anyone take seriously a girl who let herself be blindfolded and bound, legs, arms and tits to a homemade 'pleasure table?' "Well Donna," Mrs. Lowens tell me. "I'm going to step aside and let our volunteer take over now. Just relax. I suspect you'll cum like never before." I feel Mrs. Lowens fingers gently rub the back of my neck. "The crowd is really enjoying your little show, my slutty one. Maybe I should narrate a bit since you can't see what's coming. Your volunteer is a woman, a pretty one at that. She has selected an anal vibrator and spiky strap-on dildo from my equipment drawer. She's now naked and lubing up the anal vibrator. She'll probably take you up the ass with it, and then fuck you silly with the strap-on. Oh, it looks like your sweet little bottom is about to be licked!" I shiver and moan into the ballgag. A deep blush blooms across my face as I feel the stranger's lips touch my ass. I've never been fucked in the ass before! Her lips travel back and forth along my heated bottom. A long pointy tongue lathers me up from my pussy to rosebud. I yelp as I feel the stranger's teeth bit into my left ass cheek. The crowd in Mrs. Lowens' living room laughs in amusement. I blush even deeper and tremble in anticipation. The stranger's hands take hold of both sides of my naked, swinging ass. Long, sharp fingernails dig into my soft skin. "Donna," Mrs. Lowens says. "It's my duty to inform you, that our volunteer is about to take you up the ass with one mean-looking vibrator." Her guests laugh. I groan into the ballgag in surprise as I suddenly feel a bumpy, hard plastic surface push against my rosebud. I moan and wiggle at the odd touch and try to relax. I can't believe this is happening! I'm on my hands and knees, blindfolded, gagged and bound naked to a pleasure table, while a crowd watches a total stranger sodomize my rear end! I'm swamped with lust and desire from being stimulated for so long! I want to be fuck, need to be fuck, even in front of all this people! The tip of the anal intruder pushes into me slowly and then is withdrawn. The woman then pushes into me a little further and withdraws. I feel my ass being opened up fully by this bumpy phallus-like object.The crowd ohs and ahs with each penetration. This cycle of in and out goes on for a while, a long while, until the thing is completely inserted inside me. A feeling of fullness and pleasure wells up out of my rear, causing my exposed pussy to tingle even more. My anus keeps trying to close on the inserted object, but it can't! I moan and groan into my ballgag. My thighs and legs shaking with pure desire. "Oh Donna," Mrs. Lowens resumes her narrative. "It was such fun watching a proper young lady like yourself get impaled up the ass with that nasty vibrator. But it seems to have fit inside you quite, quite well. Now it looks like our guest is going to fuck you doggie style with the strap-on, like the true bitch-slut you really are." I feel the woman's warm thighs and hips press against my backside. Her hands come down and I gasp as a spiky dildo slides easily into my wet pussy. I feel her hands hold my waist, for purchase, as she thrusts into me. She quickly sets up an intense, forceful pumping action in and out of my dripping pussy. I put my head down and concentrate on my impending orgasm. Between her thrusting into me and the presence of the object in my ass, it won't be long at all now. Adding to the sensations are the clamps and springs holding my nipples firmly in place, with each plunge into my pussy they stretch a bit back and forth. The woman's thighs slap loudly against me with each thrust of the dildo into my cunt. I feel crazy, wild, out of control with carnality. I want her to fuck me good, good and hard! Oooh! I'm so very close! My unknown lover thrusts more forcefully into me as she somehow turns on the anal vibrator embedded deep in my ass and leans over my back grabbing my clamped and bound breasts. I feel her own pointy breasts push into my back as she pushes up on my tits with her hands, causing my poor, bound nips to stretch downward with each thrust into my pussy. This woman is driving me crazy. I feel her completely over me, dominating me, fucking me senseless like some kind of bitch-dog in heat! While continuing her thrusting and pulling up on my poor, bound titties, she bites the back of my neck and licks behind my left ear. "Okay slutty-whatty, you can cum now," my unknown, demon lover whispers softly in my ear with a vaguely familiar voice. And I do just that. Wailing loudly through my ballgaged mouth and bucking against this woman over me, I cum in waves, and waves, and waves of pure pleasure. The vibrating anal phallus, her endless forceful thrusting and pulling against my clamped breasts, the feeling of her soft tits pressing into my back, all mix together until I feel as if I'm just one big hole, taking in massive amounts of sensual input, fulling up completely and exploding outward. I feel slightly dazed as the woman dismounts from me and withdraws her dildo and phallus from my ass. Someone takes off my ballgag and I gasp rapidly through my mouth, head down, my lips and cheeks tingling and slightly cramped from being gagged. Otherwise I'm kept blindfolded and attached to the table as Mrs. Lowens' guests leave the apartment. Mrs. Lowens finally unclamps my breasts, unbinds my legs and arms from the table and takes off my blindfold. She holds me tightly and slides her tongue into my mouth. We stand there in her living room french kissing for a while. "Oh Donna," Mrs. Lowens says breaking the kiss, "you were just wonderful. I hope my scene wasn't too much for you." "It was wonderful Mrs. Lowens, a little intense at times, but you were right, I never had an orgasm like that before. I think, I think I'm really, really falling in love with you.." "Well, that's nice sweetie. But now let's go to the bedroom. I really need some of that loving myself now." For the rest of the weekend we made gentle love. Mrs. Lowens occasionally ties me up, or clamps my nipples but nothing like her earlier scene on the pleasure table. No matter how hard I press her, Mrs. Lowens refused to tell me who my demon lover was. But did say it was somebody I knew, which only drives me crazy for piquing my curiosity. I just have to find out! On Monday I'm back at the office, doing the boring fact checking research as usual. I notice some of the women in the office giving me odd looks and smiles. Could they have been part of Mrs. Lowens' crowd? How awful! I'm in the copy machine room when Mrs. Takio walks in. As my demanding boss and manager, she always makes me a little nervous. "Donna, I thought you had those reports copied last week," Mrs. Takio addresses me sharply. "I, I, I'm sorry Mrs. Takio, but I was a little distracted last week," I stammer like a fool. Mrs. Takio leans close to me and gently rubs my back. "That's okay Donna, as long as you're still my slutty-whatty." I look up, stunned, at the beautiful Japanese woman. I'm still holding the report binders absently over the copy machine. Was she the one? My demon lover? I blush unwittingly. Mrs. Takio gives me a wink and quick smile. She leaves the room, turning gracefully in her high heels. I watch her attractive backside as she slinks down the office hallway.

Ff F/f bd sm ds

PART 3

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12978.txt

anthony anthony

tonytony3's Maria's Revenge 1/2 *(cheating, revenge)

"Go to Boston Center now, on 118.05" "Center on 118.05 for triple X-Ray." I dialed the new frequency into COM 2, switched over to that radio, pressed the mike switch on the yoke, and reported in. It was the expected response. "Roger, X Ray cubed, radar contact." Yeah, they saw me. What an unusual day. Just four hours ago I thought I'd be spending another night in Cleveland. Then, we had a breakthrough. If I'd be willing to accept an equity interest in the company, as well as a bit less money, they'd license my patent. "That way", John explained, "we'd be sure you'd be around when we wanted you. You'd have a vested interest." Damn right. It would make me truly independent, independent of my wife's family for that matter, and we'd live 'happily ever after'. Hey, I'm within a hundred miles of home! Fly the damn airplane, stop daydreaming, plan ahead. "Boston Center, Mooney six niner triple X Ray would like lower, please." "Triple X, descend now to 7000 feet." "Triple X out of 11 for 7." Close the cowl flaps, pull an inch or so off the manifold pressure, trim a bit nose down. . . there it is, a 500 feet a minute descent. That'll burn 8 minutes, and get me 24 miles closer. So, we signed the letter of intent. Our lawyers would see to the details. I made a quick call home, and told Maria I'd be home about 11 tonight. What a life! I called flight service: an Instrument Flight Rules plan would be needed: Rain and clouds and shit all the way. I filed a flight plan, ETD in an hour. John's wife offered to drive me to the hotel, and then to the airport. You bet I accepted: a big mistake. She came up to the room with me, watched as I started to pack, went into the bathroom as I continued, and she came out, wearing only a towel, just as I finished filling my garment bag. "You're in the big leagues, now, Al. Time for some big league perqs", she said. Until then I was a faithful husband. But when she came closer to me, and my arms automatically went around her, and felt the towel on her back. The towel opened, and I touched her skin. Then only our bodies close together held the towel up, and I saw, in the mirror, her nude back, her naked ass, and those wonderful legs, and she said "Don't you like me?", and stepped away, and then the towel was gone, and her breasts were as lovely as her legs, and her waist was so slender, and her hips, and her figure, and. . . and I couldn't resist. She drove me wild, and then drove me to the Burke Lakefront airport, and drove out to the airplane to help keep me dry, and then, after preflight she climbed into the cockpit with me to "Tuck me in", and I was never sucked off like that before. I'll have to change my night time pre-start check list. Let's see, right after "verify gear switch is set to down" I'll add "Extinguish all interior lights, position pilot seat fully aft, undo pants, have passenger test alternate joy stick for freedom of movement and lick-off" and. . . I could still smell her, still feel her mouth, feel the sensation of that first penetration. And, I missed my scheduled ETD by only a half hour! A life changing half hour. I don't want to be an unfaithful husband, as great as that sex was. I won't let it happen again. Back to the real world. I had to call home. I pushed one side of the headset off, pulled out the cellular phone, and called. There's never a problem with cell phone connections when you're a mile and a half up in the sky. "Maria, I'm 20 minutes out. Will you pick me up?" "Sure, Al: be careful, viz is awful, it's windy, and dark, and raining. I'll see you soon." Maria's a pilot, too. More than that, she went through the bother to become a CFII: she was licensed to teach, including flying on instruments. ATIS, the automatic briefing broadcast, confirmed what Maria reported. 300 feet ceiling, a mile visibility, winds 140 degrees at 23 gusts to 35. It would mean flying the approach to near minimums: as low as I care to go. Then, I'd have to fly the airplane onto the ground in those cross winds. There'd be nothing subtle about this landing. "Triple X, continue decent to 3000." "X's is out of 8 for 3." As expected, a few minutes later, the next hand-off: "Triple X, Boston Approach now, 122.25." "Twenty two, twenty five for X cubed. See Ya." I twisted in the new freq on COM 1, switched radios, and made the call. "Approach, Mooney six niner triple X Ray out of 5 for 3, with Hanscom information Bravo", confirming I listened to the ATIS broadcast. "Triple X, radar contact. Continue decent to 2,500, expect an ILS to one one. Current ATIS information is Charlie." The weather was changing quickly, I guessed, for the worse. It sucks, but the instrument landing system to runway 11 had the lowest landing minimums at the airport. I should get home. All was going well. This WAS the big leagues. "Triple X, you are 4 miles from the outer marker. Cleared for an ILS to Hanscom runway 11. Contact tower on 119 point 5 at the outer marker." "Roger, cleared for the ILS, tower on nineteen five at the outer marker." The localizer reported I was lined up, and here comes the glide slope. . . centered, and there was the "beep beep beep" of the outer marker, the ADF needle swung around and pointed to the tail, and gear down and flaps at thirty percent - no full flap landing in these winds - and mixture and prop forward, fuel pump on, get the decent rate on the glide slope nailed, and switch the radio to tower and "Triple X is at the marker inbound." "Mooney Triple X Ray, Hanscom tower, cleared to land." I checked and rechecked: the airplane was all set up for a missed approach in case I don't break out of the clouds in time to land. "Always treat finding the airport a happy accident" my wife/instructor says - that way not finding it when you are as low as you can go won't be a surprise. Hey, that wasn't so bad. 400 feet above the ground and a mile from the runway threshold I saw the VASI, the strobe lead in lights, got my landing lights on (you keep them off when you're in the clouds, the glare can really screw up night vision), and on to the runway without bending or breaking anything, and taxied to the tie down. God didn't punish me for fucking around! At least, not yet. I saw the headlights, and my wife drove the minivan to the airplane. She was tying down the tail before I was out, and in a moment the airplane was secure. I got a welcoming kiss, and then, when the lights were on in the van, it started. "Al, there's lipstick on your mouth. And on your collar!" There's no washroom on a little airplane: no way to alter evidence, and there was no time to think of an excuse. It was a silent ride home. Then we were in the door, and she looked at me, and - they always know, don't they? "YOU WERE FUCKING AROUND!" I can't lie to her. I tried to explain. I rationalized. It was no big deal, a one time event, it would never happen again, and I was sorry, so sorry, and. . . She wasn't buying it. Maria is Sicilian. She has old country values. So do I, for that matter. "Not a big thing. Big man, telling his wife it's not big thing for him to screw around." From a high to as low as possible in a couple of hours. I love my wife. She's the most important thing in my life to me. I told her all of that, but somehow those explanations weren't carrying any weight. I slept in the guest room for the next two nights. Maria was still angry. "I can't even tell my family!" Her family! I forgot about that! I could be a dead man. I flashed back to our wedding, and her dad taking me aside as he gave me keys to our house: "A little wedding present". And I remembered what he told me. "I like you, Al, but if you ever hurt my Maria you will regret being born!" And I remember her three big brothers talking to me later.Well, yes, I do call him Mario. He did say family didn't have to use his honorifics. "You don't have to worry about him," Vincent, the lawyer brother said. "If you do anything bad to her, by the time we're done with you, there won't be enough left for pop to hurt!" Mario added "I was happy to celebrate your Wedding Mass, I'd hate to have to do your funeral one." And Jack, the brother with the construction company - Big Jack, he's called - didn't say anything. He just shook my hand, nodding congratulations on marrying his little sister, and it only took a week for the pain in my hand to go away. That was the family I prayed she wasn't going to tell! Finally, four days after Cleveland, I was summoned by her. "Sit." I sat. "Tell me every detail." I did. "OK. I decided I want this marriage to continue." She stated. Thank God. "Me too", I agreed. "But, I'm Sicilian. Every fiber in me demands revenge." "Maria, it wasn't a big important thing, it won't happen again. . ." That argument wasn't going to work. "Not a big thing! If I screwed around you'd go crazy!!" "No, no." That was the wrong thing to say. "We'll see about that!" She stormed out. There are times when I think I'm pretty smart, and then there are times when I prove I'm not. Like just then. The next evening Maria threw the contract, the one that came from Cleveland, that brother Vincent just reviewed, on the table. "Vincent says you've got a good deal here. This is fine for us. Sign it." Well, that part of the trip paid off. I signed. "I've decided on how I will have my revenge." "Anything, Maria." "You've always been a jealous man, Al. I am a jealous woman. We'll see about your 'anything' Be here when I get back from the gym." She left, wearing that damned spandex workout suit that made her look so good. I had not been near that body since Cleveland. Ninety minutes later a slammed front door announced a sweaty Maria returned. She marched into my den. "Do you remember about Frank?" "Frank?" "Frank's that detective who's always propositioning me at the gym." "Oh, that Frank. Yeah, I do remember." "You're the bastard who said fucking around is no big deal. Frank's on his way here. Let's see just how big a deal it is!" "What?!" "You just let him in when he gets here. I'm taking a shower!" "But.. ." "No buts. It's my revenge!" "But. . ." But nothing. She was gone up to the bath room. I was left standing there, mouth open. Stunned. I was still standing there when, in a few minutes the bell rang. I opened the door, and Frank: great big black Frank, wearing his Members Only jacket, boat shoes, chinos, and a golf shirt, pushed his way in. "You gotta be Al. Christ, you fucked up big time." "What the hell?" He interrupted. "I've been wanting to screw your wife from the first time I laid eyes on her. I told her a long time ago it could be any time, any where, any way, the kinkier the better. Tonight she told me you screwed around, and if I still wanted to, tonight was my night, this here was the place, and showing you what it's like to have your wife screw around is the way. I like parties like this. Where is she?" "She's in the shower, but. . ." This big man just said "Shut up. Get me a beer." I heard a voice from upstairs: "Do what you're told!" And then Maria appeared, wearing a long robe. She took Frank by the hand - no beer, a success!- and pulled him angrily up stairs. At the top of the stairs she turned, and saw me standing there, mouth open. "Get up here" she demanded. "You're the one who said this was no big deal." The grin on Frank's face was lecherous as he beckoned me with his finger. His middle finger. He was led and led me to the guest room. The bed was turned down, the lighting was low. Maria drained a drink she had in the room. Poured another. "Let's get this over with," she said.

cheating, revenge

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12924.txt

Celeste801

Celeste's Top 100 Stories of 1997

"The Stepford Wives" by Rhett Dreams (reposted by somogy1@hotmail.com) Guest review by Piper Funny. I've learned more about classical literature from reading "smut" in ass than I did all through school, university, and the many years of normal reading since. That's probably because my interests lie in other genres, like sci-fi, fantasy, comic books, and the like. This means I have absolutely no bias when (and no basis for) comparing this story with the original. Having said that, I think that Rhett's version is probably not as literary as the original, but it is probably much hotter and more titillating. If you've never read the book or seen the movie (there is a movie, isn't there?), there is something strange going on in the town of Stepford, Kansas. Something very strange. All of the women are perfect. Not physically perfect, of course, but perfectly made up, perfectly dressed, perfectly mannered, and perfectly wonderful wives and mothers. Too perfect. Scary perfect. There's a reason for this perfection. He's called Dr. Richard Poulson -- aka Joseph Mengele, Jr. He's controlling their minds, using drugs. But if you think this might be a normal run-of-the-mill mind control story, you would be wrong. Dr. Poulson has much greater ambitions than a small town like Stepford could ever contain. Who else is in on this plot? Just about every male resident of the town, of course. When will his ambitions break loose? Soon. Very soon. Into this cauldron of depravity comes a couple of strangers and their little girl. These are normal, everyday people. The doctor, in order to protect his dirty secrets, must incorporate these newcomers into his web. The husband must be seduced and compromised. The wife must be processed. All without their knowledge, of course. He orders his minions to see to it. When they try, complications arise. I liked this story. There are plenty of plot twists. There are genuine bad guys and good guys. There is evil aplenty. There is tons of sex of all types and varieties and degrees of heat. Being an MC story, naturally a fair bit of it occurs without one or more of the participants' informed consent. Sometimes it occurs without their knowledge. Sometimes it involves whips and chains and crops and the like. Definitely not for the faint of heart, but definitely interesting and engrossing. There are a couple of things that bothered me. One was the need for a final, thorough, proofreading. I hate getting deeply involved in a story, only to be thrown out of my carefully built up mental world by a wordsmithing problem. Another was the ending. I don't know how closely this story mirrors the original, but the ending was a little hokey. Minor hokey, but hokey nonetheless. Maybe that's just me and my non-literary judgmentalism. I'm sure there will be lots of folks who will enjoy the ending. Despite these minor flaws, I loved the story. It's worth a read. But be warned -- it's long. 410k long. I don't know how many words that translates into, but it's a lot! (I just got told it's around 75,000 words by one of my lady friends. Even she liked the story!) "Stocking Filler" by Bronwen (bronwen@anon.nymserver.com). The husband has promised to get the best Santa costume ever. The wife has skipped midnight mass and has sexed herself up to give Santa the ride of his life. The rest of the plot is easy to guess: the wife will fuck the brains out of the wrong person. Right? 'Tis a simple plot, but Bronwen will make it interesting. Right? Well, close - but way off! This is an extremely imaginative, highly sexy, magical, just plain erotic story of Christmas sex. I'm not even going to try to summarize it any further. If you're interested in Christmas or sex or pagan gods or anything in between or all of the above, you'll love this story! "Sucker" by BronwenSM (bronwensm@cuckoo.clara.net). Live and learn, that's what I always say. I've spent my life on this side of the pond. I always thought the British were much like the rest of us. I read Shakespeare, of course, but I always figured he's been dead for nearly a hundred years now, and I figured the British didn't really talk that way. I have always been pretty sure that the people of the UK really liked us over here in the colonies, because after all the American Revolution was really a fight between a group of British subjects and a German King - the Germans, don't get me off on them or I'll never get back to this review. I figured MAYBE the British talked in iambic pentameter and expressed their love in sonnets and could actually understand what John Milton was talking about and sang "Singing in the Rain" on those occasions when they raped somebody. But even though I often wondered how they got along with almost no real television and why all the good musicians left the country as soon as they grew up, I knew that deep down they were ordinary blokes, although I wasn't really sure whether it was proper to refer to a female Brit as a bloke. I could go on, but the point is that along came BronwenSM, who has two capital letters at the end of her name. So right away I knew that I was going to learn things about my confreres from the Mother Country. Anyway, this is a story about a 16-year-old girl {that would probably be 17 in ordinary years, eh Mate?} who was formerly what we Americans call a plain Jane. While she's laid up {no sexual connotation, even in England} with glandular fever, her body goes through what American talk shows {BBC Channel 2} sometimes call adolescent metamorphosis. In short, she comes back a babe - a young femme fatale, one might say - after spending some time convalescing at a huge, tatty mansion on a cliff with a private beach of Aunt Dolly in Wales. Or, as a more astute British author might put it, during her hiatus she had gone from the plainly porcine to lithe and lascivious loveliness. When she returned to school, her impact on society was emphatic if not traumatic. Great gangs of men on building sites shrieked at her like gibbons, old men slipped off their Zimmer frames when she went into the post office, and her terrifying chemistry master went red all the way up his neck whenever he looked at her and then left a really embarrassing poem in my pigeon hole. So when this bloke she fancied asked her to go swimming with him, she nearly dropped down dead with delight. See what I mean? American teenagers would simply cum in their panties, which doesn't even alliterate, as if they would know what that means! Way gone, dude! I think I'm going to give up trying to imitate the British style in this subtle manner and simply get on with it. After all, I have viewed the dismal situation and it is ours, as the Great British Poet once said. The boyfriend's name is Oliver, which is sometimes another name for John Thomas (or, in America, Johnson or more informally Dick), and so this reminds me of another story that I heard back in the 70's. A man and a woman went on their honeymoon - in Wales, I think. After several hours of what the man considered to be a most excellent First Night Experience with his virgin bride, she went to the bathroom - I forget what the British call it - you know, the crapper. Anyway, the man looks over the newspaper for something to do the next day, and he comes across an interesting movie. So he shouts, "Would you like to see "Oliver Twist," Luv?" The wife replies, "You do one more trick with that bloody thing, and I'm going home to my Mum." {By Jove, I think I got it!} Anyway, Oliver develops an infirmity (the blood suddenly rushes to his thing), and the young lady has to give him first aid. She quickly becomes so good at first aid that the boys are pretty much lining up to be serviced. This is an excellent story - both sexy and humorous. Before I end this review, I'd like to say just one more thing about British speech, which gets especially awkward when they ride bicycles. For example, I picked up this anecdote on another newsgroup: I was walking down the street with my wife the other day when we saw our neighbor (a very genial Jamaican bloke) riding by on his bike. Suddenly the bike flips and our poor neighbor finds himself spread eagled on the pavement. My wife immediately said: "That black bloke's bike's back break block broke." British people can actually SAY things like that! Just imagine if the Jamaican bloke would have been a bleached blond! "A Summer Romance" by Jim Fix (jimfix@earthlink.This was actually posted as two separate stories: "A Summer Romance Part 1" and "Summer Romance Revisited." I shall review these as a single story, and I advise you to read both parts together. Paul (a bright student going into his sophomore year in high school) and his Mom have been living together since her messy divorce from his Dad two years ago. Paul and his mother have always shown mutual affection, but during a stay at some relatives' mountain cabin they realize that their attraction has a physical and sexual component. With his mature consent, Mom decides to treat Paul as a lover, and their life together becomes happier. They each contribute to the other's intellectual and personal growth, as well as to each other's sexual happiness. The second half of the story moves more rapidly than the first half. Life changes; Paul goes to college; Mom gets a new job; their love affair comes to an end; Mom remarries; and Paul falls in love. This is a very good story. I think society's general taboo against incest is reasonable; that is, it makes sense to have an initial reaction that incestuous relations should be avoided. In general, incestuous relationships are likely to be coercive and exploitive, even though the participants may be unaware that something bad is happening. Nevertheless, it also makes sense to consider the possibility that such relationships could be productive and growth-producing. This author has gone to great lengths to build a good story around a set of circumstances in which a mother/son sexual relationship is not only harmless but also beautiful. "Susan" by Uther Pendragon (anon584c@nyx.net). I think what we have here could be entitled "Everyman's Wet Dream"; but it's also a poignant story. The narrator stumbles upon a beautiful woman who essentially believes that each person should seek his or her own pleasure, but seek it by offering pleasure to others in exchange. Susan brings Joe to heights of pleasure he has never experienced before. The poignant part is that Joe eventually falls in love with Susan and wants an exclusive relationship; but exclusivity is not part of her repertoire. Even taken in isolation, this is one hot story. But what amazes me to the point of incredulity is that this story is written by the same person who has been posting the Bob and Jeanette Brennan stories. I think this level of versatility is wonderful. As I read a Bob and Jeanette story, I say to myself, "This author really understands simple, monogamous passion." As I read the present story, I say to myself, "This author really understands hedonism." This same author has written about an exploitive guerrilla officer in "Duty"; and "Wagtail" contained bestiality, incest, and rape, but was just a good, creative story. This kind of versatility is wonderful. "Sweet Home Chicago" by Gregarious (gregarious@poboxes.com). The man goes to the park near Lake Michigan in Chicago for a blues concert. He meets a young woman in the crowd whose ethnicity is different from his but whose love for the blues rivals his own. They become friendly, and when the rain begins to fall, they find it necessary to cuddle up under a blanket. It turns out that people can do some wonderful things under the influence of good music in a pouring rain. The curtain call takes place at her apartment. This is an exceptionally good story. "Tabitha" by MountainTop (Topspace4@aol.com). This story is a blend of what appears to be accurate information about some of the women who work in stripper bars and the narrator's fantasy about what he would like to have done with one of these women. The narrator visits a bar while he is away on a business trip, and he meets Tabitha, who has sexual interests that are similar to his own. At first she gets to know him by reading his stories and then she ventures off to his motel with him. They don't actually copulate, but they engage in several erotic D&s activities together. My criticism of many D&s stories is that they often don't make sense to an outsider. That may be fine for the author, if he wants to write only for insiders - people who are already turned on to D&s and simply want to see some stereotypical rituals performed in a different context. This author avoids that pitfall: as I read the story I got the impression that I was experiencing some aspects of life that were not familiar to me, and they made sense to me. I'm not inspired to go out and try the same things, but I have a slightly better understanding of people who do so. I appreciate that in a story. I might add that my own experiences with stripper bars have been far different from this. I have visited such establishments only when I was out of town (far from my students, their parents, and school board members) and in the company of my husband.My impression has been that these are often tawdry places where the dancers are extremely artificial and not all that attractive and have a lot more pressing things on their rather mundane minds than revealing their titillating personalities or having philosophical discussions with fascinating customers. Of course, maybe one gets a different response if one selects the establishment more carefully, tips more robustly, and isn't obviously accompanied by one's spouse. "Trip" by Plainman (an10176@anon.nymserver.com). This story uses a completely narrative format to offer an excellent blend of hot and sexy romantic fiction with several levels of voyeurism and reality. By several levels, I mean several levels: we even have critiques of other a.s.s. authors worked into the storyline. I simply had to keep reading to see if I came up. {Or as my husband put it, "God, you even smell sexy. Why don't you just use the search function to check for 'Celest' and come to bed with me?" I did; Plainman did not; we did; but I got back up to finish the story after I exhausted my husband while I was describing a bisexual fantasy to him.} In this story, there are two sexy married couples. In each family, the husband and wife are passionate lovers in a predominantly monogamous but still open marriage. They enjoy incorporating fantasies into their love life; and as the story develops, they bring their fantasies into their real lives in very sexy ways. This author does a wonderful job of using the narrative format to blend flashbacks with present action in such a way as to fuse sexy events into even hotter images. In addition, the action outside the sack is often as hot as the actual lovemaking. There are many interesting and sexy scenes in this story. Here I'll quote only the one that makes a point that I myself have tried to make several times in these reviews: "Joe: ...She (Joe's wife) says it herself - most women are bi, more or less. Princess: So are most guys, but you have more incentives to hide it from yourselves - so anyway, how bi IS Amy?" My allegation has always been not that most people should have sex with people of both genders, but simply that most people could enjoy having sex with people of both genders if they wouldn't suppress those urges - and perhaps suppress them for perfectly good reasons, such as ethical beliefs or a commitment to a monogamous relationship. But if I enjoy diddling my own clitoris and having my husband eat me out, why in the world (aside from conditioned, emotional reactions) would I find it unpleasant to have a beautiful woman do the same things to me while I returned the favor? And the same goes for guys - except, as Princess says, they have more incentives to hide or suppress their interest. Oh well, my own commitment to this principle extends only to reading and enjoying both kinds of stories. As Joe and Princess put it, I'm hetero and monogamous in my real world but bi and polyamorous in my reel world. Anyway, I feel an urge to expound my theory at least once every six months. And this story is an excellent example of my theory in practice. These couples represent a hedonistic lifestyle that I personally reject in real life because I know it would ruin something beautiful with my husband - but a story like this presents the case for the temptation in a very persuasive manner. I strongly recommend this story. It's a clever, narrative mixture of Mark Aster, Tom Trilogy, and Uther Pendragon in a SueNH atmosphere with about thirty-five Dulcinea stories blended into the plot. "Truckstop" by The Bear (thebear@io.com). This author is different from the other Bear, who has also authored several well-written stories. This New Bear wants to make sure we distinguish him from the Old Bear, whose stories have included sex with teenagers and children. The current Bear wants to make it clear that he's not into that sort of thing. The present story takes place in the general area of Sulfur Springs, Texas, which is the Mecca of smut writers throughout the world. More dirty thoughts and imaginary orgasms have occurred per square foot of inhabitable space in Sulfur Springs than perhaps anyplace else outside of Great Britain. Amy is a businesswoman who pulls into a lonely truckstop for a bite to eat. The only other customer mistakes her for a hooker, and she decides to play the role. She gives him his money's worth and then some. "Tryout" by Friar Dave (friar_dave@mhbbs.com). The reader immediately gets immersed in the action right from the start - Jerry comes out of the shower, finds his wife already turned on from reading a sexy magazine, starts fucking her, has her read the magazine out loud to him, and then finishes her off. In her pre-Jerry life, Connie was interested in other women; and Jerry has a liberal attitude in this regard: Be sure she's clean, don't cut their time together, and talk about it if the attachment seems to be getting more than essentially physical. In other words, Jerry "is able to remain sanguine in the face of Connie's sapphic escapades." I'd say he goes beyond sanguine to just plain buoyant when he joins the ladies himself. Read the story for details. This is really hot stuff. It almost makes me suspect that the author delights in the thought that maybe his readers will get turned on while they read this story. The only flaw in this story was that either Connie or Kim had nice "areolas." I guess Friar Dave wrote this story before my seminar on areolas. However, because I learned some interesting things about sex toys, I won't even dock him for his misspelling of the a-word. "Under Cover" by Mike Hunt (MrM1ke@aol.com). I know some of you readers think that I am Mike Hunt. That's possibly because I enjoy Mike Hunt so much and have great respect for Mike Hunt. But to be honest, I have to admit that my admiration for Mike Hunt is based primarily on the fact that in a sophomoric way, sentences like the previous one are a lot of fun to read out loud. My brother used to have a similar affinity for people he referred to as I.P. Daily and Seymour Heine, the reputed authors of "The Yellow River" and "Under the Cheerleaders' Bench," respectively. No, Mike Hunt is Mike Hunt - a unique author whose imagination sometimes astounds me. Take the present story, for example. Where would anyone get the idea for a plot about a guy who decides to do some investigative reporting on phone sex and then finds himself talking to a former classmate during his first interview? Then when he visits her for an in-person interview, the phone-sex goddess builds a fantasy for a caller around her alleged experiences with Mike Hunt, who, of course, is sitting there in her "office" getting himself off while listening to her end of the conversation. Where would a person get an idea for a story like this? The simplest explanation is that it must be true. However, the best explanation is that he probably got it from his cellmate. <Celeste 1, Mike Hunt 0> One question I have is how did Jenny Sue get out of paying taxes? I thought I was being really clever by managing to get out of taxes for my profits on Celestial Reviews. But my method {making no profit whatsoever and therefore being obligated to pay no taxes at all} pales in comparison to this woman's method. I suspect her technique wouldn't really work; at the very least she'd have to have sex with several IRS or Bell Atlantic representatives. Anyway, this is another good story. And I haven't told you the half of it! Well, actually I have told you just about half of it, but you might as well read the story anyway. "An Unforgettable Evening" by Gary Ray (csangha@hooked.net). The man and woman are in love - deeply in love. Tonight he is going to pop the question: "Do you love me enough to trust me?" "Yes!" she replies. And out come the handcuffs, the blindfold, and an accomplice named Dominick. "Wait a minute!" says I. "This is bullshit!" "Wait a minute!" says she. "This is bullshit!" But they persist, and we come to a surprise ending. I don't exactly recommend what this guy does - too much could go wrong. But then I personally reject cybersex for the same reason, and a lot of you enjoy that activity. Anyway, this is an excellent story. This author ends his disclaimer with "Do I have hope as an erotica writer?" Hmmm... Is the pope Catholic? Does the bear shit in the woods? Do teenage nympho queens want big cocks up their asses? "Ursula" by Friar Dave (friar_dave@mhbbs.com). Guest review by Mike Hunt. Well, in a.s.s. there are writers and there are writers, and if you want a big long list go get Ole Joe's compendium. Then there are GOOD writers and there are a few GREAT writers, and Friar Dave would have to be on that short list. As Ole Joe says, Friar Dave tends to write long stories mostly about very young experiences, and "Ursula" is no exception. It's a multi-chapter story that ran 70 pages with the topic as predicted. "Ursula" is the story of a 12-year-old just discovering her sexuality, and we are led through episodes in which she experiences her first masturbation, first blowjob, first cunnilingus, first sex, and first anal entry. It's a tour-de-force of "firsts" and they're all erotic, stimulating, and downright lewd. Friar Dave connects the dots with believable characters and realistic settings, and the words flow and chapters link and draw the reader eagerly through the action, of which there is plenty. Normally I'm a little uncomfortable with stories about 12-year-olds, but having written a "first sex" story or two myself, it would be a quibble to complain. I will pick a nit about Ursula's multiple orgasms in multiple settings, and about the over-rapid development of her breasts in a one-year span of the story, but as I say, it's a nit. This is not a new story; in fact, it carries a 1986 copyright.It's been reposted by Ole Joe, apparently, and he shows exceptional taste in bringing it back for your entertainment. Enjoy. I really liked it. Or maybe it's just because I woke up at 3:00 this morning with an erection. I don't know. "Vortrek" by Uther Pendragon (anon584c@nyx.net). Bob and Jeanette Brennan are moving out of their apartment. It was "Bob and Jeanette" who had moved into this apartment; it is "the Brennans" who are moving out. These two people are really in love. Sometimes it's nauseating. I sometimes feel the urge to exit one of these Bob and Jeanette stories and read a more wholesome, realistic rape and torture story. But then I keep reading, and I am invariably glad I did. I have friends who tease me about my own marriage. They are certain that I am either simple-minded or lying: nobody can be this happy all the time sleeping with the same man. {Actually, some of them are certain that nobody could be this happy sleeping with ANY VARIETY of men.} They say it would get boring, and sometimes it does. Some of my friends know what hell is really like because they have been married. What's nice about the Bob and Jeanette stories is that they are realistically and blissfully happy. They have their ordinary lives where they struggle together with mundane problems, but their genuine love for each other is a source of strength, stability, and happiness. At times it gets to where their sex life would HAVE to become boring; but by God, somehow it gets even better. I had a friend who was in the perfect marriage. She got divorced last year. I was disillusioned. This author has a responsibility to keep Bob and Jeanette together. They're the main source of stability in the lives of millions of readers throughout the uncensored world. Please, please - don't let them go the way of Bo and Billie or the other people on the soaps. These people have become my friends. I was actually excited to hear that Jeanette has learned French! Oops... I don't want to spoil the surprise for you. They keep t'aiming and t'adoring as they drive across the country to their new home in Boston, where Bob will continue his education and Jeanette will get a job to continue to make that education possible. The story is a really outstanding blend of current events and past memories; and the memories themselves are a wonderful blend of things I myself know (from previous stories) and new information from the Early Life and Courtship of Bob and Jeanette; and those memories are a delightful blend of ideas and events that overlap with my own life and things completely new to me. And the blends are very sexy. Come to think of it, in some ways Bob is even better than my husband. For example, as far as I can see, Bob never farts during really intimate moments. I think Bob may also be better with his hands, although my husband still seems to have the edge with regard to his tongue. I am reminded of my daughter, who makes a similar comment about her birthday each and every year - this is the best Bob and Jeanette story ever! "Watching" by Tom Bombadil (stbush@iglou.com). Excellent story! This one is going to make the final cut for the short story contest. It's hot and imaginative - with several double whammies. I can't tell you anything else without ruining it for you. Check this one out! "Watching - Book 2" by Alan Mathews (alanmath@hotmail.com). This story is a sequel to "Watching," which I ranked number 16 among my Top 100 stories of 1996. You probably should read the original (Book 1) first - if only because it's enjoyable and was reposted at the same time as this sequel; but Chapter 1 of the present Book provides a good recap of Book 1. This story takes up the adventures of the very young couple and their baby as they return to their old hometown. They encounter some new problems, overcome some obstacles, grow closer together as a family, and have some great sex. Skyla is only two years old and is becoming interested in what Mommy and Daddy do in bed together, and the parents do an exemplary job of answering her questions in a way suited to her developmental level without introducing her prematurely to the rites of Venus. However, I believe some of the ideas that the author puts into Skyla's head would be much more realistic if she were, say, two or three years older. {I might also point out that there are almost certainly no two-year-olds in the real world who win at Monopoly against intelligent twelve-year-olds who are making a serious effort.} The scene in which Alex deflowers his young sister-in-law with Jenny's consent is best described as Pollyanna with an Attitude. But it's sexy stuff. The author consistently makes an interesting grammatical mistake. He uses "I" in situations that call for the objective case. Sportscasters do this all the time, but a.s.s. authors are supposed to be above that sort of thing. The easy way to deal with this problem is simply to mentally restate the sentence without the compound phrase. It's incorrect to use "me" as the SUBJECT of a sentence, and so it is WRONG to say, "Bill and me went out looking for some action." {Omit the compound subject. You would never say, "Me went out looking for some action."} On the other hand, it is correct to use "me" (and incorrect to use "I") as the OBJECT of a sentence or as the object of a preposition. Therefore, it would be WRONG to say, "John invited Sue and I over to his house for a quick threesome." {Omit the compound phrase. You would never say, " John invited I (or we) over to his house for a quick threesome."} It's that simple. I think the reason people make this mistake is because using "me" as part of the compound subject is the error that they make (and for which they get corrected) earlier in life; and so they overreact by saying "I" even in situations where "me" would be appropriate. "Wet T-Shirt Contest" by Mike Hunt (MrMike@aol.com). There are some things that people just don't really think about. For example, the guy that pours the water on the young ladies in a wet T-shirt contest has a hard job. Not only is it hard, it's also difficult. He has to wet down the right parts and only those parts of the contestants. This requires technique. This requires savoir faire. Which reminds me. Mike Hunt gets really pissed when my reviews are funnier or sexier or more literate or all of the preceding than his stories. I'll try to stop that, but it may be hard. Nevertheless, since I've used a hard word - I mean a difficult or unusual phrase - I think I had better explain what "savoir faire" means. My dictionary defines the concept as "knowing just what to do in any situation; tact." That definition doesn't do the term justice. I can do better with a series of examples: If a Frenchman comes home and finds his wife in bed with another man and says, 'Pardonnez moi!' that is ALMOST savoir faire. If the same Frenchman instead says, 'Pardonnez moi. Continuez, s'il vous plaît!' that's EVEN CLOSER to savoir faire. But if the Frenchman says, 'Pardonnez moi. Continuez, s'il vous plaît!' and then the other man - if he continuez, that IS savoir faire! Anyway, savoir faire and gaucherie aside, Mike Hunt was assigned the responsibility of wetting the T-shirts during the contest, and he was working hard <literally> while he performed his chores. I have a friend who used to be a priest. He once told me that he used to put ice cubes into the baptismal water, because then the baby would yell out in shock at the actual moment of baptism, and this would make it sound like the devil was indisputably going out of the child. Symbolism is wonderful. Mike Hunt likewise used ice cubes in his water during the contest, also to bring out the devil, so to speak. Cold tits are rich in symbolism. Mike Hunt found that his job was easier if the girls cooperated. For example, if they stuck their chests way forward, then it was easier to keep the water on their tits where it belonged, rather than on their hair or the floor. Big problem. Contestant Number 3, a major character in this story, was Frances from Phoenix, AZ. I guess people can spell their own names anyway they want; but unless this is a TG story, Number 3 was probably Frances. Sometimes people named Francis call themselves Fanny. That name is in the punchline of a joke about St. Peter and ladies applying for heaven, which was told to me by the priest with ice cubes to whom I referred earlier in this review. Well, as time went on, Mike Hunt got better and better at his job - I suppose because he was working harder and harder. He became really great at tit-watering. His main job during the contest was to bait the crowd, and he quickly became a master at this task. There may already be even more puns in this review than there are in the story itself, and so I'll let you complete this one about being a master at baiting. So you may think this is a story about strippers and voyeurism and such. But it's not! It's mostly a combination elevator-sex and phone-sex story. That's right. After the contest Mike Hunt gets stuck on a crowded elevator with Frances, and the elevator gets stuck between floors, and Frances's fanny (see above) gets stuck into Mike Hunt, and.... Never mind, you can read the story yourself. I'll just tell you the other joke. So these three women have died and have arrived before the gates of heaven, where St. Peter interviews them. {Peter could actually be a funny name in this story, because some people refer to a dick as a peter, but that's not relevant to this joke; so just assume that Peter is really the name of the "person" who keeps a book of good and bad deeds at the gate of heaven. Q. Who keeps the book at the Gate of Heaven? A. No. What is the name of the person who keeps the book at the Gate of Heaven. Who is seated at the right hand of God.Anyway, the first lady comes forward and St. Peter says to her, "You were so selfish and avaricious that you were named Penny. Depart to hell for all eternity." To the second lady, St. Peter says, "You were such an excessive and immoderate drinker of wine that you were named Sherry. Depart to hell for all eternity." The third woman just walks away. St. Peter says, "Where are you going?" She replies, "Why bother? My name is Fanny." Sir Englebert the Ungainly is in the midst of a rather hectic adventure when he comes upon a naked woman - I mean fair maiden - tied to a stake. The young lady is the nearby village's offering to one of the great beasts of the forest to persuade that monster to spare their homes from destruction. If the dragon devours her, he cannot then in good conscience attack the village. It was a sensible thing for the villagers to do, and the good knight very nearly rides on by. But there's something about the fragile beauty of a damsel in distress with her naked body dangling like a misplaced modifier from a stake so that her breasts.... The (new) third episode dwells in detail on the treatment of forest witches. Having sex with a forest witch was a tricky matter for a knight. Unless he knew exactly what he was doing, he could become permanently diverted from his quest - or even worse. The only significant problem with the story was this sentence: "I told her that I labored under a curse; that I could not enjoy a woman who was well and recently spanked." Actually, the opposite was true: he could not enjoy a woman UNLESS she was well and recently spanked. It's a big difference, but I figured the curse correctly from the context. Since the story was otherwise so good, I decided to forgive this one sin. To her horror - and pleasure - she is recognized by some of the people who take advantage of the opportunity to beat her naked body while she has several public orgasms. Kim and Anne have decided to exchange sexual instructions via email. First we hear the challenge Anne poses for Kim. It involves a vibrator, Kim's boyfriend, and some difficult but enjoyable positions. Then Kim takes her shot at Anne. To make a long story short, Kim's demands are rather severe; and so Anne's next set of instructions requires Kim to make up a list of hooker prices at which she will offer herself to her boyfriend. That is, she must list several services, including some she doesn't really think she wants to do, and will charge Ron more for those things. A zipless fuck occurs when the fucker doesn't know the fuckee, there is no meaningless chatter, and there is no playing games. The two people see each other, they are attracted to each other, and they fuck each other. In the quintessential zipless fuck the participants don't even speak to each other. They may never even see one another again, but it doesn't matter, because they both got what they wanted. A zipless fuck is extremely romantic in an unromantic sort of way.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7124.txt

MrSpraycan

"Two's Company, Stephie"

"Two's company, Stephie, but three's not necessarily a crowd," Bertie feebly argues. The issue is whether or not Jeeves will be allowed to accompany the newly wed pair on their impending honeymoon. So far, Stephie is standing firm. It's the afternoon of the Monday before the wedding, and normal decorum would have the two of them busy with other preparations and Bertie getting ready for a bachelor's night carousal with his friends. However, since some are only just now being released from the care of the local constabulary, no repeat performance is either likely, or will be countenanced. Aunt Agatha has spoken most sternly on this subject: "Hellfire and damnation! Over my dead body, or more likely, over yours Bertie! Not after the last time!" So here they are at Fortnum & Mason's tearoom on Piccadilly, a genteel and proper location for a 'little chat' before the big day. Stephie gives him that special 'I am a gull and you are a dead cod' look and says "Listen, Bertie, I'm quite prepared to have Jeeves around after we move into the new house, and I don't mind him at all. He's a likeable old stick. But I will be doubly damned if he's coming on honeymoon with us. I have to draw the line somewhere! People will talk." "I most seriously doubt that they will, Stephie. A chap's expected to have his man along. I mean, are you actually proposing that you will be laying out my clothes in the mornings, picking the right color cravat, making the tea, ironing the newspaper, running my bath at the right temperature, oh, there are so many complicated things to do! H-h-how could a woman, well, I really don't know, Stephie!" "Don't be a complete idiot, Bertie. You'll make me think that the Curse of the Woosters is alive again. That you'll be hauled off to the loonybin in a straightjacket singing the Marseillaise in Swahili. How could you think I don't know how to do all those things, and more? I'll even give you your morning willy massage, with no further ado." Bertie is speechless now. He feels he ought to tell her that his Uncle Horace had been singing Land Of Hope & Glory in Yoruba, but decides to concentrate on a more pressing matter. "My what?" "Don't be such a pitted prune, Bertie. I know all about it. Jeeves, as one might expect, told la Winterbotham, his one true heart's delight, and she of course told me." "But, but...oh, how could he?" Bertie is turning a fine shade of red. Somewhere between General Post Office regulation mailbox scarlet and one of those Dutch cheeses that looks like a football and tastes like an eraser. "Don't be such a chump, Bertie. Useful intelligence, eh? Oh, it's alright, I'm not easily embarrassed, you should know that by now. Only two or three times a week, so it's not like we have some major Oscar Wildness going on here, eh?" Stephie reassures him with a grin. "Is it?" "Yes! No! I mean, absolutely not. Nothing of the sort, Stephie. Quite proper and all that rot. Form of exercise, really." "Good, pleased to hear it. I don't like to share," she tells him. "So, you really know how to do all those things? The tea, the bath? The trouser press? How on earth did you learn them?" "From my mother, and my governess. You never know when it'll come in useful," she smiles sweetly. "And the, uh, you know, other thing?" "From the same dear ladies. 'It helps to know how to turn the starting handle when the engine doesn't want to run,' mummy always said. It's stood me in good stead for years, Bertie. Never know when it'll come in handy with chaps." "I say," he breathes. "Was that a romantic overture of some kind, couched in Woosterese?" "I, well, er," he articulates. And rather clearly, a large bulge has turned the front of his gray flannels into a small pup tent. Stephie smiles indulgently. Restrains herself from reaching over and patting the not-so-sleeping beast. "Normal decorum frowns on giving gentlemen massages of their male member in public," Stephie says with a thin smile. "Obviously there are places, like a box at the opera or a boring cricket match, where everyone is asleep or paying attention to some other nonsense. But one can hardly construe a crowded tearoom as a suitable venue for willy massaging." She enjoys his discomfort, and teases: "Even for a big hot throbbing sausage like yours, darling Bertie." He gulps, and says: "Steady on, Stephie." "Oh, yes I must. Because my crumpet is getting very, very buttered, darling boy. You know how it just loves all that naughtiness. Oh, I'm glad I wore two pairs of knickers today, or I'd be having an accident, just thinking about your wonderful thingie." He's wriggling uncomfortably, and has rearranged his napkin over the bulge. She won't stop. "That wonderful heraldic device, the lance of the Woosters. Oh, and soon, it'll be all mine. Oh, Bertie." He gasps: "Stephie, we need to discuss our honeymoon plans. That's why we're here." She blinks, shakes her head. "Good god, was that a properly focused statement, on a subject of immediate importance, Bertie? What on earth's wrong? Are you feeling yourself?" she teases. "Trying hard not to," he murmurs. "Stephie. The honeymoon." "Well," she sighs languorously, "I think I'll start by taking off my clothes..." "No, Stephie. Please, be a little more considerate!" "Very well," she smiles. "So, where are we going? Deauville? Monte Carlo? Montreux? Somewhere romantic, Bertie." "Well, uh, rather short notice and all that, m'dear, so it's a little difficult to get bookings, make arrangements," he feebly replies. "So where, Bertie? Not Aunt Agatha's. No, I think that would be a poor choice for a variety of reasons." "Me too. Well, there are some nice English resorts..." "Oh, God!" Stephie mops her brow. "Can I get a drink here? A strong port would be good. Perhaps a shot of rotgut whisky?" She's looking round for a waitress. "No no, I'm not thinking of Bournemouth or Eastbourne, or Morecombe Bay, or ..." "Good," she snaps. "Don't. You'll be suggesting Blackpool next. My god." "But I do know a nice quiet little place in the West Country. Terribly romantic," he offers nervously. "Oh? Perhaps, then. Bucolic places, I can tolerate. Just nowhere with crowds of sweaty factory workers, swilling beer." "Oh no, darling, this is quite, quite different," he vows. "No knotted handkerchiefs on heads?" "No, I promise." It's Aunt Agatha who has the final word. "No." She raps hard on the floor of Bertie's living room with her walking stick, like Wotan summoning lightning. "Absolutely not!" she barks. In the distance, a dog begins to howl in distress. "But, Auntie," Bertie pleads, "Stephie insists..." "Mere slip of a girl, and she has you wrapped round her finger already," Aunt Agatha intones. "No, Bertram. You are not going on your honeymoon without Jeeves being in attendance. And I am going to instruct Stephanie that Dora Winterbotham is to be invited too. As I construe from their various discussions, the two are quite comfortable with each other's presence. Their commonsense will prevent any foolishness." "But, Auntie..." "No more arguing, Bertram. You two have the capacity to get up to more mischief than a cartload of monkeys, and are not to be trusted on your own. Take Jeeves and Dora with you, and there's just a faint chance that we'll escape without more foolishness." Jeeves greets the news with equanimity. "Very good, sir." "You knew, Jeeves. You knew she'd insist," Bertie says. "I'm quite happy, except with this idea on her part that I am some kind of nitwit who can't be trusted to do anything without making a total hash of it. Where on earth did she get that idea?" "I really can't imagine, sir," Jeeves replies. "And, I suppose this'll put a spring in your step, Jeeves, but it appears that Stephanie has been instructed to invite Miss Winterbotham along, too. Aunt Agatha's doing, again." Jeeves beams. "How remarkably sensible of your dear aunt. That makes great sense, considering Miss Blodgett's capacity for, uh, unusual behavior." "Now, Jeeves, steady on. Talking about the woman I love, new mistress of the household and all that. Show some respect," Bertie cautions. "Oh, indeed sir. Miss Winterbotham is a steadying influence, though. And a deep thinker, too." It's a restrained ceremony at St.Ethelbruga's in Tipton Parsley. First, because it's a Tuesday and no one can be persuaded to sing in the choir but a few old codgers rounded up from a local old people's home.The organist is playing some stream of consciousness approximation to Bach, though one can safely say that Johann Sebastian of that ilk, or any one of his countless musical kin and offspring would have had a few Teutonic oaths to spare for this rather flaccid rendition. Bertie is at the altar, and an approximation to a 'best man,' Oofie Prosser is at his side. Oofie, always somewhat challenged where anything involving memory or logic is involved, is the custodian of the ring, which he has already mislaid three times. Now it's attached to a piece of thread. The tiny chapel is in emulation of the Balkans. On one side of the aisle, Bertie's friends and few surviving relatives. On the other, the Blodgett clan. It can be taken as a reasonable summary that while the recently rich and even more recently ennobled Blodgetts are courteous about Stephanie's choice -- he is minor nobility of some standing, after all is said and done -- some older members of the family harbor doubts about Bertie per se. As Stephanie's mother has remarked: "We have owned chickens with more common sense." Aunt Agatha has been known to offer the counter view: "While Stephanie is a scrumptious little tart, her family is rather typical of the genre, the meat pie magnate millionaires. A bit thick in the crust." A marriage made in heaven, then. By special dispensation, Jeeves and Dora Winterbotham are huddled in a back pew together. "It has been a while, Dora. I trust you are well?" "Yes, of course I am. Are you angry at me?" "Only somewhat. I trust that your, ahem, adventures with the local representative of the law have been curtailed?" "Yes, as a matter of fact they have. PC Entwistle and I have agreed to differ on the proper boudoir uses of the truncheon." Jeeves raises his eyebrows. "You'll find out later. Not here, in church." "I certainly should be interested, Dora. So, might it be proper if I were to ask, are we then, perhaps renewing our inclination to see one another socially?" "It might be proper, and I am, indeed opening that possibility." "Dora, I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am." "Well, I shall have to devise some means for you to prove it, shan't I, Mr. Jeeves?" she says with an artful wink. In time-honored fashion -- well, for St. Ethelbruga's -- the Wedding March begins a little later than the entrance of the bride, forcing everyone to their feet like startled weasels as the vision of loveliness in white appears. It's safe to say that while Herr Bach would have clasped his head in despair at the mangling of his life's work, Herr Wagner would have burst a blood vessel at the atonal counterpoint visited on his second best-known tune. After some littering of the church porch with shredded paper, and a lot of enthusiastic groping of Stephie by those male guests of no overly clear consanguinity, the party head for the reception, at another local excuse for a restaurant, La Mouton Perdue. Various presents are produced, and stacked on a table. They're opened, with protestations of surprise and delight. Stephie whispers to Bertie: "What is this thing your friends have with cow creamers? And cruets?" "Dashed if I know, darling," he shrugs. Stephie's substantial friend Alvis Presley hands over a parcel to them, warning: "Don't open it here." "Looks like a tennis racket," he remarks. "How exciting." Champagne begins to flow, though Aunt Agatha tries her best to prevent excessive consumption. A lost cause. "Auntie, please," Bertie whispers as she badgers the waiter. "It's alright. They need a drink to toast us." "Toast you? They'll be able to cremate you, the amount they're swilling," she scowls, holding her own glass out for a refill. "Don't they ever learn?" "Thirsty work, drinking. It's like expecting camels at the oasis to furl their trunks and you know, something or other," Bertie drones dopily. "And you've had too much already, too," she snaps. "You mean elephants." "At an oasis? No, a waterhole, the usual abode of those chubby gray chappies. Camels. Humps. One, or two." "There'll be no humps for you if you don't knock off the boozing, you wretch," she snarls. Stephie is also noticeably tipsy. Giggling with two or three of her girlfriends in a corner. Faint phrases float into the general conversation. "Big? Enormous! I measured it," Bertie hears as he approaches. "Stephie!" he protests. "My, uh, you know? No, don't talk about it here." The women stare at him frostily as Stephie rejoinders: "The dining room, Bertie? Why on earth not?" It's not clear whether this was really the subject at all. As he leaves, she's chuckling again, and he hears: "Gallons of it. Oh, you'd have to see it to believe it." What now? Surely not? He tells himself. "I had to soak it in hot water for an hour, it was so sticky." Oh, the dining room. Redecorating. The paintbrush, he deduces. Though bride and groom had both requested no speeches, they got them. To ask people to not make speeches at weddings is like asking the Pope to not bless everything within waving range. First into the fray is Stephie's father, who grimaces and growls his way through a graceless "losing a daughter, gaining a son, best of luck, mother and I, seems only a few years ago" pastiche that takes about twenty minutes, but seems to last a week. Oofie's speech is remarkably short. Even with copious notes, he makes no sense, loses his way. He's pushed aside by Stephie's mother, who suggests they cut the cake so the newlyweds can be on their way. What reception would be complete without one guest rushing to the toilet, green around the gills? Or some gratuitous barbs between the two families? Oh, these staple items aren't neglected. As the couple gets ready to leave, Aunt Agatha remarks: "How nice to have a gathering like this without the usual vile behavior, Bertie." "Meaning, auntie?" "One of your friends groping a bridesmaid. Or playing with his willy. Or for that matter, Stephie showing her whatnot." "Have you looked at the bridesmaids? Tanks!" "Have you looked at your friends?" Stephie contributes. "Boneheads. Besides, people like my whatnot, Auntie. You do." Aunt Agatha can't deny this, but says: "Hush child," when Stephie mocks: "You spend many happy hours with your fingers inside it." As they shake hands with the guests, they're repeatedly asked: "where are you going?" and "Somewhere romantic?" "It's a secret," is all they'll say. The drive to the honeymoon spot is not smooth. Yes, all four of them, with Jeeves at the wheel. After they get off the A303, they're soon lost in country lanes, perhaps because they are concentrating on other things. "We'll have to get directions. You girls, put some clothes on," Jeeves advises frostily. "Spoilsport," Stephie says, her dress up around her armpits. "I was enjoying the fresh air." Reluctantly, she stops rubbing herself, tugs the skirt down. Folds up her editorial research, a copy of a porno magazine, "Pipelayers". Nudges Bertie awake. "And you too, Dora. What if we run out of batteries?" he scolds. The older woman smoothes her skirt, sniffs the dildo and puts it in her handbag. "I'll switch to manual, of course." They'll stop at the next petrol station, they decide. There isn't one open. Like men always do, they blunder on, the lanes getting narrower, the hedgerows higher. Eventually, against their better judgment, responding to constant nagging by the two women, they pull to a halt at a farm entrance. "How do I find Grendel's Hole?" "Ar, you got to look under Grendel's tail, oi'd reckon," an oaf leaning on the gate says slowly, chewing on a piece of straw. They throw their hands in the air and drive on. Soon, after slowly nosing through a herd of cows, and following a huge tractor and harvester for miles, they're in Much Buggering, or so the sign says. "How do I get to Grendel's Hole?" Jeeves asks, hopefully, outside the local pub, Ye Olde Wanker. Three yokels are swilling cloudy flat cider with a nasty green tinge to it. "Oi wouldn't start from here," one opines to gormless laughter from his friends. "They're drunk," Dora snaps. "No we bain't lady, but we are working on it," another says, choking. "Idiots!" she curses, under her breath. "That's us. It's our career. We're village idiots. We gets a big grant from the Arts Council," the third guffaws. When they stop laughing, Dora tries again. "A village, round here. Grendel's Hole." "Yes, there is." "Well, how would I find it?" "Well you could lift up..." "For god's sake!" she shrieks. "Well," one says thoughtfully, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Well, you might go down this road here a ways, and then, uh..." "Left," says one. "No, right. Past Wally Todger's old barn," says the third. "Are you barmy? That's the way to Wanking In The Wold. That be no use to man nor boy!" says the first travel consultant. "Ar, but if you turn just before, in Little Wanking..." "Then you'll be in farmer Giles' farmyard, you idiot." "Not if you turn left. Where that signs says Johnson Stiffly." They all think for a moment. Then nod. "It's somewhere over that way." "We'll try it," she snaps. Ten minutes later, they're back in Much Buggering. The same three yokels are still drinking outside the pub. "Didn't you loik it?" one asks with a goofy grin, genuinely surprised. "We never found it," Jeeves says firmly. "We went round in a big circle." "Then you needs to go back thataway," he's told. "And when you pass the big green barn, and see the steeple in Saint Ethelrude, take the right fork. There's a little sign. And you'll be there in a jiffy." "Why not say so in the first place?" Dora snaps. "We 'ad to think about it a bit," is the gormless reply. "We're idiots, remember?" It's been an hour of aimless blundering before they finally find themselves on a steeply winding downhill lane, and see the sea in the distance. "Hooray, Jeeves, you've done it," Bertie exults. The merriment and self-congratulation stops in a few minutes.The sea is gone again. They stop and find themselves talking to the same yokel, leaning on his gate. "Don't say it, do you understand?" Stephie rages at him, leaping out. "Say what?" "Listen, we're looking for Grendel's Hole..." "Well, you could try..." "Shut up!!!" Stephie shrieks. "Let him say it if it makes him happy," Jeeves advises. The yokel shrugs. "I was only trying to be helpful." "Do you know the way..." "...to San Jose?" he smiles, daftly. "Another idiot," Bertie sighs. "Oh, the way to another idiot? Nooo, you got me there," he's told. "But they bain't hard to find round 'ere, townspeople say." "Oh, my giddy aunt," Bertie groans, holding his head. "Listen, you nitwit," Dora says. "We've tried Much Buggering. We've tried Little Wanking..." "Oh, they say you Londoners is dirty blighters, and they're roight," the yokel interrupts. "Where in hell's name is the fucking road!?" Stephie screams. "Fucking Road? Nowhere round here," she's advised with a dull expression. "But Sheepfucking Road, now oi know there's one of they..." "Oh, I believe it," Jeeves groans. "Ar, it's just over the hill. On the right. Goes straight down to the beach. To the old smugglers' inn there. Place called, what is it now? Grendel's Hole." "Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Jeeves asks, reasonably. "That's what we asked." "Some other people was here, looking for it too." "That was us!" "Oh, that was you a while ago? I thought you looked familiar. See, they pronounced it funny, and I thought they said, well never mind, nice day for a droive, eh?" He grins daftly. "Especially in a nice big car like this. What sort is it?" "It's a Rolls fucking Royce!" Dora shouts as they pull away, sharply. "Ar, those bloody cheeky Germans did buy it then," the yokel mutters under his breath. "Who'd have thought?" In minutes, there they are. At the bucolic Somerset resort of Grendel's Hole. What little there is of it. A couple of souvenir shops, some cottages, and the looming "Flatulent Walrus," another pub, randomly assembled from local granite and wooden detritus. A thatched roof, which has Stephie scratching at the thought of the likely co-inhabitants already. "You'll love it," Bertie tells Stephie, who is not looking convinced. "It's run by 'Wildman' Rochester-Smythe, a chap I know. An ex-master from St.Winifred's. Splendid fellow." "Another notorious bum bandit, I'm sure," she scoffs. "All of them are, your friends and teachers." "Stephie, please!" "Well, they are," she huffs. "Those that aren't in jail, ought to be." Wildman turns out to be one of those caricature barkeeps with a florid complexion and a huge handlebar mustache. "Bertie, m'dear!" Bertie accepts a back-pounding, a vigorous handshake. "Oh, and this must be the beautiful bride." Stephie is cordial, but no more. Lost in her own thoughts. "Not happy, miss?" Wildman asks, concerned. "First night nerves," Bertie confides to him. "Nerves be damned," she snaps. "And first night? Ha!" Wildman raises his eyebrows. "May I show you both to the bridal suite?" he inquires. "Actually, I'd like a double gin and tonic first," Stephie pipes up. The others agree to join her. Three gin and tonics later, the memories of the epic drive have faded into an agreeable blur. Stephie is getting boisterous, however. Jeeves advises, sotto voce, "If I were you sir, I should be inclined to place Miss Blodgett over my knee rather soon, in the privacy of my room, and give her a jolly good spanking." "Right ho, Jeeves! Brilliant idea! Yes, the right thing to do. Show her who's boss, eh?" "Quite, sir." Dora is providing some advice to Stephie. "It's not for me to interfere, but if I were in your shoes, I would take a firm grip on Mr. Wooster's willy, and take him to the bridal suite. Get out your cane..." "How do you know I have one?" "Stephanie, please. I packed. And did you see what Alvis gave you?" "No, but I can guess. A paddle." "I think so, too." "Ah." "So make sure he knows his place. Give him a couple of dozen, so he knows it for sure." "Yes, that's sound advice. I was torn between that and taking a long ride on his silly face." "It's merely a question of priorities, rather than choices," Dora tells her. "But I surmise that you would find giving him a good thrashing eminently satisfying, and an exceptionally good preparation for the other activity you planned." They lurch upstairs. The bridal suite is a little larger than a cupboard, with a gabled roof. Tastefully, Jeeves and Dora have been given tiny rooms on each side, on the same corridor. Stephie manages to wrench one of the windows open, and look out towards the river estuary. She snorts: "Either I need to change my drawers again, or the tide is out. What a pong." Bertie gallantly replies: "You aren't wearing any, darling." "Looking up my skirt, were you? On the stairs?" "No, in the bar. On the stool. You could see, well, it." "Oh, was I flashing?" she giggles. "How saucy of me." She lights a cigarette and stares. Then lets out a squawk of amazement. "Oh shit! Bertie! Look!" He cranes his head to look over her shoulder out of the lead-paned fanlight. "My god, a great-crested skua!" he beams, staring at an ugly gull on an opposite roof. "A rare one, that. Gosh, I haven't..." "No, you bird-brained bloody idiot! Down there!" She points to the cobbled street outside. Another car has pulled up next to theirs. And out of it climb Stephie's friends, the rather buxom pair Alvis Presley and Martha D. Little. "My god, what are they doing here!" he exclaims. "We kept it a secret, you idiot." "And knowing no better, they come here, of all places? Oh lord." "Well, let's go and have a drink with them," Stephie says, brightening up. "Oh, aren't we going to, uh, you know?" "Unpack? No, Jeeves and Dora can manage that. Come on, Bertie." In the bar, it transpires that the large twosome is indeed staying at The Flatulent Walrus, and their surprise is even greater. There's disbelief and then laughter. Toasts are drunk. Jeeves and Dora appear, looking rather flushed. The expert eye would deduce that they have vigorously tested the mattresses upstairs, as well as unpacked. "Have a drink, you two!" Stephie cries. "There'll be some creaking here tonight, with that pair of tubbies in bed together," Jeeves murmurs to Dora. "Oh, are they that sort?" she smiles. "Yes, I suppose they are." Another round of drinks vanishes. Wildman announces, with relish, "I've made some punch, for those who want a change of pace. And can I move you into the snug? Regular opening time soon." The revelers stagger into an even smaller bar, lined with dark wood. With the gloomy, dusty heads of foxes, voles and other luckless vermin mounted all round, it's like being in the loser's version of Noah's Ark. It's Bertie who gets the next surprise. Returning from an expedition to the rather ghastly men's toilet, he walks straight into a bustling woman in the corridor, knocking her head over heels. When she leaps to her feet, cursing like a trooper, he finds himself staring into the bulging eyes of Aunt Agatha. "You!" they both shriek. "What are you doing here?" he gabbles. "I often visit here. It's a favorite place of mine," she scolds. "What are you doing here?" "Well, um," is the best he can offer. Another woman appears behind Aunt Agatha. "This is Beryl," she introduces stiffly. "My, uh, bridge partner. Beryl, this is my nephew, Bertram. The one I've spoken about." "Is there a tournament?" Bertie asks dimly. The other woman is staring at him, dumbfounded. "No. Oh, I need a drink, Bertie." "This way." Jeeves is the first to say it. "Another Wooster cock-up, eh?" He's had a couple too many now, and is seeing the irony of the situation. Because, not five minutes after the dreaded aunt, in walked the imposing bulk of their erstwhile nemesis and Stephie's former 'dancing partner', the enormous black bouncer, John Wayne. They hear him arguing with Wildman: "No, an hit's mah real name. That other honky dude, he's dead." A taxi pulls up, from the station. "Guess who?" Bertie says, looking out the window. "John the Baptist and a troupe of performing seals?" Dora says, knocking back a glass of punch. "No, I believe it's your friend PC Entwistle." Dora sprays punch across the room. "Oh, lord." "Don't worry, he's with some little blonde tart." "The cheek. Oh, a young one too." But before he reaches the door, a small bus pulls up. And, to their slack-jawed amazement, they watch as out step, one by one, a half-dozen of Bertie's friends. Oofie, Catsmeat, Gussie among them. They've picked the self-same place for their cricket team reunion. "John the Baptist next?" Jeeves sighs. The evening slips by. In the adjoining bar, they remark on two German businessmen of uncertain polarity. A pair of more restrained honeymooners. Various local idiots, who seem familiar, and grin goofily at them through a serving hatch. There's a trio of squaddies, some local motorcyclists. Standing room only. Stephie has paced herself a little better, and now she's nicely drunk. Bertie is doing less well. Around nine, he announces: "Darling, I'm going to lay down for a minute." Bertie wakens, terribly dehydrated. Looks at his watch. 1 AM. Downstairs, there's a near-riot, by the sound of it. The nerve of some people. He looks around. "Stephie?" But she's not there. He sits up, his head still somewhat sodden. He drinks some water, steps outside into the corridor. Knocks on the door of Jeeves' room. No reply. There's no light under the door of Dora's room either. He feels his way downstairs. Whatever is going on, is in the bar, he deduces. I'll just pop my head in and tell them to jolly well shut up, he reflects. The right thing to do. Chap's got to sleep. He opens the door, and is greeted by a bacchanalian scene. A room full of naked people, groping and swilling.He gasps with horror as he sees Stephie emerge from under a rather fat man, one of the Germans, wiping her thighs. "Who's next?" she shrieks. "Oh, I'm in the mood for it up my bumhole again!" "Stephie! My god!" "Oh Bertie!" is her next cry. "Stephie," he croaks. "What, more? Get your trousers off then, mate," one of the squaddies says. "She ain't half a goer." "She's, well, she's..." he gargles. "She's a juicy little fuckslut, that's right. Hop on, eh? We all have." "But, but..." "What's the problem? If I wasn't so shagged out from that other bird, I'd be on her like a rat up a drainpipe," another squaddie urges. Bertie stares at Stephie, and she blushes. "I thought you'd be coming up to bed," he protests feebly. "Oh, I was going to soon." "Stephie, really." Jeeves' voice is heard from the center of another writhing tangle of nude bodies. "Sir, do your duty." Bertie nods gravely, unbuttoning his trousers. Tries not to pay too much attention to Aunt Agatha who is sprawled in an armchair, having her vulva licked by Beryl. The lance of the Woosters is behaving well, fueled by the decadent scene. Less impressive, of course, than the truncheon-like penis that John Wayne is using on Martha D. Little, who has opted to demonstrate her ecumenical nature. "Oh, Bertie," she sighs. "You were right, it's so romantic here." He grabs her, pushes her toward a mattress. Several have been dragged into the bar, and dumped on the floor. "How did this happen?" "Wildman put Spanish fly in the punch, he says." "The bounder!" "No, it's a treat he reserves for honeymooners. But with this lot of boozers, everyone else was dipping in, too." "In more ways than one, I see." "Oh, Bertie. Don't be such an old prude. It's a party! A lovely surprise!" "An orgy, I'd call it." "That too. Delightful, isn't it?" "But it's our wedding night!" "Then you shouldn't have lurched off to bed, you ninny. Really! And now, get the rest of your clothes off quickly." "You're incorrigible." "Oh, I am, yes." "Two's company Stephie, as you put it. And three, or even four, under the correct circumstances, and with the proper introductions, is not excessive. But 27 is, I would strongly argue, a veritable crowd. Jolly near an Indian bazaar full of queer coves and strange blighters." He enters her with more panache and precision than he usually displays, and begins to pump away. "You'll get spanked for this, my girl," he murmurs. "Promise?" "Soon as we're through." "Oh, heavenly. Dirty Bertie." Alvis Presley crouches by them. Curiously, for a woman of such size, she moves elegantly. Bertie also notes with awe that she has the word 'Daddy' tattooed on her shaved mons. You never know. She brandishes the paddle she gave them. "Use this, Wooster. Right for a gal who needs to feel her bum being warmed up." "Give me a minute or two," he gasps, speeding up his thrusts. The crowd is beginning to show some interest, and gathering round. The idea of seeing some spanking has some appeal, it seems. "God, Stephie, you're so wet," he murmurs. "Always am," she chuckles. "But I've been well sluiced out tonight." "Did you fuck them all?" Bertie whispers. "Oh, yes. Twice for some. And the women too." "I shouldn't be surprised at that, I suppose." "No, you shouldn't be." "But, my god, even the idiots?" he gasps. "That's socialism." She giggles again. "Noblesse oblige, darling." Closes her eyes, and grunts with satisfaction. "That's good, Bertie. And which idiots are you referring to? Your friends?" "Oh, Stephie," he cries, coming. There's a polite round of applause. "Alright, alright, now belt up and pass her along. Some blokes over here have been clutching a hard-on for half an hour now. Show some bleeding consideration, mate! Struth!" "No, no," she says, waving her hand. "You'll have to bonk one of the others for now. I want my bum to get a good whacking." She waits until Bertie climbs off, wiping himself. "Sit down," she gasps, "Over there." The revelers form a circle, and watch as she drapes herself over Bertie's lap, her cute round backside neatly displayed. An expanse of white skin, waiting to be lovingly bruised. Bertie is handed the large leather paddle, swings it through the air a few times, experimentally. "Gosh, Stephie, this will hurt a lot. I hope you're jolly well sure." "Oh, I'm sure, Bertie. Now stop being a big pudding, and get on with it." Aunt Agatha contributes: "Yes, Bertram. Let her have it. Disgraceful display." Wildman appears, hand in hand with Catsmeat. "Like we did at school, Bertie darling. Don't be a girl's blouse about it. Big fat arse like that, she'll need a few before she feels it properly." "Yes, do it properly Bertie, or you won't get yours tonight," Stephie urges. He purses his lips, and begins to spank her, vigorously. "We'll see about that, my girl."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10776.txt

Crimson Dragon

A Most Unusual Afternoon

"You want me to WHAT?" Darren spoke with incredulity evident in his voice from his seated position on the floor. Darlene sighed, afraid of this reaction. His harsh words did absolutely nothing to help the butterflies fluttering through her guts. In fact, the damn things nearly flew up her throat at Darren's words. She bit down her sharp retort and lay back on her bed. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her erratic breathing. Getting upset wasn't going to help her cause. Her parents had finally left for the afternoon. She'd tried her best to find out when they'd be back, but they had been vague, as usual. She didn't need to arouse their suspicions, so she had let it drop. They would be gone for a few hours at least. That's all she knew for sure, but it should be plenty of time. Ever since her parents had announced their plans this morning, her stomach had been in knots of heady anticipation. But everything had to go right, and Darren was the key. And he was sitting there on her floor, fidgeting and waiting for her to confirm her request. She took stock of herself. Did she actually want to go through with this? Darren's reluctance bothered her. He was rarely wrong. The insistent throbbing between her legs bellowed a resounding yes, while her more rational mind agreed with Darren - it was dangerous. But since when had she ever played anything safe? Safe was Boring, with a capital 'B'. She'd been seeing Bradley forever. And she wanted to do this. It was safe, dammit. She slowly opened her eyes and glanced down at Darren still sitting cross-legged on her beige carpet. Darren looked up at her with those eyes that she saw in the mirror every morning. Their eyes were the only way that you could tell that they were twins. His piercing blue eyes, full of life, full of intelligence, were the same as her own. Beyond the eyes, they shared a special bond of complete trust and sharing, like only twins could. She often felt like they were one, despite their interests diverging over the years. She could feel him almost as though he was part of her. She cherished that. And there he sat, his face open in dismay, unable to fathom what she'd asked of him. She couldn't do it without him, and she trusted nobody else enough to ask. She felt the butterflies leave her to bother someone else far away as her mind collapsed into the inevitable. She had known that he would balk. He had always been protective of her, despite being essentially the same age. Fine, he was two minutes older, but that didn't give him the right to ... she forced herself to check her emotions. He was only doing what he thought best for her. She couldn't blame him. Had he asked the same of her, she'd have balked just as surely as he had. She had no choice but to accept his reaction. She took a deep breath, too aware of her breasts rising as they rubbed against her sweater. She let her pent-up breath out in a big whoosh and turned back to face him. "Darren, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked at all," Darlene spoke quietly from the pillows. Her eyes had begun to tear up, her disappointment evident. She tried to will it away; she honestly wasn't trying to make Darren feel guilty. She loved him too much for those silly games. He swallowed carefully and licked his lips. "No, sis. I'm sorry. We've never kept anything from one another. Why should sex be different? You ... just surprised me, is all." Despite his words, he still looked awkward sitting down there. She felt the butterflies begin to return at the prospect that he hadn't outright refused her. She pressed her lips together, thinking. "Do you know what you are doing?" he asked quietly. She thought about it. She'd been seeing Bradley for over a year. She trusted him, and she wanted to do this. At least, her body wanted to do this. And she felt safe enough. Darren's uncertainty was enough to make her pause and think. What if ...? But time was ticking away for her. Her parents would be back eventually and that didn't leave her much time if she wanted to keep a safety zone. She had to be sure, and quickly. She propped herself up on her elbow and tried her best to smile at her brother. She nodded carefully in the affirmative. Darren seemed at war with himself as he sat there looking over at Darlene. His face was a mask of concentration and uncertainty. He would do anything to protect her, she knew that. They had been together all the way from the womb to this juncture - a journey spanning from before kindergarten to this last year of high school. And he'd always been there for her. She knew that they'd be apart soon anyway, his interests being at Queen's, hers at Lakehead. She was going to miss him terribly. It hurt to even think about that. Darren had been unsure of Bradley since she'd introduced them about a year ago. He'd kept his opinions to himself, but she could tell. With twins, it was nearly impossible to hide your true feelings. She'd tripped over it enough to know. Luckily, she approved of Beth, his current girlfriend, and he was well aware of that. In the same manner, she knew that Darren had some reservations about Bradley. It wasn't that he didn't like the guy, but he wasn't as openly enthusiastic as he had been with previous loves of hers. She didn't know the details of his apprehensions, but assumed that he was simply being over-protective, as always. She didn't mind too much. He'd never tell her who to go out with, and no matter what he'd support her wishes unless, God forbid, she managed to get into an abusive relationship. God help the guy. It was nice to know that he would be around if she ever got herself in with an unsavory character. She could see Darren mulling over his problem - her. She could read his face like a book. He was wishing desperately that he was somewhere else, out with Beth perhaps. Anywhere but here stuck between disappointing the person he loved more than life itself, or going along with her and getting her hurt. Maybe badly. "I. I don't think this is such a good idea. I ... I know Bradley ..." the words fell softly from his lips. She took a deep breath, not wanting to get into an argument over Bradley. Darren had tried to keep his feelings about Bradley under wraps but she had always known what they were. And she loved Darren for trying for her. She sighed. What had she really expected? She didn't quite know. She only knew what her desires were right now. She whispered quietly, "I understand." And she did. It was unfair to ask Darren at all. She'd figure something else out. Darren inhaled deeply, his blue eyes watching his sister. She was hiding her disappointment well, but it was there. She had been unable to completely hide it, though God knew she had tried. She watched him as he slowly rose to his feet. She held back as long as she could, until he had completely turned to leave. She felt the single tear of hopeless disappointment as it coursed down her face. It wasn't just the failure of her afternoon plans but more importantly that the twins had separated a little further. They had always been there for one another, no matter what, and that was beginning to end. She felt responsible. Her request had been too much for him, and she was truly sorry that she'd imposed. Yet she had wanted to be honest with him, share her desires with him.She felt a deep sadness, as though she was losing a lover as he moved away from her bed. He turned at the doorway, and she wasn't quite quick enough to wipe away the tear. She hadn't expected him to turn. He stood outlined in her doorway, a similar sad set to his face. She sensed that he was feeling the same things as her - regret at refusing her, a sense of moving apart. He didn't want this any more than she did. She was about to apologize again to him when he opened his lips to speak. She was almost sure that he was going to apologize to her for refusing her, then walk back to his room to suffer. "Call Bradley," he whispered to her instead of the expected apology. She heard his feet as he moved away from her room. She thought she heard him moving down the stairs, towards the lower floors. Suddenly, she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She didn't want to drive Darren away by asking things that made him uncomfortable. Bradley wasn't worth that. It wasn't worth an afternoon of experience and pleasure. She nearly called Darren back, but she again felt the throbs of anticipation between her thighs. Darren would understand, and perhaps ask her a harder favor someday. She'd do her best to help him when he did. She swore it, no matter what he asked. She'd still give him a chance to back out of this, though. She owed him that. She paused for a few moments, gathering her courage. She had to steel herself to ignore the residual sadness and heartache she felt for Darren. It wasn't easy, but she managed to fight it off, determined to feel it later instead of now. There were other things to do, and not much time. Darren would understand, he always did. She picked up the phone sitting on her bedside table. It buzzed insistently in her ear until she dialed the number that she had memorized so many months ago. Bradley picked up with a gruff greeting. "Hi, Bradley. Guess whose parents are away," she spoke quickly before she lost her nerve. His voice seemed distracted. "Um. Yours? Mine are downstairs." "Yes, silly. Want to come over?" she continued almost as though she hadn't heard his reply. He seemed to be missing the point here. "I've kind of got plans." Shit, she thought. Why can't my plans ever turn out simple for me? It isn't the world I'm asking. First Darren's reluctance, then Bradley being dense. What else could possibly go wrong? Well, nothing worth doing was ever easy. "What plans?" she asked patiently. "Waxing my car. You can come over to help, if you want," he grudgingly offered. Christ. Was he being purposely dense? "My PARENTS aren't home. Hello?" she had to fight down the urge to scream at him. It finally dawned on him, but he was still reluctant for some reason. "Darlene. What about Darren?" Darren is supplying the surprise element, she thought to herself, her guts churning even thinking about it. "He's, uh, going out as well. Leaving in a few minutes." Bradley sighed and spoke heavily. "Alright. I'll be over soon." She couldn't understand his lack of enthusiasm, but she was quite sure it would return as soon as he saw her and her surprise. "Let yourself in. It will be unlocked," she added quickly before she forgot. He hung up without a good-bye. She slowly returned the receiver to the cradle, unsure of herself and whether she actually wanted to go through with this after all. The phone call hadn't gone exactly as she'd planned, but then again nothing had today. She felt a little uneasy, but wrote it off to those silly butterflies. She touched her breasts through her sweater, noting that they were heaving erratically again. Step two complete. The butterflies intensified for a moment, then resumed their normal nervous fluttering. Her decision made, she settled back to wait for Darren to return. She could hear Darren moving around in the basement, digging through the old boxes in her father's workroom. She could almost see him shoving through the crates, cursing at their lack of organization. She rose off the bed and began to pull off her sweater. She wasn't shy of her body, never had been. Darren had seen her nude many times, and she him. If her parents weren't at home, she never bothered with modesty if she had to take a shower, or was simply lounging about. It seemed natural to her. They'd been naked in the womb together, after all. What did she really have to hide? But this time she sighed and lowered the base of the sweater before it revealed her breasts. She was going to give Darren one more chance to back out, and it wouldn't be fair if she was sitting here nude when she gave him that chance. She forced herself to be patient. In minutes, she heard his motions clomping up the stairs. She held her breath until he appeared in the doorway, carrying some items in his hands. His face looked pained, but he stood in her doorway trying to be strong for her. "Darren? You don't have to do this. I promise I won't be disappointed." "I'm just worried about you. At least let me stay in the house?" he pleaded. "Yeah, and Bradley won't do anything then," her voice was accusing, though she desperately tried to control it. She forced herself to look at Darren. "I didn't mean ..." he stammered, taken aback a little by her sudden ire. He sensed it more than most people would have, as she had actually done a decent job of burying it. "I know. If you don't want to do this, that's alright. I'll find some other way to keep him amused. I already phoned Bradley," she spoke softly, more gently, her voice apologizing for her earlier tone. She honestly hadn't meant to snap at him. She was on edge a little. Darren looked at his sister. It was so hard to tell that they were twins. She was so small and delicate. He was tall and strong. Her hair, long and chestnut brunette, curled gently over her shoulders. His hair was coarse, short and beach blonde. His face was rugged, hers feminine and soft. Male and female - fraternal twins. No reason for them to look the same. Why they had the same eyes was a mystery to both of them. But they cherished the qualities they shared. Her eyes were looking at him now, intense and full of her desires. "I'll be alright," she whispered to him. It seemed to make him more accepting of it, and he entered the room. He showed her what he had in his hands. "Will these be alright?" he asked. She nodded, trying to control those pesky unwelcome butterflies. "You ready?" she asked quietly. He watched her as he nodded. "Are you?" In answer, she completed the maneuver she had started earlier. Her sweater fell from her body in one fluid motion, fluttering to lay on the carpet. She had dressed casually on a Saturday, no bra. He made no comment on her firm body. Being her brother, he was somewhat immune to her sexuality, though he knew exactly how desirable she would be to anyone else. She stood and slipped her jeans down her legs. No panties either. She had been ready for this. She smiled and pirouetted for him, even though she was well aware that he was immune to her nudity. She wouldn't have been doing this otherwise. He whistled in mock admiration and waited for her to settle herself. She pulled off her socks with her toes and took a deep breath. She lowered herself slowly to the bed, spreading herself out, reaching for the bedposts with her bare toes and fingers. Darren sat down on the bed beside her. From the pillows, she watched his face. He seemed to be in a dilemma. He wanted to chastise her for being dangerous, and yet didn't want to condemn her for her choices. He was at a loss for words, she could tell by the tiny dimple forming in his left cheek. She nearly spoke some words to reassure him, but nothing came to mind. How? She was old enough, his age, to make these decisions about her own body herself. Anything she said would only make him feel more guilty. She kept silent and waited patiently for him to either say something or do what she had asked. He leaned over her body and began to wrap her right wrist with the soft cord he'd dug up in the workshop. Without looking at her, he moved around the bed and secured her other limbs to the bedposts. She tested each restraint, ensuring that she could neither reach the knots nor pull free. The butterflies multiplied as she realized just how vulnerable she was. She was open, and naked, and helpless. Tiny shivers and thrills pulsed down her body as she imagined Bradley's face as he walked in. She pulled idly at the ropes and looked up to see Darren staring at her. She flushed a bit, but only at his scrutiny. She was used to being seen naked. He spoke quietly, shaking his head. "Sis. I hope you know what you're doing." She looked so small and helpless lying there. His eyes betrayed his emotional state. How could he protect when she was like this? She felt his dismay and felt badly for him. How else could she do this with any semblance of safety, though? She'd wracked her brain, but this is ultimately what she'd wanted. "I do, Darren. I know what I'm doing. Bradley will let me go when we're done. He would never hurt me. And he'll be here soon. What are you going to do?" She forced her voice to be strong and sure for Darren. He seemed to need the reassurance. "Maybe dinner and a movie with Beth," he replied quietly. The twinkle in his eye said that dinner and a movie could easily be only the beginning. "Have fun," she smiled up at him, waving her trapped fingers. "I will. You take care. Last chance ..." he cautioned her. "I'll be fine. Enjoy your movie," she tried to reassure him. He bent and kissed her chastely on her cheek. She tried to give him one back, but he'd moved away and she couldn't follow. She heard her bedroom door closing and then a few minutes later the front door closing. The house was silent around her. She again tested her bondage, wondering what drove her to do this. She fantasized about it nearly every night. Being restrained, being totally helpless. Where do these fantasies come from?At least she trusted Bradley to not hurt her. She smiled as she considered what his face would look like when he saw her. *** She couldn't see her clock radio. It was angled away from her, and she couldn't exactly reach out to turn it towards her. Bradley was taking a long time. She squirmed on the bed. What if he didn't show up? What if someone else showed up? The front door was unlocked. Shit, she hadn't thought of that. Her heat intensified. She didn't want to be raped, but fantasies flew unasked for through her mind. She squirmed a bit more, trying to reach the knots her brother had tied. She couldn't and realized it was a lost cause. She'd told him to make it so she couldn't get free. She was stuck here until someone let her go. She just hoped that it would be Bradley. She tried to settle herself a little more comfortably to wait. She tried to amuse herself by closing her eyes and picturing the sky. The outdoors. She pictured her nude body bound hand and foot to a tree while a hot wind gently caressed her. It didn't help with her arousal, but it helped her pass the time. Bradley should have been here by now, dammit. A vague noise broke her concentration. A car? A knock? Someone breaking a window? Dammit, she hadn't been paying enough attention while in her erotic daydream. She held herself still, straining her ears to pick up the slightest noise. The front door suddenly opened, sounding like a cannon through the silent house. She had to bite back a scream. Who the hell was it? Bradley? Her parents? Darren? A burglar? She held her tongue, not daring to cry out. She was so damn vulnerable. Why had she done this? Her arousal was beginning to fade with her fear. Not much, but she felt the constant heat between her legs diminish a little as she strained to detect the slightest vibration in the house. "Darlene?" It was Bradley's voice floating through the quiet house. She breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. She kept quiet, hoping that he'd be smart enough to come up to her room. It wasn't as though she'd been subtle on the phone. "Darlene? Damn it?" his voice called more urgently. A trace of anger tinged his voice this time. She whispered, "Up here." She quickly realized that he couldn't hear her if she whispered. She cleared her throat. "Bradley?" she called in a stronger voice. "I'm up here." "Come down. I'm here," Bradley shouted up from the bottom of the stairs. "Come up here," she responded back, trying to put a sexy waver into her voice. She didn't think she'd succeeded with the waver, but at least she'd tried. "Damn it, Darlene, we have to talk. Come down here," Bradley sounded exasperated downstairs. Her mind flipped into overdrive. Have to talk? Shit... no good conversation ever started out like that. The last thing she wanted to do was talk. "Bradley? Please? Come up here. I can't come down right now," she called out. She tried to put some authoritativeness into her voice. She didn't feel particularly authoritative the way she was, naked and bound. Great time to want to talk, Bradley. Don't let him leave. Please? She heard him muttering as he began to climb the stairs. Closer and closer. She felt her body quivering. She couldn't stop it. Her arousal was back, and she couldn't wait to see his face as he saw her like this. She couldn't remember if she'd ever felt this aroused before. Her nipples were like chips of stone which she couldn't reach. Almost in slow motion, her door knob gently turned and the door swung open. Bradley stood there, the sight of Darlene naked and tied to the bed stunning him. His mouth dropped in a cartoon-like gesture. Darlene giggled as she pictured him using a hand to prop back up his jaw. She squirmed in a way that she hoped was inviting, pulling against her restraints, wiggling her breasts as best she could. "My hero, come to rescue me!" she giggled at him. The butterflies again had disappeared as the moment of truth had come and gone. Bradley was here, he hadn't panicked, and there was no turning back now. He'd definitely seen her. He actually did push his jaw up with his hand, almost absentmindedly. He stepped into the room, his face a mask of concern. Darlene giggled even more at his gesture. She felt giddy and aroused. God, what if he sucked on her toes? She couldn't stop him, and she felt sharp spikes of arousal running down her spine as she lay there and considered it. He swallowed and spoke quietly from the center of the room. "Are... are you alright?" he asked her. "I'm fine, silly. What did you think?" she spoke from the bed. "Who? Never mind. I think I know. Why, Darlene?" he asked her quietly. "For you. For me. I wanted to surprise you," the naked girl squirmed a little in her ropes, wondering if perhaps she'd made a mistake. Wasn't it every guy's fantasy to have his girlfriend helpless for his affections? She was sensing something odd from Bradley, something she hadn't ever sensed consciously before. Not danger... he wasn't going to hurt her. Or was he? She tingled again. Bradley bowed his head and sat down heavily on the floor, exactly where Darren had sat earlier. Completely out of reach. "Darlene. I..." his voice trailed off. "Shhhh. Just come here and touch me. Okay?" Darlene whispered. "I... I can't," Bradley seemed miserable. "Excuse me? I'm here. Hello? Naked, willing female, tied to her bed?" Darlene couldn't quite understand this reaction. She was prepared for rejection. If he just wanted to release her and then make love, she would have been fine with that. She'd prefer being tied down for it, but simply being helpless this long had aroused her enough. She'd even been prepared for condemnation. Why was the lummox just sitting there when she was up here, willing and able? Didn't make sense. "Perhaps it's better this way," he remarked almost casually. "Huh?" she couldn't think of a more intelligent answer. She was getting a really bad feeling about this. She could sense it. Didn't take women's intuition to see that this wasn't going according to plan. She couldn't even rise off the bed to find out what the matter with him was. She pulled at her bound ankles. "Darlene?" he seemed at a loss for words. He never was at a loss for words. There was only one reason for his hesitation and she knew what it was. Somehow, she simply knew. She'd been through this before, though never tied down naked to a bed. Her heart began to beat faster than her arousal had previously driven it. She could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears. "Please no. Not like this," Darlene raised her head, trying to see Bradley more clearly. He wasn't looking at her. "Darlene? I... I appreciate this. More than you can know. And I really wish that I could take advantage of you like that. But I can't," he spoke with regret filling his words. "Bradley? Let me go? Come untie me and we'll talk," the inevitability of talk was sinking into her. She didn't want to talk, especially not about what she feared this was about. But she couldn't do anything about it if he truly wanted to talk to her. May as well accept it, for now. Maybe she could still reason with him. The insistent throbbing was still buried between her thighs where she had no hope of reaching without his help. He took a deep breath and sat still, not making the move she had suggested. The damn ropes bit into her wrists and ankles. God, how could she have been so dumb? How could she have let herself be so vulnerable? So helpless? Christ. Why hadn't she worn old clothes at least? Something he could have cut off her if it all worked out? At least she'd be clothed now. Who had these kinds of talks when you are defenseless and naked? She was at a loss, completely off balance mentally. "I... we have to talk, Darlene. We do. I tried to tell you earlier," Bradley's voice began earnestly. Tears came in a rush to her face. She lay back her head into the pillows. Not much she could do about this if he wouldn't untie her. Tears of frustration had formed in her eyes. All her previous arousal had finally faded to a slight pulse between her legs. She felt cheated and frustrated. Even her sensitive nipples had flattened on her still heaving bare breasts. "Bradley, please untie me," Darlene spoke to the ceiling. She knew what was going to happen, and it was probably inevitable, but she couldn't do anything about it while tied to this damn bed. She fought down a flash of anger. Anger wasn't going to get her anywhere, either. "It's better if you are like that. Do you want me to cover you?" he asked gently. Anger welled up again at his suggestion. "I want you to untie me," she struggled again unsuccessfully for the authoritative hint in her voice. Her words came out like a pleading whine, at least to her ears. She pulled ineffectually at her bonds, chafing her wrists. "If I do, then you'll hug me and kiss me and try to make me change my mind. And I will. I won't be able to help it. But it's not right. I'll untie you after we talk. Okay?" he almost pleaded with her. She held her anger in check, pulling again at her wrists. She shook her head. It wasn't okay, but there wasn't much she could do about it. The bitch of it was, he was right. She would do everything he said she would to avoid a disagreement. Then, she'd never know what this really was about. Maybe she could salvage this. She'd listen to him, and she'd tell him whatever he wanted to hear, as she should have done from the moment she had telephoned him to begin this mess. She just hoped that it wasn't about what she thought it was. She unconsciously tried to turn towards him, but her left wrist and ankle prevented that. She turned her head, seeing his face over her right arm. "Darlene... we... God, this is hard. We can't see each other anymore," he spoke in a whisper so low she wasn't even sure she'd heard correctly. Maybe she simply didn't want to hear it.Even though she'd been expecting it, she suddenly felt insecure, helpless to stop it. It was a tidal wave of emotion washing over her, and she couldn't even move to avoid it. Her heart skipped a beat. She loved Bradley, or she thought she did. How couldn't he love her back? She forced back the tears and tried to speak in a normal voice. "Was it this?" He looked up, confused. She saw his confusion and raised her right wrist as far as the ropes allowed. She wanted to make sure it wasn't this display that had spooked him, though she knew in her heart that it wasn't. She'd been sensing this for a week or so, and unconsciously thought that this sexual stunt might pull him back to her. She wanted it too, with all her heart, but she wouldn't have risked it yet if she hadn't been sensing a withdrawal from him lately. Realization of her behavior flooded over her with the clarity of a biblical revelation. She felt ashamed that she'd not realized sooner. Like before she'd gotten into this mess. He smiled weakly. "Darlene, it isn't that. Actually, in other circumstances, I'd be all over you." She felt a tingle race through her body at his words. She shivered, not wanting to feel that way right now. "What then?" she spoke quietly to him. "I do love you..." he began quietly. She felt like screaming at him, "Then what's the damn problem?" but she knew it wouldn't do any good. It would only make him hate her. She swallowed as his voice trailed off. She found her voice as it trembled from her throat. "Someone else?" He nodded miserably. She felt betrayed. She'd been seeing him for over a year. Sure it was a high school romance, but dammit she deserved some loyalty. Look what she'd done for him. What other girl would tie herself to a bed for him? She pulled in frustration at the ropes holding her. Maybe it was best that she was tied down. She would have slapped him. Maybe he deserved it, maybe not. But either way slapping him would have been wrong. It wasn't as though he'd ravaged her and then told her. For once he was actually trying to be a gentleman. His only fault was that he just wouldn't untie her. Hot tears ran down her face as she struggled to control her raging emotions. If he would just untie her. "Please Bradley. Untie me," she pleaded through her tears. "Darlene, I'm sorry." She couldn't tell if he was sorry for not untying her or sorry about his betrayal. She sighed as she fell back into the pillows under her head. She wanted up from this bed. She wanted her clothes. She wanted Bradley back. Part of her was telling her good riddance, but most of her was aching. "Who is she?" Darlene asked again to the ceiling. There was a silence from the man she thought she knew so well. She squirmed around after a few minutes, again trying to adjust her position. So shamelessly open. "Bradley? Who is she?" she repeated quietly. "I ... I can't." "I'll know eventually, and I promise I won't do anything stupid," she whispered as tears again overtook her senses. "You won't know," he mumbled. She licked her lips. "I have to know. I deserve to know." But she didn't want to know. Not really. "It's not just someone else, Darlene. You'll be going to university next year. I won't. You'll meet new people. I ... I can't do long-distance relationships. You knew that." I didn't, Darlene thought to herself bitterly. Do you think I'd have put myself in this position if I had known that? She took a deep breath. "Why now, Bradley? Why with me like this? Please untie me," she pulled again at her bound ankles in frustration. "I tried, Darlene. I thought we'd be alone without your parents. I didn't know you'd be like that. I just wanted to talk to you. I tried..." his voice trailed off as though he was ashamed of keeping her like this. Darlene sighed. He was right. She'd put herself into this. He was simply taking advantage of it. He wasn't leering at her or anything. He was just taking advantage of having her immobile to talk to her. She was well known for avoiding an argument. How many guys would give their eye teeth to break up with a captive female? No worries about being slapped. Plus, she had to listen to him, like it or not. "Who is she?" she repeated through her tears. At least she wasn't sobbing. Instead, big fat tears slowly rolled down her face. She couldn't stop them. She couldn't wipe at them. They simply rolled slowly and unheeded down her cheeks. Bradley ignored the question, continuing in hushed tones. "And we aren't quite right for one another. I'm ... I'm not sure I'm in love with you anymore." "I still love you," Darlene spoke almost by instinct and without hesitation. She thought she did still love him. A part of her did, anyway. "But that isn't enough, Dar. Don't you see that?" Bradley implored her. She did. She didn't want to, but she could see that. Her love wasn't enough to build a relationship. He had to love her, too. She couldn't love for the both of them. She'd been blind, just like Darren had been trying to tell her. When was she going to learn to trust Darren? If she'd listened to him, instead of forcing the issue, she wouldn't be tied to this damn bed. These words had been coming for a while, and she'd been ignoring the warning signs and avoiding the issues with Bradley. Just like she always did. Darren had seen it. He just didn't know when it would happen. He'd probably seen it a year ago. He'd tried to warn her and she hadn't listened. She cried for a while silently on the bed. Bradley sat and tried not to look at the girl he'd loved. Darlene knew that he hadn't wanted to hurt her, but these things hurt. No matter if the girl was tied to a bed and frustrated, or not. She turned her head, sensing that this was it. It was over. Completely. Irresistibly. Over. There was nothing more she could do. She would accept that, given time. "Bradley?" she called quietly. He looked up at her face. "Who is she? The other girl?" she pleaded. For some reason it was important to her. She wanted to know as much as she didn't. She half expected to hear that it was her best friend. That would have capped off this lovely afternoon. He spoke quietly, flushed. "His name is Adrian. You don't know him." Her mind whirled at the words, not quite understanding, but understanding too well. She'd caught him a number of times looking too fiercely at a guy on the street - guys she'd look at if she'd seen them first or wasn't with Bradley. It made sense now. She knew that somewhere deep inside herself, had she been looking at a woman that way what it would mean. But she hadn't seen it. Hadn't guessed. Hadn't realized. God, at least she'd protected herself when Bradley and her had first ... oh God. Bradley rose to his feet and walked over to her. He tried to keep his eyes on her face but didn't quite succeed. She felt a hot flush rising over her as he approached. "I loved you, Darlene. And I didn't want to hurt you. I never cheated on you," he spoke as softly as a summer breeze. She still loved his voice. She swallowed. He'd hurt her badly. But she'd survive. She always had survived before. Her tears fell hard down her face and into her hair and the pillow beneath. She wanted to curl up, to forget about today, to lie in the dark, make it go away, and cry all night. She couldn't even bring her arms in to hug herself. Bradley bent and softly kissed her wet cheek. "But I love him more," he whispered into her ear. She felt his fingers scrabbling at her wrist, attempting to let her free finally from her bonds. She swallowed, a lump in her throat that wouldn't go away. Her brain wasn't functioning properly. "Just go," she whispered. He continued to work at Darren's knots. She tried to pull her hand away from his touch and succeeded in only tugging the knots from his fumbling fingers. "Bradley? Just go. Please?" she begged through her tears. She didn't want him to see her like this any longer. He rose silently to his feet, looking one last time into her tear-streaked face. "Are you going to be alright?" he asked. She nodded. "Somebody will untie me. Probably Darren. I don't care. Just go." He turned one last time, asking a different question with the same words, "Are you going to be alright?" "I hope so," she responded in a whisper before the tears that she couldn't wipe away flowed from her eyes again. She vaguely heard the front door close quietly in the silent house as she lay on her bed and wept. *** She'd regained some sanity after a few more hours stuck on her bed. She had enough sense to try and hope that Darren showed up before her parents. God, how would she explain this? She wished that she'd let Bradley release her. She wished for so many things that she ached. She pulled for the millionth time at the cords holding her down. What a stupid, stupid idea. But she didn't regret it. Not really. She at least had time to think. She lay there, feeling her bed, feeling her helplessness, aware of her body. Her face, dirty and tear-streaked, stared up at her ceiling in the fading light. Afternoon was quickly fading to evening. The phone had rung twice since Bradley had left. She idly wondered who it had been. Her parents? Darren? Or Bradley? She mentally shrugged. Not much she could do about it. They'd leave a message if it was important. She would regret it if she'd missed a call from Bradley, but perhaps it was for the best. Her arms ached from her immobility, and her feet had fallen asleep a while ago. What if nobody came by to release her? What if Darren and her parents stayed out all night? She felt fatalistic and helpless lying there. Not much else she could do. They'd come home eventually. She just hoped that it was Darren, first. She closed her eyes and dozed, fending off another wave of grief. *** The soft closing of the front door woke her from a hazy dream of flowers and hay.A summer rainstorm had been approaching, and someone, she couldn't remember who, was waiting for her in the hay. Her mind was still a little foggy. Linda? She didn't know anyone named Linda. She held her breath, hoping beyond hope that the front door had been locked. It was pitch dark in the room. Her night vision hadn't kicked in yet, and night had fallen while she had slept. In other circumstances, she might have fantasized a blindfold and been aroused, but now the darkness was simply frightening. She glanced over. Her bedroom door was wide open; she could see the soft glow of the night light her parents kept in the main bathroom through the open doorway. Bradley hadn't closed her bedroom door on his way out. If it was her parents, she'd have some explaining to do. If it was a burglar, well, not much she could do about that either. Prepare to be raped. She shuddered at the thought. Her earlier fantasies were far less palatable in the middle of the night. The front door had been shut with care to be silent. Still, it could be anyone. It was only because she'd been in a light doze that she'd awakened at all. She couldn't tell if it was one set of feet or two climbing the stairs. Her parents? Her brother? Someone more sinister? A male form silhouetted in her door frame. Her breath caught in her throat as she envisioned the big, dark-clothed break-and-enter artist who wouldn't hesitate to break and enter her. She shuddered. She didn't want to be raped. She silently prayed to herself and bit back her voice that wanted to scream out in terror. A tiny moan escaped her throat. "Darlene? You awake?" a male voice spoke quietly. It took her a moment to place the whisper. She tried to calm her hammering heart. She swallowed and nodded. Realizing that her nod couldn't be seen in the dim glow of the clock radio and the bathroom night light, she whispered instead. "I'm awake." He stepped into the room quietly. She could hear his stocking feet whispering against her carpet. She flexed her numb toes. She was thirsty beyond belief. "Oh my God. You're still tied there?" Darren whispered to her as he settled onto her bed. She nodded. This time he was close enough to see her. She couldn't see well in this light, but her night vision was improving the longer her eyes remained open. His night vision was probably improving as well. "What happened?" he asked urgently as his fingers found her right wrist. "I knew this was ..." She cut him off from saying the equivalent of "I told you so." "Bradley broke up with me," she spoke quietly. Her words again brought tears to her eyes, and this time she began to sob as she hadn't allowed herself to since Bradley had left her. Darren's fingers abandoned her wrist, leaving her bound. He gathered her into his arms as best he could and hugged her tight. "I'm so sorry, Sis. I may not have liked him, but I knew he was important to you." She cried on his shirt until her shoulders ached so much that she had to lower herself back to the bed. She wanted out of the ropes, wanted to be held properly. She lay still while he released her. It didn't take long, even though he left her bedroom lights off and had to work some of the knots through by feel alone. She sat up crying, reaching for her brother. He moved to get up. "Please? Where are you going?" she asked quietly through her tears. Her voice betrayed her concern that she'd disappointed him so much that he was going to leave her, the same as Bradley had. She accepted it, couldn't blame him, but it made her cry even worse. She felt so terribly alone. "Just getting you a robe," his soft voice came from above her. She reached and pulled his sleeve. In the darkness, he couldn't see her anyway. And she didn't care. She'd been nude the entire day. She wasn't shy. She wanted to be held now more than she wanted clothing. She cried out softly as feeling began to return to her numb hands and feet. He settled back to the bed and let her melt into his strong arms. He gently stroked her hair as she cried, letting her soak the shoulder of his rugby shirt with her hot tears. They rocked silently together for an hour or so, words unnecessary, until she finally sighed and squirmed out of his arms. She was mostly cried out. There simply weren't any more tears. She knelt up on the bed facing him, knees pressed tightly together, her hands clasped together in her lap. "You were right," she whispered. "It was a dumb thing to do." "He didn't ..." Darren began awkwardly. She shook her head. "But he left you like that? Jesus Christ. I'll tear him limb from limb." His voice was full of anger and hurt. He couldn't understand, couldn't imagine what Darlene had been through this unusual afternoon. Rage seethed behind his eyes at Bradley. How could he have done something like that? "Darren. You can't. You can't hurt him. He tried to untie me. I wouldn't let him," she softly explained. Darlene watched silently as the sudden anger faded behind his face. His face became softer and more concerned for her. Darren just stared at his sister as his anger faded. She'd never cease to surprise him. Here she was protecting the guy that had just dumped and rejected her. Despite her trembling, her inner strength was ... admirable. "I. I wasn't exactly thinking straight. It was my fault," Darlene continued with regret in her voice. She could see his remorse flashing across his open features. She wasn't quick enough to prevent him from speaking softly. "I'm so sorry, Darlene. I shouldn't have left you." For perhaps the first time in their lives, he'd failed her. He hadn't been there to protect her when she had desperately needed him. His voice was brimming with his regrets. Darren leaned forward and kissed Darlene gently on her wet cheek. She was still crying gently, but most of it was out of her system. She wiped gently at her eyes, finally having the freedom to do so. She kissed his cheek softly, accepting his apology though it wasn't required or expected as far as she was concerned. Her eyes felt heavy from the tears that still leaked slowly from them. She felt drained, emotionally and physically. "You need some sleep, kiddo," he remarked gently as he held her. "I've been resting and sleeping all day. What time is it?" she asked. "3:30 in the morning." "Excuse me?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "3:30 in the morning," he repeated, turning her clock radio and pointing at it glowing in the darkness. Sure enough, it winked out '3:28 AM' at her in dim red digits. "Oh my God. Where's Mom and Dad?" "Asleep in their room, I guess," Darren spoke softly. "As we ought to be." "You're kidding." They had to pass her room to get to theirs. They couldn't help but see their daughter naked and roped to her bed. Her door had been wide open. Why hadn't they woken her and freed her? "Have you ever known them to be out later than midnight?" he ventured. He didn't want to upset Darlene, but he couldn't lie to her either. The parents were home. No doubt about it. Their car had been in the driveway as he had quietly walked in. "Christ," she swore to herself. "We'll deal with it tomorrow, if there is anything to deal with. Go to bed. Okay? Things will look better in the morning," Darren tried to reassure her. She reluctantly crawled between the covers that she'd laid upon most of the day. She realized with a start that she was cold, her nipples aching as they touched the cool sheets. She didn't bother with her nightgown. Her family respected her privacy as long as her door was closed. Even Darren knocked. She pulled the covers up to her chin and curled up like a kitten. Darren tucked the sheets around her body. Again, he kissed her cheek, softly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Me too," she answered as he slipped out of her room and shut the door quietly. *** She hadn't done this for years. But she couldn't sleep. The tears wouldn't stop, and she didn't want to cry herself to sleep again. She had to distract herself, somehow. She felt her fingers trailing over her bare skin, igniting her through her tears. Her nipples, aroused despite her weariness and sadness, reacted to her soft pinches. She knew what and where to touch herself despite her long absence from this simple pleasure. She gasped quietly as her fingers found her soft, firm, moist lower lips. She wasn't very surprised that she was aroused down there either. Her finger found her clitoris, swollen and ready for her touch. She slowly circled herself, caressing her breasts softly while her middle finger slowly stroked sensually between her legs and deep inside. Shivering, she tilted her head back and arched her body as though accepting a lover. Her mind was filled with images of her bound to the bed all afternoon, her danger, her vulnerability, her helplessness, her absolute trust. She had been stupid, she knew that, but she was still here, unviolated, alive and well. She'd learned something about herself. She silently sent up a thank-you to the angels who had watched over her today. Her breathing slowly increased as she teased herself. She knew her own rhythms and knew her point of release. She held herself there, relishing her freedom but still feeling the soft constricting ropes against her wrists and ankles. She concentrated on her light dancing fingertips, on her hardened nipples, on her soft belly, on her aching center. Her mind exploded in a thousand blue lights as her climax crashed over her. She struggled to control her voice, not wanting to wake the house with unbridled cries of passion. She pressed her hand over her mouth to help. Her fingers continued to stimulate her senses until the last involuntary muscle contraction had taken her. She finally collapsed exhausted back into the pillows, letting out her breath and moaning quietly to herself. As the relaxation and peace from her climax flowed over her body, she knew that she'd be fine. She'd go on, and there would be a tomorrow. She still felt the loss, but it would fade.Her consciousness faded, and she fell into a restless sleep. "You were home late," her father remarked at the breakfast table. There was only a slight edge of accusation in his voice. She was getting too old to baby any longer. It was getting to the point that she could make mature decisions on her own, at least in his eyes. The rope marks had faded from her wrists and ankles as she had slept, only a faint red mark betrayed her activities of the previous afternoon. Her eyes glued to her right wrist and the faint red line there as her fingers grasped her cereal spoon tightly. In a quick flash of irritation, she almost snapped that she'd been home before Darren - that she'd never even left the house. She almost remarked that he'd been the one to wander in at 2:30 in the morning, not her. She caught a quick mischievous smile from her brother across the table. She took a deep breath and shot him a glance of malice. Why he always got away with being late, she'd never figure out. They were the same age after all. Because he was male. She knew that it was inevitable to be treated differently. As a female, she was more vulnerable? It wasn't fair. But she hadn't exactly proven the point yesterday. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she replied quietly. She slowly realized that her parents had assumed that her darkened room had been empty. Perhaps it had been. She wanted to forget yesterday's unusual afternoon, but she knew that she never would. Darren smiled gently at her when their father glanced back at his paper. Tears threatened again, but this time she willed them back.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13099.txt

"LM l"

"Romantic Interludes"

"Jeremy, please make love to me." Eyes wide, my head shot up at the soft, simple request from my fiancée, Lisa. Seated on the sofa next to the chair I was in, while I read a magazine, Lisa's expression was rather gentle... almost innocent. I had been engrossed in my reading while Lisa watched one of her favorite television shows here in the living room. Her request for romance was completely out of the blue. But at the same time, it could not be called a surprise. I have come to expect just about anything from my darling fiancée. Lisa's brown eyes flashed with quiet lust as she patted the sofa cushion next to her - giving me an invitation. How could I ever possibly refuse her? "With pleasure, sweetheart," was my response as I dropped the magazine and joined her on the sofa. Lisa squealed with glee as I embraced her with both arms, my lips moving toward hers for a kiss. Our lips met and shared a gentle exchange for several seconds, my arms firmly around Lisa's voluptuous body. Then, I felt her tongue sneak out and gently swipe away at my upper lip. In return, I extended my tongue and met hers... then we both moaned. Once I slid my right hand from her back down to her bottom, Lisa increased the ferocity of the kiss. I pinched her jeans-clad bottom and she squealed, then our shared kiss became really intense. Lisa's tongue dove deeply into my mouth and swirled around its walls and recesses in mad, frantic circles. She wrapped her arms around me as well, and offered a firm embrace. My tongue sought hers, and the two subsequently got into a playful "sword" fight. With both hands now, I cupped her curvaceous bottom and squeezed it hard. Lisa moaned and sagged against me, but nonetheless continued the ferocious onslaught upon my mouth with her lips and tongue. My cock already felt as if it was about to burst inside the confines of the dark slacks I wore. Lisa had her pelvis pushed hard against my erection, grinding away at it. I was well aware that if she kept that up, my shaft would soon explode right in my slacks. Not wanting to do that, I broke the kiss and pulled away from her a little bit. Lisa looked at me as I dropped to my knees on the floor, with her still on the sofa above me. Then, she giggled with glee as I reached for her white blouse and started undoing its buttons. My blonde angel continued smiling as I finished off all of the buttons. Lisa whisked off the stylish blouse in a hurry, leaving a white bra as the only thing keeping her from being topless. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her, my hands going for the bra-snap behind her back. While doing so, I nuzzled my lips against her neck and kissed its sensitive skin. Lisa sighed contentedly as I unsnapped the bra and kissed her neck, then I pulled the white garment off of her. Even though I have seen her nude hundreds of times, I had to stop for a brief moment and admire Lisa's breasts. Large and firm, her breasts are the type which I could worship for the remainder of my life. They are, in a word, perfect. A lovely pair of 37c's, each breast is capped by a puffy pink aureole, with a sensitive nipple in the center of each. I moved my right hand to the underside of one of her firm breasts, then lifted its sensual weight. As I cupped and squeezed her round breast, Lisa let out a moan in response. Eventually, however, my mouth descended toward one of her nipples and started to suck gently. In return, Lisa sighed and placed both of her hands on either side of my head. Soon, I began swiping my tongue over and across her erect nipple. Lisa continued to voice her approval as my mouth moved between her ample cleavage and tasted its sweet delights. I could hear her nearby heartbeat; it was going at a mile-a-minute. My hands then cupped and squeezed both of Lisa's breasts as I continued paying homage to her wonderful cleavage. She sighed while running her long, supple fingers throughout my short brown hair. "Hmmm... I love you," I mumbled into the deepened valley between her breasts. "I love you too," she squealed, planting a kiss on the top of my head. "I love you more than anything." I embraced my 20-year-old fiancée tightly, yet still continued to feast upon her cleavage. As is often the case during one of our lovemaking sessions, however, Lisa had something else than simple foreplay or kissing on her mind. That, of course, would be fellatio. "I want to give you a blowjob," came her breathy moan. My face detracted from her cleavage, and I stared up at her. "Can I?" Her request was so sweet and genuine. It conveyed her intense desire for sucking cock. I smiled at her, then slowly stood up. "I'm all yours." Lisa giggled with lust as she slid from the sofa and dropped down to her knees in front of me. Quickly, her hands went to work on my belt, unlooping and then taking it off. She ripped at my slacks, pushing them and my briefs down in a rush. As a result, my erection sprang up and dangled between Lisa's beautiful face. As she smiled and gently grasped my cock with her left hand, I managed to step out of my shoes, then kick my slacks and briefs away as well. What a mix - Lisa was nude above the waist, whereas I was nude below the waist. I had on a shirt and she still wore jeans and sneakers. On her knees, Lisa glanced up at me, her brown eyes aglow with passion and lust. I could not help but to shudder with excitement as Lisa extended her tongue and offered my full erection a loving swipe. She giggled at my response, then teasingly ran her tongue along the full length of my cock. "Do you like this?" she squealed at me, holding back a laugh at the same time. She already knew the answer. "Oh yes!" I exclaimed. "Ohhhhh sweetheart... ohhh... no one can suck cock like you. No one at all!" She giggled at my praise, a happy expression upon her face. I would find it very difficult to go on in life without Lisa's expert mouth to service my cock. It is no joke to say that I have become addicted to her. I gasped as Lisa's left hand slowly tightened around my enlarged shaft. Again she giggled, this time while giving it a couple of hard squeezes. All the while, her eyes stayed in direct contact with mine. What a powerful sight; her piercing eyes in contact with mine as she caressed and squeezed my erection. But then... A deep, drawn-out moan escaped from Lisa's throat as she slipped my shaft between her pouty, red lips. As her left hand cupped my testicles and gently squeezed them, Lisa closed her moist lips around my member and began to feverishly suck upon it. With her right hand, she grasped the very base of my cock and started to pump away at it. Quickly, I whisked my shirt up and off. Now, I stood before her - completely nude. Within a matter of seconds, Lisa was working my hard cock in and out of her mouth at a steady, but not fast speed. A deep moan escaped her throat as she looked up at me, which in turn caused me to sigh. Seeing her mouth stuffed with my cock while she looks up at me is a definite turn-on. I growled with sheer passion as I felt the tip of my cock collide with the back of Lisa's throat with each hot intake. The collisions came quicker too, due to the increasing speed of Lisa's head as she bobbed back and forth upon my erection. Meanwhile, she continued to knead my balls with her left hand, while pumping the base of my cock with her right. Lisa made a loud gagging noise as her cheeks hallowed around my hard cock, her head now bobbing back and forth at warp speed. She was sucking me off like there was no tomorrow; as if this was her last act on Earth. I growled in pure passion above her while reaching the boiling point. All of a sudden, Lisa whipped my shaft out of her mouth. In one quick motion, she encircled its base with both of her hands, while extending her tongue from her wide-open mouth. She aimed my cock at her tongue...Then I roared in lust as a thick strand of cum shot out from my shaft and splattered over Lisa's tongue. She began pumping away at me with both hands, wanting more. I obliged her, as a series of heavy spurts erupted from within me and covered Lisa's lovely face. The whole time, I kept moaning while getting the royal treatment from my angel fiancée. Once my shaft was drained of all its juicy sperm, I opened my eyes and looked down at Lisa. Her face and long blonde hair were soaked in my cum, but she sure didn't seem to mind. In fact, Lisa was giggling in lust as she wiped her face with her fingertips, then sucked each dry. "Oh, you are definitely a sweetheart," I grinned while dropping to my knees and kissing a dry spot on her forehead. "I love you Miss Lisa - more than anything." She continued giggling while sucking her fingertips dry of all the thick jizz. "I love you too, Jeremy." I smiled at her. "You're so great at sucking cock. Let me return the favor - I want to eat your pussy." "You can eat my pussy," Lisa chirped, "only if you promise to fill me with your cock afterwards." I shook my head and laughed at those words. "How could I refuse such an offer? You got a deal, sweetheart!" Lisa flashed a charming smile as she spread her thighs and then laid down upon her back. With her knees in the air and feet on the floor, she offered me a wide open, direct invitation to her sweet pussy. The only problem was, Lisa was still completely dressed from the waist down. No matter, as I took care of that minor problem in just a couple of seconds. Quickly, I got rid of her sneakers and socks, then slid her jeans and panties down and off. Lisa spread her thighs wide again, giving me an open invitation. I felt life jump back into my shaft while laying down and positioning myself between her stretched thighs. Wasting no time at all, I grasped Lisa's hips with both hands and then extended my tongue toward her intoxicating spot... Lisa moaned and shuddered with excitement as I swiped my tongue across her moist clitoris. I lapped away at the tender skin-flap, my hands massaging her round hips. "Oooooh..." Lisa groaned in undeniable arousal. "Ooooh, I want your tongue in me... Please... Your tongue..." I drove my tongue deep into the wet recesses of her pussy, tasting its many treats. At the same time, I moved a finger to her clitoris and began diddling with it. Lisa let out her loudest moan of the night at that new sensation. I continued to lick away at her womanly folds as she started to rumble and vibrate upon the floor. My tongue was moving very quickly; I was swiping it around inside her as fast as humanly possible. Of course, she tasted great. Once I plunged my tongue all the way inside her, Lisa's stomach muscles tightened violently and she let out a loud, deafening squeal of sensual approval. Even though I had her very close to an orgasm with my mouth, I decided that there was a better way to bring Lisa off. She had earlier requested that I penetrate her. Now, it was time to grant her wish. Growling with lust myself, I rose up to my knees between Lisa's widespread thighs. My cock was fully erect once again; ready to give my beautiful fiancée the type of hot workout which she treasured the most. Lisa squealed with sheer delight as I mounted her in the missionary position. Fisting my cock, I pressed it hard against her tight slit and rubbed it in erotic circles. Lisa moaned as her face rocked from side to side, in utter pleasure. She loves it when I tease her like this. Nevertheless, I was not in much of a teasing mood. Very quickly, I forged my enlarged shaft between the tight confines of her damp pussy, and slid it all the way inside. Both of us moaned with extreme passion while I settled my cock deeply in her - as deep as it could possibly go. As is always the case, Lisa's insides were gripping and clutching my erection like a powerful, unforgiving vice. I had to wince at the pressure upon my cock; it almost hurt. No complaints, though - it was a good hurt. I welcomed it! Lisa cried in passion as I pulled out slightly, only to thrust back into her very powerfully. My arms hooked under her knees, at my shoulders, I started a series of forceful strokes that made Lisa growl with lust. My thrusting hips quickly reached a thunderous speed and as a result, my testicles slapped hard against Lisa's tight, upturned bottom with each forward plunge. Together the both of us rocked and screamed in unequaled desire, our bodies quickly becoming drenched with perspiration. I kept pounding her, harder and harder, and soon she dug her sharp, red fingernails into my back. That, however, only made me slam her harder. While thrusting away at her, my mind was lost in a sea of lust and desire. I couldn't think. My body was simply relying on instinct now. I kept drilling Lisa, jamming my hard shaft in and out of her at a furious, remarkable pace. An earth-shattering pace. An unbelievable pace! Lisa's body was flopping around beneath me as I continued to hammer her, while her firm, plentiful breasts bounced about wildly in the process. It was truly an intense, heated coupling - just the type that Lisa and I enjoy. Suddenly, I growled in a passionate rage, then buried my shaft all the way into Lisa's overheated slit. I had sensed an explosion within me coming, and knew that it was now time. Lisa screamed in passion as a helping of sperm jettisoned itself from my cock directly into her pussy. I continued to empty my seed into Lisa, wanting to flood her insides with my thick and gooey cum. Initially, there were two large gushes of sperm that shot out... and they were followed by a series of several smaller ones. Once I was tapped out, however, I lost all of my strength and fell down directly on top of Lisa. Both of us had experienced the ultimate togetherness between two people. Though exhausted, we reveled in that wonderful feeling. After our encounter, Lisa and I lay together in the sweet aftermath, enjoying the closeness of satiated bodies. I held her in my arms, simply relishing her. I love this lady with all of my heart and soul. 11 months from now, when Lisa and I get married, I will truly be the happiest man alive. Of course I could make that claim now, too - just having Lisa in my life, whether she is my bride or not, is cause enough for great happiness. [The End]

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/6998.txt

Tigger

The Sultan's Heir

"Today, you are to serve the noon meal to the Sultana and her guest," Reyna stated as she checked the girl's finery one last time. "She wants to see for herself how well you have learned your new womanly condition and how well you have learned your lessons on decorum and behavior." The stern schoolmistress was back in Reyna's tones, but Shamarra only smiled. She had long learned that, with the exception of that one time with the bastinado, the older woman's bark hid a very soft heart. "I will not shame you, Mistress," Shamarra said for the fifth time. "I will bring honor on your teaching of me." A single tear escaped Reyna's eye, cutting a kohl-black furrow through the rouge she used to emphasize her cheekbones. Jerkily, she fastened the gossamer veil and spun the girl about to push her in the direction of Leisha's apartments. "Just go," she said with a catch in her voice. When Shamarra turned to make sure her mentor was all right, the older woman all but bellowed, "GO!" Smiling brightly for Reyna's benefit, Shamarra went. The smile died as she entered into the Sultana's rooms. The Lady's maid servant immediately put her to work serving the midday meal and generally waiting on the Sultana and the very pretty younger woman who was the Lady's guest. Throughout the meal, Shamarra spoke only when necessary and did her best to remain properly unobtrusive in the performance of her tasks. Strangely, the Sultana Valideh seemed to be doing her level best to put Shamarra on display. She insisted that the wine cups be filled almost after every sip the other lady took, or that grapes be peeled for her guest, or some other little task that forced Shamarra to be in close contact with the two women at the table. Throughout the meal, Shamarra watched the guest become more and more agitated. The longer they sat, the less interested she became in the Sultana's polite conversation and gossip. Finally, she could restrain herself no longer. "Mother Leisha," she said, exasperation chilling her tones, "you said I would meet the one you propose for my lord's pleasure today. I must meet her, so that I can determine if she will stand out too much in my lord's harem and be discovered." Amusement lit the Lady's eyes, and she delicately rinsed her hands and lips before reclining back on her divan. "Yes, I did promise you that, didn't I." A jerky nod answered her. "And so I have, Khumar-dear. This young lady," and the Sultana made a languid gesture in Shamarra's direction, "is the one that you wish to meet. She has been serving your food and drink for the past hour." Stunned shock evident on her face, Khumar stared at Shamarra in open-mouthed disbelief. Then, disbelief hardened her lovely features, and she turned to Leisha accusingly. "That is *not* a boy, Mother Leisha." A pleased laugh twinkled from Leisha. "Well, I must agree with you there, Khumar, but I assure you, she has all the male equipment beneath that lovely girdled chastity." Still seeing disbelief written on her daughter-in-law's face, Leisha beckoned the girl over to her. She removed a small key from a hidden pocket and undid the lock on the back of the girdle. The front grate fell free, revealing Shamarra's male parts. Youth, sudden freedom from its prison, and the presence of two such beautiful women had an immediate effect on Shamarra's penis - it hardened to full erection. Still not sure she believed the evidence of her eyes, Khumar leaned over the table for a closer look. She started to reach out and touch it, but stopped herself. "That... is real?" she asked in wonder. "It really works?" "It is definitely real, and I have proof that it works. However, you may see for yourself, if you wish." The soft hands reached out, one cupping the hairless scrotum and the other gripping the erection at its root. With sensuous ease and purpose, Khumar began to tease Shamarra. Idly, Leisha watched. Khumar's erotic skills were highly regarded among the ladies of the harem, and it was obvious to the Sultana that her reputation was well earned. A helpless groan of pleasure told her that little Shamarra thought so, too. "Do you permit her... release?" Khumar asked softly, not taking her eyes off Shamarra or stopping her ministrations. Chuckling, Leisha answered, "Not normally, but she has been a particularly good girl today, so if you wish to reward her for her service, you may." Khumar's movements changed instantly from subtle and teasing to direct and intent. Shamarra squealed girlishly as the older woman forced her to climax. Leisha was duly impressed by the thickness and quantity of the spending, but then, Reyna had not given the girl any relief in several weeks. Khumar caught the seed in her cupped palm and then pulled the girl down to kneel beside her. She held the palm in front of the girl's face. "Lick, girl. Clean my hand," she ordered imperiously. Submissively, and without hesitation, Shamarra bent her head to the task. Once she finished, Khumar stood and paid her addresses to Leisha. "I am convinced, Mother-Leisha. If the other part works as well as this little one does, then we may yet have a chance." "As I told you earlier, dear, the other part has already worked. We have only to choose the correct time." Khumar nodded. "As to that, I am very predictable. I was unclean ten days ago, so I am just now entering into my most fruitful time." "You realize that it may take several injections each fertile time and may not take the first try?" "I understand, Mother. As long as the device is not too large for me, it might even be... pleasurable." A sensual grin lit the lovely face. "Now, I must be off. Thank you for a most interesting meal." She patted the still kneeling Shamarra. "And thank you, little one. You are quite lovely." Leisha sat quietly for several minutes after the Khumar Khadin had left. Unsure what to do, Shamarra continued to kneel where she had been left, her male parts still hanging free of the chastity. Finally, Leisha roused herself and beckoned Shamarra over to her so she could relock the chastity. "Now, go sit down over there where Khumar sat, dear." The Sultana's voice was gentle, completely unlike the last time she had spoken to Shamarra. Unsure, the girl moved slowly over to the place vacated by Khumar and sat delicately. "Go ahead and eat, Shamarra. I am sure you are hungry." Confused, she hesitated. "EAT!" Leisha snapped. Shamarra ate. Leisha watched her as she fed herself. Even now, as off balance as she must be, and yes, as frightened as she must be, the girl remembered her manners. Reyna had done very well. It was almost time to tell the girl the whole truth, but first, one last test. "Shamarra?" she said quietly. Instantly, the girl put down the fig she had been nibbling and gave the Sultana her full attention. "Reyna will be here in a few moments. She is going to take you to meet someone. Someone who knows you, or at least, knew Selim, son of Rascheed and Mirrim. If that person does not recognize you, you will have passed all your tests. Whatever happens after this point, I promise you, will have no repercussions against your Mother. You will still be in danger, but I will do all in my power to protect you." The light lunch she had just eaten roiled in her stomach. "Yes, Lady," she answered, wondering what else she *could* say. "I will do my best." Reyna entered at that moment, and Leisha favored her friend with a smile before turning back to Shamarra. "Of that, little one, I have no doubts. Go with my blessings." With that, Shamarra stood and followed a silent Reyna out of the room.It is the only way we can take the chance of going further. Shamarra's smile faltered for a moment as fear curled in her guts, but she fought that and won. Smile back in place, she moved gracefully toward the two women. One of the women had her back to Shamarra, so she took the opportunity to examine the other woman. She was one of the loveliest women Shamarra had ever seen, which was saying a lot after almost two months living in the harem of the Great Sultan. Her body was magnificent, and her hair that unusual color of gold that looks like liquid fire in the sunlight. Her eyes were almost purple. Her eyes were also empty. The look of childlike wonder on the girl's face was real. She was a babe in a woman's body. That meant that it was the other woman she had to meet. Quietly, Shamarra sat down next to the beautiful girl-woman and said, "Hello. My name is Shamarra." The sound of Shamarra's voice and the happy giggle of the girl caught the other woman's attention. Smiling, she turned to see who was visiting her charge, and Shamarra's insides turned to ice water. Her Mother. Mirrim, wife of Rascheed and Mother of Selim, looked her son-made-woman directly in the eye - and saw no one she recognized. "How do you do?" she asked in a voice that Shamarra had not heard in months and had thought never to hear again. "My name is Mirrim, and this dear child is Jenna." Forcing her voice to work and to keep a feminine tone, Shamarra tried to smile. "I am Shamarra, and this is my teacher, Lady Reyna. It is always a pleasure to meet such a lovely girl." Maternal pleasure flared across Mirrim's face. "She is lovely, isn't she? Through and through. God's gift in recompense for what she lost at birth, I think. The Sultana made me her guardian because my son was killed saving her when she inadvertently escaped the garden. Brigands killed him while he was returning her to safety." "You are very fortunate to have had such a son," Reyna spoke for the first time. She moved behind her charge to bring Mirrim's attention back to Shamarra. Shamarra wanted to cringe, to run and hide, but she held her position and looked straight into the Mother's eyes. "Not to be impertinent, Lady Shamarra, but you look so familiar. Are you perhaps related to my late husband's family? They come from the eastern provinces." Gently, Shamarra shook her head. "No, Lady. My family is here in Constantinople." "Oh, well, an old woman's eyes are often fooled. If you will excuse us, it is time for this one to rest." And then she stood and led her protesting charge off toward the door to the harem. Shamarra sat there watching her. "She did not know me. I love her so much that I am doing this... this *thing* for her safety and well-being, and she does not even know me." Shamarra's voice cracked for a moment before she swallowed hard to continue. "My own mother did not know me, Reyna." Tears flowed down her cheeks. There was an aura of great sadness about her, and Reyna hurt for her little student. "It is just as well, dear. Better than just as well. Now, come along. Jenna is not the only one who needs some rest, I think." And I will get Torack to give you a sleeping potion, Reyna thought. The girl had just had a painful shock, and too much thinking would be bad for her.

Part 5: Final Tests

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17455.txt

Spoonbender

The Couple

"You'll think I'm weird." I looked at her, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, as she fiddled with her charm bracelet, eyes cast down in shame. "Come on, tell me. You can tell me anything. I love you, Anna, you know I do." "You promise you won't go off me." I folded her into my arms and dabbed kisses on the top of her golden mane. "Don't be silly, it would take all the power of a nuclear cataclysm to tear me away from you." She took a deep breath and looked up at me, her long, lustrous hair framing an elfin face. Huge, blue eyes widening in alarm at the deep, dark secret that she was trying to wrest from her bosom to share with me. She was my wife, I the husband of two years standing. "Are you sure?" It was as if her very life depended on me acceding to carry the burden of her forthcoming revelation. I nodded. Another deep breath. "I, er, I...." She tailed off. "Tell me, I'm not just your lover, I am your friend. I made an oath to share my life with you. So nothing should stand between us." "I want to be dominated." It came out in a rush, as if by blurting it, she was able to soften the impact or to deflect the blow from my incredulity. "Dominated? How?" "You know...I want to be at the mercy of a powerful man. To be totally at his whim. To do what he wants. To provide him with pleasure and to take my personal pleasures in small sips from the pool of his desire." I stood back and held her shoulders; she hung her head in mortification. The secret was out, the Rubicon had been crossed, now she must await my verdict. I could no longer see her breathing, she was holding her breath, as she stood in my thrall. "How far do you want to go?" I asked, gently. "As far as you desire...Master." A tingle ran up and down my spine, and my genitals gripped tightly. Master! One little word, one huge new world. "Would you agree to be my slave? To serve me in all ways of the flesh?" "If my master desires." "Would you keep your body as the temple of my lust, to forego all personal pleasures in pursuit of my happiness?" "I am at the pleasure of my master." "Would you allow yourself to be constrained in coarse hempen ropes?" "I am already constrained by my master's benevolence." "Would you be prepared to be aroused to the point of distraction and only able to fulfill your desires when it pleases your master?" "My master commands my body. My pleasure is only within his gift." "Would you offer yourself to others at the whim of your master?" "If my master commands." I pulled down my fly and prized my solidly erect penis out from its constraining lair. I swear I had never had so powerful an erection, nor such an overarching need for consummation. "Suck me, slave." Anna dropped to her knees before me and, doing something she had never done before in two years of blissful marriage, she took me in her mouth.I draw patterns on her button, silently declaring my attentions in loving Braille as her body tenses and her breathing echoes the sighs of ecstasy. Now my fingers again take up their fateful march, I touch the plastic rod, I feel it buzzing insistently upon my skin. She draws her womanhood around it in a gentle, but urgent, persistence as I start to draw it from her. It is as if I am drawing the very life from inside her, as her body yields up the instrument that is so gently tormenting her. I draw it out and coax it back in. Always watching, feeling, trying to get at one with the tumultuous feelings that are enveloping her body like a warm, dark, rising maelstrom. Tossing her in helpless subjugation as my ministrations yield bountiful pleasures, her muted murmurs caressing the air like the whisper of the wind through the forest. Now I must, as I know I must, drink at the fountain of her well. I must taste her and revel in her warm saltiness. I must open her, explore her, conquer her, subjugate her. My tongue must be my weapon, my lips my shield and buckler. I must storm the gates of her citadel. With my ministrations I must entice her surrender, her portals must open and her wetness must overwhelm my senses as her desire becomes manifest upon my tongue. Now I, too, am a slave, we are at one. She the slave of my desire, me the slave of hers. I must garner the sweetness of her juices, her taste, her very essence, drenching my tongue as it dances at the humid warmth of her. Now her moans have become little cries, like the far off call of a hunting bird, they carry to me on the wings of her passion. I the master, she the slave. It is time to reassert my mastery of her, as my mouth traces the delicate journey up the delicate contours of her body. My tongue traces a silvery trail across the delicate parchment of her belly, retracing the journey of exploration that my fingers had forged a while before. In helplessness she awaits me. The true slave, at her master's bidding, tightly constrained with limbs drawn to the points of the compass. Each time I make this journey there are new paths to find, new pleasures to reach out for. Finally, my mouth captures the heights of her thrusting breasts, my tongue fencing gently with the chewy nub of her engorged nipple. Dancing in the blunt grip of my maw then skipping coquettishly away like a playful maiden before a lustful swain. My mouth now draws down on its twin, enveloping it in the gulping cavern. Teasing, nipping, caressing, the tongue and the nipple dueled playfully before the nipple surrendered to the urge of my lips. My manhood was at rapt attention and was sensing the end of my quest. It nodded, seemingly in agreement, with the lustful voices in my head that demanded that I sink within her comforting embrace. I sank home. My whole length being swallowed up. Now it was her turn to play and tease as her inner muscles danced and squeezed at my rampant manhood. I the Master. She the Slave. We were at one in our universe.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8196.txt

Remmelt de Haan

Sanna

"Then you bless them, seal off their commitment, and conclude the ceremony," Father Chodel said. "By popular custom, the couple usually kisses." Sanna nearly groaned. The priest's dry description of the wedding ceremony made watching snails race exciting in comparison. Arrangement. Dowry. Bloodlines. Rings. Families bartering their sons and daughters to gain prestige and wealth. Not once in the past two hours had the word 'love' been mentioned. Sanna often wondered what the lessons would have looked like had they all worshiped Shilohin instead of Eesyan. Detailed marital instruction for the bride and groom? Performance class with the sixty-five positions? Gods, I would have aced that class, she mused. She stifled a giggle. "Is something funny, Sanna Penhale?!" Chodel boomed. "Something the rest of us missed?" Sanna, more annoyed than embarrassed by Chodel's outburst, glanced around her. Most acolytes looked bored, some conversed in muted voices. It looked as if the entire class was hibernating. "Well Father, I was just wondering what I have to tell a bride who asks me for... well..." Her voice faltered. "Well, what?" Chodel said impatiently. "Advice on bedchamber activities," she said deadpan. All conversation in the chapel stopped. "Well, doesn't that fall under 'explaining marital duties'?" she continued innocently. Chodel turned red. A few acolytes in the back turned and coughed loudly, covering their mirth at their teacher's obvious discomfort. "Although it might be a daunting task," Sanna went on. "After all, you don't take someone who's not allowed to pick up a weapon seriously either, when he speaks about fighting styles." Some of the older acolytes winced at the obvious stab. Father Chodel raised a trembling hand and pointed at the door. "Out," he whispered. "Get out." Sanna bowed briefly and said: "By your leave, Father." In a mixture of relief and frustration, she walked out. The library was fairly empty. Since the renovation of the west wing, the scribes had gotten their chambers, where they could work in peace, undisturbed by the coming and going of young initiates. The space gained by their move was now filled with rows of desks. Also, three aisles of bookshelves had been extended a good six feet. Sanna strolled down the aisles and looked at the rows of librams, tomes, and scrolls. She picked up 'Principia Initiae' and turned to chapter two. She began to read, as if to find something she'd overlooked all those times she had studied the text. "To study, to serve, to teach. Only this is the purview of the initiate. The need for adventure, the accumulation of wealth, and any pursuit of personal desires is merely distraction from devotion." This was the foundation of the relationship-rule. The no-sex rule. Thou shalt not fornicate. The chapter was over four hundred years old. Loopholes had been found by devious apprentices and had been plugged by even more clever priests. All possible shades of meaning had been debated over the centuries and all nuances been written down in various guides and journals. All in all, she mused, the initiates could be proud of what they had gotten out of it, in the long run.She had kept lowering her expectations until she found someone she could at least respect. Until someone like that presented himself, she worked hard. Since she had taken her vows as an acolyte, she had immersed herself in her studies. Apart from checking out potential Seniors, she had avoided thinking about men altogether. She ignored invitations to birthdays or dances and could stroll through town all afternoon without having a single moment of weakness. But she couldn't stop the dreams. At night, every night, she was free and lived outrageously. Sometimes she was with a man, sometimes with a woman. One night she dreamt about a handsome sorcerer who took her to a sunny beach. He cast a spell that made them virtually weightless. Floating seven feet above the shore, they slowly made love, their cries mingling with those of the seagulls. In another dream, she was addressing the Temple Consensus, pleading for more personal freedom. While she was talking, she felt a couple of warm hands caressing her breasts and a soft tongue starting to lick her inner thighs. When she looked down, she discovered she stood naked before the crowd of High Priests, but there was no one near her. As she struggled to finish her speech, her invisible lover continued the oral assault. It didn't take long before she cried out, pushing her loins into the face of her invisible lover. Most of the time, she remembered only fragments of those dreams. And then there were the dreams about Miriam. They were in the steam room, naked and covered in sweat. When it was Miriam's turn for a backrub, Sanna said, "You are just perfect. If I were a boy, I'd know what to do with you." Miriam, who rested her head on her hands, looked at her and replied softly, "Why don't you show me anyway?" And she did. She always woke up feeling highly excited, her face flushed and her heart still beating wildly. Knowing sleep wouldn't return until she was fulfilled, she slipped her left hand down her chemise and started rubbing her wetness. Within moments, she reached her peak. After two breathtaking orgasms, she calmed down and fell asleep again. The memory of these vivid dreams did not fade; at any time of day or night, she could recall even the smallest detail of them. Not that she often did, because they never failed to arouse her. And they made her sad, for she knew they would never happen between them. She would never jeopardize their close friendship by making a move on her. The bell for the midday meal sounded. Sanna blinked and smiled. She was daydreaming a lot lately. She put the book back on the shelf and walked to the dinner hall. During midday meals, Sanna usually kept to herself. She didn't join conversations and only spoke when someone asked her a direct question. In all her time in the Temple, Miriam had been her only close friend. She didn't bother to try and make new ones, figuring she would leave Korinth soon enough. To her dismay, Cicely Dantzen took a seat opposite her. Cicely was the kind of student who seemed to float through the clerical career with the grace of a dancer. Everything seemed to come naturally to her. With a minimum of study, she always was the first of her class, making her the favorite of more than a few teachers. She could dazzle nearly everyone with her toothy smile. She never lacked any friends, male or female. People seemed eager to be with her, to be seen with her. She carried herself with an almost regal presence and seemed to treat everyone around her as a loyal subject. Sanna only nodded when Cicely greeted her cheerfully. She watched her as she started a conversation with a junior priest next to her. Cicely was very attractive, and objectively, Sanna could understand why people behaved the way they did around her. Personally, she couldn't care less. The Ice Queen didn't do anything for her, and not even in her wildest dreams did she make out with Cicely. "Well, Sister Sanna, that was quite a show you put on in the chapel, wasn't it?" Cicely said casually. Sanna ate her soup. She wasn't surprised that it had come out, and someone as popular as Cicely knew every gossip and rumor within the hour. After a few spoonfuls, she asked, "Why, do you disagree, Sister?" "I just thought it was odd that someone like you had to say it," Cicely replied. "I mean, it's not as if you miss out on anything, not with your looks." Sanna reddened with embarrassment. The hand holding the spoon halted in mid-air. Staring into her blurry mirror image in the bowl of soup, she thought: Does she think I'm ugly? Is she saying... "So true, Sister Cicely," a dry voice came from the left. "But then again, _she_ doesn't have to cover up her true nature with stunning looks." Everyone within hearing range turned to look at the speaker, a short, heavy-set apprentice with a full, round face. Cicely paled. Unperturbed, the apprentice looked at Sanna and said, "Could you pass the salt, sister?" Sanna passed the salt and looked curiously at him. "Excuse me," Cicely said frostily, "I didn't get your name." The apprentice nodded and elaborately sprinkled salt over his steak. "I know," he replied. "I like to stay ahead of some people..." He paused, removing a piece of lint from his collar, drawing out the moment until it became insultingly long, before adding, "...sister." Someone at the end of the table giggled, and Sanna looked down to hide her smile. Conversation was resumed, and Cicely kept quiet throughout the rest of the meal. She left the table without saying a word. Sanna lingered until the apprentice and she were the only ones left sitting. At the end of the table, the apprentices with kitchen duty started to clean up. "I thought I was the only one with a resistance against Cicely's charms," she began. The apprentice wiped his mouth with the inside of his sleeve and laughed. "Surely you are joking. I spotted Miss Frosty a mile away," he smiled. "Sister," he added, warmly this time, as if he was an adoring younger brother. Sanna smiled back, thinking: He is good. A real charmer. "I'm Sanna Penhale," she said. "Are you new here?" "Penhale?" His eyebrows raised in admiration. "I read your name on the honors list. No wonder she hates you - she feels you breathing down her neck." Sanna suddenly realized that he might be right. It could very well be that with all her hard work, she was in second place. She had never bothered to look on the list because it didn't mean anything to her. She didn't study to be number one - she just studied to get her mind off things. "I'm Avital," the apprentice introduced himself. "A transfer from Em Ventar. I got here yesterday." Sanna held out her hand, and he shook it by clasping her forearm. Her brother Alan, a warrior trainee, had shown her that greeting once. "You've been to a Warrior Academy," she observed. Avital smiled somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry. Old habits die hard," he said. "I had two years behind me at the School of Tacticians before I found out I could heal. After that, things were somewhat... out of my hands." "Sister Sanna, I would like a word with you," a priestess interrupted them. They both looked toward the entrance of the dining hall, where a tall, slender woman was beckoning Sanna. The look on her face spelled trouble. "Good luck," Avital whispered. Sanna opened her mouth to thank him when the priestess boomed, "In my chambers, now!!" Mother Maeragh slammed the door shut. "You think you are pretty clever, don't you?" she started. Sanna still rubbed her left arm. The priestess had dragged her through the halls by her arm, and rather roughly at that. "Clever? No, mother..." "You made obscene suggestions to Father Chodel during wedding instruction." "What!?" Sanna's eyes spread wide in disbelief. "But I..." "Did you or did you not ask Father Chodel for sexual advice?" "Yes, but not in such..." "Park duty for a week. We'll purge that rebellious streak yet." Sanna was appalled. Weeding the public gardens, removing fallen leaves and pebbles from the flower beds, using nothing but her bare hands. Her first thought was: I did not deserve this. Then, unbidden, came another: They won't get me down. I won't give them a reason to keep me here any longer than absolutely necessary. "Was there anything else, mother?" she asked, looking at the ground. Mother Maeragh regarded the acolyte with pursed lips. After a moment or two, she answered, "No. You can go now, sister." Sanna emptied the wooden bucket into the wheelbarrow. Another five feet of weed-choked flowerbed cleared of funny bits. The fingers of her left hand were covered in a black-green layer of dirt. She slowly walked back to her designated spot. Her back protested as she tried to straighten up. More than a few muscles in her legs ached. She had been crouching for the first hour, then shifted her stance to kneeling. She had felt the small pebbles of the paths between the flowerbeds digging into her knees. Sitting or lying down was not allowed. The overseer, a man with a ruddy face and a bushy mustache, was not above kicking his... 'Slaves' would be the correct word, Sanna thought. Or 'peons'. The humiliation of park duty lay in the fact that it was public punishment. The small group of acolytes and apprentices who weekly attended to the parks of Korinth had to deal with jibes of commoners, noblemen lecturing about virtues, and sometimes dirt-kicking street urchins. The overseer wasn't even a priest but usually one of those men one never catches working but who nevertheless manage to make a living. This week's overseer enjoyed telling park visitors the transgression of each member of his work crew. "Move along, fat boy! Keep those grubby little hands busy!""The overseer scolded. He shoved a slightly overweight apprentice away from the wheelbarrow. "Think those hands are good enough to nab meat from the kitchen, but not to do an honest day's work? Koriel watches you, fat boy!" And you too, Sanna thought. She was careful not to let her irritation show; until now the overseer's ire had been directed elsewhere and the last thing she desired was the man's attention. Methodically removing green and brown shoots of weed, she tried to finish the last part of her flowerbed. She tried to draw some satisfaction from the yards of flowerbeds she'd already covered, but on the morning of the last day she noticed that the part of the park their group had worked on in the beginning was already starting to deteriorate again. An entire group of gardeners could be kept occupied, day in, day out, for a full season, just to keep the grounds well-kept. At the end of the last day of her punishment, after she had emptied her bucket for the last time, she noted with a slight disgust that although she was tired, her muscles no longer ached and protested when she made sudden moves. She was actually getting used to the menial work! Right there and then she decided to use her last town pass, dine in a quiet inn and spend an evening on her own. And to drown her frustrations in a carafe of wine. As soon as she had cleared her night out with the priest on duty at the Front Office, she headed down to the basement for a steambath. The bell for the evening meal sounded just as she turned the corner to the women's section. She had once tried to find out whether the Temple had always been separating the men from the women when bathing or whether it had been a sudden change. Curiously, although the library had extensive librams on architecture and even maps covering the various Temples in Edalaran and even of a few in far away lands, information on the lower levels, including the steambaths, was non-existent. If she had to believe the scrolls, a couple of hundred years ago, the baths and basements had suddenly sprung into existence. Nobody seemed to know who'd built it or whose design it had been. Sanna had heard of tales about a Temple devoted entirely to Shilohin, the Lady of Love and Lust, where men and women did bathe together. Rumour would have the Temple located in a mountainous area in the southwest of Edalaran. Two apprentices came out of the dressing room, their hair still wet and tousled. The two girls nodded briefly and hurried upstairs, already late for dinner. Sanna took off her robe, folded it and put it on one of the wooden benches that stood lined against the walls. She slipped out of her sandals and stood on the cold stone floor, the contact sending a familiar shiver from her feet up to her face. She suppressed the impulse to hurry, even slowed her movements and calmly stripped until she was naked. Slowly she walked towards the pool room, ignoring the feel of the cold stone slabs under her feet. The pool room was deserted, which was not surprising at this time of day. The water was quietly dancing in giddy reflections on the walls. The only sounds were those of the water lapping at the edges of the oval pool. Sanna walked towards the edge, took a deep breath and dived in head first. The intense shock of the ice cold water paralyzed her for a few moments. When she had regained her orientation, she slowly started to swim to the other side, even though every fiber in her body screamed to get out of the cold water. Her heart raced and she felt her nipples stiffen. Ten seconds later she surfaced at the far end, gasping for air. With teeth chattering and limbs shaking, she pulled herself out of the water. Taking deep breaths of air, she tried to slow her heartbeat. The corridor between the pool room and the steam room was warm now, the stone floor no longer cold. This was probably the closest to total freedom that one could ever get, she mused: walking around buck naked without a soul to bother you. She made a mental note to try and find out whether there was any truth to the rumors about the Temple of Shilohin. When she entered the steam room, the heat enveloped her like a heavy blanket. The air was heavy and laden with spices, prickling the airways. She lay down on one of the animal furs and watched the steam rise to the ceiling, where it escaped through an air vent. She stretched luxuriously and sighed. Peace at last. Cicely Dantzen would have to gossip behind her back today, as she was wont to do, Avital had told her. She smiled as she thought of the short, stout apprentice. They had spoken twice more during dinner since the start of her punishment. She decided she liked him. He was smart and he knew what he wanted. He disliked idle chatter, as she did, and preferred to be direct. As long as he sat next to her at the dinner table, Cicely kept quiet. Like herself, he looked further than the walls of the Temple. He liked to talk about people and places, the life he had had before he entered the service of Eesyan. She still remembered his firm handshake. She wouldn't be surprised if the rest of him was as firm and muscular as his arm. Two years ago she had bedded a warrior trainee. The boy had been as green as grass, but he'd had an unbelievable stamina. The corners of her mouth curled upwards as she thought back to those days. Avital was probably more experienced, she mused. The thought of Avital's sweaty body against her sent a wave of excitement through her. Her left hand slipped between her legs and grazed her inner thighs. Her left leg bent at the knee to give herself better access. Sanna closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations. Her nails scratched her lips lightly, stretching her pubic hair. She smiled as Avital, before her mind's eye, disrobed and proudly showed his manhood, hard and pointing upwards. Her middle finger slid between her lips, which were already starting to get wet. Her hands moved up and covered her breasts, twisting and pulling her nipples until they were fully erect. Sighing contentedly, she moved her right hand back between her legs to palm her kitten. Avital was now kneeling before her, guiding his stiff rod towards the dark triangle of hair. She slipped her middle finger inside and envisioned Avital penetrating her with the full length of his shaft. She added a second finger and started to move her hand in and out. A moan escaped her lips as the smooth motion sent waves of pleasure through her. She spit on the fingers of her left hand, spread her lips and moistened the area in between, where her little pearl of pleasure was growing. Her hips began to accommodate her invading fingers by lifting her buttocks off the fur at each downstroke. She moaned again and bit her lower lip to stifle another; she couldn't afford to be caught. For a while she listened to the sounds of the room: the sizzling of the steam, the soft liquid sounds her kitten was producing around her fingers, coming in staccato rhythm, her own labored breathing and the sliding of her arms over her sweaty stomach and sides. In between the flexing and unflexing of her most private muscles, she felt a tiny ball nestling itself between her thighs. She immediately went for it, eager to wash away her frustrations with a breathtaking orgasm. Sanna sped up her movements, her hands moving frantically, climbing and climbing, grinning because oh it was going to be a big one, the ball swelling until it felt like a dam about to burst and Avital was inside her and moving faster and then she could no longer contain herself. She arched her back against her imaginary lover and, shuddering, she reached her peak. "Unnh.. unhh.. unnhh.." she chanted through clenched teeth, her fingers pumping her sheath furiously, prolonging the agonizing pleasure for as long as possible. Still trembling from exertion, she came down from her high. Slowly she removed her fingers and brought them to her mouth. Eagerly she licked her fingers clean. She'd always enjoyed her own taste and liked to think that was what had ultimately made her swing both ways. She frowned slightly as she thought of Avital again. It was a damned shame that he was just an apprentice. They might have made a good couple. But however much she liked him, there was just no way she was going to wait until his advancement to Senior. She had to get out of this place sooner than that. Much sooner.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11596.txt

Mark Aster

Ohio

"On the way home from work," Julie says, flopping down sideways on the couch, talking to Pat over the back of it, and to me in the chair across the room, "on the way home from work, driving by the Home Central, there was this couple pulled off on the side of the road, a man and a woman, adjusting these big long boxes on the top of the car. She was standing in the passenger door, with one foot on the ground and one up inside the car, and I could see between her thighs. She was wearing these black corduroy jeans, and a tight black furry top that didn't come quite down to the jeans, and I could see a strip of her tummy, and I could see under the sweater her breasts, and her hair was short and black, and she was pretty." "And...?" said Pat, stopping on the way from somewhere to somewhere to look down at her sister. "And I don't know." "You fell in love?" "I always fall in love," and Julie pouted a little at Pat, and Pat smiled. "What about the man?" I asked. "Yeah, a man," Julie said, "I don't know some more. I'm feeling all girly right now." "All dykey," Pat suggested. Julie put out her tongue at her sister, and Pat leaned over and kissed her on her small pink mouth, and Julie closed her eyes and opened her lips, and I admired the curve of her neck as she tipped her head back further and Pat's tongue and lips caressed her face. Later on, I was sitting on the couch by myself when Julie slid over the back of it and into my lap. "Hi!" she said. I grinned at her. "Can I tell you a dream I had?" "You're full of stories." "Isn't it nice?" She put one hand by my head and played with my hair. She was wearing grey slacks and a loose white blouse. She smelled very good, very clean. "Go ahead." She sighed and leaned back, against the arm I'd put around her. Her body was small and warm. "I was walking across this deep red carpet, like in a hotel. There was this really lovely woman in a black dress with sheer black stockings and wonderful legs, and she started to show me to a table." "The hostess?" "So, so pretty! We were holding hands, and we stopped under this like archway with these dark green plants, and I stopped and looked at the leaves dangling down into her hair, and she kissed me on the mouth. I was wearing the same dress and stockings that she was, and I looked down at our bodies and she kissed me again, and I almost fainted." "In the dream?" "In the dream. It was a real sexy dream! And there was this pretty boy named Michael I think and he was my server and I sucked on his nipples and I made him come." "Lucky boy!" She scrunched her face at me. I had been slowly unbuttoning her shirt, and now I opened the neckline and began kissing my way across the tops of her small perfect breasts. She purred. "I sat at the table and I ate some WONDERFUL mushroom something, all dark and heavy-tasting, and I put my hand between my legs, and I touched myself." I ran my tongue around and between her nipples and softly squeezed her flesh. She sighed and moaned softly. "I was coming when I woke up." She slid her hand down between her legs and cupped herself through her pants as I took one nipple between my lips and sucked gently. We were all staying in a hotel in Ohio somewhere, for some reason or other. That afternoon, Pat was in the room playing with the kids, and Julie and I went out for a walk. It was slightly breezy and chilly, but Julie was showing her legs anyway, in a pair of short shorts and a loose sweater. We went out to the parking lot and looked around. "Up there," she pointed, and she bounded across the lot, onto the grass border, and then onto a broad exposed rock on the side of the little hill that led up from the parking lot into a scrubby-looking wooded place. Just as I got up onto the rock next to her, she took off into the wood. "Where are we going?" I caught up to her again on the top of a little rise, where she stood craning her neck and looking around like, I don't know, like an animal craning its neck and looking around. "The lake's around this way somewhere," she said, and she was off again. She was right, of course; we came out of the scrub at a cracked and deserted-looking road that ended a few yards later at a barrier by the edge of a small lake. Past the barrier, a short strip of land stuck out into the water, and on the end of it was a small building, one of those enigmatic square concrete things that are always sitting around locked and covered with graffiti. It was locked, and covered with graffiti. Julie sprang over the barrier and walked out to the building. I stopped at the end of the road, catching my breath and looking at her. The wind from the lake tossed her hair around her face, and she looked very young. She went around the building, and when she had almost gone out of sight beyond it, she turned and looked at me. For a second we just looked at each other, with the wind blowing between us. Then she raised her arm and waved me over. "There was a spot just like this at the reservoir when I was in school." She poked with her foot among the pebbles and bits of broken glass at the edge of the water, by a concrete slab that sat there for no apparent purpose. "Sometimes kids would come out and hang out, or make a fire, or make out." "Did you?" I admired her legs. The wind quieted for a moment and I smelled her, standing next to me, smelled soap and shampoo and the sweet salty familiar smell of her sweat, her underarms, the soft hair between her legs. She smiled, her eyes far away, and sat down. I sat beside her. "I remember one time. This boy named Jeff and me had been having pizza with everybody at Rizotto's, and everybody but us sort of drifted away, and we were sitting there, and he said maybe we could go somewhere." I moved closer and put my arm around her, and she nestled into me, making a warm windless place between us. "He was so brassy and boyish, and so shy at the same time.He took me up here, up there to the reservoir, and we sat down by the little building and sort of talked, but I wanted him to kiss me, and then he kissed me, and it was so nice... Of course she turned her face up to me and of course I kissed her. She closed her eyes and kissed me back, lips together, soft maddening lips together, and I felt the heat of her breath on my face. "We kissed each other for a long time, and he touched me." I slipped my hand under her sweater and squeezed one smooth warm breast. "Just like that, touching my breasts." I kissed her again, and she shuddered. "He was so nice. You're so nice." We kissed and caressed each other there by the lake, in the wind, for minutes, or for hours, no sound but the whir of the wind, the occasional plash of the water, the wet sounds of our lips, and soft panting breaths. My hand touched her knee as we kissed, slid upward and in, and she trapped my fingers there, in the tight smooth grip of her thighs. "Oohhhh," Julie finally moaned, drawing a little away from me. "Would it destroy the moment completely if we fucked now?" And she slipped off her shorts, and opened my pants, and came into my lap and rode me. We came quickly and suddenly, our mouths pressed together, my fingers sinking into the flesh of her bottom and squeezing her against me as my semen spurted into her. She screamed quietly and joyously, and afterward she smiled a smile of heartbreaking innocence. "I'm terrible, aren't I?" she asked, pulling her shorts up her moist and shivering thighs. "You're perfect." The End

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/18137.txt

Christopher Leeson

Bobbi McGee

"Uuhh," Dori moaned as Rob's hips began a powerful up and down movement. He was flint to her steel. Dori felt the sparks which were triggering a series of emotional rockets -- fire-breathers that jetted with scorching energy along the million arterial ways of her twenty-two year old body. Suddenly the doorbell chimed. With a mutter of frustration, Rob stopped what he was doing and rolled over. "Keey-rist!" Rob panted. "That's timing for you." Dori gasped for breath as his weight eased back from her chest. "Get rid of them!" she moaned urgently. "I'll just be a minute, doll," Rob promised, rising with a long sigh. He quickly dried his particulars with a tissue, threw on his plaid robe, and then hurried into the living room. In just a minute he was back, carrying a small package in a brown wrapper. "Who was it?" asked Dori. "Nobody. Just a twenty-four hours delivery service." "What did you get? Who sent it?" "There's no return address." Rob sat down at the edge of the bed and started tearing off the wrapping paper. Dori nestled up behind him and rested her chin on his hard shoulder. "Well, well, well," he muttered as he removed the contents of the box. "Cute." Dori frowned. It was some sort of primitive female sculpture, naked except for a strange headdress. No wonder Rob liked it! He always did admire big breasts, she knew. As Rob turned the thing around Dori observed that it was two-faced; a male figure was cast behind the female one. Dori knew immediately which side her man would be setting outward for viewing! He was a horny guy, but he was at least hers! "-- Look, here's a card," Rob said, plucking a piece of paper from the box. "`To Rob with hate. Cassandra.' I never thought I'd hear that name again." "Who's Cassandra?" asked Dori suspiciously. "Nobody. -- She and I used to live together, that's all. It ended badly." "You never mentioned her!" "Why should I? I know what a jealous woman you are." "She was nobody? Just a live-in girlfriend?! Who am I then? Nobody plus one, or two, or three, or five?" "Listen, cute stuff, how do you think I got to be so good in bed if this was strictly amateur hour?" "So you DID have a lot of girls before you met me!" "I've always been popular, so sue me! -- Dori, don't be a pain." "Pain?! I just want some respect." "Baby bottom, you're going nuts over nothing! Settle down." I don't like the idea of old girlfriends sending you gifts! Does it say that she's going to be visiting?" "I told you what it said! For crying out loud, Dori, give me some credit. I've only had eyes for you from the day I set eyes on you!" "You've only known me a month. Who will it be next month?" "Honey!" "I must have been crazy to think that what we had was something special." "It is -- sort of!" "Sort of?! That does it! Let your old girlfriend know there's a vacancy. I'm quitting the fan club!" Dori scrambled from the bed. Rob didn't say anything. There was actually nothing he could say when Dori Elrick was in one of her snits. He watched her pull on her clothes with a speed never seen before. Once dressed in the same peasant blouse and miniskirt that she had worn earlier to the restaurant (a get-up that made her look more like a loafing cocktail waitress than a customer to be served), she started emptying the drawers and stuffing her cheap plastic- over-cardboard suitcases. Rob might have tried sweet-talking her, but he knew that Dori was prone to flare-ups and sudden mood-changes. The best thing for the girl was a little breathing space. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong, except live a life of his own before he had ever met her. The little brunette could walk out of his life if she wanted to, or stay, but, either way, he didn't see any reason to beg. Leaving Dori alone to finish her packing, Rob shuffled out to the kitchen and turned on the radio. It was set to the oldies channel that Dori liked so well and just then they were playing a familiar tune: "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. . . ." That was Janis Joplin's "Bobbie McGee," a song that he had always enjoyed. But right now the lyrics depressed him. They were about a great relationship that just couldn't hold together for the long term. It reminded Rob of his own history with women. The next song was Frank Sinatra's "I Could Write a Book." I bet you could, you old Mafiosi, Rob chuckled as he went to the refrigerator and broke open a beer. By the time he finished it, Dori was coming out of the bedroom, loaded down with suitcases and even paper bags full of her wash-and-wear things. As she stormed past him, Rob noticed an article fall from one of her precariously-held bags and plop down on the kitchen floor. "Dori!" he said. She turned angrily. "Don't plead with me to stay, Rob!" "I wouldn't. I think we both need some space, but you dropped --" "Ooh, men! Listen, Rob, I'll give you so much space that you'll never see me again!" With that final pronouncement, Dori stomped out the back door and Rob heard her footsteps on the stairs leading down to the residents' garage where her Toyota was parked. "Women!" he sighed. Well, he consoled himself, she had stayed longer than most. No big deal. Rob could cook better than Dori on her best day, and her sloppy housekeeping always drove him crazy. The young man got up from his chair and plucked the fallen object from the tiles. It was just a skimpy pair of blue denim cut-offs, so small that the lush curves of her lower buttocks were left bare -- a glory to see, he had to admit. Rob shook his head at the memory, then tossed the shorts on the counter top indifferently. Unlike some males, Rob didn't get excited about women's clothes -- unless, that is, they were filled with a woman who could do them justice.But he couldn't help but wonder what comprised the happiness that some lucky couples found with one another. Common interests, he thought, trust, sharing, and patience? Kindness, forgiveness, and respect? And he shouldn't leave out friendship. Of all the women he had known, not one real friend stood out among them. That was a sad commentary. It all had seemed so simple when Rob had been a hormonal teenager. Then he had supposed that a lot of high-quality screwing would bring happiness. Well, as a jaded veteran he had learned that the merchandise wasn't bad, but it was no happiness pill either. Sex was only one element of a good relationship, not the bricks and stone. It two people had nothing else going, it was an empty thing. He put the idol on the nightstand with the female-side out, intending to admire it later in the morning light. Then Rob threw off his robe and slipped under the covers. He was dead to the world in a just few minutes. As the young man lay half-asleep, he dreamed he was fondling Dori's breast. It felt larger than he remembered and when he touched Dori's boob, he thought that he could feel his own fingers playing teasingly upon it. When he opened his blurry eyes to the early dawn's light, he saw Dori's breasts, but the odd thing was that he couldn't see Dori at all -- just her breasts. "God, what a dream!" he muttered. His chest started itching as he lay there, but when he scratched himself he felt soft, tender mounds of flesh which were hurt by his nails as if they were his own. He grimaced; he just couldn't seem to get out of that lucid dream about women's breasts. Just then his sleepy fingers went to his groin, which was also itching. Instead of his scrotum, he found there a wooly patch occupying an emptiness where his well-oiled equipment always had parked. What the hell? he wondered. Then he understood. He was dreaming that he was a woman! Kinky, he chuckled. Rob couldn't recall ever having had such a dream before. On impulse, he decided to go look at himself in the dream mirror. The nearly somnambulant Rob staggered to the full-length mirror and he wasn't disappointed. A slim girl with long, soft honey-blond curls gazed back at him from the glass. She looked like a healthy and athletic sort of miss, as if she swam and ran a lot, just like Rob did himself. Her breasts were nicer than Dori's -- not as big Dolly Parton's, of course, but would have done credit to Christie Brinkley. The reflected girl had a nest of light brown pubic hair that almost hid the pursed lips of her pussy. Her waist was narrow, Rob noted, but her hips were becomingly round. Rob touched his buttocks and saw the girl's hands go behind her also, mimicking him perfectly. The girl's derriere felt full and hard, just the sort that he loved most to fondle. The miss in the mirror smiled with pleasure. Both fondling and being fondled felt very good. Intrigued by the heightened sensitivity of his dream-body, Rob reached forward and stroked his dream-pussy lightly. One touch of its sensitive labia sent something like an electric shock coursing through his body, making him shudder. An amazing dream, Rob thought, but one so intriguing that he didn't want it to end just yet. He carefully studied the girl's oval face with its pert little chin. If she looked familiar it was because she looked so much like him. The angles of his cheeks and jaw were softened by her feminine sex, however, and they framed both a prettily turned-up nose and a pair of big robin-egg blue eyes with long blonde lashes. Her lips were so full and sensual that they reminded him of his mother's when she was young. The young man grinned as he sleepily considered the experience. If he had been unfortunate enough to be born a girl, he wondered whether it might not have been quite so intolerable had Mother Nature graced him with the gentle beauty of the girl in the glass. Rob yawned. Standing there so long had made him weak in the legs; he had to lie down or fall. So, forgetting the strange dream, he wobbled over to the bed and plopped down. He was out cold as soon as his face hit the pillow. The seven o'clock alarm bell woke Rob fully. He yawned and rubbed his chest. Then Robert Wescott yelled in horror. Wrapped tightly in his robe, Rob paced back and forth across the kitchen floor. It hadn't been a dream! He had actually been looking at himself in the mirror. Somehow -- by some incredible somehow -- he had turned into a girl during the night! Things like this only happened in stupid movies, he knew, but not in reality. In fact, he had lately watched a weird video called SYNAPSE -- about a male-to-female brain transplant and a lot of automatic weapons combat. He also remembered that movie that Cassandra had once brought home. It was called SWAT or STITCH, or something like that. It starred Perry King, who God turned into Ellen Barkin for having treated women so shabbily. But Perry's character had had to die before being zapped with a female shape. Rob knew that he was still alive -- or at least, he thought that he was. What had happened? Suddenly he remembered the statuette in the bedroom. Cassandra! Now it all started making sense. When he knew her she had already been getting into primitive fertility magic studies and that Mother Goddess stuff. In fact, she had even done research among those crazy Wicca cultists. Sorcery! That was it! Cassandra had cursed him! She had found a magic idol and cursed him with it. In fact, maybe she had even used it on herself first, considering her silly male-envy. Was there now a man named Cass wandering around? Rob hoped never to run into the bum -- without a gun in his hand, at least! "I've got to see a doctor -- fast!" he -- or rather, she -- muttered to herself. Rob ran back into the bedroom and threw on her much-too-large male pants, shirt, and shoes. The hapless young woman walked right out of her size-twelve loafers at her very first step. Damn! she thought, I can't go outside looking like this. I need women's clothes, at least until I get to the hospital. Maybe Dori left some things behind that'll fit this stupid body! Rob, her heart pounding in her throat, rushed to the closet hoping to find a pair of jeans and a shirt that she could wear without embarrassment. The closet was empty, as were the drawers. Dori didn't leave much of anything behind, just a little cloth purse with nothing in it but lint; it had fallen behind Rob's tennis shoes and been overlooked in her haste. Then the girl got the idea to check the clothes hamper and, as luck would have it, Dori had missed something. Rob found an orange halter top and a pair of panties. The clothes from the bottom of the hamper had a sweaty, musky scent, but Rob wasn't worrying about that as she hastily put them on. She was able to get into the halter fairly easy since Rob had watched lots of girlfriends dressing. But to her annoyance, the halter seemed too snug to be comfortable. Then the young woman realized that she actually had boobs bigger than Dori's! Rob could have gone out barefoot, but didn't want to. Suddenly remembering having seen Dori's sandals under the bed a couple days earlier, she got down on her hands and knees to have another look. Sure enough, they were still there. Rob now had some footgear! But the bikini top and panties weren't enough to clothe her decently. Just then Rob remembered that pair of cut-offs back in the kitchen. Without pausing for breath, she ran to get the denim shorts. With the cut-offs in hand again, she felt a twinge of dismay. They were so skimpily cut! Why did Dori have to be such a bimbo? In her state of mind Rob had forgotten just how much Dori's lack of fashion sense had excited her as male. Realizing that she had no choice, Rob climbed into the cut-offs and found that she had to exhale hard to get the snaps closed. Apparently her remolded hips were a size or two wider than Dori's. If the shorts were tight on their owner, they were less than a second skin on Rob. Though now dressed as well as possible, Rob still felt like she was standing around in underwear -- and girl's underwear at that! Her cleavage was pushed up brazenly by the constraint of the halter and the panties, not designed to be worn with shorts so sparing, showed. Exasperated, Rob stuffed the visible hems up under the tight denim of her cut-offs and then went to get her wallet and keys. As she fumbled them out of the drawer, she realized that the pockets of her shorts were much too tight for her to put anything into them. Women always had a pocket problem, Rob remembered, and they solved it by carrying purses. Resourcefully, Rob seized Dori's forgotten purse and stuffed the wallet and keys inside it. Then, as an afterthought, she put the magic statuette in along with them, hoping that the hospital could have it analyzed and find the antidote. Finally, Rob hurried down to the residents' garage, got into her Dodge Avenger, hastily readjusted the seat forward, and started the engine. Trembly and preoccupied, Rob almost had an accident in the morning traffic, but she finally managed to get into the hospital parking ramp safely. Without pausing to lock the doors, the distraught girl raced up to the emergency room. "I've got to s-see a doctor!" she stammered to the receptionist. The middle-aged woman regarded the girl's dishabille coolly, asking, "What's the problem?" "I'm under a curse!" "A what?" "A curse! I've been changed!" "What do you mean you've been changed?"I -- I'd rather explain that to the doctor. Do you wanted to see our staff psychiatrist? I'm not crazy! I want to see the doctor who knows the most about breaking curses! As distraught as she was, Rob realized that she wasn't making much sense. But who else should she ask for? A gynecologist? Maybe we should start you out with a family medicine practitioner, the receptionist suggested. What's your insurance company? Metro Group Health, Rob answered, frustrated by the way hospitals did business. She dug deeply into her wallet to find her medical services card. The receptionist took the plastic rectangle from her shaking hand and frowned. This is a card for a Robert Wescott. Rob thought quickly. Ah, he's my husband. We have the family plan. No you don't. This card says `individual only.' Do you have any other means of paying, Miss? She wanted to scream, to shriek to the world that she was Robert Wescott, but who would believe that a pretty girl wearing an overstuffed halter and a pair of flirtatious cut-offs had a grown man hidden inside her? Anyway, people were watching, listening. Rob didn't want anyone to know who she was. It was just too humiliating. The blonde checked her wallet for cash. She -- then he -- had shown Dori a good time at dinner the night before. There wasn't more than a few dollars left. I've got a credit card, she gasped in agitation. The receptionist took the card patiently, but again had to frown. This is your husband's, my dear. We can't accept your card unless you can prove that you're really Mrs. Wescott. Do you have a picture ID? Rob was so distressed that she wasn't thinking at all well. She fumbled inside her wallet again, saying, Sure I've got a driver's license! She pulled out the license and shoved it in front of the woman. The receptionist sighed wearily. No, Miss, we can't use Mr. Wescott's license. We have to see yours. I guess -- I guess I forgot it, Rob mumbled hopelessly. Now she was really getting frightened. In another moment they'd be accusing her of having stolen some man's wallet and trying to use his health plan and credit card illegally. If questioned by a policeman, what could she say? I hope you can get home without being arrested, the receptionist remarked. What?! Rob cried out, as if her mind had been picked of its darkest nightmare. You don't have your own license on you. Drive carefully. Rob shuddered as the horror sank in. She couldn't prove who she was, but still had to get help. If she didn't get a vaccination for this terrible condition soon, it might go too far -- and might even become permanent! Can't you put me on welfare, then. I -- I'm terribly sick! The receptionist took another look at the pretty, but naughtily-clad and very messed-up, waif. She suspected that the little blonde was on drugs. Well, that was nothing new. Every year the emergency room got hundreds of cases of people who had put all their money into their arm or up their nose. They were a terrible burden on the system, but they had to be taken take care of, even if the taxpayer had to foot the bill. All right honey, we'll see what we can do. What's your name? Ah -- R-Rob -- Excuse me? Ah, Bobbi! -- Bobbi Wescott. What is your Social Security number, Bobbi, she asked in a subdued voice, trying not to set off the distraught girl. I'll find it, Bobbi stammered as she looked for her card. Then she stopped suddenly. It would have the Robert Wescott name on it, too. Showing it would just compound her problems. Please, I don't need any more questions, Miss. I need help! She began to sob. Finally Bobbi got to see a doctor. He suspected drugs and checked for them. While he did so, Bobbi tried to explain her transformation calmly and clearly to him, but only convinced the physician that she was delusional. He prescribed valium and made her an appointment with a hospital psychiatrist. By that time Bobbi had steadied herself enough to appear rational, at least to the untutored eye. Leaving the hospital, Bobbi realized that medical science couldn't help her. Scientists didn't understand magic. She guessed that she would have to see a witch instead. But how did one find a practicing warlock? she wondered. They didn't advertise in the phone book, or did they? There was an occult book store downtown, the girl suddenly remembered. Maybe she could ask the clerks there for a lead. Bobbi drove home without mishap and, used up, emotionally spent, she put her key into the lock. She just wanted to get into bed, to cover up her head and cry herself empty. Much to her surprise, the door only opened a couple inches; the security chain was set. As she shook the door in frustration, Dori peered through the crack. Dori! You're back! cried Bobbi. You're damned right I'm back! Dori snarled. Who in hell are you and what are you doing with Rob's key? Damn it Dori, I live here! What do you mean you live here? That bastard sure didn't waste any time replacing me, did he! Well, I'm going to fight for my man! Take a hike, bitch! No, Dori, you don't understand! Dori was opening the door. I understand, all right, you little tramp! Rob thinks you're moving in with him! Well, he's got another thing coming! Give me those keys! You'll stay in this apartment over my dead body! Dori shoved Bobbi hard against the wall and grabbed at her keys. Dori's strength seemed incredible! Being manhandled by a sleek girl like Dori so shocked Bobbi that she defended herself very poorly; she couldn't prevent the keys from being torn from her nerveless grasp. Then Dori stormed back into the apartment, slammed the door shut, and threw the deadbolt. Let me in, you stupid slut! Bobbi yelled, beating on the panel with her tender fists. At least give me back my car keys! Your car keys? They've got Rob's name on them and they're for his Dodge! Get out of here, or I'll call the police! Bobbi slumped back against the wall, overwhelmed. Locked out of her apartment, her car keys lost, having almost no money, barely dressed, she realized now that she didn't even have an identity. The girl suddenly grasped that her problem wasn't just facing life as a woman, it was a matter of basic survival -- food, shelter, clothing! She shuddered. What a heartless revenge Cassandra had taken! Sure, Rob had told her that he had had his fill of her nutty ideas and had ordered her out of his life -- but this was too extreme a retribution. It was like shooting a person in the heart for taking someone's potato chip. Black despair overcame the young woman and a ghastly image flashed before her inner mind -- an image of herself standing on a high bridge ready to jump, hopelessness and horror snatching at her from behind, death and darkness waiting up ahead. I don't want to die, she thought desperately. Jim! He's my best friend. He'll know who I am! He'll help me! The door to Jim's apartment opened slowly. A face that wasn't Jim's appeared, saying pleasantly, Well, hello! What can I do for you? Bobbi recognized Rona Spears. In fact, she knew that this had always been Rona's apartment -- it had been Jim who had moved in with her. Am I glad that somebody's home! Bobbi jabbered. -- Listen, I'm Bobbi, uh, McGee, a friend of Robert Wescott. I wanted to stay with him while I'm visiting the city, but, uh, he's not in town. So I thought about Jim and you. Rob said that you were such good friends of his. Is it okay? Rona sized up the girl. Yes, she looked just like the type that Rob Wescott would be interested in. In fact, maybe his taste was improving. There was a natural charm to this young miss. The business woman sensed a vulnerability in Bobbi McGee that called out something benign and sisterly from deep inside her. Any friend of Rob's is a friend of ours, she said with a smile. I'm afraid that Jim is seeing clients in Sacramento and won't be back until tomorrow night. You can stay here until either he or Rob shows up. That's great, Rona! Don't mention it, Bobbi. Just then Rona caught the scent of her guest's musty clothing and perspiration. Did you walk all the way here from Rob's? Yes, I wanted to save the cab fare. Rona stood aside to let Bobbi enter. Well, why don't you freshen up with a shower? Do you have an overnight bag? Ah, no. It was stolen from the cart at the bus station, Bobbi lied agilely. Damn this city! Rona commiserated. A half hour later found Bobbi resting upon a stuffed chair. Now wearing a pair of Rona's jeans and a shirt, it felt good to be out Dori's mix-and-match bimbo outfit. The shower, too, was restorative, but touching her strange new body while she bathed had been hard for Bobbi. She had kept her eyes closed through the whole process. Rona stepped back into the room wearing a dress suit and a string tie. Well, Bobbi, I hate to leave, but I have a dinner engagement with an important client. You'd leave me here alone? A stranger? It's obvious that you know Rob very well. Somehow, I don't think anyone with such sad, gentle eyes could be a thief. And, besides, there's something about you that makes me feel like I know you already. You won't be sorry, Bobbi promised gratefully. Left alone, Bobbi grew a little restless as the afternoon wore on. She got up and paced about the apartment. She took a Diet Coke, made a salami sandwich, and found that just one filled her up.Maybe a smaller body meant a smaller appetite. That's good, she thought -- lower grocery bills. Then she wandered over to the full-length mirror. "Look at you!" Bobbi rebuked her own reflection. "What a sight you are!" She folded her arms over the swollen front of her shirt and cast a troubled glance out the window. "How long am I going to be like this?" she mused. "Forever?" Screwing up her courage, Bobbi regarded her reflection yet again. This time she had to nod grudgingly. "You're good-looking," she sighed, "I'll grant you that!" The young woman's curiosity at last got the better of her and she took off her shirt. Rona's clothes fitted very well, Bobbi had discovered, but, like Dori's, Rona's bra was just too snug. In fact, the discomfort was enough to prompt the new-minted girl to take it off entirely. Now bare to the waist, Bobbi cupped her bra-pinched breasts in her hands and massaged the soreness away. "I really grew a big crop of America's best last night," she chuckled sadly. Were they hers for keeps? Was there any way to break the magic spell? How long did spells last if you didn't do something to break them? She tried to think of all the stories she had read about magic, all the movies she had seen. The Shaggy Dog had to do something brave and heroic to become a boy again, she recalled. The Frog Prince had to get a princess to kiss him. The Beast had to make Beauty love him. Bobbi grinned, enjoying the idea of being kissed by Princess Di and being restored to gorgeous manhood in her arms. But it wasn't a practical solution. The blonde put her hands on her hips and tilted her head from side to side. If I'm stuck as a girl for any time at all, Bobbi thought, I've got to earn a living. How do I do that? I can't even prove I have a high school diploma now. Maybe I could become a model. Bobbi fantasized herself in a bikini and leaning sexily against a red Nissan 240SX, or a glossy black Acura Integra upon the cover of some future issue of SPORTS CAR. Not much hard work in modeling, she thought; wearing a bikini in public would be the roughest part. But then she reconsidered. Fat chance! Those jobs were hard to get. Every model that she had known as Rob had at one time or other complained that she had had to sleep with somebody to get the really worthwhile assignments. Bobbi winced. The idea of sleeping with a man was decidedly unpleasant, even if it meant earning a good living. Now that she was a girl, Bobbi wondered if it meant that she would like boys. For an experiment, she called up a large image of Fabio in her mind's eye and decided that it didn't do a thing for her. But Cindy Crawford -- ahh, now that was a body to set her heart strings strumming! But could Bobbi thrill Cindy in the shape she was now? Maybe, considering some of those tabloid stories about the supermodel. Be that as it may, Bobbi could console herself that plenty of beautiful girls were willing to sleep with other girls. Especially girls like the one in the mirror. I need a drink, she thought, if I'm ever going to sort this thing out. Damn, what if Jim won't believe me? What then? Bobbi went over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a Scotch and soda. As she consumed the hard liquor, she felt depressed. Rob had worked very hard at building a career in real estate. Now it was lost. As Bobbi she might have to start all over again. Well, there were plenty of female realtors. The women in the business did well on the whole, as long as they applied themselves as vigorously as a man would. In fact, it was at a realtor's convention where Rob had first met Rona, and there discovered that they both lived in the same city. The two of them were friendly from the start, but they had never quite made it into bed together. It was Jim's heart -- or loins -- that Rona had set on fire that time when Rob had introduced them. Rob hadn't really resented the way that things had worked out. He thought that Rona would be good for his friend and, besides, Rob's hands were full just then with a postal worker named Charlotte who liked to lick whipped cream off his bare feet. Bobbi sighed. Those were the good old days. Were they really gone forever? What could she replace them with? The small blonde downed the rest of her drink, and then tackled a second. How strangely and how suddenly her fate had changed! She suddenly became worried that this experience was some sort of punishment -- from Heaven, not just from the weird and vindictive Cassandra. Was it possible that Cassandra might actually have been acting -- unwittingly -- as Heaven's agent? Bobbi decided that it couldn't be. Rob had never hurt women. In fact, he had made more than his share of women very happy -- for a while. At least he had never committed the big faux pas and gotten one of them pregnant. That is, he never knew for certain that any of his girls were pregnant when split-up time arrived. At that point she checked herself, supposing that in another minute she'd be feeling guilty for absolutely nothing. Damn it, birth control was a woman's problem anyway! Birth control. That was a strange thought under the present circumstances. Bobbi had become a woman herself and so she suddenly wondered, with a strangely-melded sense of alarm and amazement, whether this new-edition body of hers could conceive a child. Motherhood. Imagine that! She looked down at herself and touched her small, slightly convex belly. Could it happen? If it could, what should she think? Most women wanted children, but -- Bobbi remembered how the tough gang boss trapped in Kathy Duffy's body in SYNAPSE had finally achieved a happy ending by becoming a loving wife and the proud mother of a little boy. And in Ellen Barkin's movie, too, the character had had a baby. But she had tragically died in childbirth. That was such a sad scene, Bobbi remembered -- and the film was supposed to have been a comedy! Bobbi blew her nose on a napkin. The thought of Ellen's little girl growing up without a mother to love her, and dress her, and feed her, and hug her was so terrible that the young woman had to try as hard as she could not to think about it, lest she break down and cry. She finished her second drink to steady her nerves. The girl then considered whether she needed yet another refill and decided that she did. A little later, staggering drunk, Bobbi wobbled into the bedroom and clumsily stripped off her jeans. She didn't actually mean to shed the panties along with them, but they came off, too. As she fell into bed, Bobbi's forehead struck her purse and it hurt. "Damned idol," she muttered as she rolled over and dug the accursed thing from the handbag. Seeing the statuette again gave Bobbi a sudden idea. If it had changed her sex once just by sleeping near it, maybe it would change her back if she repeated the process. "I'll just put this little doodad beside the bed here," she slurred, "and maybe it'll turn me into a man by morning. Fight magic with magic! What have I got to lose?" As she settled the statuette upon the nightstand, she noticed a bottle of perfume sitting there next to the lamp. Its label read "Magic Midnight." Bobbi had always loved the scent of perfume on beautiful women. With a crooked smile, she fumbled the bottle open to take a whiff. She found its odor wonderfully sensuous but, unfortunately, the girl's quaking fingers dropped the bottle and it spilled on her lap, not much, but several powerfully aromatic droplets had been tossed into her pubic hair and across her bare thighs. Bobbi recapped the bottle hastily, then turned off the lamp and fell into a deep sleep. # Jim Cardwell opened the bedroom door quietly. "Rona? Are you awake?" he whispered. He heard a woman's deep breathing and her wordless murmuring. "No, she's sleeping." The young investment broker sniffed the sweetened air, recognizing his favorite perfume, Magic Midnight. Rona always wore it to make him hot to trot! Grinning with anticipation, he stripped off his clothes. Jim hadn't cheated on Rona since he had known her, though he had been sorely tempted just the night before. The Japanese investors that he had been meeting with had held a party at the Imperial Hotel with all the amenities provided. Jim had let his opportunity to make it with a high-class call girl pass because his old free-and-easy ways had always brought him grief in the past and, besides, he cared about Rona and wanted what they had to work out. But his near miss with infidelity had made him very anxious to get back to Rona. Now that he was in the same room with her, those feelings were rushing back with powerful urgency. He would either have to plunge into a very cold shower or into some very hot action -- and a shower sized up as a very poor second. Jim softly approached the bed. Sitting down beside the one whom he thought was his girlfriend, he touched her and realized that she was sleeping naked on top of the covers. Jim sucked in an excited breath as he stroked Bobbi's breasts. In the dark they felt even larger than he knew them to be. The girl stirred, but didn't wake. Jim, trying not to disturb "Rona's" sleep, checked her for panties and found that she was wearing none. He slipped his own briefs to the floor, kicked them aside, and positioned himself on the bed. He took hold of Bobbi's hips to steady them, then, as he moved his face closer to her love nest, Jim discovered that "Rona" had used the perfume on her pubic hair. The little minx, he thought, had been hoping that he'd find a way to come home early and so had decked herself out like a carnal feast. What a woman! He flicked his tongue against the outer lips of Bobbi's pussy.The sleeper shifted and moaned, but her alcohol-reinforced slumber was a heavy one. Jim chuckled quietly as he next moved his mouth up to her breasts, licking the nipples as if they had been dabbed with honey. Bobbi groaned a bit as the sensation penetrated her deep trance. The young man's cock was now swollen and aching. He knew that there wouldn't be much time for foreplay, so he took the woman passionately in his arms and kissed her hard on the lips. "Whaa --?!" Bobbi mumbled as she finally awoke, feeling her mouth and nose smothered under something warm and wet. "Easy, Rona. It's Jim. I just got back. I need you, baby." "J-Jim?" the girl muttered confusedly. But Jim wasn't listening. He just kept on kissing Bobbi's face and neck, using all the techniques that he had developed over his twenty-six years of living free. He opened his mouth and captured one of her large, erect nipples between his hungry lips. Jim sucked first on one and then on the other. He pressed his face into her smooth, resilient breasts, firm with the golden kiss of youth. "M-My God!" muttered Bobbi. Shifting, Jim now ran his tongue along "Rona's" inner thighs. He came to the thick fleece between her legs and touched his nose to it, inhaling deeply of Midnight Magic and natural woman-scent. Bobbi's hips involuntarily lurched as her bedfellow slipped his eager tongue between her dewy labia, forcing it as far up her love canal as he could. Then he drew it back with teasing slowness. Her heavy gasp and shifting motion encouraged him to run the tip of his tongue all over her pussy while avoiding contact with her small clitoris -- a move which he knew was always slow torture for Rona. He heard the girl's breath catch in her throat and felt her body quiver. He guessed that she was now ready to be brought to an even higher pitch. Equal to the task, Jim put the tip of his probing tongue into direct contact with her nether bud and began flicking it back and forth. "Oh, Jim! Christ, Jim!" Bobbi moaned as she felt hot blades of excitement shooting through every nerve of her body. Unable to hold himself back, Jim repositioned himself to mount her, guiding his rock-hard organ to her furry aperture. Tiny, pulsing shocks raced through him as he shoved himself as deeply as he could into the unplumbed well of Bobbi's scented maidenhood. "Oh!" Bobbi gasped as the tender walls of her interior expanded to accommodate his penetration. Jim was surprised to find "Rona's" pussy so tight, stretching his foreskin back to the limit, until it almost pained him. Then his breath caught in his throat when her vaginal muscles seemed to contract around his throbbing organ, trapping it in a powerful grip. Ah, yes -- that was his girl Rona! Jim began fucking poor Bobbi in earnest, with quick, hard thrusts. His hips moved like pistons, plunging to the very depths of her maidenly recesses. "Ayiiii! Ayiii!" Bobbi cried, throwing her head back, holding Jim's waist with clawing fingers. Her nails hurt him, but Jim dug his toes into the mattress and pumped for all he was worth, each long stroke making his heart beat faster. After a minute he felt Bobbi's vaginal muscles go into action, not by any will of he own, if Jim had only known it, but by the stern dictates of Mother Nature. Bobbi, her body operating on pure instinct, frantically milked his rigid prick of his clear preliminary secretions, while her silken legs entangled themselves with his in a lock that not even Houdini could have picked. Jim was rapidly approaching climax, but he wanted to be sure that Rona came with him. Delaying his own pleasure with a mighty exertion of will, he deliberately brought himself into contact with her clitoris, subjecting her tight pussy to the relentless friction of his love-making until she was moaning with pleasure. Jim could hear the loud slurping noise of his cock sliding in and out of Bobbi's wet, fleshy vise, while his testicles began to ache with an urgency that begged release. Suddenly Bobbi felt Jim's prick expand within her -- and the first jet of hot viscous nectar splashed against her cervix, igniting a series of explosions deep inside her body. "Aaaaiii!" the girl cried out at the top of her lungs, digging her heels into his thighs and raking her fingernails across his back as an irresistible series of passion-quakes shot through her. Jim's hips went on pumping even after the last drop had been drained from him by Bobbi's hungry, if involuntary, contractions. He could finally bear his herculean exertion no longer and collapsed upon her. He heard the hot rasp of the girl's breath in his ear, felt her velvety arms wrapping themselves tightly around his neck, clinging to him desperately. Bobbi, overwhelmed with drink and the aftermath of her release, didn't hear the sound of the doorknob turning. "Jim! What are you doing!?" The surprise on Jim's face became pure horror when he saw Rona's astonished face. He really didn't know what he had been doing. Or rather he did know -- he just didn't know exactly whom he had been doing it with. Now, for the first time, he looked down at the face of the girl under him, its eyes big and dewy, its lips half-parted with astonishment. Confusion filled those robin-egg eyes, then they glazed over as Bobbi passed out cold. "Who is she?" Jim gasped. "I never saw her before in my life!" "Don't play innocent, Jim!" sobbed Rona. "Can't I even let a friend sleep over without you jumping her?" "So she's a friend of yours!" Jim jabbered as he rolled off of Bobbi and threw a sheet over his nudity. "Honest, Rona, I didn't know. It was dark and I thought she was you. She was wearing your perfume!" "A likely story! I've had it, Jim! I can't trust you anymore! I was such a fool!" Suddenly she spotted Bobbi's cut-offs and halter hanging upon the back of a chair. She snatched them up and threw them into Jim's face. "Here, these are hers! Get your playmate dressed and then both of you get out of here! This is my apartment and I don't ever want to see either one of you in it again!""I'd throw it back in your face," she whispered, "but I need it. God help me, I need it." She hid her face in her hands. Jim dropped his glance, embarrassed. "It's yours -- Miss. I'm sorry. I didn't mean --" The girl straightened. "I know what you meant!" Nonetheless, Bobbi picked up the money as quickly as she could and then fled out the door. Left alone, Jim drank deeply of his coffee, thinking about all the craziness that had blind-sided him that night. This girl, whoever she was, seemed to be a good kid. Something told him that she had deserved something better at his hands. He supposed that somehow he could have handled the situation differently. If only he hadn't been so upset about his quarrel with Rona, and if Bobbi hadn't thrown him for a loop with that crazy story about being Robert Wescott. As mixed-up as Bobbi seemed to be, there was something about her that touched him where he really lived. Her sobbing departure had left him feeling about as bad as a man could. Jim had never lived through a day like the one which followed his strange encounter with Bobbi McGee. Before it was over, he was frantically driving around the city, anxiously questioning the clerk of every motel located near the cafe where he had last seen her. Finally the clerk at the Balmoral was able to tell him that such a girl had stayed the night, then had checked out. He could only add that she had bought a morning newspaper just before she had left, and had asked him if he had heard about any unskilled labor jobs in the city. Thank God she's planning to stay in the city! Jim thought. He dug through the trash for a copy of the morning edition and spent the next day checking out every job that a girl without a past might apply for. Some businesses remembered seeing the scantily-clad young woman -- in fact very few could forget her -- but none of them would hire a person who didn't even have a library card for identification. Jim exhausted every possibility and for weeks thereafter spent a large part of each day just driving around, looking for Bobbi's face, especially along those streets where poor working class people worked, ate, or shopped. And every day of failure made him hate himself the more for what he had done. Working hard carrying soft drinks and burgers to hungry motorists, Bobbi had gradually lost her loathing for her uniform -- the white, hip-hugging short-shorts and the sleeveless, midriff-baring red T-shirt required of all the carhops. Spanky's Root Beer Station didn't pay well, but at least it kept Bobbi from getting drooled on by the homeless at the free shelter, or needing to sell her body. She had just gotten over her first period and still felt ill-humored from the experience. Thankfully, menstruation, as bad as it was, meant that she wasn't carrying Jim's child. That was one of the few good discoveries to come her way since she had turned into a woman. Lost in thought, Bobbi tripped over a teenager who was so preoccupied with her legs that he couldn't keep his feet out of her way. The carhop dropped her tray of waste Styrofoam, smudged napkins, and paper cups on the concrete before she caught herself. The brisk wind threatened to spread the mess far and wide. "S-Sorry, Miss," the youth stammered as he slipped away without offering to help her. Shaking her head, Bobbi bent down to resignedly pick up the litter before it got out of reach. "I'm glad to see that you're all right, Rob!" someone said. Startled to hear her real name spoken, Bobbi stood up, turned, and saw a familiar Ford Taurus. "Jim!" Bobbi cried as she recognized the driver. Then she remembered what had happened the last time they had been together and got angry all over again. "Oh, it's you!" She turned away and stomped back to the serving counter; Jim switched off his ignition, got out of the car, and pursued her plaintively. "Rob, wait!" yelled Jim. "I haven't been able to sleep for worrying about you!" When she refused to slow down or turn, he caught her by the arm. "Will you leave me alone!" Bobbi exclaimed. "If you want a whore, swing down that street!" "Rob, don't. I've been going crazy. I've been watching for your face everywhere, I've been calling your friends, visiting the shelters, checking the hospitals -- reading the obituaries." "Hey, you're calling me Rob! Do you finally believe me?" "I had to believe you -- after I saw Rona." "What do you mean?" "She went to sleep next to that idol that you left in her bedroom -- and she turned into -- a guy." "Oh, no! Poor Rona!" Jim put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "It wasn't so bad. She got used to it really quick. We became great buddies. It turned out that we even liked the same sort of women!" "Rona had to change sex in front of your eyes before you'd believe me?" Bobbi asked sarcastically. "I'm trying to say that I'm sorry for the way I treated you, Rob. Can you ever forgive me?" Bobbi looked him over critically. "What if I don't? Maybe I should keep you on a guilt trip for the rest of your life." "Maybe you should," Jim replied grimly. Bobbi gave him a punch in the shoulder. "Screw that!" she said with a painful, twisted smile. "You're forgiven, you big dumb lug. You're a fourteen carat bastard, but what the hell good does it do me to carry a grudge?" "Great!" cried Jim and, without thinking, he threw his arms around Bobbi, crushing her against his chest. Then, realizing what he was doing and who he was doing it to, he let go. "Sorry." Bobbi smoothed her hair. "Forget it. I've been needing a hug for a long time." "A hug? I'm so glad to see you that I could kiss you. Get in the car. I'll take you out of here." "Where are we going?" "You can stay with me." "With you and Rona?" "No. Rona's -- she calls herself -- himself -- Ron now -- has taken off. He met this girl whose father owns a chemical plant out East. Actually, they've known each other for years and were best girl friends. But when they got together accidently as a man and a woman, this strange sort of chemistry took over. They dated, they slept together, and finally Ron popped the question. He even admitted to her who he really was. She actually believed him, liked the idea!" Jim shook his head. "I told Ron that he shouldn't jump into a hasty marriage, but --" "Marriage after only one month a man! Jeez, I wish I could adjust that easily -- not that I want to be anyone's wife." "Well, you'll feel much better once you're back among friends." "Friends? What friend did I ever have, except you? Maybe I had acquaintances, colleagues, and even lovers, but not friends." "Make new friends, then! Start small and build, right?" A horn honked; a customer needed service. "I have to get back to work, Jim. Come back for me at seven and I'll go home with you." "Seven? Why?" "I get off then." "Rob!" I can't run out on Spanky's on such a busy day. In fact, I'd better give them a couple days notice so they can find a replacement." "Are you heat-struck? You don't have to give notice to a root beer stand!" "I think I should, Jim. The managers saved my life. When I showed up here I was at my last gasp. The only other job offer I had was from a pimp downtown. I didn't have any identity; the Spanky people thought that I was an illegal alien, but they helped me anyway. I owe them a lot." Jim touched her chin, lifted it, and gazed understandingly into her eyes. "You were always a great guy, Rob Wescott. Now you're a great gal. You just keep getting better and better." "Rob Wescott's had it. You'd better get used to calling me Bobbi McGee," the young woman advised him with a wan smile.Bobbi had looked up, her brow furrowed. "Rona?!" "She and I talked the idea over, just in case we ever found you. She left all her old documents with me for you to use. She left everything, in fact, except her money." "She'd do that for me?!" "Rona was a little excitable, Bobbi, but a great -- person -- at heart. And she always did like you as Rob." Bobbi had concurred. "She even liked me as Bobbi McGee, until she thought that I'd double-crossed her. But how can I go around as Rona? People knew her." Jim had shaken his head. "She wrote all her friends and told them that she was entering a reclusive religious order in Europe and that she wouldn't be coming back. That took care of one angle. Better yet, she doesn't have any close relatives who'll ever bother to check up on her." Bobbi had considered the possibility carefully. "It could work. Rona and I were both in the realty business and I could apply for a decent job using her resume. But it still might be smart if I moved to a different city." "If you do that," Jim had begun carefully, "would you mind it very much if I came along with you?" Bobbi had looked at him amazed, as if seeing him for the first time. "Two cards," Jim called suddenly, bringing Bobbi back to the present. She peeled a couple cards off the deck and tossed them to his side. "I'll stay," she told him. Bobbi thought of Rona's hasty marriage. Incredible -- Rona had become a straight guy in a matter of just a couple weeks. But even after a month, Bobbi still didn't know where she stood. She had been fighting what seemed to be an incipient attraction to men more ferociously than Custer ever fought the Indians. These feelings were troubling for a person who had never had a gay bone in his -- her -- body. Even the image of Cindy Crawford didn't do anything for her anymore -- and she was trying hard not to think about Fabio. But perhaps, Bobbi thought, she had to stop thinking left to right and start thinking right to left. Obviously Cassandra's magic could change the body. It had only come out gradually that it could change the emotions, too. Maybe the witch herself hadn't fully understood the power of the idol, that the wound it inflicted actually carried its own healing. Bobbi smiled to herself. That was why Cassandra's revenge would always be a hollow one. Would Bobbi want to be a man again if she could? Yes -- in a minute! It would have been a relief to be able to take refuge once again in what was safe and familiar. Rob had had a routine, a past, he was working toward a future. He had been able to take comfort in the familiar things around him. Now those familiar things were gone and Bobbi suspected that they would never come again. But what lay ahead in this strange new life? That was the question that kept her lying awake at night. Bobbi was pretty sure that she could not recreate the female equivalent of Rob's bon vivant style. It wasn't just the physiological obstacles. Events had changed her heart even more than magic had changed her shape. She had no more taste for the promiscuous adventuring that had defined Rob's social life. Bobbi had kept to her little rented room near Spanky's, drinking the bitter drops of loneliness to their dregs. She had finally grasped the fact that though she had had many lovers as Rob, Rob had had no love to speak of. Why? she had wondered. Was it, possibly, because Rob had failed again and again to truly give of himself? That had to change, the young woman vowed. She couldn't remain a spiritual hermit; she had to be a part of life, even the drab and the risky parts of life. A new body, a new identity, a new job, a new style, even a new sex. This was a good time to make some serious rearrangements. Bobbi looked up at her companion. She had begun to feel very differently about Jim. She had been deeply touched by his efforts to find and to save her. But it was more than just that. Bobbi was starting to enjoy his company -- no, his nearness -- in ways that she never had experienced with a man. The sound of Jim's voice, that cocky expression in his hazel eyes, even the knot in his necktie, stirred her like only the beauty of a girl had before. The young woman watched her comrade as he pored over his cards. Her mind had gone back many times to that night when she and Jim had made love. At first she had recoiled from the memory in horror. But, over the following empty weeks, it had come back to her in a new aspect. The substance of the act remained the same, of course, but she could see it now in a different and brighter guise. But what was she thinking? Her with Jim? That was nuts! They loved one another, truly, and in so many ways, but they never could love one another that way -- could they? Bobbi couldn't forget Rona's experience with her own best friend. Best friends. What a wonderful phrase that was. For some reason the Frank Sinatra song that she had heard on her last night as a man came back as if in answer to her dilemma: "The simple secret of the plot, Is just to tell them that I love you a lot. Then the world discovers as my book ends, How to make two lovers of friends." No! That was crazy! Bobbi thought. It would be much smarter, if she had to get involved with a male, to make it someone -- anyone -- other than Jim. Somebody who didn't know about her past, someone who wouldn't carry around all that baggage of bygone associations, someone who wouldn't have had his ideas about her forged in their former skirt-chasing camaraderie. But Jim and she, Bobbi knew, had so much in common. Sports, politics, music -- as well as that indefinable trust that allowed two friends to tell one another their problems and worries without self- consciousness, without the fear that they were giving a potential rival a secret to use against them. Maybe what the pair of them had had up to now represented a good foundation on which to build something new. But what? To his credit, Jim had been cleaning up his act lately. He had been loyal to one girl while Rob had been going though more than a half dozen. Could Jim be faithful to one person for the very long haul? Could Bobbi? Bobbi had definitely acquired a new respect for loyalty and consistency. She wondered whether the two of them -- Damn! She had to stop thinking that way! Oh, this man-woman business was so confusing! Suddenly Jim passed his hand in front of her eyes. "Earth to Bobbi. This is Houston. Are you reading us, Bobbi?" "Sorry, Jim. I've got a lot to think about." "I guess you do. It must be hard coping. What's it like, being a woman?" Bobbi shrugged. "I'm still on the first chapter, buddy. I'll tell you the secret of the plot when I'm deeper into the book." "Maybe you could write a book of your own!" "Maybe I could." But how would the book end? Bobbi wondered. "I wouldn't like reading the part about what we did together. It must have been pretty bad for you, right?" Bobby tossed away her cards. "Don't keep beating yourself up about that, Jim. To tell the truth, I wasn't so drunk that night that I couldn't have said something if I had really wanted to. Even while it was happening I thought that it was -- well, sort of interesting. And I guess I wanted to know how it was going to come out." "I knew it!" crowed Jim, at once happy and relieved. "A man can always tell when the woman is liking it!" "Yeh, I guess we can," nodded Bobbi in automatic agreement. She had for so long been thinking along those lines that old habits were hard to break. "By the way Jim," she suddenly asked, "what did you do with that idol?" "Oh, that. Rona and I tried to use it turn her back into a woman that second night, but when that didn't work, I put it into a safe-deposit box. I hope nobody falls asleep inside the bank vault." "I'd have smashed the thing -- or sent it to a politician that I didn't like!" Then she added with a naughty laugh, "Hey, we could have our first woman president!" "You're not thinking, buddy. That idol might be valuable someday, especially if I can find a rich, frustrated transsexual. In fact, why sell it at all? Just rent it out a night at a time and make a lot of rich people happy. You know, doing well by doing good." "Hey! If you're going into business, I deserve a cut of the action! It's my statue!" "You've got it, Partner!" Jim once more flashed that same grin that had been sending shivers up and down Bobbi's spine these last few days. He extended his hand. "Shake on it?" Bobbi's glance met his enigmatically. "You know," she said tentatively, "in the old days men and women thought it was uncouth to shake hands together." Jim lowered his hand with the trace of a frown. "Yeh? What did they do?" "I could demonstrate." At the moment Bobbi was wearing a pair of old yellow pajamas bought for a dollar at the Salvation Army store. Earlier that evening she had been tempted, if briefly, to try on one of Rona's bustiers or camis. But clothing always sent a powerful message, and Bobbi still hadn't decided what sort of message she should be sending to her old friend Jim. But now the young blonde began to unbutton her pajama tops, very slowly, very deliberately, watching intently for Jim's reaction. Jim sucked in nearly all the air in the room when she flipped her top open with the tips of her fingers. "Oh, Bobbi," Jim said with a dry swallow, "Don't do this to me. I've been going crazy for these last couple days trying to keep my hands off you."She smiled, rather tightly because, despite all, she was a little nervous. "Why don't you just get it out of your system?" Bobbi suggested, still studying him carefully. "I'm not made out of brick. I'm game. But -- but are you sure --?" "I don't break easily. I thought I'd proven that much." He still hesitated, which left time for doubt to trouble Bobbi's resolution. "I'm not much of a seductress," she thought vaguely as she looked disapprovingly down at herself. What a dumpy get-up, these old pajamas. They were eyesores. Now she wished that she had instead worn one of Rona's skimpy lounging outfits. Better Victoria's Secret than Goodwill. Bobbi looked up at Jim again. His expression had changed and it suggested a man who would have gladly begun a meal in an expensive restaurant, but was unsure of the table manners expected of him. "What am I doing?" Bobbi asked herself. Where could this nuttiness go? She wondered if she ought to just reach out and embrace him, like Rob would have done in earlier days, to overcome the reluctance of a romantically inexperienced woman. At that moment Jim resolved the problem by reaching out for her, misgivings and desire set deeply into his lightly-tanned features. Bobbi took the hand he offered and squeezed it in hers and, when he shifted himself closer, moved boldly, enfolding his neck with her free arm. It felt good, and since Jim seemed afraid that she'd pull away at the last minute, she seized the initiative, drawing her partner's mouth up against her own, surprising herself with the sandpaper-texture of his chin and upper lip. How strange stubble was, Bobbi McGee thought, at least to one used to kissing the silken faces of girls. But, holding the kiss, she knew that she would have to get used to a lot of new things. The weeks ahead would certainly be a learning process. That was more than a little daunting. But Robert Wescott had always been a quick study.He was getting more than a little tired of these affairs that never seemed to turn into anything deep or meaningful. Why couldn't he have a relationship like his parents'? Up until the terrible accident that had taken both their lives, they had enjoyed a wonderful partnership. Rob was beginning to think that he had a lousy taste in women. Or was it something in his personality, some quirk in him that attracted women for a little while, but then drove them away? Rob knew he was in a rut -- and not for the first time he found himself wishing that he could get out of it somehow. He shook his head. How could he? He was what he was. It would probably take a miracle to change a quality so fundamental to his character. But he couldn't help but wonder what comprised the happiness that some lucky couples found with one another. Common interests, he thought, trust, sharing, and patience? Kindness, forgiveness, and respect? And he shouldn't leave out friendship. Of all the women he had known, not one real friend stood out among them. That was a sad commentary. It all had seemed so simple when Rob had been a hormonal teenager. Then he had supposed that a lot of high-quality screwing would bring happiness. Well, as a jaded veteran he had learned that the merchandise wasn't bad, but it was no happiness pill either. Sex was only one element of a good relationship, not the bricks and stone. It two people had nothing else going, it was an empty thing. He put the idol on the nightstand with the female-side out, intending to admire it later in the morning light. Then Rob threw off his robe and slipped under the covers. He was dead to the world in a just few minutes. As the young man lay half-asleep, he dreamed he was fondling Dori's breast. It felt larger than he remembered and when he touched Dori's boob, he thought that he could feel his own fingers playing teasingly upon it. When he opened his blurry eyes to the early dawn's light, he saw Dori's breasts, but the odd thing was that he couldn't see Dori at all -- just her breasts. "God, what a dream!" he muttered. His chest started itching as he lay there, but when he scratched himself he felt soft, tender mounds of flesh which were hurt by his nails as if they were his own. He grimaced; he just couldn't seem to get out of that lucid dream about women's breasts. Just then his sleepy fingers went to his groin, which was also itching. Instead of his scrotum, he found there a wooly patch occupying an emptiness where his well-oiled equipment always had parked. What the hell? he wondered. Then he understood. He was dreaming that he was a woman! Kinky, he chuckled. Rob couldn't recall ever having had such a dream before. On impulse, he decided to go look at himself in the dream mirror. The nearly somnambulant Rob staggered to the full-length mirror and he wasn't disappointed. A slim girl with long, soft honey-blond curls gazed back at him from the glass. She looked like a healthy and athletic sort of miss, as if she swam and ran a lot, just like Rob did himself. Her breasts were nicer than Dori's -- not as big Dolly Parton's, of course, but would have done credit to Christie Brinkley. The reflected girl had a nest of light brown pubic hair that almost hid the pursed lips of her pussy. Her waist was narrow, Rob noted, but her hips were becomingly round. Rob touched his buttocks and saw the girl's hands go behind her also, mimicking him perfectly. The girl's derriere felt full and hard, just the sort that he loved most to fondle. The miss in the mirror smiled with pleasure. Both fondling and being fondled felt very good. Intrigued by the heightened sensitivity of his dream-body, Rob reached forward and stroked his dream-pussy lightly. One touch of its sensitive labia sent something like an electric shock coursing through his body, making him shudder. An amazing dream, Rob thought, but one so intriguing that he didn't want it to end just yet. He carefully studied the girl's oval face with its pert little chin. If she looked familiar it was because she looked so much like him. The angles of his cheeks and jaw were softened by her feminine sex, however, and they framed both a prettily turned-up nose and a pair of big robin-egg blue eyes with long blonde lashes. Her lips were so full and sensual that they reminded him of his mother's when she was young. The young man grinned as he sleepily considered the experience. If he had been unfortunate enough to be born a girl, he wondered whether it might not have been quite so intolerable had Mother Nature graced him with the gentle beauty of the girl in the glass. Rob yawned. Standing there so long had made him weak in the legs; he had to lie down or fall. So, forgetting the strange dream, he wobbled over to the bed and plopped down. He was out cold as soon as his face hit the pillow. The seven o'clock alarm bell woke Rob fully. He yawned and rubbed his chest. Then Robert Wescott yelled in horror. Wrapped tightly in his robe, Rob paced back and forth across the kitchen floor. It hadn't been a dream! He had actually been looking at himself in the mirror. Somehow -- by some incredible somehow -- he had turned into a girl during the night! Things like this only happened in stupid movies, he knew, but not in reality. In fact, he had lately watched a weird video called SYNAPSE -- about a male-to-female brain transplant and a lot of automatic weapons combat. He also remembered that movie that Cassandra had once brought home. It was called SWAT or STITCH, or something like that. It starred Perry King, who God turned into Ellen Barkin for having treated women so shabbily. But Perry's character had had to die before being zapped with a female shape. Rob knew that he was still alive -- or at least, he thought that he was. What had happened? Suddenly he remembered the statuette in the bedroom. Cassandra! Now it all started making sense. When he knew her she had already been getting into primitive fertility magic studies and that Mother Goddess stuff. In fact, she had even done research among those crazy Wicca cultists. Sorcery! That was it! Cassandra had cursed him! She had found a magic idol and cursed him with it. In fact, maybe she had even used it on herself first, considering her silly male-envy. Was there now a man named Cass wandering around? Rob hoped never to run into the bum -- without a gun in his hand, at least! "I've got to see a doctor -- fast!" he -- or rather, she -- muttered to herself. Rob ran back into the bedroom and threw on her much-too-large male pants, shirt, and shoes. The hapless young woman walked right out of her size-twelve loafers at her very first step. Damn! she thought, I can't go outside looking like this. I need women's clothes, at least until I get to the hospital. Maybe Dori left some things behind that'll fit this stupid body! Rob, her heart pounding in her throat, rushed to the closet hoping to find a pair of jeans and a shirt that she could wear without embarrassment. The closet was empty, as were the drawers. Dori didn't leave much of anything behind, just a little cloth purse with nothing in it but lint; it had fallen behind Rob's tennis shoes and been overlooked in her haste. Then the girl got the idea to check the clothes hamper and, as luck would have it, Dori had missed something. Rob found an orange halter top and a pair of panties. The clothes from the bottom of the hamper had a sweaty, musky scent, but Rob wasn't worrying about that as she hastily put them on. She was able to get into the halter fairly easy since Rob had watched lots of girlfriends dressing. But to her annoyance, the halter seemed too snug to be comfortable. Then the young woman realized that she actually had boobs bigger than Dori's! Rob could have gone out barefoot, but didn't want to. Suddenly remembering having seen Dori's sandals under the bed a couple days earlier, she got down on her hands and knees to have another look. Sure enough, they were still there. Rob now had some footgear! But the bikini top and panties weren't enough to clothe her decently. Just then Rob remembered that pair of cut-offs back in the kitchen. Without pausing for breath, she ran to get the denim shorts. With the cut-offs in hand again, she felt a twinge of dismay. They were so skimpily cut! Why did Dori have to be such a bimbo? In her state of mind Rob had forgotten just how much Dori's lack of fashion sense had excited her as male. Realizing that she had no choice, Rob climbed into the cut-offs and found that she had to exhale hard to get the snaps closed. Apparently her remolded hips were a size or two wider than Dori's. If the shorts were tight on their owner, they were less than a second skin on Rob. Though now dressed as well as possible, Rob still felt like she was standing around in underwear -- and girl's underwear at that! Her cleavage was pushed up brazenly by the constraint of the halter and the panties, not designed to be worn with shorts so sparing, showed. Exasperated, Rob stuffed the visible hems up under the tight denim of her cut-offs and then went to get her wallet and keys. As she fumbled them out of the drawer, she realized that the pockets of her shorts were much too tight for her to put anything into them. Women always had a pocket problem, Rob remembered, and they solved it by carrying purses. Resourcefully, Rob seized Dori's forgotten purse and stuffed the wallet and keys inside it.Then, as an afterthought, she put the magic statuette in along with them, hoping that the hospital could have it analyzed and find the antidote. Finally, Rob hurried down to the residents' garage, got into her Dodge Avenger, hastily readjusted the seat forward, and started the engine. Trembly and preoccupied, Rob almost had an accident in the morning traffic, but she finally managed to get into the hospital parking ramp safely. Without pausing to lock the doors, the distraught girl raced up to the emergency room. "I've got to s-see a doctor!" she stammered to the receptionist. The middle-aged woman regarded the girl's dishabille coolly, asking, "What's the problem?" "I'm under a curse!" "A what?" "A curse! I've been changed!" "What do you mean you've been changed?" "I -- I'd rather explain that to the doctor." "Do you wanted to see our staff psychiatrist?" "I'm not crazy! I want to see the doctor who knows the most about breaking curses!" As distraught as she was, Rob realized that she wasn't making much sense. But who else should she ask for? A gynecologist? "Maybe we should start you out with a family medicine practitioner," the receptionist suggested. "What's your insurance company?" "Metro Group Health," Rob answered, frustrated by the way hospitals did business. She dug deeply into her wallet to find her medical services card. The receptionist took the plastic rectangle from her shaking hand and frowned. "This is a card for a Robert Wescott." Rob thought quickly. "Ah, he's my husband. We have the family plan." "No you don't. This card says `individual only.' Do you have any other means of paying, Miss?" She wanted to scream, to shriek to the world that she was Robert Wescott, but who would believe that a pretty girl wearing an overstuffed halter and a pair of flirtatious cut-offs had a grown man hidden inside her? Anyway, people were watching, listening. Rob didn't want anyone to know who she was. It was just too humiliating. The blonde checked her wallet for cash. She -- then he -- had shown Dori a good time at dinner the night before. There wasn't more than a few dollars left. "I've got a credit card," she gasped in agitation. The receptionist took the card patiently, but again had to frown. "This is your husband's, my dear. We can't accept your card unless you can prove that you're really Mrs. Wescott. Do you have a picture ID?" Rob was so distressed that she wasn't thinking at all well. She fumbled inside her wallet again, saying, "Sure I've got a driver's license!" She pulled out the license and shoved it in front of the woman. The receptionist sighed wearily. "No, Miss, we can't use Mr. Wescott's license. We have to see yours." "I guess -- I guess I forgot it," Rob mumbled hopelessly. Now she was really getting frightened. In another moment they'd be accusing her of having stolen some man's wallet and trying to use his health plan and credit card illegally. If questioned by a policeman, what could she say? "I hope you can get home without being arrested," the receptionist remarked. "What?!" Rob cried out, as if her mind had been picked of its darkest nightmare. "You don't have your own license on you. Drive carefully." Rob shuddered as the horror sank in. She couldn't prove who she was, but still had to get help. If she didn't get a vaccination for this terrible condition soon, it might go too far -- and might even become permanent! "Can't you put me on welfare, then. I -- I'm terribly sick!" The receptionist took another look at the pretty, but naughtily-clad and very messed-up, waif. She suspected that the little blonde was on drugs. Well, that was nothing new. Every year the emergency room got hundreds of cases of people who had put all their money into their arm or up their nose. They were a terrible burden on the system, but they had to be taken take care of, even if the taxpayer had to foot the bill. "All right honey, we'll see what we can do. What's your name?" "Ah -- R-Rob --" "Excuse me?" "Ah, Bobbi! -- Bobbi Wescott." "What is your Social Security number, Bobbi," she asked in a subdued voice, trying not to set off the distraught girl. "I'll find it," Bobbi stammered as she looked for her card. Then she stopped suddenly. It would have the Robert Wescott name on it, too. Showing it would just compound her problems. "Please, I don't need any more questions, Miss. I need help!" She began to sob. Finally Bobbi got to see a doctor. He suspected drugs and checked for them. While he did so, Bobbi tried to explain her transformation calmly and clearly to him, but only convinced the physician that she was delusional. He prescribed valium and made her an appointment with a hospital psychiatrist. By that time Bobbi had steadied herself enough to appear rational, at least to the untutored eye. Leaving the hospital, Bobbi realized that medical science couldn't help her. Scientists didn't understand magic. She guessed that she would have to see a witch instead. But how did one find a practicing warlock? she wondered. They didn't advertise in the phone book, or did they? There was an occult book store downtown, the girl suddenly remembered. Maybe she could ask the clerks there for a lead. Bobbi drove home without mishap and, used up, emotionally spent, she put her key into the lock. She just wanted to get into bed, to cover up her head and cry herself empty. Much to her surprise, the door only opened a couple inches; the security chain was set. As she shook the door in frustration, Dori peered through the crack. "Dori! You're back!" cried Bobbi. "You're damned right I'm back!" Dori snarled. "Who in hell are you and what are you doing with Rob's key?" "Damn it Dori, I live here!" "What do you mean you live here? That bastard sure didn't waste any time replacing me, did he! Well, I'm going to fight for my man! Take a hike, bitch!" "No, Dori, you don't understand!" Dori was opening the door. "I understand, all right, you little tramp! Rob thinks you're moving in with him! Well, he's got another thing coming! Give me those keys! You'll stay in this apartment over my dead body!" Dori shoved Bobbi hard against the wall and grabbed at her keys. Dori's strength seemed incredible! Being manhandled by a sleek girl like Dori so shocked Bobbi that she defended herself very poorly; she couldn't prevent the keys from being torn from her nerveless grasp. Then Dori stormed back into the apartment, slammed the door shut, and threw the deadbolt. "Let me in, you stupid slut!" Bobbi yelled, beating on the panel with her tender fists. "At least give me back my car keys!" "Your car keys? They've got Rob's name on them and they're for his Dodge! Get out of here, or I'll call the police!" Bobbi slumped back against the wall, overwhelmed. Locked out of her apartment, her car keys lost, having almost no money, barely dressed, she realized now that she didn't even have an identity. The girl suddenly grasped that her problem wasn't just facing life as a woman, it was a matter of basic survival -- food, shelter, clothing! She shuddered. What a heartless revenge Cassandra had taken! Sure, Rob had told her that he had had his fill of her nutty ideas and had ordered her out of his life -- but this was too extreme a retribution. It was like shooting a person in the heart for taking someone's potato chip. Black despair overcame the young woman and a ghastly image flashed before her inner mind -- an image of herself standing on a high bridge ready to jump, hopelessness and horror snatching at her from behind, death and darkness waiting up ahead. I don't want to die, she thought desperately. Jim! He's my best friend. He'll know who I am! He'll help me! The door to Jim's apartment opened slowly. A face that wasn't Jim's appeared, saying pleasantly, "Well, hello! What can I do for you?" Bobbi recognized Rona Spears. In fact, she knew that this had always been Rona's apartment -- it had been Jim who had moved in with her. "Am I glad that somebody's home!" Bobbi jabbered. " -- Listen, I'm Bobbi, uh, McGee, a friend of Robert Wescott. I wanted to stay with him while I'm visiting the city, but, uh, he's not in town. So I thought about Jim and you. Rob said that you were such good friends of his. Is it okay?" Rona sized up the girl. Yes, she looked just like the type that Rob Wescott would be interested in. In fact, maybe his taste was improving. There was a natural charm to this young miss. The business woman sensed a vulnerability in Bobbi McGee that called out something benign and sisterly from deep inside her. "Any friend of Rob's is a friend of ours," she said with a smile. "I'm afraid that Jim is seeing clients in Sacramento and won't be back until tomorrow night. You can stay here until either he or Rob shows up." "That's great, Rona!" "Don't mention it, Bobbi." Just then Rona caught the scent of her guest's musty clothing and perspiration. "Did you walk all the way here from Rob's?" "Yes, I wanted to save the cab fare." Rona stood aside to let Bobbi enter. "Well, why don't you freshen up with a shower? Do you have an overnight bag?" "Ah, no. It was stolen from the cart at the bus station," Bobbi lied agilely. "Damn this city!" Rona commiserated. A half hour later found Bobbi resting upon a stuffed chair. Now wearing a pair of Rona's jeans and a shirt, it felt good to be out Dori's mix-and-match bimbo outfit.The shower, too, was restorative, but touching her strange new body while she bathed had been hard for Bobbi. She had kept her eyes closed through the whole process. Rona stepped back into the room wearing a dress suit and a string tie. "Well, Bobbi, I hate to leave, but I have a dinner engagement with an important client." "You'd leave me here alone? A stranger?" "It's obvious that you know Rob very well. Somehow, I don't think anyone with such sad, gentle eyes could be a thief. And, besides, there's something about you that makes me feel like I know you already." "You won't be sorry," Bobbi promised gratefully. Left alone, Bobbi grew a little restless as the afternoon wore on. She got up and paced about the apartment. She took a Diet Coke, made a salami sandwich, and found that just one filled her up. Maybe a smaller body meant a smaller appetite. That's good, she thought -- lower grocery bills. Then she wandered over to the full-length mirror. "Look at you!" Bobbi rebuked her own reflection. "What a sight you are!" She folded her arms over the swollen front of her shirt and cast a troubled glance out the window. "How long am I going to be like this?" she mused. "Forever?" Screwing up her courage, Bobbi regarded her reflection yet again. This time she had to nod grudgingly. "You're good-looking," she sighed, "I'll grant you that!" The young woman's curiosity at last got the better of her and she took off her shirt. Rona's clothes fitted very well, Bobbi had discovered, but, like Dori's, Rona's bra was just too snug. In fact, the discomfort was enough to prompt the new-minted girl to take it off entirely. Now bare to the waist, Bobbi cupped her bra-pinched breasts in her hands and massaged the soreness away. "I really grew a big crop of America's best last night," she chuckled sadly. Were they hers for keeps? Was there any way to break the magic spell? How long did spells last if you didn't do something to break them? She tried to think of all the stories she had read about magic, all the movies she had seen. The Shaggy Dog had to do something brave and heroic to become a boy again, she recalled. The Frog Prince had to get a princess to kiss him. The Beast had to make Beauty love him. Bobbi grinned, enjoying the idea of being kissed by Princess Di and being restored to gorgeous manhood in her arms. But it wasn't a practical solution. The blonde put her hands on her hips and tilted her head from side to side. If I'm stuck as a girl for any time at all, Bobbi thought, I've got to earn a living. How do I do that? I can't even prove I have a high school diploma now. Maybe I could become a model. Bobbi fantasized herself in a bikini and leaning sexily against a red Nissan 240SX, or a glossy black Acura Integra upon the cover of some future issue of SPORTS CAR. Not much hard work in modeling, she thought; wearing a bikini in public would be the roughest part. But then she reconsidered. Fat chance! Those jobs were hard to get. Every model that she had known as Rob had at one time or other complained that she had had to sleep with somebody to get the really worthwhile assignments. Bobbi winced. The idea of sleeping with a man was decidedly unpleasant, even if it meant earning a good living. Now that she was a girl, Bobbi wondered if it meant that she would like boys. For an experiment, she called up a large image of Fabio in her mind's eye and decided that it didn't do a thing for her. But Cindy Crawford -- ahh, now that was a body to set her heart strings strumming! But could Bobbi thrill Cindy in the shape she was now? Maybe, considering some of those tabloid stories about the supermodel. Be that as it may, Bobbi could console herself that plenty of beautiful girls were willing to sleep with other girls. Especially girls like the one in the mirror. I need a drink, she thought, if I'm ever going to sort this thing out. Damn, what if Jim won't believe me? What then? Bobbi went over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a Scotch and soda. As she consumed the hard liquor, she felt depressed. Rob had worked very hard at building a career in real estate. Now it was lost. As Bobbi she might have to start all over again. Well, there were plenty of female realtors. The women in the business did well on the whole, as long as they applied themselves as vigorously as a man would. In fact, it was at a realtor's convention where Rob had first met Rona, and there discovered that they both lived in the same city. The two of them were friendly from the start, but they had never quite made it into bed together. It was Jim's heart -- or loins -- that Rona had set on fire that time when Rob had introduced them. Rob hadn't really resented the way that things had worked out. He thought that Rona would be good for his friend and, besides, Rob's hands were full just then with a postal worker named Charlotte who liked to lick whipped cream off his bare feet. Bobbi sighed. Those were the good old days. Were they really gone forever? What could she replace them with? The small blonde downed the rest of her drink, and then tackled a second. How strangely and how suddenly her fate had changed! She suddenly became worried that this experience was some sort of punishment -- from Heaven, not just from the weird and vindictive Cassandra. Was it possible that Cassandra might actually have been acting -- unwittingly -- as Heaven's agent? Bobbi decided that it couldn't be. Rob had never hurt women. In fact, he had made more than his share of women very happy -- for a while. At least he had never committed the big faux pas and gotten one of them pregnant. That is, he never knew for certain that any of his girls were pregnant when split-up time arrived. At that point she checked herself, supposing that in another minute she'd be feeling guilty for absolutely nothing. Damn it, birth control was a woman's problem anyway! Birth control. That was a strange thought under the present circumstances. Bobbi had become a woman herself and so she suddenly wondered, with a strangely-melded sense of alarm and amazement, whether this new-edition body of hers could conceive a child. Motherhood. Imagine that! She looked down at herself and touched her small, slightly convex belly. Could it happen? If it could, what should she think? Most women wanted children, but -- Bobbi remembered how the tough gang boss trapped in Kathy Duffy's body in SYNAPSE had finally achieved a happy ending by becoming a loving wife and the proud mother of a little boy. And in Ellen Barkin's movie, too, the character had had a baby. But she had tragically died in childbirth. That was such a sad scene, Bobbi remembered -- and the film was supposed to have been a comedy! Bobbi blew her nose on a napkin. The thought of Ellen's little girl growing up without a mother to love her, and dress her, and feed her, and hug her was so terrible that the young woman had to try as hard as she could not to think about it, lest she break down and cry. She finished her second drink to steady her nerves. The girl then considered whether she needed yet another refill and decided that she did. A little later, staggering drunk, Bobbi wobbled into the bedroom and clumsily stripped off her jeans. She didn't actually mean to shed the panties along with them, but they came off, too. As she fell into bed, Bobbi's forehead struck her purse and it hurt. "Damned idol," she muttered as she rolled over and dug the accursed thing from the handbag. Seeing the statuette again gave Bobbi a sudden idea. If it had changed her sex once just by sleeping near it, maybe it would change her back if she repeated the process. "I'll just put this little doodad beside the bed here," she slurred, "and maybe it'll turn me into a man by morning. Fight magic with magic! What have I got to lose?" As she settled the statuette upon the nightstand, she noticed a bottle of perfume sitting there next to the lamp. Its label read "Magic Midnight." Bobbi had always loved the scent of perfume on beautiful women. With a crooked smile, she fumbled the bottle open to take a whiff. She found its odor wonderfully sensuous but, unfortunately, the girl's quaking fingers dropped the bottle and it spilled on her lap, not much, but several powerfully aromatic droplets had been tossed into her pubic hair and across her bare thighs. Bobbi recapped the bottle hastily, then turned off the lamp and fell into a deep sleep. Jim Cardwell opened the bedroom door quietly. "Rona? Are you awake?" he whispered. He heard a woman's deep breathing and her wordless murmuring. "No, she's sleeping." The young investment broker sniffed the sweetened air, recognizing his favorite perfume, Magic Midnight. Rona always wore it to make him hot to trot! Grinning with anticipation, he stripped off his clothes. Jim hadn't cheated on Rona since he had known her, though he had been sorely tempted just the night before. The Japanese investors that he had been meeting with had held a party at the Imperial Hotel with all the amenities provided. Jim had let his opportunity to make it with a high-class call girl pass because his old free-and-easy ways had always brought him grief in the past and, besides, he cared about Rona and wanted what they had to work out. But his near miss with infidelity had made him very anxious to get back to Rona. Now that he was in the same room with her, those feelings were rushing back with powerful urgency. He would either have to plunge into a very cold shower or into some very hot action -- and a shower sized up as a very poor second. Jim softly approached the bed.Sitting down beside the one whom he thought was his girlfriend, he touched her and realized that she was sleeping naked on top of the covers. Jim sucked in an excited breath as he stroked Bobbi's breasts. In the dark they felt even larger than he knew them to be. The girl stirred, but didn't wake. Jim, trying not to disturb "Rona's" sleep, checked her for panties and found that she was wearing none. He slipped his own briefs to the floor, kicked them aside, and positioned himself on the bed. He took hold of Bobbi's hips to steady them, then, as he moved his face closer to her love nest, Jim discovered that "Rona" had used the perfume on her pubic hair. The little minx, he thought, had been hoping that he'd find a way to come home early and so had decked herself out like a carnal feast. What a woman! He flicked his tongue against the outer lips of Bobbi's pussy. The sleeper shifted and moaned, but her alcohol-reinforced slumber was a heavy one. Jim chuckled quietly as he next moved his mouth up to her breasts, licking the nipples as if they had been dabbed with honey. Bobbi groaned a bit as the sensation penetrated her deep trance. The young man's cock was now swollen and aching. He knew that there wouldn't be much time for foreplay, so he took the woman passionately in his arms and kissed her hard on the lips. "Whaa --?!" Bobbi mumbled as she finally awoke, feeling her mouth and nose smothered under something warm and wet. "Easy, Rona. It's Jim. I just got back. I need you, baby." "J-Jim?" the girl muttered confusedly. But Jim wasn't listening. He just kept on kissing Bobbi's face and neck, using all the techniques that he had developed over his twenty-six years of living free. He opened his mouth and captured one of her large, erect nipples between his hungry lips. Jim sucked first on one and then on the other. He pressed his face into her smooth, resilient breasts, firm with the golden kiss of youth. "M-My God!" muttered Bobbi. Shifting, Jim now ran his tongue along "Rona's" inner thighs. He came to the thick fleece between her legs and touched his nose to it, inhaling deeply of Midnight Magic and natural woman-scent. Bobbi's hips involuntarily lurched as her bedfellow slipped his eager tongue between her dewy labia, forcing it as far up her love canal as he could. Then he drew it back with teasing slowness. Her heavy gasp and shifting motion encouraged him to run the tip of his tongue all over her pussy while avoiding contact with her small clitoris -- a move which he knew was always slow torture for Rona. He heard the girl's breath catch in her throat and felt her body quiver. He guessed that she was now ready to be brought to an even higher pitch. Equal to the task, Jim put the tip of his probing tongue into direct contact with her nether bud and began flicking it back and forth. "Oh, Jim! Christ, Jim!" Bobbi moaned as she felt hot blades of excitement shooting through every nerve of her body. Unable to hold himself back, Jim repositioned himself to mount her, guiding his rock-hard organ to her furry aperture. Tiny, pulsing shocks raced through him as he shoved himself as deeply as he could into the unplumbed well of Bobbi's scented maidenhood. "Oh!" Bobbi gasped as the tender walls of her interior expanded to accommodate his penetration. Jim was surprised to find "Rona's" pussy so tight, stretching his foreskin back to the limit, until it almost pained him. Then his breath caught in his throat when her vaginal muscles seemed to contract around his throbbing organ, trapping it in a powerful grip. Ah, yes -- that was his girl Rona! Jim began fucking poor Bobbi in earnest, with quick, hard thrusts. His hips moved like pistons, plunging to the very depths of her maidenly recesses. "Ayiiii! Ayiii!" Bobbi cried, throwing her head back, holding Jim's waist with clawing fingers. Her nails hurt him, but Jim dug his toes into the mattress and pumped for all he was worth, each long stroke making his heart beat faster. After a minute he felt Bobbi's vaginal muscles go into action, not by any will of he own, if Jim had only known it, but by the stern dictates of Mother Nature. Bobbi, her body operating on pure instinct, frantically milked his rigid prick of his clear preliminary secretions, while her silken legs entangled themselves with his in a lock that not even Houdini could have picked. Jim was rapidly approaching climax, but he wanted to be sure that Rona came with him. Delaying his own pleasure with a mighty exertion of will, he deliberately brought himself into contact with her clitoris, subjecting her tight pussy to the relentless friction of his love-making until she was moaning with pleasure. Jim could hear the loud slurping noise of his cock sliding in and out of Bobbi's wet, fleshy vise, while his testicles began to ache with an urgency that begged release. Suddenly Bobbi felt Jim's prick expand within her -- and the first jet of hot viscous nectar splashed against her cervix, igniting a series of explosions deep inside her body. "Aaaaiii!" the girl cried out at the top of her lungs, digging her heels into his thighs and raking her fingernails across his back as an irresistible series of passion-quakes shot through her. Jim's hips went on pumping even after the last drop had been drained from him by Bobbi's hungry, if involuntary, contractions. He could finally bear his herculean exertion no longer and collapsed upon her. He heard the hot rasp of the girl's breath in his ear, felt her velvety arms wrapping themselves tightly around his neck, clinging to him desperately. Bobbi, overwhelmed with drink and the aftermath of her release, didn't hear the sound of the doorknob turning. "Jim! What are you doing!?" The surprise on Jim's face became pure horror when he saw Rona's astonished face. He really didn't know what he had been doing. Or rather he did know -- he just didn't know exactly whom he had been doing it with. Now, for the first time, he looked down at the face of the girl under him, its eyes big and dewy, its lips half-parted with astonishment. Confusion filled those robin-egg eyes, then they glazed over as Bobbi passed out cold. "Who is she?" Jim gasped. "I never saw her before in my life!" "Don't play innocent, Jim!" sobbed Rona. "Can't I even let a friend sleep over without you jumping her?" "So she's a friend of yours!" Jim jabbered as he rolled off of Bobbi and threw a sheet over his nudity. "Honest, Rona, I didn't know. It was dark and I thought she was you. She was wearing your perfume!" "A likely story! I've had it, Jim! I can't trust you anymore! I was such a fool!" Suddenly she spotted Bobbi's cut-offs and halter hanging upon the back of a chair. She snatched them up and threw them into Jim's face. "Here, these are hers! Get your playmate dressed and then both of you get out of here! This is my apartment and I don't ever want to see either one of you in it again!" Again dressed in the halter, cut-offs, and sandals inherited from Dori, Bobbi was sitting opposite Jim in the booth of a small all-night cafe. Battered by a pounding hangover and fighting hard to control the trauma of what had lately happened, she had been doing her best to explain to her friend who she really was, all to no avail. Jim shook his head. "Miss, that's the nuttiest story I ever heard! Rob put you up to this gag, didn't he?" "You stupid son of a bitch! I'm me! If you won't believe me, nobody else in the world will either!" "Hey, calm down, honey. Don't make a scene." Tears of frustration ran down Bobbi's cheeks. She rested her elbows on the table and her face in her hands. "God, Jim, don't you have any shame? You take my virginity, maybe even knock me up, and now you're calling me a liar!" "Come on -- I'll grant that you look enough like Rob to be his sister, but you can't be Rob, magic or not. Rob would have died before he'd dress up like that. Anyway, don't forget that I've been in bed with you. You're a one hundred percent wild woman -- and Rob Wescott didn't like boys!" "All right," said Bobbi in anger, "if you won't believe me, try sleeping next to this idol I've got here. It'll turn you into a girl too, I bet, and I hope somebody treats you just the way you're treating me!" She realized the instant that she touched her purse that the statuette was gone. "-- Hell, I must have left the damned thing back at Rona's." "I'm too tired for all this crap," Jim sighed. "Look, baby, you're a kook, but well, there's something kind of sweet about you. I'd like to get to know you a lot better. Do you have a place to stay? We can get a room together." "That's enough, Jim! You've been rotten to me! I thought we were friends, but you're out to lunch now that I really need you. I never want to see you again!" Jim leaned back, disappointed. "I'm sorry. We could have started something beautiful." "Oooo!" Bobbi exclaimed as she stalked away from the table, but just then the hopelessness of her situation dawned on her and she stopped in her tracks. "Did you forget something, baby cakes?" asked Jim. "For Pete's sake, Jim, I -- I'm penniless. I can't go home, and the streets aren't safe at night for a -- a woman. I just don't know what to do anymore! I might get raped or killed! My life is over." Jim was starting to feel very uncomfortable, even guilty, but the events of the night had made him cranky and even unsympathetic. "Look, kid, I don't want to see you go away empty-handed. I almost dropped a bundle on a girl in Sacramento last night."That's good," Jim had replied with a thoughtful nod. "Terrific working conditions, great benefits. And there's lots of jobs out there. In fact, I could use a little French maid myself. I saw this really cute uniform in one of Rona's lingerie catalogs. Lacy panties, short-short skirt, and an itsy-bitsy five-layered petticoat. You'll love it! I'll love it!" "Then wear it yourself, sucker!" Jim had laughed. "I think you're going to be all right, Bobbi." "I'm not going to let this thing beat me, that's for sure," the girl had declared firmly. "Cassandra probably wanted me to commit suicide, or become a drunk, or a druggie or something. Well, she's not going to have the satisfaction! Surviving is the best way I know of to get back at her." "You can do it, and I'm going to help you. As I see it, what you need most right now is a solid identity." "Yeh, I know. How do I get one?" "You can be Rona!" "Rona?!" "She and I talked the idea over, just in case we ever found you. She left all her old documents with me for you to use. She left everything, in fact, except her money." "She'd do that for me?!" "Rona was a little excitable, Bobbi, but a great -- person -- at heart. And she always did like you as Rob." Bobbi had concurred. "She even liked me as Bobbi McGee, until she thought that I'd double-crossed her. But how can I go around as Rona? People knew her." "She wrote all her friends and told them that she was entering a reclusive religious order in Europe and that she wouldn't be coming back. That took care of one angle. Better yet, she doesn't have any close relatives who'll ever bother to check up on her." Bobbi had considered the possibility carefully. "It could work. Rona and I were both in the realty business and I could apply for a decent job using her resume. But it still might be smart if I moved to a different city." "If you do that," Jim had begun carefully, "would you mind it very much if I came along with you?" Bobbi had looked at him amazed, as if seeing him for the first time. "Two cards," Jim called suddenly, bringing Bobbi back to the present. She peeled a couple cards off the deck and tossed them to his side. "I'll stay," she told him. Bobbi thought of Rona's hasty marriage. Incredible -- Rona had become a straight guy in a matter of just a couple weeks. But even after a month, Bobbi still didn't know where she stood. She had been fighting what seemed to be an incipient attraction to men more ferociously than Custer ever fought the Indians. These feelings were troubling for a person who had never had a gay bone in his -- her -- body. Even the image of Cindy Crawford didn't do anything for her anymore -- and she was trying hard not to think about Fabio. But perhaps, Bobbi thought, she had to stop thinking left to right and start thinking right to left. Obviously Cassandra's magic could change the body. It had only come out gradually that it could change the emotions, too. Maybe the witch herself hadn't fully understood the power of the idol, that the wound it inflicted actually carried its own healing. Bobbi smiled to herself. That was why Cassandra's revenge would always be a hollow one. Would Bobbi want to be a man again if she could? Yes -- in a minute! It would have been a relief to be able to take refuge once again in what was safe and familiar. Rob had had a routine, a past, he was working toward a future. He had been able to take comfort in the familiar things around him. Now those familiar things were gone and Bobbi suspected that they would never come again. But what lay ahead in this strange new life? That was the question that kept her lying awake at night. Bobbi was pretty sure that she could not recreate the female equivalent of Rob's bon vivant style. It wasn't just the physiological obstacles. Events had changed her heart even more than magic had changed her shape. She had no more taste for the promiscuous adventuring that had defined Rob's social life. Bobbi had kept to her little rented room near Spanky's, drinking the bitter drops of loneliness to their dregs. She had finally grasped the fact that though she had had many lovers as Rob, Rob had had no love to speak of. Why? she had wondered. Was it, possibly, because Rob had failed again and again to truly give of himself? That had to change, the young woman vowed. She couldn't remain a spiritual hermit; she had to be a part of life, even the drab and the risky parts of life. A new body, a new identity, a new job, a new style, even a new sex. This was a good time to make some serious rearrangements. Bobbi looked up at her companion. She had begun to feel very differently about Jim. She had been deeply touched by his efforts to find and to save her. But it was more than just that. Bobbi was starting to enjoy his company -- no, his nearness -- in ways that she never had experienced with a man. The sound of Jim's voice, that cocky expression in his hazel eyes, even the knot in his necktie, stirred her like only the beauty of a girl had before. The young woman watched her comrade as he pored over his cards. Her mind had gone back many times to that night when she and Jim had made love. At first she had recoiled from the memory in horror. But, over the following empty weeks, it had come back to her in a new aspect. The substance of the act remained the same, of course, but she could see it now in a different and brighter guise. But what was she thinking? Her with Jim? That was nuts! They loved one another, truly, and in so many ways, but they never could love one another that way -- could they? Bobbi couldn't forget Rona's experience with her own best friend. Best friends. What a wonderful phrase that was. For some reason the Frank Sinatra song that she had heard on her last night as a man came back as if in answer to her dilemma: "The simple secret of the plot, Is just to tell them that I love you a lot. Then the world discovers as my book ends, How to make two lovers of friends." No! That was crazy! Bobbi thought. It would be much smarter, if she had to get involved with a male, to make it someone -- anyone -- other than Jim. Somebody who didn't know about her past, someone who wouldn't carry around all that baggage of bygone associations, someone who wouldn't have had his ideas about her forged in their former skirt-chasing camaraderie. But Jim and she, Bobbi knew, had so much in common. Sports, politics, music -- as well as that indefinable trust that allowed two friends to tell one another their problems and worries without self-consciousness, without the fear that they were giving a potential rival a secret to use against them. Maybe what the pair of them had had up to now represented a good foundation on which to build something new. But what? To his credit, Jim had been cleaning up his act lately. He had been loyal to one girl while Rob had been going though more than a half dozen. Could Jim be faithful to one person for the very long haul? Could Bobbi? Bobbi had definitely acquired a new respect for loyalty and consistency. She wondered whether the two of them -- Damn! She had to stop thinking that way! Oh, this man-woman business was so confusing! Suddenly Jim passed his hand in front of her eyes. "Earth to Bobbi. This is Houston. Are you reading us, Bobbi?" "Sorry, Jim. I've got a lot to think about." "I guess you do. It must be hard coping. What's it like, being a woman?" Bobbi shrugged. "I'm still on the first chapter, buddy. I'll tell you the secret of the plot when I'm deeper into the book." "Maybe you could write a book of your own!" "Maybe I could." But how would the book end? Bobbi wondered. "I wouldn't like reading the part about what we did together. It must have been pretty bad for you, right?" Bobby tossed away her cards. "Don't keep beating yourself up about that, Jim. To tell the truth, I wasn't so drunk that night that I couldn't have said something if I had really wanted to. Even while it was happening I thought that it was -- well, sort of interesting. And I guess I wanted to know how it was going to come out." "I knew it!" crowed Jim, at once happy and relieved. "A man can always tell when the woman is liking it!" "Yeh, I guess we can," nodded Bobbi in automatic agreement. She had for so long been thinking along those lines that old habits were hard to break. "By the way Jim," she suddenly asked, "what did you do with that idol?" "Oh, that. Rona and I tried to use it turn her back into a woman that second night, but when that didn't work, I put it into a safe-deposit box. I hope nobody falls asleep inside the bank vault." "I'd have smashed the thing -- or sent it to a politician that I didn't like!" Then she added with a naughty laugh, "Hey, we could have our first woman president!" "You're not thinking, buddy. That idol might be valuable someday, especially if I can find a rich, frustrated transsexual. In fact, why sell it at all? Just rent it out a night at a time and make a lot of rich people happy. You know, doing well by doing good." "Hey! If you're going into business, I deserve a cut of the action! It's my statue!" "You've got it, Partner!" Jim once more flashed that same grin that had been sending shivers up and down Bobbi's spine these last few days. He extended his hand. "Shake on it?" Bobbi's glance met his enigmatically. "You know," she said tentatively, "in the old days men and women thought it was uncouth to shake hands together."Jim lowered his hand with the trace of a frown. "Yeh? What did they do?" "I could demonstrate." At the moment Bobbi was wearing a pair of old yellow pajamas bought for a dollar at the Salvation Army store. Earlier that evening she had been tempted, if briefly, to try on one of Rona's bustiers or camis. But clothing always sent a powerful message, and Bobbi still hadn't decided what sort of message she should be sending to her old friend Jim. But now the young blonde began to unbutton her pajama tops, very slowly, very deliberately, watching intently for Jim's reaction. Jim sucked in nearly all the air in the room when she flipped her top open with the tips of her fingers. "Oh, Bobbi," Jim said with a dry swallow, "Don't do this to me. I've been going crazy for these last couple days trying to keep my hands off you." She smiled, rather tightly because, despite all, she was a little nervous. "Why don't you just get it out of your system?" Bobbi suggested, still studying him carefully. "I'm not made out of brick. I'm game. But -- but are you sure --?" "I don't break easily. I thought I'd proven that much." He still hesitated, which left time for doubt to trouble Bobbi's resolution. "I'm not much of a seductress," she thought vaguely as she looked disapprovingly down at herself. What a dumpy get-up, these old pajamas. They were eyesores. Now she wished that she had instead worn one of Rona's skimpy lounging outfits. Better Victoria's Secret than Goodwill. Bobbi looked up at Jim again. His expression had changed and it suggested a man who would have gladly begun a meal in an expensive restaurant, but was unsure of the table manners expected of him. "What am I doing?" Bobbi asked herself. Where could this nuttiness go? She wondered if she ought to just reach out and embrace him, like Rob would have done in earlier days, to overcome the reluctance of a romantically inexperienced woman. At that moment Jim resolved the problem by reaching out for her, misgivings and desire set deeply into his lightly-tanned features. Bobbi took the hand he offered and squeezed it in hers and, when he shifted himself closer, moved boldly, enfolding his neck with her free arm. It felt good, and since Jim seemed afraid that she'd pull away at the last minute, she seized the initiative, drawing her partner's mouth up against her own, surprising herself with the sandpaper-texture of his chin and upper lip. How strange stubble was, Bobbi McGee thought, at least to one used to kissing the silken faces of girls. But, holding the kiss, she knew that she would have to get used to a lot of new things. The weeks ahead would certainly be a learning process. That was more than a little daunting. But Robert Wescott had always been a quick study.

MF tg ScFi

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9919.txt

LeAnna

Moon by LeAnna

"Yeah, I want to fuck you like an animal..." I turned down the radio as I approached the house, creeping slowly along the street. I honked as I pulled into the driveway. The floodlights came on, illuminating the black night as I turned off the engine. The house was dark, except for a flickering light in a window. I frowned. Moon must have lit some candles--she must have planned a romantic night! My mouth formed into a slow grin as I imagined what tonight would be like. I got out and slammed the car door shut, striding to the door, unable to contain my excitement. There was a note on the door and a small shoebox on the porch. Written in Moon's flowery pen was, "Hello, darling. Please put on the dress and the heels in the box at your feet, and then come to my room. -Your Lover" I bent over to pick up the box and made my way inside. The air was filled with a fragrant scent -- she'd cooked something, and whatever it was, it smelled delicious. My stomach rumbled as I closed the door behind me, pulling the cover off of the cardboard box. Inside was a black dress made out of a silky material -- it would feel nice against my skin. I gasped when I pulled it out to look at it. It was absolutely gorgeous. It looked to be about floor length, if not a little more. It had spaghetti straps that flowed into a low scoop neck that would show a daring amount of cleavage -- perhaps as low as a few inches above my nipples. I wouldn't be able to wear a bra with this dress, and everything would be clearly visible because the dress was made to fit tight around my curves, cinching at the waist and hugging my hips gently before it draped all the way down to my feet. There was a long slit along the side beginning at my thigh and snaking along the entire length of the gown's leg. I whistled at the beauty of this dress and stripped off my clothes in a second, eager to put it on. I slipped the dress over my head, reveling in the sensation of the cool silk against my skin. It made me feel sexy -- that was probably what Moon had in mind when she bought it. I found a pair of matching black high heels with hosiery in the bottom of the box, and I slipped my legs into the hose, pulling them up to my thighs, and then pulled on the heels. I looked into the living room mirror. I ran my hand through my hair self-consciously, wishing that I had a brush or something. I looked down at my outfit and smoothed the dress down over my hips, and started to walk down the hallway to Moon's room, swaying my hips slightly. I couldn't help it -- the dress made me feel unbelievably sexy and desirable. I felt as if my breasts were firmer and rounder, and I felt as if my thighs were longer. The slit in the dress swished against my legs, the fabric rubbing against me, making me feel even more naughty. I swayed my hips as I walked to Moon's room, reveling in the sensation of the smooth, fluid-like fabric flowing around my body. The sound of soft music leaked through the door. I stood there nervously for a second before I turned the brass doorknob and opened the creaking door slowly, sticking my head inside. The entire room was illuminated by nearly a hundred candles, their flickering light reflecting on the walls. The candles were arranged strategically around the room, set up on the dresser, the bedside table, the floor, and the window seat. The romantic setting was enhanced by music playing faintly in the background -- slow, classical tunes. There was a table in the middle of the room, about five by three feet, and covered with a draping white cloth. The candlelight flickered beautifully off of the tablecloth, the light and shadow dancing with each other against the white fabric. There were two candles on the table surrounding a blazing glass oil lamp. The table was set with two tall wine glasses and a bottle of burgundy wine, fine china dishes with steaming fettuccine alfredo and spaghetti with meatballs, split evenly in half along the middle of the plates. There were bowls and plates on the table with more food. My stomach rumbled and groaned in hunger as I inhaled the delicious smell of the meal Moon had prepared. But that's not what caught my attention. What attracted my gaze, after looking at the candles and the table, was Moon. She had a shy smile as well as a long, sweeping pearl-colored gown. The neckline dipped daringly low, allowing me to see the curving edge of her supple breast. The sleeves of her gown ran down past her knuckles, ending in white lace. The gown followed the curves of her hips, hugged her body tightly and relaxed its grip as it ran down her leg. I nearly choked on my breath, she was so beautiful. Her hair flowed down around her, just the way I liked it. The spell was broken temporarily when she moved towards me. Her eyes moved up and down my body, admiring my form. She smiled, her soft crimson lips parting slightly as she wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me close for a kiss. She caressed my waist slowly, and dropped her hand down to my ass, squeezing it lightly as we kissed. Her lips were soft, sucking my own with a gentle nibble, and her lavender scent was dizzying. I melted into her arms, wrapping my arms around her and letting her control our kiss. We finally parted with a blissful sigh. She looked deep into my eyes and took my hand in hers. She looked down, running her thumb along my knuckles. I felt almost wanton, wanting to give my body to her right that instant. There was a damp spot on my panties that I could feel every time I moved or shifted my feet. She lifted her hand and bowed her head, and kissed me slowly on the back of my hand, her full lips wet from our kiss. I smiled at her, my knees and stomach growing weak. She lifted her head and wordlessly led me to the table. She pulled out a chair for me, and I sat down on the plush seat. She took her own seat across the table from me and we gazed at each other for a few minutes, her eyes smoldering with lust. I'm sure mine were, also. She lifted a wine goblet, and I took the cue, lifting mine as well. The dark liquid bubbled inside the tall goblet. Moon cleared her throat and said softly, "This is to five months of love, and to well over a year and a half of companionship." I smiled affectionately, looking straight at her. "It doesn't feel like five months to me. It feels like it was just yesterday that I walked into my room nude..." She laughed, remembering. "Time flies when you're having fun." I nodded in agreement.I brought the glass to my mouth, sipping the bitter wine slowly. She took a small drink from her goblet and set it down to pick up her fork and spoon. "Moon, dinner looks just delicious. How long did you spend making it? This is all so nice..." She blushed. "Honey, I'd spend days preparing you a dinner if I thought it'd make you happy. Not that long, but the rest of it..." "Yeah. This is great, Moon. Thank you." She dipped her head to deliver a steaming morsel to her mouth. I looked down and decided that it was about time I devoured my meal. I picked up a fork and speared the fettuccine with it, wrapping it around the prongs of the fork. When the hot food entered my mouth, I slipped off into ecstasy. "MOON! This is wonderful!" "Thank you," she replied, pleased. "There's more -- I've got enough for the entire family here. Plus some fry bread for dessert." I groaned inwardly, knowing that I'd be bursting out of my dress by the time the meal ended. I took another slow drink of the wine and looked up at Moon. The light of the oil lamp flickered off of her face, creating long dancing shadows. She did look absolutely gorgeous tonight. I watched her, her lips parting to take another bite of food. Suddenly, self-consciously, I looked down and continued to eat my meal. "So, can you believe we're graduating?" Moon asked between bites. I shook my head. "Seems like forever yet seems like no time has passed since we were freshmen." Moon laughed. "I'm glad to be getting out. I want to get out into the world, get a job, settle down somewhere. I wanted to go to college, but you know Mom can't afford to send me. And they say Native-Americans can get free college if..." "Yeah, I know. Why don't you do that?" She sighed. "We can't find any proof, any written documents. Both my grandparents are dead, and none of my aunts or uncles have anything. So, I guess I'm screwed." I shrugged. "Not necessarily. If you save up enough money, you could. And there are scholarships and stuff. And you know I'd help you with money if I had any to spare, but I don't even know if I'm going to college now, because of..." "Yeah. How much do you have saved up?" Frowning, I answered, "About nine thousand dollars. That's barely enough to get me through one class for one year." Her face was apologetic. "Your parents have all the money?" I nodded. "My mother is still being a bitch, but if I talked to my dad I'm sure he'd pull the money out for me." She set her fork down and reached for her goblet, taking another drink. "Why haven't you talked to him, then? I mean, your mom might be harsh, but he is on your side. I wish you'd at least take his calls... it has been a long time." I felt guilty at her words, and deep inside my gut, I missed my father terribly. I looked down at my plate and shoved a big bite of spaghetti in my mouth, swallowing it in a large lump. Moon winced. "I'm sorry, we won't talk about that. It's your night, Janet." I shrugged. "It's no big deal, really. I guess I should talk to him." "Well, like I said, we won't talk about it. What do you think you'll do for the summer?" I'd thought about moving out with Moon and getting an apartment with her, but I hadn't seriously discussed it with her, so I figured I would bring it up now. "Was thinking about getting an apartment with you, living close to downtown. That way I can keep our expenses low with gas because it's close to my job and probably will be close to yours." She nodded slowly, a contemplative look on her face. "That's something along the lines of what I was thinking. I've got a bit of cash saved up, too. Are you going to get a new job for the summer?" My head snapped up from surprise, and I swallowed the fettuccine quickly. "Why would I?" "You said you weren't happy at that bookstore you're working at - what's the name of it? Jacoby's?" I nodded. "Jocundry's. I'm not happy there, but I've got seniority. I've worked there for over 2 years, you know, so I might get a raise or even a small management position this summer." "Yeah, but can you stand working eight to ten hours a day there?" I groaned loudly at her statement. "Shelving books and filing reports and filling out sales slips..." "Enough!" I interrupted with a laugh. "Thought this was my night? Anyway, when are you getting a new job?" She adjusted the oil lamp, tilting the shade over to the side. "I applied at the Saper Art Galleries downtown. I'm going to wait for them to call back before I apply anywhere else, though." "That's a smart idea," I agreed. "So we'll be together this summer?" She lifted her goblet up to me to toast. I clinked our glasses together, and she looked at me with soft eyes, smiling. "We'll always be together, Janet. I love you more than anything. I know I don't say it much, but it's true." I flushed, a warm feeling growing through my body. I leaned closer to her, putting my forearms on the table, and whispered, "Moon, you're the only one for me. You're the only one forever. I love you too, and you don't need to tell me you love me often, because you show it to me so many ways. I mean, look at tonight. You must have spent hours preparing this for us." Her lips grew in a wide smile. She reached out and took my hand in her warm hand, her fingernails digging into me slightly as she shifted it. I squeezed her hand tightly, and my heart swelled slightly. I could feel my love for Moon radiating throughout the room, and she could feel it too. We just sat there for a few minutes, holding hands, and looking at each other with smoldering lust in our eyes. An impulse overtook me. I considered it for maybe a second, thinking about the ramifications of what I was going to say, and then discarded all my concerns. I brought Moon's hand to my mouth, kissing it. She chuckled and wriggled in her seat, leaning closer to me. "Moon, will you marry me?" Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open in shock. After she sat bewildered for a second, she snapped her jaw back up and her mouth widened in a huge grin. "Oh, Janet, of course I will!" We both stood up at the same time and rushed to each other. I enveloped her in a tight hug. Tears of joy filled my eyes, and they overflowed as I buried my head in Moon's shoulder, kissing her and choking words of love. She sniffled, too, and held me tighter. "I know it's a little unconventional, but..." Moon shushed me, whispering into my ear, "We'll talk about it later. Let's just enjoy the mood now." I laughed and lifted my hand up from around Moon to wipe a tear off my cheek. We stood there, holding each other, for about five minutes. Finally, I broke free of the embrace to give her a light kiss on the lips. She wrapped her hands around my waist, pressing her body against mine, as her lips grew more needy and hungry for me. I surrendered to her insistent kiss, my hands finding her waist. I slid my hand down her waist, feeling her firm, warm skin through the silky opalescent fabric. I trembled just the slightest, moaning quietly into Moon's mouth when she ran her hand up my body and cupped my breast. I arched my body into her hand in response, and moved my own hand to her stomach, feeling the soft pad of flesh briefly before dipping my hand low to her mons. I stroked her pubis gently, working my way slowly down to her clit. I massaged her clit slowly, feeling the hard nub roll under my fingertips. She gasped at the touch and kissed me harder, her fingernails digging into my arm. I pushed her towards the bed, lowering her supple body onto the soft mattress. She scooted up, laying her head down onto the pillow, and I got up on top of her, pulling my skirt up so I could straddle her lower stomach. She put her hands on my buttocks, squeezing my cheeks in passion. I ground my pussy against her just a little bit, and leaned down to kiss her again. She lifted her hands from my ass, and moved her hands to my breasts, squeezing them before taking hold of the spaghetti straps of my gown and pushing them down past my shoulders. I sat up for a moment, shaking the straps down past my arms, and the dress became a silk heap around my waist. I frowned and got to my feet, bending my knees so I wouldn't fall over on the mattress. I lifted my arms, crossing them, and then took grip of the spaghetti straps and carefully lifted the gown up over my head. Then I tossed it over the side of the bed, letting it fall on the floor. She smiled at the sight of my nude chest and slim-cut panties, and reached up to my bare nipples, her nimble fingers massaging them with excruciating slowness. I gasped and sank down into her arms again, my skin rubbing against her silken dress. I kissed her again, letting my tongue dart out to taste her lips before I left her lips to kiss her on her neck. I nipped at the swell of her neck, my wet lips caressing her warm skin. She moaned deep in her throat, her rumble of pleasure reverberating into the skin of my lips. I worked lower, licking and kissing the hollow of her neck between where her shoulder blades met. I followed the curve of her shoulder, and then returned to my original path. Her fingers tightened on my nipple, and she sighed blissfully when I kissed her on her upper torso. I stopped there -- I had to, her dress was still on. She cupped my breast and lifted her head up to kiss me on my neck. I pulled away from her, urging her body up with mine. I reached my arms around her and found a zipper, pulling it down with a zrrrrrp! sound. She swayed her body from side to side, letting the dress slip down around her waist. She also wasn't wearing a bra, and I touched her stiff nipples longingly. I lifted my body up from hers so she could push her waist up, allowing her to push her dress down past her hips and kick it off uninhibited.The dress flew across the room as I dove down, kissing her with an eagerness and passion driven by the slow buildup of the past few hours. I fondled her breasts gently, feeling the soft curve of her full breasts, reveling in the way the curves sloped out quickly and met at the puckered nipples. I dropped my head down to her chest and put my mouth on her hard nub, running my tongue around the circumference of the stiff tip. My fingers teased her stomach gently, working their way slowly to her pussy. She groaned again and put her hands on my head, pressing me harder to her areola. I clamped my teeth down on her nipple, suckling it greedily. "Oh, Janet... Touch my pussy..." she breathed, her voice laced with desire. I did as she bade me, running my fingers down her fleshy, bare mons. I nibbled at her breast one last time before leaving it to travel west, kissing and nibbling along her chest. I let my lips wander down her belly, licking her teasingly. She moaned as I let my wet tongue probe inside her belly button and travel still lower. I opened my mouth wide and devoured her mons, letting my tongue flick back and forth. Her moans were louder now, and she thrust her groin up at me, her body begging me to continue. I rubbed her clit softly, letting the slow fire I knew was burning inside her build as I licked and sucked at her mound, getting closer and closer to her clit. She writhed in pleasure beneath my tongue, her moans loud and insistent. I licked at my fiancée's hot clit, the dizzying aroma of her pussy making my own damp. I let the tip of my tongue tease her clit, flicking it back and forth, when suddenly I let my tongue go off of the end of her button into her lubricated slit. I moaned softly when I tasted her sweet nectar. I made the tip of my tongue rigid, and slipped it into her slit. I worked my tongue up and down, slowly massaging her. When I'd reach her pussy hole, I'd start to force the tip inside. Moon would moan and grip my head tighter, and I'd relax my tongue and leave her hole, continuing to massage her slit. "Oh, God..." She wailed when I let my teeth cover her clit. I rubbed her clit between my teeth and ran my tongue along the tip. I made my lips form an O around her clit and sucked softly, with a rhythm that matched the bucking of her hips. With each thrust she made, I'd intensify the suction that my lips made, until finally, she shuddered and shouted my name out. Her legs went up into the air as she lifted her body up off of the bed, sitting almost straight up. Her head was tilted back and her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she went into convulsion after convulsion. "Oh, Janet, oh God, oh, ohhhhh.." Her cries grew weaker and her body lowered to the sheets, inch by inch, until she finally collapsed, her mouth still open and her eyes closed. I licked her cum from my lips, savoring the sweet taste. I lifted my face off her, and moved up on top of her, straddling her again. I could hear her breathing hard through her mouth. She gave one last groan before she rolled her head to look at me. There was a satiated smile on her lips, and she lifted her arms to pull my body down for a kiss. Her tongue flicked out on my lips, tasting her cum. The kiss only served to make the warmth that was spread through my belly heat up drastically, and I moaned into her mouth, thrust my pelvis against her body. I wanted her to know how much she turned me on. She drew away from me, and ran her fingers through my hair. She kissed me on my cheek and whispered into my ear, "I love you, Janet." I smiled. "I love you too." She nibbled and sucked at my ear and released her fingers from my hair, letting her hands drop down to my thighs. "I've got a surprise for you, Janet..." she said in a seductive voice. "I got it at the strip club outside town." My excitement mounted, and I ground my pussy against her once more. "I'm intrigued." She giggled. "Open the bedside table middle drawer.. no, the other side... Yeah. It's in the shoebox." I rummaged through the drawer for a few seconds, frowning when I didn't find what I wanted. Suddenly, my hand hit cardboard, and I lifted the lid off the shoebox. Inside was a pair of... black rubber panties? I lifted the panties, and a dildo fell out. I moved my hand to catch it, but it hung suspended in the air. My eyes narrowed in puzzlement until I realized that it was a strap-on dildo, attached to the panties. My jaw dropped, and I widened my eyes in realization. "Oh! Moon!" She gave me an evil smile and reached up to tweak my nipple. "It's a trip, isn't it?" I nodded. "Hell... this has been a fantasy of mine for so long. How did you know?" She shrugged. "I figured you'd be interested in exploring that particular avenue. Besides, I wonder myself what it's like to have a beautiful girl riding your 8 inch cock." I erupted into helpless laughter, and couldn't stop. I said, giggling between words, "Ok, hang on, I'll put it on." I started to get up off of her when she stopped me, pulling me down close to her. She kissed me hard, and said, "No, I'll put it on. You deserve an orgasm after what you just did to me." I leaned down again to brush my lips against hers. Her tongue licked my lips, and I relaxed my body against hers, savoring her sweet taste. She wrapped her arms around me and held me close as she kissed me. Her hand moved up to rub my nipple. My flesh hardened against her palm, and I groaned, arching my body against her. She broke the kiss, urging me to move up, and I did. When my breast was in range, she covered it with her mouth, her tongue soft and relaxed against my stiff nub. She swirled her tongue around my entire areola and I felt the heat at my groin intensify suddenly. I gasped and pushed my pussy against her mound, my clit undulating against her firm body. Her mouth was gentle and soft, slowly drawing me into the warmth of advanced arousal. My mouth was open and my breathing hard, and I uttered a slow moan as I felt her hand travel down my stomach and mound, and her fingers find my clit and rub it with excruciating slowness. She drew her hand away from me when I uttered lustful sounds, and her lips left mine. She sat up and took the rubber panties and dildo that were still clutched tightly in my hand from me. I rolled off of her so she could put them on. She slipped them over her feet, and pulled them up to her hips, wriggling and squirming to have them on all the way. Finally, they were on, and I couldn't help but laugh when I saw them. A hard plastic cock protruded proudly from her sex. It was nearly nine inches long and two inches thick. Rivulets and veins ran along it, meeting at a mushroom head at the tip. I rolled over again to kneel between her legs, and reached out to touch it. The dildo felt smooth and cool under my fingers, and I shivered to myself when I thought of how it'd feel plunged into my depths, being driven in and out by Moon. Smiling teasingly at her, I licked my lips and leaned over, kissing the dildo, and slipped its mushroom tip in my mouth. She put her hands on my head, her fingers weaving in my hair, as I slid half of the dildo's length in my mouth, bobbing my mouth up and down on it. I traveled up to the head, running my tongue around the tip quickly before letting it fall out of my mouth. Scooting up to put my breast in her mouth again, I felt her put her hands on my ass as she accepted my nipple. She made her mouth into a tight O ring and sucked my nipple with an unerring rhythm, and then she moved her hand down to my pussy. Her fingertip brushed against my clit, and a shiver of electricity passed through my body when she pressed against it and moved her finger from side to side, massaging it. She let her finger travel to my slit, and a slow sigh of bliss escaped my mouth when she swirled her finger in my wet juices. I gripped her nipple between the fingers of one hand and squeezed the dildo in the other. She slid her fingertip into my pussy and nibbled my nipple harder at the same time, and I moaned her name. I felt as though I were on fire, and I twisted against her, trying to get her to finger me harder. Without warning, she took her mouth off my breast and removed her finger from my twitching hole. She held my hips with her steady hands, pushing me up slightly. I understood what she wanted, and straddled her, the dildo pressed between our bodies. I pulled apart my pussy lips and spread them across the dildo, groaning at the pressure that it gave my bare sex. She gripped my ass tightly as I slid back and forth on the dildo. She caressed me, squeezing my breasts and running her palm over my mons, before she reached under me and tugged at the dildo. I lifted my body up and she held the dildo up at full mast, positioning it at the entrance of my love tunnel. I gasped, leaning over to take Moon's nipple in my mouth. The hardness of the nipple only inflamed my desire as she slid the dildo inside me. I pushed myself down on it, eager to take all of it into me. She rocked her hips upward, the dildo working in and out of my pussy with every thrust. I groaned, the sensations of the dildo pushing against my bones and stretching my skin working together to push the pleasure, which had been building for the last hour, closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. She moved her hand up from the base of the dildo to my clit and played with the hard nub of need. She massaged me, moving her finger from the edge of my clit at my snatch's entrance to the edge of my clit at the bottom of my mons. Her fingers worked back and forth as she drove her piston inside me, until finally she bottomed out inside me. I sat there for a few minutes, my pussy clutching at the hard mass inside of me. I tilted my head back as I started to ride her with a slow rhythm, accumulating speed with every harmonized thrust we made.Her mouth was open, and she was breathing hard, turned on by my gyrations. Shock waves of pleasure coursed through me as her digit worked harder at my clit and the dildo pushed into me deeper. "Oh my god, Moon..." I cried, squeezing my eyes shut as my orgasm thundered closer and closer to me. She fucked me harder, slamming her hips against me, and squeezed my ass cheeks as she moved me back and forth on her. Suddenly, the world exploded in pleasure, and I screamed as my orgasm overtook me. My body stiffened, and I arched my back, gasping her name. I was so absorbed in pleasure that I couldn't rock back and forth on the dildo, so she did it for me, synchronizing the thrust of her dildo into my pussy with the thrust of her finger against my clit, flying me to higher plateaus of sweet orgasm. Finally, my trembles and shudders ceased, and I felt the fire drain out of my body in the same manner that the juices from my orgasm were trickling out of my body. I gave a moan of post-orgasmic pleasure, soft and long, and collapsed into her arms. Her hard breathing tickled my ear, and I turned my head to kiss her on the cheek. Her face was beaded with sweat, and I realized that our bodies were slippery with the moisture from the heat of our lovemaking. I listened to my heart pound in my ears as she wrapped her arms around me and whispered into my ear that she loved me, and we fell asleep that way, our bodies one. Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke, my body still mounted on top of hers and the dildo still embedded deep inside of me. I sat up on her and withdrew the dildo from my pussy, shivering slightly at the sensations that it made as it rubbed against my walls on the way out. She stirred and opened her eyes sleepily, stretching against the blankets. I admired her smooth body in the dying candlelight -- only a few of the candles were still alight, most of them burnt out as their wax had been melted away. "What you wake up for?" she murmured, tugging at my forearms. I leaned down, and she kissed me, her hands running down my body, pausing to squeeze my flesh in a few select areas. Her lips were warm in contrast to the cool breeze that wafted in from the window and washed over our bodies. It was silent, the only sound being the soft chirping of crickets in the night. "My fiancée," I whispered to Moon, kissing her again. She smiled and turned on her side to face me, stretching her arms and legs. She took my hands in hers and held them close to her, pressing them against her chest. She bent down to kiss my forearms. "How are we going to do this?" she whispered, her eyes wide. "I don't know. I've never been to a lesbian wedding," I replied, frowning. "I'm not sure how we'd arrange it." "I have," she whispered back. "My aunt, when she remarried. They did it like husband-and-wife style, with my aunt dressed in a tux and my aunt's wife dressed in a gown." I laughed. "So who's wearing the tux?" "I want to wear a wedding dress," she replied, looking deep into my eyes, almost asking my permission to wear a gown. "You can wear a dress, hon, that's no problem. I'd like to wear one too, though." She lifted her head up, a broad grin taking over her face. "We can both wear one." "Okay." We lay in silence for a few minutes, looking at each other. I released her hands and reached up to cradle her face, stretching my neck to kiss her. "Janet?" "Yeah?" "You don't think we're too young?" I didn't answer for a second, then I opened my mouth to speak. "I don't think so. We're 17, but we're graduating next week, and we'll be living together on our own, so..." She frowned, her big brown eyes searching mine. "I'm kind of scared. It won't be legal, and your mom will refuse to go." I sighed and drew her close to me, holding her to my chest. "It'll be all right. I love you. Everything will work out fine." She snuggled closer to me, letting me comfort her. A thought occurred to me. "Moon?" "Yeah, sweetie?" "Were Iris and your aunt like... officially married?" "Not legally. I guess they considered themselves married in spirit. They were together for 11 years." I frowned, doing the math. "Your mom and dad have been divorced for 13 years." She nodded in response. "And your mom and aunt have been separated for...?" "Two years." "Oh. So your mom was with her before she left your dad." "For a year." I started to giggle, and said between titters, "I can just imagine Iris saying, 'Hey honey, I'm divorcing you, would you like to meet my new fiancée?' and your dad saying, 'That dirty bastard! I'll...'" Her face grew dark as she followed a distant thread of thought to the edges of her mind. "My dad fired a shotgun at my mom when she divorced him." I winced. "Oh. He wasn't happy." "He was drunk." She had a gloomy look in her eyes for a second, and then shook it off with a chuckle. "He's always drunk." I laughed with her uneasily and squeezed her arm, offering my reassurance. "I don't really believe in divorce, so if I was your dad, I would have been like, 'I'll let you go on _one_ condition... Ménage à trois!' You know, might as well get as much out of it as you can!" I joked, nuzzling her nose. She grinned at me broadly. "There's an idea." "What?" "Threesome." I frowned, the corner of my mouth betraying my mask of indifference as it trembled upward into the beginnings of a laugh. "You want to have a threesome? Why? Men are disgusting," I joked. She blushed and darted her eyes away from mine. "Never mind." I rolled the idea around in my mind, tasting it and feeling it in my brain. "Maybe. I heard that they can fuck up relationships." "Just forget it," she whispered to me, pulling a tendril of hair toward her face. I followed, and her lips greeted me in a giving kiss. I forgot about it as she moved her kiss to the edge of my mouth, letting the gentle moistness of her full lips caress me where my mouth met my face. Her breathing was soft and steady, and the slow rhythm calmed me. I caressed her slowly, letting my hand run over the slopes and hills of her body. She shivered slightly in my arms, and I reached down past my ankles to pull a thick quilt that was folded at the foot of the bed over us. Underneath the blanket, I pulled at the band of the rubber panties that rested on Moon's waist, and she helped me pull off the strap-on dildo. Her skin was hot and sweaty where the panties had been, and I ran my hand along it, feeling the abnormal smoothness of her skin. I laughed softly in her ear and nibbled the lobe. She sighed and stretched her body along mine, kissing me along my jawbone. I could hear the soft swelling rhythm of her breathing, and I rolled off of her to put my head on her chest just above the swell of her breast. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, and if I listened hard, I could faintly hear her heart beating. My eyes fell closed as the steady beat of her heart faded into my subconscious, and we slept holding each other until the next morning.

Part VI

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10360.txt

Lostgirl

Ghostlight

"Meg! It isn't working! You need to fix it!" The costume mistress walked over to the 19-year-old actress as she tugged at her bodice. The seams were about ready to give and still weren't providing any support. "She's an awfully buxom girl to be playing Kate in 'Taming of the Shrew,'" Meg thought. If Meg had known that's what the director was looking for, she would have auditioned herself. "I can't have my dress fall apart on stage, you have to have it done by tomorrow!" the girl demanded. "We still have a week until we open, I'll get it done when I get it done." Meg's voice was a little sharp, and the director's head popped into the women's dressing room. "Is everything okay in here? Meg, when can we expect that dress done?" "I'll work on it tonight," Meg answered in a resigned tone. "If I leave now, the fabric store might still be open. I need to buy more boning to reinforce the bodice." "I don't want this to be uncomfortable, can you make it so it's more comfortable?" The costumer glanced at the director, holding the biting retort at her lips. "Meg would turn into the shrew in this show if she wasn't careful. Actors!" "I'll do what I can, Amber." When Meg returned from the store, the actors were gone and music filled the theatre as the technical crew took over. The lighting crew was behind because the original lighting designer, who the director discovered was incompetent, quit the show and Jason was called in to start from scratch. Community theatre can be that way. Jason was on the board of directors and had been with the theatre since high school. He was a classic techie-- quiet, lanky, rumpled. And Meg wanted him. She was always turned on by competent, unassuming men. The costume mistress looked around and found the lighting designer of her fantasies perched on a tall ladder, focusing an instrument. Meg shouted to the ceiling, "Hey Jason, how late do you think you'll be tonight?" "I don't know, midnight.. one.. I'd like to get as much done as I can tonight. How about you?" "Well, if you're going to be here... I'll stay as late as I can. I don't want to be here alone." "Aw.. I'll leave the light on for you... They don't call it a ghostlight for nothing!" Jason proceeded to make scary noises, "Buwahahahaha!" "Oo, I'm so scared! Protect me Jason! I'm sooo helpless!" "You're helpless? Yearite, Meg! You're gonna give me a boner talking like that!" "Bite me, Jason," Oh please, let me give him a boner, I know just what I'd do with it, thought Meg. Just hearing Jason use the word 'boner' in front of her got Meg's pussy clenching. At the same time, though, her heart was sinking. Jason was just fooling around, and Meg didn't have a clue how to make her feelings known. She climbed up to the dressing room and took Kate's gown off the rack. Meg had bought some heavy duty elastic as well as plastic boning to reinforce the bodice. The woman sighed, realizing she'd be best off taking it apart and starting from scratch. Why the director insisted that Kate/Amber go braless was beyond her. Also, if she could convince Amber that she was a DD, not a C cup... Meg was the same size as this girl, she knew what she was talking about. Hmmm... Meg was the same size as the young actress... Meg could fit the bodice to herself, which would save a lot of time... She let out a sigh of relief, the world wasn't out to get her after all. The costume mistress got to work. It was about 12:30 that night when Meg finished the bodice. She hadn't yet sewn it to the skirt, Meg wanted to make sure it fit first. She looked outside the dressing room and all was dark, except for the ghostlight. Meg felt another stab of disappointment, Jason had left. The purpose of the ghostlight, usually a bare bulb on a tall stand, was to illuminate the stage so that the last one to leave or first one to enter does not step off the stage and into the orchestra pit. He did say he would leave the ghostlight on for her. Oh well, she thought, I'll manage. Meg considered whether she wanted to continue working or go home. Jason would have locked up, she was safe there... Meg pulled her sweatshirt over her head and unhooked her bra. There was no need to take off her jeans, since she was only fitting the top. As she walked over to the makeup counter to pick up the garment, the door opened. "Oh god, I'm sorry Meg! I should have knocked, I was just .. uh .." Meg for a moment was just so thrilled that Jason hadn't left, that she merely turned and hugged his lanky frame, not even bothering to cover herself with the stiff fabric in her hand. "You didn't leave me here alone! Oh!.. um.. I thought you weren't here, I'm just fitting this... I saw just the ghostlight, so I thought..." Meg realized what she had done and pulled away from Jason, trying to cover herself. She felt the heat rise in her face as she tried to turn away. But this was the dressing room, full of mirrors, Meg couldn't escape Jason's image. Jason tried to hide a smile. "I set up the ghostlight as soon as everyone left. I was in the lighting booth, did you really think I would just leave you here?" Meg felt herself melting at Jason's voice, "I guess not. I'm sorry." Jason looked puzzled, "Sorry? For what?" The tall man grinned, "If you're fitting that, aren't you supposed to put it on?" "Bite me, Jason," Meg snapped, "It's been a long day." "I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone." "No wait! Uh.. I'm going to need someone to lace me up... please?" "Sure, you want me to turn around or something?" "If you would." Meg would have loved to have been more bold and let Jason watch, but she was never the type to throw herself at a man. It's not that she didn't have exhibitionist fantasies, she was in theatre, for Pete's sake, but Meg wouldn't do that with a man of whom she wasn't absolutely certain. The young woman laughed, she'd probably get laid a lot more often if she did. Meg slid her arms into the sleeves and pulled the bodice up onto her shoulders, slipping a hand down the front to bring each breast up and out. She looked at herself in the mirror, the bodice looked ridiculous while it was unlaced. Her breasts were not going to stay up long with just the friction against the fabric to hold them up. "Okay Jason, you can turn around." "So what do I do?" "It's just like lacing a new pair of Converses, just start from the bottom." Meg watched Jason in the mirror as he began to thread the laces through the metal eyelets, a look of deep concentration on his face. Her lower back was very ticklish and she tried to take steady breaths to avoid involuntary shudders from Jason's touch. Meg's groin began to ache and she felt a liquid ooze between her legs. Jason tugged on the edge of the fabric, grazing callused knuckles across Meg's back, shudders cascaded up and down her back. "You okay?" Jason asked. "Ticklish," Meg was finding it difficult to breathe. "Am I making this too tight?" "No, it's supposed to be this way, you could probably go tighter." "I don't want you to pass out." "If I did, it would be historically accurate," Meg laughed. "You want me to do something?" Take me, right here, on the floor! Meg cried out in her head. "Rub my back, with the flat of your hand, to get the tickles out, please?" Jason stepped closer, Meg could feel the heat of the man's body, his breath on her exposed neck. "Maybe I don't want to get the tickles out, maybe I like them where they are," Jason smiled, but didn't look back at her in the mirror, but appeared to be looking at her shoulder. "It's up to you, I guess," replied Meg. Jason looked up and their eyes connected for a moment, and he looked down. "I'd better finish lacing this up for you... it's getting late." Fuck! I blew it, Meg thought. I don't know how, but I blew it. "Wait, let me do some adjusting before you strap me in all the way." Jason stood back and Meg slipped her hand into the front of the bodice, lifting her breasts and arranging them so that they were 'lifted and separated.' Jason got an amused look on his face. "Do all women adjust themselves like this?" "I don't know about all women, but I have to, or I'd look ... well ... lumpy. Okay, you can finish lacing me up." So finally, she was strapped in, just like the scene from 'Gone with the Wind.' Meg moved and jumped and twisted, making sure that nothing would pop loose when Petruchio tamed Kate. Jason watched. Meg felt the electricity again, knowing that Jason stayed and watched."Well, it looks like it works. That's a relief, do you think you can help me take it off?" Jason didn't answer, but very carefully untied the laces. Meg felt the heat again as he stood behind her. She wasn't sure if it was the running and jumping or Jason that made her breathe heavily, but her breasts were heaving over the tight bodice. Jason's hands stopped for a moment, and Meg watched him in the mirror as he looked down at her. The look was unmistakable, and Meg felt her nipples crinkle against the stiff boning. Jason's hand touched lightly at her waist as his head dipped down. The man behind Meg kissed her neck just below her ear, smelled her hair... and returned to unlacing the damned bodice! "Forget the bodice!" "No, it's late..." Meg wanted to cry. She wanted him so badly, and he was going to slip through her fingers. Meg let her head droop and her shoulders sag, indifferent to her nakedness as Jason lifted the bodice over her head. She picked up her sweatshirt as he put the historical garment on a hanger and replaced it on the rack with the other costumes. Meg began to pull the sweatshirt over her head. "What are you doing?" Jason asked. "You said it was late..." Meg replied. "It is late... Oh," Jason smiled. He tilted Meg's chin and looked into her dejected little face. "Do you know why I didn't let anything happen?" "Because you don't want me?" "Because I didn't want to destroy the bodice. Same reason that sex is forbidden in the lighting booth. You would have hated me in the morning. Forgive me?" Jason slipped a hand underneath Meg's sweatshirt, taking one full breast in his grasp. Meg wrapped her arms around Jason and kissed him deeply. "Bite me, Jason."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13483.txt

tikij@hotmail.com

My Life - In a Nutshell

"I had never seen a guy's dick before," started Mia. "Oh, this is good," said Devon. Jennifer gave him a dirty look. I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, Dev, or you're not going to get the rest. Anyway, I woke up around 6:00 AM because I was suddenly very cold. Our buddy Cal here had stolen the blanket, and there was a wind howling in through the window. The blinds were crashing around and everything, and this big lug is happily sleeping away, wrapped up in the entire comforter like a little baby." "Be nice," I said. "So I go over and close the window – there's rain coming in – and climb back into bed. I was still freezing, so I decided to steal the comforter back. After a couple of minutes of tugging and him going, 'cut it out,' I managed to steal the entire thing back from him. So now, he's the one shivering. Then I fell asleep again." "Blanket thief," I muttered. "Shut up. About an hour later, I wake up again. He's kicking me." "I still don't believe you." "Who's telling this story? I made him stop though." "How?"

Chapter 7

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11944.txt

Hawk

Carlson Series by Hawk -- Sandi, Daniel, and Dick's Story

"They're going to take more after their gorgeous, sensuous mother! The woman that I want to spend the rest of my life with!" "Oh Dick," she said with tears fighting to fall. "You're going to make me the happiest woman alive!" "I hope so," I said, pulling her down and kissing her lips while rolling her over onto her back. She smiled up at me as I started making love to her. She started rubbing her hands across my sides and chest, telling me, "You have nothing to hope for. You are just by loving me and telling me that you want me to be the mother of your children." "I do. I want to feel them growing inside you. They're going to be so lucky to have a mother as loving as you, Sandi!" "Be quiet, Dick," she said, pulling me down to her lips and wrapping her arms around my neck, kissing me. Taking my entire weight on her, the first time that I'd ever conceded to letting her pull me down. I didn't want to hurt her, but she held me tight with one hand on my ass and her other arm wrapped around my neck so I couldn't move, save to keep up my gentle thrusting and kisses. She held me tight like that to her until I had come inside of her, come with an intensity that neither of us had known that I was capable of, and we both reveled in the sensations of being with one another so intimately, so lovingly. After we had rested for a little while and she had curled up against me using one of my arms for a pillow, I said, "There's only one thing, Sandi...well, two." "What?" she said, and I could feel the little bit of disappointment in her voice. "One, that we never make love simply for the purpose of having kids. We make love, we don't worry about dates, times of the month, when your body's the hottest to trot, we just make love when it feels right!" "Well...I guess I can agree with that as long as you feel like making love every night." "Sandi, no one can make love every night and still keep up a good composure, I don't care who you are." "What's the second thing?" "That we don't tell anyone we're trying." "Oh Dick, that's not fair. I want everyone to know that you and I are trying to have a baby!" "Sandi, please you've got to agree with this." "Can I tell Daniel at least?" "Sandi, I don't know...." "If I do, she might try to let us have some private time alone together!" "Okay, if it means that, then you can tell her, on the strict agreement that she can't tell anyone else!" "Okay, I promise. I love you, Dick. I love you so much." She was exhausted, and looking at the clock set into the night table, which showed two in the morning, it wasn't surprising that she was tired. "Go to sleep, honey. I'll see you in the morning!" "Mmmm..." she moaned softly, shifting her position to get more comfortable but never moving away from me. "Good night, handsome." "G'night, gorgeous," I said, giving her a little squeeze. It wasn't too long before I heard the soft tempo of her breathing slow till I knew she was asleep."I haven't had a chance to tell him about you and me, actually. I haven't even talked to him since I got back. I'll tell him over the phone in my office first thing this morning." "New client, Sandi?" a man asked as we turned around a corner. "No, Bill, this is my husband Dick. Dick, this is Bill Taknar, he tears apart marriages!" "I'm a matrimonial lawyer," Bill chuckled, extending his hand to me, and I took it and shook it. "When the unlucky couple comes to me, their marriages are usually already falling apart. I'm a happily married man myself, with a wonderful wife and two adorable children, although they'd kill me if they knew I'd said it. "Teen-agers are so hard on their parents!" "Yes," I grumbled, and Sandi glanced at me to make sure I wouldn't do anything that I shouldn't. "They are, luckily I've been out of that for a few years now." "We all have, it's nothing like it used to be, is it?" "I suppose not." "Come on, Dick, you've got more people to meet yet!" "Well, I guess I'll see you later then," Bill said, grinning as he glanced at Sandi. "Maybe we can actually talk for a little. But it's nice to meet you!" "You too!" I managed to get out before Sandi tugged on my hand till I was trailing after her again. "Don't believe a word he says, he's had so many affairs you couldn't count them on both hands. Daniel brought him home one night, they met at the bar, and of course he hadn't said anything about being married to her. "But he was surprised as hell when he found out that I also lived in the apartment." "What did you do?" "Daniel fucked him and sent him on his way, she was desperate, so she didn't really care, all she wanted was a one-night stand." "...And you, did you?" "No! I admit I peeked, but that was it, I've never gone to bed with a married man, you've got to believe that. Let alone someone I had to work with every day. But," she said and squeezed my hand and finished by whispering "Now that I have you...I'm not going to bed with anyone else!" in my ear. "That doesn't include Daniel, does it?" "No!" she said, looking straight into my eyes as I sat down on the desk behind me (which groaned under my weight!). Then this guy comes walking down the aisle, and he looks at me, then turns to Sandi, and I can see his fantasy of undressing her so clearly I couldn't help glaring at him. True, I couldn't blame him, she was the sexiest looking woman on the planet, but when he put his hand around her and patted her ass, I stood up defensively. "So how about that drink, Sandi? We can go down to Eddie's around the corner for dinner, and then back to my place for a little...dessert!" he said, grinning. "Get your hands off of her!" I snarled, standing up, and his hand slowly but quietly departed her as he stepped back a little. "Dick, calm down! Mike Brown, this is my husband Dick Carlson, and I've told you a thousand times before that there was no way on Earth that I was going out with you!" He looked up at me, and the gulp of air he took was so visible it was almost funny. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize." "Just don't do it again, ever!" I told him and held out my hand to him. "It was nice to meet you." Cautiously, he took my hand, and I took pleasure in squeezing it a little more tightly than I had to, and took even more from seeing the wince of pain pass through his eyes. "I-I've got work to do, I'll see you later, Sandi!" "Mrs. Carlson," I corrected. "Y-e-s, I'll see you later, Mrs. Carlson!" "Little shit," I cussed when he got out of distance, "If he ever does that again, I want to know about it, and I'll have a little chat with him." "Dick, come here," she said and took my hand, pulling me into an office with her old name on the door. "Dick, please don't do that again. I can take care of myself, Mike has always been like that, asking me out, and I've always turned him down." "I'm sorry, but when a guy lays his hands all over you, it bugs me..." "I noticed, you've grown again. You're taller, and it looks like your jeans are getting too small for you again, so is that T-shirt!" "Sandi...I...." "It's ok, Dick, we'll go and do a little more shopping tonight after I'm finished here!" "I love you, Sandi!" "It's hard to believe that you used to be my sister's son. You're so big...and strong...and handsome...and all mine." "Forever and ever," I said, taking her in my arms. "Oh my, you're really filling out those clothes, aren't you? All those muscles under there rippling," she said, barely having room to slip her hands under my T-shirt and run them up my chest. "I better not do this," she said softly, pulling her hands out. "You're getting me excited again, honey." "Get as excited as you want, I'm not going anywhere." "We can't, not here, Dick!" "Why not?" "We're too messy!" she said, smiling, stretching to wrap her hands around the back of my neck. "Jesus, you're really getting too tall. I can't even kiss you anymore without standing on something." "Sure you can," I said, lifting her up by her ass so she could kiss my lips. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Besides, it's not standing up that I appreciate your kisses the most, is it?" "No," she whispered, wrapping her arms around my neck and nuzzling against it. "I only wish we were at home!" "Me too," I said softly, lowering her so she could sit on the corner of her desk with me standing between her legs. Just at that moment, someone chose to open the door. "Sandi?" "Yes..." she said before I backed away from her. He was in his late forties, starting to get some gray in his hair, and wrinkles around the eyes. His thoughts were of Sandi in a similar position with him, but on a better desk, I thought they were a fantasy for a second before I realized it wasn't - they were memories, happy ones. "Will, what are you doing down here?" "I heard your husband came in with you this morning, is this him?" he asked, looking at me. "Yes, it doesn't take long for gossip to get around, does it." "No, I'm afraid the grapevine around here is too damn efficient. I only wish people worked as good as they gossiped." "Dick Carlson, this is William Von Draken, he owns the firm," Sandi said with a laugh. "Will, this is my husband Dick!" "Well, it's nice to meet you. It's about time someone made her a proper woman. I'm glad she's found happiness with you, our best lawyer certainly deserves it." He smiled at her and extended his hand. I squeezed it, but not too hard - I didn't want Sandi getting into trouble because of my jealousy, legitimate as it was. "Sandi, is there anything pressing on your schedule right now, that you have to have done today?" he asked her. "No, not really, why?" "Well, you two are newlyweds, you shouldn't be hanging around here. You take the day off, and spend it together, tomorrow too. We'll see you on Monday next week. You two deserve some time together." "Will, I just took my vacation time, I can't afford to do that right now." "Go on, Sandi, let me worry about the paperwork! I'll see you Monday! It was nice to meet you, Dick." "Thank you, Mr. Draken!" "Just call me Will, I'll see you two kids later!" "Thanks, Will," Sandi said softly as he closed the door behind him. "Well, that settles it, you're coming with me, Mrs. Carlson," I said, wrapping my arms around her waist. "I can't just go, I've got responsibilities." "Come on, Sandi, we'll start looking for our new apartment, and we can get a jump on...each other!" "Well, since you put it that way," she said, grinning wickedly. "What do you want first, a boy or a girl?" "It doesn't matter, as long as I have you! Now, come on!" She gathered the few items that she had, and we walked back out through the building, back to the car, and went off to the shopping mall to buy some clothes. It didn't take very long to get a few new pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts, and a nice new piece of negligee for Sandi, which she couldn't wait to model for me. With all our purchases in the back seat of the car, we got some fast food and went over to a realtor's. We sat in the parking lot, feeding each other with the stuff we had bought, kissing often until we were finished. We told them what we wanted, and they went through the listing of the places that were available in the area that we needed. By three-thirty, we had picked the place out, it was big and would be perfect to raise a family in, even if Daniel stayed with us. Four o'clock, we went through the old apartment door, nearly exhausted, to a very irate Daniel. "Dick, where have you been?" "Why?" "We both work tonight, and Eric wants you there by four-thirty so Frank can start telling you what to do!" "Tonight?" Sandi asked, disappointed. "Yes! We've got to be going, Dick, right now, or we'll be late!" "I'm sorry, Sandi, I forgot!" I said, taking her hands in mine. "It's all right, I'll go too! Maybe if Eric will let me, I can even dance for you tonight." "Come on, we've got to be going. If you're coming, Sandi, let's go, the girls would like to see you again anyway." "I don't know if I want you to go," I said to Sandi. "Come on, silly, I've danced there for long enough to know how to do it safely." "All right, but only because I'm going to be there!" "That's the only reason I'm going to do it!" "Sandi!" Eric called, seeing her enter the bar. "You've come back to me!" "No such luck, Eric, I'm just going to watch my husband work. But if you wouldn't mind, I might get up on stage...for old times' sake." "You know our stage is always blessed with your presence, you're welcome to dance all night on it, but you remember, whatever you make goes to the pot!" "I know the policy, Eric!" "Daniel, the girls are waiting for you, you get to start tonight! FRANK, DICK'S HERE!" Sandi sat up on one of the bar stools next to Eric while Daniel ran back towards the dressing room. "Hi, Frankie," Sandi greeted him when Frank got within her sights. He smiled and kissed her cheek, saying it was nice to see her again. "Who are you going home with now?" "Sylvia!""Good for you! She's a good kid, but you make sure you treat her right, heh?" "You know me, I always treat the ladies right!" "Unless they're messing with Eric's gals," she said, grinning. "Things don't change around here much, Eric!" "It's as it should be! Nice 'n' stable, just like ya liked it, Sandi!" Eric said as some music started up. "You two better get to work, it's going to get mighty rowdy in here pretty quick!" Daniel came out a few seconds later and started prancing around the stage, occasionally glancing in my direction and stopping to sway her breasts in front of guys that gave her money, or she'd bend over so they could look at her ass. But whenever anyone got too carried away, Frank or I would nicely tell them to back off. The rest of the girls traipsed through, doing slightly varied acts, and it seemed the further down the line the girl was, the less cash there was for her. I broke up a couple of bouts and watched Billy Bob Harris come in with two of his buddies in tow. They sat down to watch the end of the show, ordering drinks. The show died down, and everybody settled into their seats and drank more. Then, after about half an hour, the girls came out wearing really slinky black outfits, with white bibs around their waists, and started serving drinks. I went to move towards where Nancy was sitting on a guy's lap, wiggling her hips. "It's all right, Dick," Frank said, grabbing my arm. "As long as she's doing the moving, it's all right. If he tries to feel her up, then that's when you go in!" "Why is she doing it?" "It's called lap dancing, where have you been? The girls get a hundred bucks for doing it, and they get to keep eighty percent and give the other twenty to Eric, same with the five hundred they get for taking them upstairs." "Upstairs?" "Eric's got beds set up...." "He pimps them!" "No, they can choose whether they take someone up or not, but it's good money for them, four hundred bucks, by sometimes only a few minutes' worth of work." "Screwing strangers...did...did Sandi ever...." "Not that I know of, but she was here for a few years before I was...." "What about Daniel?" "Yeah, but she only does it with guys that she thinks are special, like last night there was this guy...." "She came in last night?" "Yeah, it was kind of lucky too. Max called in sick, and Daniel took up her place." She'd only done it because I had thrown her out the night before, so Sandi and I could be alone. I wouldn't do it again, I promised myself. If that was what she was going to do to satisfy herself, by fucking strangers for money, I'd talk to Sandi, and we'd make sure she'd never need to do it again. "Damn it," Frank said, using me to push himself forward into the tables where Sydney was being groped by another customer. Frank got to him, but came back after Sydney said a few words to him. Behind him, Sydney and the guy went towards the back of the bar, holding hands. "She's taking him upstairs," Frank explained. "Right now?" "She's got half an hour before the next show starts. Why don't you take your break now, spend a few minutes with that beautiful wife of yours before things heat up again." "You don't mind?" "No, I can handle things myself, I have been for years!" "Thanks!" "Yeah, yeah, just remember when it's my turn!" "Hey gorgeous," a guy said, stealing the stool where I was going to sit. "You work here?" "Excuse me, that was my chair!" "Buzz off, buddy, can't you see I'm talking to a lady! So where were we..." he finished, turning back around to Sandi, who glanced up at me. "You were just leaving!" I told him as I moved closer. "What's your problem," he said, spinning around on his stool to face me. "You are," I seethed, picking him up by his shirt and raising him into the air with my hand. "Dick, put him down." "You know this jerk," the man asked as his foot made contact with my chest, and bounced off harmlessly. "This jerk is my husband, you creep!" "Eric, I'll be back in a minute. I've got some trash to throw out!" Eric nodded from behind the counter with a chuckle and turned back to rubbing out a mug. I gave Sandi a kiss while the guy was kicking my chest again. "I'll be back in a second, honey. Save my seat." "Ok," she said, smiling, trying to hide the worry in her eyes. He flung his arm out and missed me, hitting Sandi in the shoulder. "Ow! You little bastard!" "You okay?" I asked her, and she gave me a little nod, biting her bottom lip. "That's it, you're going to pay for that," I scowled at him and twisted his shirt tighter in my fist, constricting his chest some more. Then I carried him out through the crowd and pointed him so his back was down the alley, then I lowered him to his feet. "I'm going to be good about this. I should kill you for hitting my wife!" I told him, but the alcohol he reeked of dampened his ability to comprehend the words. "But I'm not. I am, however, going to give you a head start. I'm going to count to five, and you better run as fast and hard as you can, then I'm going to beat the shit out of you!" The words sank in that time, and there was even a little bit of fear crept into his eyes. Suffice it to say, he hit the ground running. I counted to five nice and slowly, giving him the chance to get halfway down the alley, before, after a second of running at my top speed, I body-checked him and brought him down to the ground. "Don't hurt me," he whined before he started crying, "I've got a wife and two kids! Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't hurt me, please!" "What a big baby," I mocked, punching his stomach once, lightly, and he still gripped it. "If I ever catch you coming on to a woman again, or if you ever hit a woman again, I will hurt you, and good." I got up off the ground and glared down at him. "Go home to your wife! Tell her how much you love her. I never want to see your deceitful mug around here again, ever! Now go!" He scurried off and disappeared around a corner after a few seconds, and I quickly went back to Eric's. Sandi was still sitting on the same stool, waiting for me, with the seat beside her empty. I sat down and kissed her. She smiled and then looked at me seriously. "You didn't hurt him too badly, did you?" "No, I just scared him mostly, but I did treat him the way he deserved." "Dick, you really don't have to protect me like that. I can take care of myself." "No one, Sandi, and I mean no one is going to get away with hitting you. Ever, not when I'm around, and I'm certainly going to do my damndest to make sure it never happens in the first place." "Calm down, Dick. I'm all right, you don't have to be so protective." "It's just that I love you so much, Sandi, and I don't want anyone to hurt you," I told her, kissing her lips. "You've got fifteen minutes, Dick, before the next show starts," Eric said, leaning in towards us. "If you's want to go up and use one of the rooms...." "No, it's all right." "Thanks, anyway, it's just that it wouldn't make it through it!" Sandi told him. He raised an eyebrow and looked at me and then went back to a customer at the other end of the bar. "You didn't have to tell him that." "Oh, he doesn't care. Loosen up, Dick, come on, let's go upstairs." "But...." "Just come with me," she said and took my hand and led me towards the same door Sydney had disappeared through earlier. There was moaning and groaning coming from two of the five rooms, and I couldn't help but wondering which of the women were entertaining. Sandi led me into one of the vacant rooms and closed the curtain that served as the door behind us. "Undress, honey!" "But...." "Since when have you ever complained about undressing in front of me?" "I'm not!" "Then go on," she said, moving over to a wall-mounted medicine cabinet and pulling out a little bottle. I had no idea what she was going to do. "Dick, come on, hurry up and get undressed. You don't have very long." I did as she wanted me to, and she smiled and whispered, "You have grown again, haven't you!" "Ok, lie down on the bed." "What are we going to do, Sandi?" "You are going to do nothing, and I'm going to give you a massage, maybe I can loosen those big muscles of yours up a little bit." "On my stomach or my back?" "Wait a second, lay this towel down," she said, picking up a fresh black towel from a neat stack on a table. "On your front!" I spread the towel down and laid on top of it. She quietly straddled my ass and started rubbing some sort of oil into my shoulders. I closed my eyes in contentment as she quickly picked up into a silent rhythm, slowly moving down my back, rubbing it carefully, then moving further down, and she started kneading the muscles in my ass, and then she went on to one of my legs. Then all of a sudden, there was a second pair of warm hands working lotion into my other leg. I blinked my eyes open in surprise and looked back and found Daniel smiling down at me. "Hello, good-looking," she whispered, and Sandi elbowed her. Sandi gave me a look, and I knew it was all right, so I put my head back on my hands and closed my eyes, and just enjoyed the massage they were both working into my sore muscles. "All right, time to roll over, big boy," Daniel said, smacking my ass just before a buzzer sounded somewhere in the room. "Damn it, always when it gets to the good stuff." "What's that?" as Daniel and Sandi both got up. "It's the five-minute warning," Sandi explained, "before the next show, which means your break's over, sweetie. Daniel, you go on downstairs, we'll follow you in a second." With a sigh, she left the room, and I rolled over, and Sandi slid over my body and kissed my lips, laying flat out on top of me. "When I get you home, I'm going to...make you feel so good!" "What about Daniel?" "What about her?" "When I sent her away yesterday, she came here and screwed someone up here!" "Well, it happens, Dick. She's a big girl, and not your responsibility!""I just don't like the idea of her up here screwing a complete stranger." "So what do you suggest?" "I don't want her doing that any more Sandi!" "So what do you want me to do, tell her she can't have sex? That just won't work Dick! She has needs!" "No, that's not what I mean!" "Then...." Just then the same buzzer let out two quick rings. "You've got to get dressed," she said quickly getting off of me. "That's last call! We're going to finish this later. I'll see you downstairs." The order of the girls coming out on stage looked like it had been reversed, so Sylvia who had gone last during the first show was going first now. Which meant that Daniel would be going on last. The crowd was even raunchier though, and Frank almost seemed glad that I was back, so he could keep his eyes more closely glued to Sylvia who was smiling back at him and acting like she was undressing only for him and not the two or three dozen men, plus the lesbians that had appeared when I had been upstairs. When her thoughts went back to what she was doing, she started taking in a fresh cash supply. (Including the lesbians!) The rest of the girls came through, and it seemed that the further the night progressed, the more guys we had to toss out. But when we tossed them out, I was told we were to take their wallets and take the cash out to teach them a lesson. It was also considered the fee to toss them out, and to pay for disturbing the bar's operation. All of the girls that danced were well received by most of the population, and they even seemed to let the lesbians feel them up a little, while the men were left to drool and pay money to get the dancers closer to them. Then Daniel came on, she looked incredibly hot in the new outfit that she was wearing. When she came out, I was right in the middle of the tables, when the whole room broke out in a huge roar, getting up on their feet and pushing their way to the front of the stage. If it wasn't for my newly-acquired height, I would have missed it completely. From what I could tell, Sandi had gotten up on the stage with Daniel. She whispered something to Daniel, and both pairs of their eyes searched me out, and when they came across me, they both broke out into smiles. They both looked so incredibly sexy standing next to each other, dancing to the music. "Get ready," Frank shouted over the crowd, standing right next to me. "Why?" I shouted back! "JUST BE READY! ALL HELL'S ABOUT TO BREAK LOOSE!" Frank moved towards the crowd that was waving money at my two women, and that's exactly the way I was seeing them. They were mine! They took the money from the crowd by handfuls, throwing it back towards the back of the stage before stripping a little more of each other's clothes off. That alone drove the crowd into a frenzy, screaming louder, over the music. "NOW!" Frank shouted at me and started dragging people back away from the crowd and out of the bar. I followed suit, taking as many as I could get my arms around (roughly three, if I was lucky four!). When I came in from my fourth trip, Sandi and Daniel drove them more, kissing each other for show, rubbing each other's breasts. I grabbed five and pulled them back out the door, pulling the door shut behind me to keep the ones that had been put out, out! Coming in again, the small crowd of twenty was so hyper, they were nearly jumping right up on stage. Only when I looked up at the stage did I realize what it was - they each had a hand buried in each other's panties, supposedly massaging each other. I grabbed more and hauled them out, but their edging the crowd on didn't help keep the ones that were out, out! When I grabbed another armful of screaming fanatics, Sandi had her head over Daniel's shoulder, looking down as she was easing Daniel's underwear over her ass so the crowd could see. It was terrible the way the crowd reacted. It seemed the more Frank and I hauled out, the more that had found their way back in somehow. "THAT'S ENOUGH OF THIS!" I shouted at Frank who was dragging two more out, "LET 'EM GO, JUST WATCH THE ONES AT THE STAGE!" Then I ran a little towards the stage and flipped over the people hanging over the edges of it, landing on my feet. Almost at the same time I landed, I tossed Sandi and Daniel's bare asses up so they were hanging over my shoulders like two sacks of potatoes and ran backstage, with the disappointed screams of the small remaining crowd. "The money," Sandi shouted over the cries for more. "STAY HERE, BOTH OF YOU!" I told them, setting them down on their feet in the hallway to the dressing room. I went back and scooped up as much money as I could see - it looked like there was at least a thousand dollars. "Now what the hell do you think you two were doing out there?" I demanded, returning to the spot I had left them only seconds before. "God, I love you Dick," Sandi said, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me, squishing the money between us. "Come here you," she said, reaching back for Daniel, and before I knew it, they were both hugging me tightly, buck-naked. I couldn't believe the mess the two of them had created, and all they could do was hug me! "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU TWO WERE DOING OUT THERE?" Eric demanded, moving and bearing down on all three of us. "Dick, get out there and help Frank close up! YOU'S KNOW BETTER THAN THAT, YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED THE LAST TIME YOU TWO TRIED THAT STUNT...." That was all I heard before I went back out front and helped Frank with the stragglers, pulling the door shut tight and locking it. "That's why I told you to be ready, when two women get up on that stage together, there's usually trouble, and when your wife's involved, you can count on it. She can turn a crowd on so much, she almost needs a warning sticker on her. "And the worst part of it, I don't think she fully realizes it! You married one hell of a woman, man," he said, patting my back. "I think we deserve a beer, what do you think?" "Would it make a difference?" "Probably not, but Eric's going to be a little while talking to all of the girls, and my plans are locked up with Sylvia, and I figure yours are backstage too." "Yeah," I replied softly, sitting at one of the stools as he stood behind the bar, pouring two mugs of draft. "I guess you're right. I take it Sandi and Daniel have done this before - the little that I saw of it, it looked like a pretty damned polished act." "I don't know, I think between the two of them it just comes naturally, not that I'm saying they're dykes or anything, just that they share a...mutual attraction." "Daniel says she's not like that, at least that's what she told me." "And from what you saw tonight, do you believe it?" "I don't know...I really don't know anymore!" "Well, you'll probably end up finding out pretty soon, considering how close those two are. I hope you don't mind what I'm going to say, but I dated Sandi for a tiny period back a ways, but it was about two years after her and Daniel got together the first time. I've got to admit, I couldn't stand being around Sandi, not because of her personality or anything, but just because Daniel was always around, it felt so creepy. "Whenever Sandi and I went out, Daniel was right there along with us - we went to the movies, and they both wanted to make out. I told Sandi that I wanted to go out just her and me, but she wouldn't hear of it. We went to bed once, but I couldn't take it after that. They were both too damned demanding, no offense but it's like every man's dream to sleep with two women, right? "Well, take it from me, it shouldn't be, not with those two anyway. One needy woman is bad enough, two can drive you crazy!" For some reason, even knowing that he had made love to my wife, it didn't bother me. He had had both of my women, and it didn't bother me. For some reason, I just thought of it as the time they needed to blossom for me, to develop into the people that they were. "Sylvia, come here baby," Frank said, looking back towards a door, as Sylvia's small form came through the door. "Come give me some of that sweet sugar of yours." She leaned over the bar and kissed him. "So sweet!" "Well, we'll see you later Dick," Frank said, moving down the bar so he could come through the small swinging door. "Tell Eric to put Sylvia and my share up - we'll collect it tomorrow." "Good night Dick," Sylvia said, smiling before she wrapped her arm around Frank's waist and walked out the door with him. I moved from my stool and started straightening up some of the overturned tables. "Give me a hand here, will ya Dick," Eric said, coming out from the door, carrying a metal box and setting it down on a table. I went over to him and sat down beside him. "Help me count this." He opened the metal box, and it was stacked with money, all the money that had been taken in by the girls. "Frank and Sylvia told me to tell you to put up their share, they'd be in to collect it tomorrow." "Fine, you didn't happen to notice if she did any snatch-dancing, or take anyone upstairs, did you?" "No, but I don't think she did!" "That makes it easier then," he said, counting through the twenties. When we had finished counting it, he took out a data-pad from the bottom of the metal box and calculated his share, taking his twenty percent, right across the board. Then the girls came out and started telling what they had done. Lydia had done four "snatch-dances" and Eric recorded it on the data-pad. Dorothy had done three. Nancy had done two and taken two guys upstairs, but Sydney beat them all - she had done five "snatch-dances" and taken four of those upstairs to "put them out of their misery," she said, grinning. Daniel and Sandi came out together, smiling but silent, and took up places behind me as they watched the money get paid over to the girls that had done "specialties".Then Eric divided the pile up into nine even shares, gave one out to each of us, and wrapped the other two stacks in elastics and put Sylvia and Frank's names on them. We all got close to five hundred dollars, and the rest of the girls didn't complain about Sandi getting a share, probably because of the amount that she and Daniel had hauled in together. Sandi and Daniel both gave me their shares to put in my pockets, they figured it would be safer there, why I don't know, only I do know that they both insisted that they each put their own money in my front pockets. "Did you three want to come back to my place," Nancy asked. "We'll get some beer, and have a party." "I remember what Daniel told me about the last one you guys had, poor Frankie," Sandi said, before the lot of them broke out in laughter. "It was nice seeing you again Sandi," Lydia said softly, waving as we parted. "Don't be such a stranger from now on, or we'll have to hold your hubby hostage, until you come for him!" "You ain't touching my hubby," Sandi said laughing, wrapping her arm around me. "He's all mine!" I leaned down and we kissed, as if to prove it. But Daniel on my other arm didn't strengthen it very much. "Uh-Huh," Dorothy said giggling. "I'll bet!" Then the four of them went off in the other direction and Sandi and Daniel pulled me in the other. "So what do you two want to do?" I asked as they both hugged me tighter. "I don't know, how about you Daniel?" "I wouldn't mind finishing giving a big strong handsome man a massage." "Isn't there something you wanted to tell her Sandi?" "What, about the way you felt about her making love to strangers? I already told her that, and that you want her to make love with us." "I didn't say any such thing!" "But you meant it, about what then?" "Well, she hasn't heard about all the decisions we've made today yet, has she?" "No, I guess she hasn't!" Sandi said looking past my chest and at Daniel. "What decisions...have you grown taller Dick?" "What? Oh, yeah, a little." "What decisions," Daniel asked again, looking at me, as if she was judging my new height. "Well...do you want to tell her Dick?" "No, it's all right you can!" "Well first of all, we want you out at the end of the week!" "WHAT?" "We want you out at the end of the week! We're all moving!" "Jesus, what are you trying to do Sandi, give me gray hairs? Why are we moving?" "Well, we need a bigger place!" "I think it's just cozy now, with Dick there with us." "Well, there's going to be more people moving in with us." "What? Who?" Daniel said stopping and staring at Sandi who came out from my side to stare her down. Sandi was so excited she was almost bubbling over. "I'm going to have some babies!" "What? You're pregnant?" "No...not yet, but Dick and I are going to start trying." "You're kidding? She's kidding right Dick?" "No, she's perfectly serious!" "You're that certain about your marriage?" "Yes," Sandi said softly. "Am I going to be staying with you, after the baby is born?" "Yes, if you want to, since you're going to be the godmother, that is if you want to?" "I do, I do! But...." "But what?" Sandi asked her. "But, I want to have a baby too!" she blurted after she got the first word out. "I've wanted to have a baby for a long time." "WHAT?" I cried. "You want to carry a child for him?" "You two can't be serious!" I said as Daniel looked me up and down as if inspecting me. "Yes. He'll do!" "Would you be willing to get into a marriage with both of us?" Daniel looked me up and down again, and smiled at me and not looking away from my eyes she said "Yes!" I couldn't believe it, I couldn't believe the two of them were deciding my life for me, right in front of my face. "Sandi you can't be serious about this!" "I'll have someone at my office draw up the papers for me, I've got a few favours I can call in. Then Monday we'll all sign them, and you can stop taking your birth control pills too." "Sandi, Daniel, come on you two stop playing games!" "Who's playing?" Sandi said hugging my arm. "There's only one thing though Daniel." "What?" "It means you're going to have to be willing to make love to me as well as Dick." Daniel studied Sandi seriously for a second, for the first time since I had met her, her jocular nature was overtaken by a look that almost seemed like she was unsure. "We've got to be able to consummate our side of the marriage Daniel!" "Sandi, I-I--" "What's the matter Daniel?" I asked her softly and she looked up into my eyes for a second and then down at our feet. I couldn't believe I was actually seriously considering what Sandi was proposing. A three-way marriage, and both of them wanted to have babies! My babies! "I-I--don't know how. I've never been with a woman like that before, frankly it's always sort of scared me, I thought it would make me a freak or something. I didn't want to become a lesbian!" "First of all, you wouldn't be," Sandi said lifting Daniel's chin up. "See this?" she asked pointing Daniel's head so she was looking at me. "Yes, I see him." "That's right Daniel, him, you wouldn't be a lesbian because he'd be in bed with us. Our husband! Doesn't that sound good, our husband!" "Yes," she replied with a sob. It was unbelievable, I was getting deeper and deeper into this as every second passed by. "It does! It does!" "It will mean we're not roommates any more, we'd be a family!" "I know!" "Do you still want to? If you're worried about making love to me, I'll get you through it. I promise, it won't be that much different from that dance we did tonight!" Daniel laughed and I wrapped my arms around both of them and started walking again. "Yes I do!" "Good, we've got a lot to tell you about Dick's parents on our walk home." As much as I didn't like it I had to listen to the story of my parents becoming animals, and Sandi being pulled in by them, and then being used. Then the story of my birth, and finally the story of what happened before Sandi and I got married, even the part afterwards about the police station which Sandi seemed to like the most. By the time we got home it had to be around three in the morning and the exhaustion that we all had been fighting found its way out. Sandi wanted me to make love to both of them but we were all too much out of it, and when we sank to the bed, we were out almost before our heads hit the pillows. They were both so tightly wrapped around me I could hardly move, but it was a nice warm comfortable sleep. In the morning I woke up in an empty bed, but I could hear their soft whispered voices out in the kitchen, so I knew everything was all right. I laid there and waited for them to decide what was going to happen next. It didn't take long either, after about five minutes, they were both standing at the bedroom door, naked. "We've eaten," Sandi whispered as if I had just woken up, "now it's your turn. Are you hungry?" "Ravished," I replied starting the taps flowing. Then hand in hand they came to me, like Dracula's wives coming to their master to let him drink from their necks, only I got better pieces of their anatomies. It was as if they had both already agreed on a plan of action. While Sandi offered me her left breast, Daniel stroked my chest, ran her fingers through my hair, and threw the covers off the bed gasping at the sight of me. "That is what we get to share?" she asked looking up at Sandi in awe just as I was finishing with her breast. "Yes, isn't he gorgeous?" "Can you...." "Your turn," Sandi said moving back away from me just a little to prevent me from taking her other nipple in my mouth. She kissed one of my testicles and the response was nearly immediate - I stiffened up. "He wasn't even hard? Are you sure he'll even fit inside us?" "Trust me," Sandi said guiding Daniel up, and she offered me her left nipple and greedily I took it. She tasted just as good and sweet as Sandi did. At that point I knew it was true, they were both for me. "It might hurt a little at first, and you might bleed, I do, every time, but you won't know it, unless you look at it." "That can't be good!" "It is, trust me, it's so good and his love heals!" "Heals?" "HEALS," Sandi confirmed replacing Daniel's emptied breast with her filled right one. I finished with Sandi's last beautiful breast and Daniel gave me hers and started laughing as I ran my fingers down her side so they were resting just above her hip. She was ticklish and I took advantage of it while Sandi snuggled up against my other side kissing my shoulder wrapping her leg around my closest one and pulled my legs apart. Her hand slid down over my chest and cupped my testicles while I kissed Daniel's lips a second later Sandi pulled me back so I was on my back again. "We never got the chance to ask you." "Ask me what," I asked looking at Sandi. "If you liked the show last night?" "Well, I didn't get to see very much of it, but what I saw I have to admit I didn't mind." "That's all," Daniel spat, turning my head so I was looking at her. "You didn't mind, what kind of an answer is that? Didn't you like it? How did it make you feel seeing us up on stage together? What did you really think?" "Well, I didn't like the part of my women up on stage like that...." "Your women?" Daniel asked surprised. "I kind of like how that sounds, belonging to someone. How 'bout you Sandi?" "I love how it sounds," Sandi replied before gently kissing my lips. "I've already chosen who I belong to!" "Me too," Daniel said softly taking her turn kissing my lips. Then she took Sandi's chin in her hand and turned her so she could kiss her lips. It was a full kiss, a delicious tongue kiss between them, over top of me! "Dick," Sandi said a little breathlessly, "will you go out and sit out on the couch and wait for us?" "Why?" "Please honey, I promise you'll enjoy my surprise for you!" "Ok, but don't take too long, come on Daniel." "No...""You can't take her with you, she's part of the surprise!" "I am?" "Yes, you are!" Sandi said, giving Daniel a look that I took to mean that Sandi did have something planned. "Okay," I said and scuttled off the bed, closing the bedroom door behind me. I sat on the couch and didn't have to wait long. They both came out dressed in clothes; Sandi was dressed in jeans and a really frilly blouse. Daniel was wearing a black pair of stockings, a long skirt that went nearly down to her knees, and a vest with nothing obvious underneath, save deliciously ripe creamy white flesh. "We're going to give you a private little show, so you don't have to share us with anyone, so you can watch all of it and won't have to be distracted by anything," Sandi said while Daniel turned some music on. Then they met together, laughing with a kiss, and turned to me. Sandi turned and swayed her beautiful ass in my face, but when I tried to reach out, she pulled away and let Daniel take up a place right in front of me. Without hesitation and looking straight at me, she hiked up her skirt, showing me a garter belt connected to the stockings and nothing else, but a nice dark thatch of pubic hair. I wondered what it would feel like brushing against me; it would certainly be different than Sandi's beautiful shaved pussy. I reached out for her, and she let me put my hand on the inside of her thigh, and she let out a small moan as I started sliding my hand further up. Just as the back of my pinky finger came nearly close enough to brush her, Sandi pulled her back and shook her finger at me, laughing some more. They came together again and started rubbing each other's hips and breasts through their clothes, kissing the whole while and occasionally giving me a grin. They looked and acted differently together; it wasn't so much just for show anymore, or even to please me, but to please each other. Sandi carefully unbuttoned Daniel's vest in silence, then with a small kiss, Sandi started rubbing Daniel's bare breasts. No matter how much Daniel denied it, the pleasure in her face when Sandi took one of her nipples in her mouth was so irrefutable; she loved Sandi's touch as much as I did. Sandi straightened up, and Daniel started undoing Sandi's buttons, looking hesitantly into her eyes. Sandi grinned at her and just let Daniel continue. Daniel tried to follow Sandi's strong lead, leaning down to kiss Sandi's breasts and run her tongue over Sandi's nipples, but she wasn't quite confident enough. Sandi hugged Daniel closely, while kissing her lips, lifting the back of Daniel's skirt up and showing me Daniel's nicely curved ass. With a huge grin at me, Sandi knelt down on the floor in front of Daniel and raised the skirt up over her head and disappeared in the folds. Daniel started moaning softly and putting her hands on top of the skirt, presumably where Sandi's head was between her legs. Their dance had turned into more than dancing, at least on Sandi's part, and I couldn't stand just to sit idly by and watch them. Daniel smiled as I approached her, and I kissed her lips, then to stop Sandi, I picked Daniel up and slung her over my left shoulder, giggling. Sandi looked up at me, surprised that I had taken her fun away, and pouted with slick, glistening lips. "Come here, you," I said, grinning, and grabbed for her as she tried to scurry a little back, then with another step, I got her and wrapped my arm around her waist and put her over my other shoulder. I carried them both back to the bedroom, trying to ignore the slapping of my ass that they were both taking turns at, amongst taking turns kissing my back and laughing. They only stopped when I threw them onto the bed. They looked so gorgeous together! Waiting for me to climb onto the bed with them, Daniel pulled her skirt up, smiling at me, and looked so disappointed when I moved over top of Sandi and kissed her stomach. Sandi smiled down at me and glanced at Daniel, turning back as I unbuttoned her jeans, looking so sad. She wanted me to take Daniel first, but she wanted me too. It made me feel so torn between them as I pulled her jeans down, kissing down her legs as I went. Sandi hadn't worn any panties, just like Daniel, and she looked better than ever to me; she was my wife, the only one that I'd ever see as my actual wife. I could grow to love Daniel, and even to some degree, I already did, but I'd never love her as much as I loved Sandi. Sure, I'd still give my life for hers, but the only person I could think of when I thought of spending the rest of my life with someone was Sandi. "You're both ready for me. What do you want me to do, Sandi?" I whispered, kissing beneath the earlobe farthest away from Daniel. Sandi glanced over at Daniel and then turned back and kissed my lips. "Take her," Sandi whispered softly. "It's her first with you, make it special!" "I will. I love you, Sandi!" "I know you do," she said, running her hands down my back. "Now show her that you love her too!" I rolled so that I was laying on my stomach and tugged at her skirt, pulling it free. I threw it across the room. Next, I gently undid the garter belt and the straps to her stockings, slowly taking the clothing off of her. She begged me to stop prolonging the inevitable and fuck her as I painstakingly slowly undressed the few clothes she had on. I moved up the bed, running my fingers over her side and down over her bare, succulent hip. I rolled over onto my back between them and lifted Daniel up, so that she was standing on her knees, straddling my crotch, with my penis just rubbing against her vulva. "What would you like to do?" I asked Daniel, smiling up at her. "I don't know if I can," she said, looking down at my penis. "I don't know if I can take you inside me." "Yes, you can," Sandi encouraged. "Just take your time, take as long as you need. He's all yours, I'm all yours, just ask for whatever you want, and we'll try our best to give it to you!" "I want you inside me," Daniel said, looking at me, then turned back to Sandi. "You're really sure I can handle him?" "Yes." "Alright, I'm trusting you, Sandi!" Daniel said as she slowly started easing down on me, at first just taking only the tip of my penis inside her, and I could tell even that was stretching her. It took her a little while, but she eventually got the entire head of my penis in her. She grinned, happy at herself that she had gotten the head into her. Sandi smiled and took her hand, shaking it in both of hers, while I set my hands on her hips. She was so proud of herself and softly admitted, "I want all of it!" "Then take it, it's yours, all you've got to do..." With one swift motion, she slammed her way all the way down, taking my entire shaft in her. "Oh my God!" she screamed, and I could feel her starting to bleed. "It's so big! It's too big...It's too big! Take it out. Take it out!" "No, don't," Sandi said. "She just needs to get used to the size of you." "Please let me up, let me up!" Daniel begged as I held her down by her hips. "Let me up, please...it's too big, it's too big for me!" "Relax, Daniel, we'll do it nice and easy!" I said, letting her pull up just a little before I pulled her back down on me. "Dick, please, please let me up, let me up!" Daniel squealed as I slowly let her up higher and higher, only to pull her back down. "Daniel, calm down, look into his eyes! Look into his eyes, Daniel. Watch his eyes!" It took a little before Daniel finally stopped complaining and looked down into my eyes. It was something else; she quieted down, stopped complaining, and started making love to me, taking up the movements. She looked so delicious riding on top of me, her breasts bouncing, the little film of her blood. The lust that I saw in her eyes was so enticing it drove me, pushed all my impulses to the edge. She leaned over and kissed my lips, and without a second thought, I rolled her over onto her back so that I was on top of her, thrusting into her with joy and relish at the feel of her. "You animal," she breathed, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me tight to her. She felt so soft and fragile beneath me; I buried my head in her dark hair as I continued to make love to her, taking in the sweet smell of her and the perfume she was wearing. Daniel wrapped her legs around my waist as Sandi laid a hand on my back and started stroking my mane, which I was sure reached all the way down to my ass. I kissed Daniel's neck, soft and gently, then I sucked on it in a few different places, drawing blood to the area. She squealed in delight, squeezing my neck tightly in her arms. Then, as on my first night with Sandi, I sank my teeth into her neck, tearing at her flesh, pulling a chunk of it away. Her blood spurted from her neck, spraying my lips as I chewed and swallowed the little piece of her; she was now part of me. I put my lips to the open area of her flesh, sucking, kissing, and lapping at it, while she writhed in orgasm beneath me. She was as delicious as Sandi had been when I claimed her. Now they were both mine, mine for eternity. I could only hope that I was doing the right thing; it felt right, and Daniel had become mysterious to me, just as Sandi was. The bite was the reason for that; I knew that. I had known that before I took Sandi. I was in their blood, and they were in mine. They wouldn't leave me simply because they couldn't, whether they knew it or not. I don't even know where I came to that conclusion, or whether it was just an off-the-wall guess, but somehow, it didn't seem like it. When Sandi had disappeared, it had scared me, not for me but for her. I had been terrified because she had left me and because she would suffer, and I couldn't let that happen, ever! I kissed her lips, and she smiled at me; she was mine now, the specks of gold in her green eyes proved that. In time, they'd be like mine, so would Sandi's.It surprised me a little that Sandi hadn't noticed the golden content in her already lightened eye color. It wouldn't be long before her dark brown eyes turned beige, then finished the transformation to gold, and Daniel would be about a week or so behind, but she would follow! I lapped at Daniel's smiling lips, trying to share the delicious taste of her blood with her. In the few minutes that had passed, my love had grown for her, and she was equal to Sandi; neither of them would be better than the other. I loved them equally, and I would take Daniel as my wife. She was already my mate, and she was mine! I held myself up off of her and looked towards the ceiling and let out a blood-curdling howl. At the same moment I came, I drenched the inside of her pussy, the bed sheets, and the bed. Daniel laughed and squirmed beneath me a little, and Sandi's hand had disappeared off my back. With the last spurt of my seed, I locked my lips with Daniel's, giving her the longest kiss that I could manage. Her hands roamed my back aimlessly as I kept the kiss going, minute after minute passing until I finally pulled away from her. She panted for air, taking little heaves of it as I moved towards a smiling Sandi. I gently slipped into her, kissing her lips. Then I started kissing all over her face while I started making love to her. "You're both mine now," I whispered to her. "I know," she said softly while her fingernails dug into my ass. "You're going to have to share me now." "I know...Dick, I love you!" "I love you too, Sandi. I love you so much. I love you both so much!" I said, glancing towards Daniel who was fast asleep. She needed rest, so when I got back to her, she'd be ready for me again. "We're going to have a big family, aren't we?" "Yes, my love, as big as you want!" "Good," she said softly, grinning and scraping her fingers over my back. "I want a really big family! I want to have lots of kids. Our kids!" "We will!" "I'm going to stop taking those pills tomorrow!" "Sandi, please not yet, wait a little! Just a little while!" "How long?" she said as she stopped my motion by placing her hands on my chest. "You told me I could stop taking them right away. Dick, damn it, how long?" "Not long, just a little while. Daniel's got to wait a little longer than you. I want you to be totally mine before we have children!" "I am yours, Dick, fully and completely." "I know, honey, but just a little while longer and I'll know. I promise, maybe a week, at most two!" "Two weeks, Dick, come on, why do we have to wait so long!" "It's not long, honey," I said, stroking her cheek. "I promise you won't notice the time go by." "Dick, tell me how you're going to know!" "I will. I can see it in both of your eyes a little already, just a little while longer, please! It will mean so much to me if we wait, just a little while. All I'm asking for is two weeks, two weeks, for a lifetime together! What do you say, please." "Shut up and make love to me, Dick!" "Is that a yes?" "Yes, now make love to me, make love to me like you just made love to Daniel!" "Are you sure about that, I don't...." "Yes, please Dick!" I did, biting her neck and all. She moved so good beneath me and even better when we switched positions so she was on top of me, arching her back as we both came. Slowly as she came down from the clouds, she moved closer to me, lowering her breasts down to my chest and nuzzling her head into my neck. The gold in her eyes had nearly doubled in amount when she sat up enough to kiss my lips, and I held her close to me. Eventually, she rolled off of me and drifted off into a sweet slumber too. I got up, coated in a layer of blood and semen, semen that had turned from its off-white color to a shade of gold. I went around the bed and kissed Daniel's cheek, rubbing her stomach. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open; she looked as graceful as the first time I saw her get up. "Daniel, sweetie!" I whispered softly, brushing some wet hair back. "I'm sorry," she said softly, blinking her eyes. "I fell asleep." "It's all right, honey." "You want to..." she said, spreading her legs a little. "No, it's all right, honey. I just wanted to tell you something. I'm sorry I woke you, but I don't want you to worry. I've got to go out, I'll be back in a little while!" "Where are you going, I want you again!" "I've got to go and get you something." "What?" "You'll see." "Take me with you!" "No, I can't. You stay here and cuddle up with Sandi, and I'll be back before you two wake up." "Dick, I don't want you to go!" "Daniel, I'll be back in a little while, I promise," I said, stroking her pussy. "When I get back, I'm going to make love to both of you again, and I'm going to keep doing it until we have to go to work tonight." "You promise?" she asked, licking her top lip. "Yes," I told her, slipping a finger inside of her. "Then the moment we finish, the three of us are going to have a late dinner, a little wine, then we'll come back here and start all over again!" "You mean that?" "Of course I do, I always mean what I say to my mates." "Your mates?" "Yes, you're mine now and forever, both of you, and I'm going to keep it that way, so I'm going to have to ask you to promise me something." "What is it?" "You're mine, and Sandi wants you to be married to us. I don't know how that's going to work, and I don't care. All I know is that I'm going to keep both of you till you're old and gray, but I need a promise from you." "What is it, Dick?" "I need you to promise me that if you keep your job at the bar...." "I am!" "You can, I don't mind if you do that, but that's not what I want you to promise. I don't want you to stop doing whatever you want to do, this is what I want. I want you to promise me that you'll never go up to those bedrooms Eric's got upstairs with any other man, or the lap dancing!" "Dick, I won't go upstairs with anyone other than you, I don't want to go upstairs with anyone other than you!" "Good, now what about the lap dancing?" "Dick, it's good money, and I don't have to really do anything for it, and if they ever get too much out of control, you'll be there to save me!" "All right, but that's the most you're going to do!" "Yes!" "Ok, I'll be back in a little bit then, ok?" "All right, but don't be gone too long and hurry back!" "I will!" I left her with a kiss and took a quick shower. I had to get her a wedding ring, to show everyone that she was mine, mine and Sandi's. I still had the money that all three of us had made the previous night, so I took it and went to the jewelry store and bought three wedding bands - one solid band and two with small diamonds embedded. Then I had the jeweler inscribe four words "Dick Sandi Daniel Carlson" on each ring. Sandi deserved one of these more than the one that she had worn on her finger. She deserved a real one, and I was going to give it to her. When I got home about an hour and a half later, the apartment was still quiet, and I quietly picked my way through the apartment, the three felt boxes burning holes in my pockets. I found them still in bed, only Daniel was on top of Sandi with their beautiful pussies facing me. They were kissing each other's lips, and it looked like they were either at the end or the beginning of something, but it looked more like the end. I stood there and watched them kissing for a few minutes before Sandi noticed me and exclaimed, "Dick, you're back!" "Hello, my gorgeous ladies!" Daniel gave Sandi another quick kiss before getting off of her and looking at me on her knees. "Dick! Come back to bed, we've missed you." "As good as that sounds, not quite yet!" "Why not?" Daniel asked, pouting. "Because I've got something to do first. Both of you come here and sit on the edge of the bed. I've got something to ask you." "What is it, Dick?" Sandi asked after they had both draped their legs over the foot of the bed. "First of all, I don't want you to get angry when I tell you something." "Get angry about what?" "I spent the money that the three of us got last night." "You what?" Daniel demanded, but Sandi just sat there watching me. "I spent it, but that's irrelevant." "How is it irrelevant?" Daniel asked. "Daniel, trust me for a minute. When I ask you my question, you'll understand." "All right, what's the question?" I got down on my knees in front of them and took one of each of their hands. "Will you both marry me?" I watched them both. Sandi smiled at me and squeezed my hand and waited for Daniel to respond because she knew I already knew her answer. "Is that the question?" Daniel said sharply, almost angry. "Yes," I said softly. "Then the answer is yes, but I don't understand what that has to do with the money!" "Will you marry me too, Sandi?" "You know the answer to that question already, sweetheart." "Well, tell me anyway!" "Yes, I will marry you again, and I'll marry you as many times as you want me to." "All right," I said softly and raised up on my knees a little more and let go of their hands and dove into my pants pockets and pulled out the two velvet boxes. I snapped them open with my thumbs and showed them. "Then these are for you!" "They're beautiful," Daniel said softly. "This is what you used the money for?" "Yes, and I've got one for the two of you to give to me!" "Put them on us," Daniel begged softly, and I set the boxes down on the floor and carefully took Daniel's out and slipped it on to her finger. She sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye. "It's so beautiful!" "I'm glad you like it," I said and kissed her knee. "I don't like it, I love it!" "Now let's take that old thing off of you and put something proper on you," I said softly to Sandi. "No, I want to keep it! I want to wear this one," she said, holding the tree-sapling ring that I had given her. "I'll wear the other one in complement to it, but I'm not going to take this one off!""Ok, honey, whatever you want," I said softly, slipping the new ring onto her finger. "Where's yours?" Daniel said, looking at me. "Right here," I told her and patted my breast pocket. "We'll give it here," Sandi said, wiping her own eyes. I gave them the box, and they opened it. Then, each holding it with a forefinger and a thumb, they put it on my finger. "I want to consummate your proposal," Daniel said, kissing my lips. "Me too," Sandi whispered and kissed my lips too. "Come to bed with us!" "Happily, but how can I make love to my two ladies at once? That beautiful position the two of you were in looked promising." "You liked that, did you?" Sandi asked, stroking my cheek, then took Daniel's hand and smiled at her. "Well then, you wouldn't be the only one, because I did too. After five years, I finally got between this girl's legs!" "So you enjoyed yourselves?" I asked both of them. "I did," Sandi said and smiled at Daniel. "So did I. I never would have thought it would have been as good as it was. Sandi's really special!" "I already know that," I said, grinning at Sandi, and then turned back to Daniel. "You're both very special ladies!" "Why don't you get out of those clothes you've got on!" "I've got to do something little for a minute, then I'll be back! I had to take a piss!" "Why?" "Come on, sweeties, you can start without me. I'll just be a second. This time I mean it! Maybe you two could clean the bed up a little; anymore and we might overflow the bed." "Ok, but hurry back!" Daniel said softly, and Sandi went for the wall-vac. I went as quickly as I could to the washroom and relieved my pressing bladder. Then I returned to the bedroom, where the wall-vac had gotten wedged between the aqua-pad and the frame, silently sucking on a garbage bag. The two of them were back at it, only this time Sandi was on top of Daniel, but down a little, sucking on one of Daniel's nipples. I was lucky because Daniel had her eyes clamped shut and was just enjoying the sensation of Sandi's mouth on her, so I could just stand there and watch them. But Sandi's swaying, pouting vulva was too alluring for me, so I stripped out of my clothes and climbed on the bed behind them. The instant that I put my knee on the bed, they realized I was back from the waves of the bed. I stroked Sandi's back, down over her ass, down the outside of her thighs, then up the inside of her thighs, then back down. I gave her a gentle, urging push forward, and she settled down on top of Daniel, and they started kissing. Sandi brought her legs up and apart, drawing Daniel's legs with her, leaving me what has to be considered the most beautiful sight in the world: two pussies, laid right on top of each other, waiting to be touched and loved. With single, long tongue strokes, I lapped at their combined pussies. Ecstasy, that's the only way to describe it, and that's exactly what the taste of both of them together was too. They writhed together against my tongue, trying to squirm away from it and yet get closer at the same time. I stopped only when I could hear their moans overtop of their loud, sloppy kissing, and then I only changed my tongue for my penis, quietly rubbing the head of it across both of them, then slowly I eased it into Sandi. Alternately, I made love to both of them, just enjoying the feel of them, stroking Sandi's back and buttocks while rubbing the woman's clit that I wasn't making love to. Then together they both came, their kisses dissolving most of their reactions. They parted, rolling onto their backs, holding out their arms to take me in their arms. Leaving me with only a single big problem, which pair of arms to climb into, so I chose the in-between. I lay between them and let them wrap their arms around me, and they started kissing my face, rubbing their top hands over my chest and down to my crotch. I took turns kissing their lips, feeling so good squished between two gorgeous women, my women. Women so full of love for me that I couldn't hope in my wildest dreams to match their love. The following couple of days were exactly the same way, making love during the day, working at night, coming home and making love again, then falling asleep in their arms. Friday, the last day of Sandi's luxurious holiday, we moved from our apartment into our family apartment, with Frank and Sylvia's help.

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Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8050.txt

Into Care Part 2

"Strip, boy, or do you want Joe to hold you while Matron takes your clothes off for you." Hastily, Nicky removed his clothes and then stood to face the principal. He made no attempt to cover himself with his hands. He remembered how such demonstrations of modesty had annoyed Brian, and he assumed that Mr. Adams would be similarly affected. "Fold those clothes up neatly, boy. This is my study, not a rubbish dump." Watched by the three adults, Nicky had to kneel on the carpet and tidy his clothes up. When he was back on his feet, Mr. Adams turned to the Matron. "It is my intention to give this boy twenty-four strokes of the cane, twelve this evening and twelve tomorrow morning. In your professional opinion, Matron, is the boy in a condition to take twelve strokes now?" "He's a perfectly healthy little animal, Principal. In my opinion, you could safely inflict all twenty-four strokes on him now. But you are always very kind to the boys." "I think, Matron, it would be as well to postpone half the punishment until tomorrow morning. It will give the boy something to think about overnight. It will keep his mind clear of unhealthy thoughts." Mr. Adams took a cushion from one of the easy chairs and placed it at one end of the desk. "Now, over the end of the desk there, boy. Bottom right up in the air. I want the skin nice and taut. Put your hands out along the desk. Matron, if you would be good enough to hold the boy's hands. Thank you." "Now, boy, you can see how considerate we are here at Ovingdean House. Most people, when punishing a boy, require him to remain in position until the end of the punishment or face having the beating start from the beginning again. But I know very well that I'm going to hurt you so much that you would not have a chance of staying down by yourself. You should be very grateful to Matron for her kindness in holding you in place. Again, it is usual to require the boy to count the strokes and to say 'thank you, Sir' after each one. I don't require you to do that because I know that long before I've finished thrashing you tonight, all you will be capable of doing is feeling pain and perhaps screaming." Nicky lay across the desk, his bare bottom raised and taut, ready for the cane. It was a position with which he was all too familiar. His dad and, increasingly, his mum had often required him to offer his bare rump for punishment. But although the position was a familiar one, the terror and humiliation he now felt was altogether greater. He loved his mum and his dad, even if he had come also to fear them a little. He knew that they cared for him and that they hurt him because they cared for him. They had told him so often. Sometimes they hurt him a great deal, and he would cry and whimper as the cane raised weals across his bare flesh, but even as he suffered, he knew that when the punishment was over, he would be forgiven. He would be cuddled and comforted. His tears wiped away. His nose blown and wiped clean. This time was different. These people cared nothing for him. Mr. Adams was going to beat him, not because he cared about him, but because he thought of him as an animal to be tormented, hurt, and broken. Joe had been cruel and unjust to him on the journey down, and he was sure would be so again. As for the Matron, with her strange, unfeeling, staring eyes, who had looked at him as though he was not a life-feeling creature but a slab of meat, he knew he would look in vain for cuddles or sympathy from her. He felt the touch of the cane against his bare flesh. He tensed. Mr. Adams was measuring his distance. It would not be long before he began. "Hold that boy's hands tight now, Matron," the Principal ordered. The cane hissed down and cracked across Nicky's unprotected flesh. The pain drove the breath out of his body. He fought for air as the man stood over him, waiting for the spasm to pass. A second time, the cane slashed down. Nicky screamed as the pain tore through him. Another pause. "You always make them scream really loudly, Principal," Matron remarked admiringly. "Yes, I want his cries to be heard all over the building. It has a good effect on the other boys." The beating resumed. The sound of wood striking bare flesh, the screams of the tortured boy, the drumming of his bare feet on the floor as he leapt and writhed in his agony filled the room. Mr. Adams worked his way steadily from the top of Nicky's bum downwards to the top of his thighs, each stroke placed neatly parallel to the preceding one. At last, the beating was almost over. The man stood back to admire his work. He was, as he often remarked, a craftsman and took a pride in a job well done. The boy's backside was covered with bruises, scarlet blending into deep red and deepening to purple and dark blue. Slightly changing his stance, he delivered the final two blows diagonally across Nicky's already ravaged flesh. The boy's screams reached a fresh crescendo. "I doubt if there's a boy in the place who didn't hear that," Mr. Adams said with satisfaction. Matron let go her grip of Nicky's hands. The boy sank sobbing to the floor at Mr. Adams' feet. "Joe," Mr. Adams said briskly, "get that disgusting little animal out of here. Put him in the reception dormitory." "Matron, I want him here tomorrow morning at nine-thirty sharp to receive the balance of his punishment." Joe grabbed Nicky by his arm and hauled him to his feet. He half-marched, half-carried the whimpering boy from the room, across the great hall, through a green baize door, and along a dark, cold corridor. He stopped outside a plain wooden door with a heavy metal bolt. He swung it open to reveal a small, windowless room that smelled strongly of stale urine. On its stone-flagged floor was a thin mattress with a couple of brown, grubby-looking blankets. The only light came through the open door. Joe pushed Nicky down onto the mattress and roughly spread the blankets over him. Without a word, he turned and left the room. He slammed the door shut, leaving the boy in total darkness. Nicky heard him shoot the bolt home. Nicky lay there, crying quietly. Perhaps the man was right. Perhaps it was all his fault. Perhaps he was an evil, wicked boy. Why else was he here and been treated so cruelly? "How my bottom hurts," he thought, and then, "I've got the same again tomorrow." He cried with redoubled vigor. Nicky was awake. Huddled in the blankets, he could feel the mattress damp underneath him. He had no idea what the time was. The door swung open, and daylight filtered into the squalid room. "Come on out of there," Joe shouted. "You've got an appointment with Mr. Adams in an hour, and you've got to be cleaned up before then." Joe came right into the room and wrinkled his nose. "God, you are filthy little animals, the lot of you. Come on, dirt, get up when you're told." The man kicked the mattress on which Nicky lay. The boy pulled himself painfully to his feet. Joe grabbed him by the arm above the elbow, gripping him so hard that he cried out. Once again, Nicky was marched along a series of comfortless corridors. Every now and again, they met young boys, all dressed in the home's uniform of thin T-shirt and shorts, all appearing cowed and frightened, all pressing themselves back against the walls to allow Joe to pass. Eventually, they went down a flight of concrete steps into a large room. Down the center stood a double line of baths, while along both walls were a series of showers. Joe switched on one shower and pushed Nicky under it. The boy gasped as the hot water stung his skin. Joe produced a block of soap that smelled strongly of disinfectant and ordered Nicky to clean himself up. The man stood watching as the boy soaped himself down. "And your bottom too, pig shit," he ordered. "Sir, please, Sir, it's sore," Nicky pleaded. "'Sir, please, Sir, it's sore, Sir,'" Joe imitated the boy's voice derisively. "It's going to be a bloody sight sorer in short order, and it'll be sorer still if you don't clean it up. Mr. Adams won't tolerate a boy who presents him with a dirty bottom for punishment. Now, come on - or do I have to get in there and clean it for you?" Gingerly, the Nicky obeyed.When at last Joe was satisfied, he took the still damp boy back through the house. They passed through the clean baize door, and Nicky realized he was back in the hall where he had first entered the house the previous evening. It was a vast room, dimly lit by mock gothic stained glass windows set high in the walls. In a line along one wall, next to the door to the Principal's study, stood half a dozen boys. All stood facing the wall, hands by their sides. All wore the regulation Ovingdean House T-shirt and nothing else. Some of their bottoms Nicky could see seemed to be unmarked, but most bore the marks of recent beatings. As they approached, the boys remained staring at the wall, although Nicky thought he detected a ripple of apprehension pass along the line. Joe led the boy to the end of the line furthest from Mr. Adams' study. "Stand there, face the wall, don't look round. Matron will be here in a few minutes, and then the fun will begin." He landed a hard slap with the flat of his hand on the boy's sore rump, causing Nicky to squeal. Eventually, Nicky heard the sharp clip of a woman's leather-soled shoes approaching. Two of the boys began to cry. He cowered against the wall, his gaze fixed resolutely forwards. Matron passed him without pausing. "Stop that stupid caterwauling," the Matron ordered as she went into the Principal's study. "You will all have plenty to cry about soon enough." A minute or two later, she came back out into the hall. "All right. Into the study and line up facing the desk." Mr. Adams was standing by his desk, the cane in hand. Nicky noticed the pillow was already in its place on the edge of the desk. "First boy, step forward." A dark-haired boy from the far end of the line came forward to stand beside the desk. He moved slowly and clumsily, as if only partly in control of his limbs. Nicky could see even from where he was standing that he was trembling. "Sims. Principal," the Matron said, reading from a black notebook she held in her hands. "Sheets found to be stained this morning." "Abusing yourself, eh? Filthy little beast. All you boys are the same; just animals, animals the lot of you; no brains, no self-control, nothing. Well, I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget. It's no good trying to appeal to your conscience, to your sense of right and wrong. You boys are trash, you don't have consciences. You can't tell the difference from right and wrong. But you've got backsides, and I'm going to write such a lesson on your backside that you'll remember it to the day you die." "Please, Sir...it was an accident, Sir." "It was self-abuse. If I say it was self-abuse, it was self-abuse, you insolent brat. I shall give you twelve strokes now and twelve strokes this evening." "Matron, make a note. See that Sims is here again this evening for twelve further strokes." "Get down, boy." "Matron, hold Sims tight. I'm going to flog him hard." Nicky watched, horrified, as Mr. Adams raised the cane high over his right shoulder and brought it crashing down across the boy's defenseless bottom with sickening force. The cane rose and fell with remorseless regularity as the boy's shrill screams increased in volume and urgency. Nicky glanced down the line of watching boys. Fear, horror, and excitement marked their faces. At last, Sims's flogging was over. The sobbing boy was sent back to stand in line with the other lads. One by one, the boys were called forward to suffer the consequences of their juvenile faults. Running in the corridor, loitering in the corridor, idleness, slovenliness, impertinence - none seemed too serious. All were punished by beatings of the utmost ferocity as Mr. Adams labored at his self-appointed task of seeing that the agonized screams of his victims should penetrate to the furthest recesses of Ovingdean Hall. Finally, it was Nicky's turn once again to bend down across the desk and feel the cruel bite of the rod. Numbly, he moved forward. "Ah," Mr. Adams said. "While I always prefer to see the results of my handiwork as a beating proceeds, there are occasions when aesthetic considerations have to give way to practical ones. I do not wish, on this occasion, to split the skin of this boy's bottom. Matron, soak a napkin in cold water and spread it over the brat's rump. That should prevent my bloodying it and will not appreciably diminish the pain that it is my intention to inflict on him." Nicky started at the feel of the cold, damp cloth against his bare skin. Mr. Adams measured his distance carefully. Nicky tensed himself in readiness for the first cut. He knew there was no escape and no point in pleading for mercy. All he could do was to suffer, and suffer he did. He soon ceased to be able to distinguish between the pain of the different strokes as the cane cracked down across his bottom. All he was aware of was an agony that seemed to consume his whole body. Vaguely, as though at a great distance, he heard the sound of his own screams echoing in his head. Then he heard Mr. Adams saying "Get up, boy" and found himself being pulled to his feet by Matron. "Boys," Mr. Adams said, "that is all for the moment. I hope you are all duly grateful for the time and effort I have spent trying to teach you obedience and respect for your betters. I have no doubt that I will be obliged to give you all similar lessons again in the not too distant future." "Sims, I would remind you that you have another appointment with me this evening." "You will all now go immediately to your appointed duties. I will personally flog any boy who is caught loitering." "Matron, I believe you have a further procedure to inflict on that brat you're holding." "Dismissed." The whimpering boys jostled each other in their eagerness to escape from Mr. Adams and his cruel cane. Matron led Nicky to a door marked "Sick Bay". Inside the room stood a uniformed policeman. "Good afternoon, Sergeant Nicholls," Matron said. "Afternoon, Matron," the man replied. "This is the new boy, is it? I heard you had a fresh boy here, and I just came down now to have my usual word with him." "Well, Sergeant, I was just about to complete his induction process. You know we like to see the boys have all their sordid outside associations destroyed before we admit them fully into the community. We want them cleansed physically and, if at all possible, mentally. This boy has been bathed, and now it is time to clean him out internally. If you would wait just a second while I administer the enema, you can talk to him while he holds it in. You won't take more than five minutes, will you?" "No, not more than five minutes. I must say, the efforts you and Mr. Adams and the other staff here make to bring discipline and control into these boys' lives always impresses me. It must often be a thankless and difficult task in view of the low caliber of the boys." "Yes, sweepings of the gutter is what we get here," the Matron said grimly, "invariably mentally, morally, and physically degenerate. Take this one, sent here for protection from his father, but you know what that really means - the brat's a natural little whore. Led the man on." As she was speaking, Matron busied herself placing things on a small table that stood by an armless, hard-backed chair. A strange syringe-shaped object with a metal nozzle, a jar of Vaseline, and an enamel bowl which she filled with warm soapy water. She pulled on a rubber apron and sat down on the chair. "Come here, you," she commanded Nicky. "Face down over my knees. Quick now. Legs apart. Relax, would you. I'm quite prepared to do this without the Vaseline if you don't co-operate. It won't hurt me." "Now stay like that. For heaven's sake, what a fuss. In it goes. There we are." "Now back on your feet and listen to what Sergeant Nicholls has to say to you, and don't let a drop out till I say you can, or it'll be another session with Mr. Adams and his cane." She tipped Nicky back onto his feet. She smiled as she saw the boy, no doubt feeling the pressure inside him, clench his little bottom as tight as he could. "Right, boy," the Sergeant said ponderously, "I just want you to know that we all round here fully support Mr. Adams in the way he runs this home. You boys are all delinquents and need strong discipline, and I'm glad to see from the bruises on your bottom that you've had a taste of that already. Why are you fidgeting about, boy?" "Sir, please, Sir, I want to go to the toilet, Sir. Please." "You'll have to wait until I have finished speaking to you. Now, let me see, where was I? Ah, yes. Don't think you will get any help or sympathy if you come to us with any complaints about your treatment. If any boys complain - and boys have been foolish enough to do so in the past - we simply inform Mr. Adams and leave him to deal with the matter. I don't think any boy has complained more than once. Do you know of an instance, Matron?" "No, I do not, Mr. Nicholls. Do stop fidgeting about like that, boy. Pay attention to what the Sergeant is saying." Matron noticed that Nicky was now holding onto the back of his bottom with both hands. She smiled to herself. This was the part of the induction process that she always found the most entertaining. "Furthermore," the policeman continued, "should you run away from this place, you can be quite sure that you will be caught and returned to Mr. Adams. Even if you get outside my police area, the police force that does finally apprehend you will return you to us, and we will pass you on to Mr. Adams. Do you understand, boy?" "Yes, Sir. Please, Sir, can I go to the toilet now, Sir? I can't hold it in much longer, Sir." "You'll have to ask Matron, boy. That's her business, not mine." "Matron, please, Matron?" "Yes, go on.""Use the toilet over there," Matron said, indicating a doorless cubicle in a corner of the sick bay. As Nicky dashed towards it, he heard the two adults laughing at him. "Come on out of there," Matron called after a couple of minutes, "this isn't a holiday camp." She had ready for Nicky the shorts and T-shirt which formed the uniform for the boys of Ovingdean House. "Could you do me a favor, Mr. Nicholls?" she asked as the boy hastily dressed himself. "Take this boy down to the lodge and hand him over to the Head Gardener. He's to start off working for him." "Matron, please, could I have something to eat, please?" Nicky whined. "I haven't had anything since... Ow." The woman landed a ringing blow on the side of his head with her fist. "You talk when you are spoken to and not otherwise," she snapped. "You'll get some food when you've earned it. The rule here is no work, no food. Now please take him away, Mr. Nicholls, before I get really rough with him." Half an hour later, Nicky was busy weeding a rose bed. Anyone looking at him would have thought that he had accepted his fate. But as he worked between the bushes, he was trying desperately to think of a way to escape. All he could think of was to get to a telephone. If he could do that, he could telephone his Dad, he knew their home number off by heart, and he was sure Brian would come and help him. But he hadn't noticed a telephone anywhere in Ovingdean House. Almost certainly, there was one in Mr. Adams's study, but he didn't think it was likely he would find a chance to use that. He just had to wait, try to keep out of trouble, and keep his eyes open. Brian was sweating. It wasn't the heat, although the small office was warm enough with the three men crowded into it. It was fear. He couldn't understand what was happening. Perhaps, on reflection, he had been a little too rough with the two boys, but he had never done anything else but discipline them. He liked them both, but it was no more than the perfectly proper affection that a father felt for his sons. "I tell you," he said desperately, "I never touched Nicky in that way." "And I tell you, Mr. Roberts," Detective Inspector Samson replied grimly, "that we have two independent medical reports that state Nicky has been sexually assaulted over a long period of time. If it wasn't you who was responsible - who was it?" "The other boy? Adam," Brian suggested reluctantly. "No boy did what's been done to your stepson," Dr. Butler said. "Look here, Mr. Roberts," the policeman said, leaning forward and speaking earnestly, "I'm not pretending we have a cast-iron case against you. If we did, we would not be having this conversation. You would be in the cells awaiting trial. For one thing, Nicholas will not say who has done these things to him. However, the circumstantial evidence is strong, and if you give us no choice, we will prosecute." "If we do and fail to get a conviction, your reputation will be tarnished. I think it unlikely that your wife would be able to stand the heat, and we would anyway see that Adam was put on the at-risk register, so that you and she, if she remained with you, would be subject to constant supervision. That is the best-case scenario from your point of view." "If we succeeded in our prosecution, you would face a prison sentence of about six years, and paedophiles do not have a pleasant time in jail. Again, I would think it likely your wife would leave you. You would certainly lose any contact with Adam. Furthermore, when you came out of prison, you would have to place your name on the sex offenders register, and we in the police would keep a close watch on you and would consider it our duty to inform your neighbors wherever you may move of your conviction, as under the law we are authorized to do." "Our primary interest in this case is the welfare of your stepson. It seems clear to us that it is in his own best interest that he is removed from your care. In view of the comparative weakness of the case against you, we are prepared not to prosecute if you will give us your written agreement to his being taken into care." "I just haven't touched the boy in that sort of way," Brian said unhappily. "Mr. Roberts," Dr. Butler intervened, "if you did not abuse that boy, somebody else did. That boy knows you are under suspicion, but he chooses not to clear you by naming that other person. There are two points I would put to you. First, in that event, would it not be as well to get Nicholas away from whoever is abusing him, and since we do not know who that is and he will not say, would not the sensible solution be to have him taken into care? Second, if he prefers to protect the man who is abusing him to clearing you from a very grave suspicion that could lead to you spending a considerable time in prison, do you really want to risk your liberty and reputation to bring him back here?" "It just sounds so unlike Nicky," Brian protested. "Well, I did not abuse him, so someone else did. As you say, perhaps it would be best for everybody if he is kept away from here. Where's that document you want me to sign?" "It simply says," Detective Inspector Samson explained, pushing a single sheet of A4 across the desk to Brian, "that you accept that Nicholas's best interests are served by his being taken into care. It in no way incriminates you." It was Brian's intention to sign the paper with a flourish and storm out of the office. Like so many dramatic gestures, it didn't quite come off. "Can one of you lend me a pen?" he asked. Nicky knelt on the damp earth, his knees and hands caked with mud, his fingers and bare feet numb with cold. It had been raining for a long time. Precisely how long Nicky did not know, for he had lost track of time. His days had become a long round of hunger, exhaustion, abuse, and fear. He heard footsteps behind him. Since it had begun to rain and the boys had had their plimsolls taken away from them to avoid them getting spoiled, footsteps meant only one thing: staff, and staff meant, unless you were very lucky, bullying and blows. The footsteps stopped just behind him. He did not dare to look round, to do so would be to invite trouble. So far as he could judge, there were two people standing there. He continued to work at turning the earth between the rose bushes with his trowel. His work was simple and heartbreaking. For days now, he had been weeding this flower bed. He had worked his way from one end of it to another over and over again. He hated and resented every second he spent there groveling in the damp earth, but he did not show it. He nursed to himself his plan: to get to a phone and to call his Dad, and took comfort in his absolute certainty that his Dad would come and save him. "That's the boy," a vaguely familiar male voice said behind him. "He's pretty dirty," another man spoke. "Just mud. They'll clean him up before he's brought to you. Want a closer look? Boy, you boy, come here." Nicky pushed the trowel into the ground and stood up. Two casually but warmly dressed men sheltering under a large golf umbrella stood on the gravel path looking at him. One of the men he recognized as being the doctor who had examined him at the police station. He moved closer to them and stood facing them, his hands by his side, his head slightly bowed. "Well, what do you think?" the Doctor asked. "Quite nice, I suppose," the second man replied. "I must say it's handy how the rain makes his clothes transparent.""No need to have the brat strip in order to see everything he has to offer." "Yes," the doctor agreed with a laugh, and then to Nicky he snapped, "Turn round, boy, now quick." Nicky obeyed. He knew better than to show any of the resentment he felt at being made to stand shivering in the rain as the two men inspected and discussed him from the shelter of their umbrella, although he felt the humiliation keenly. "I think he'll do," the second man said. "Good, good. Well, get back to your work now, boy. Quick now," the doctor snapped.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11999.txt

Joyce and the Baby Room

"I have to work in the baby room today," said Joyce. Curt turned to look at his pretty girlfriend in the church doorway, noticing how cute and fresh she looked in her crisp sundress. This was the most risque thing she could wear to church, he thought. It clung to her curvy figure without looking like she was trying to seduce. Curt let his eyes wander to the swell of Joyce's chest, spying a hint of cleavage. "For the whole service?" he asked. "Yeah." Joyce grinned sweetly and apologetically. "Me and April do it once or twice a month." They walked into the foyer, Joyce heading for the door marked "Infants." "We'll have lunch after the service, ok?" With that and one last smile, she disappeared behind the door. In the middle of the service, Curt got up to go take a piss. Then he stopped to get a drink from the fountain in the foyer. While the water was hitting his lips, he eyed the "Infants" sign. There was a two-way mirror placed low in the door - the kind that reflected on this side, but offered a clear view from the other. Curt stood up straight. He looked around. No one was near, so he wandered over. He leaned close to the mirror and peered in. Joyce's friend April came into view. Curt noticed that April wasn't wearing a top; she was parading around the room in a bra and a black skirt. He could see that she was chatting happily toward an unseen part of the nursery, though all he could hear were the muffled tones of her voice. Then Joyce came into sight. She, too, wore only a bra on top; she'd pulled the straps of her sundress down past her waist. A baby cried from inside the room. Curt looked up suddenly, checking to make sure no one saw him with his face in the mirror. He was still alone, and he looked back into the nursery. Joyce was going from crib to crib, tracking down the source of the crying. When she found it, she picked the infant up, holding and rocking it in her arms like an expert. April walked up from behind and began to rub Joyce's shoulders. Then April's hand slid one of Joyce's bra straps off to the side of her shoulder. Curt felt his heart beating faster as he realized what he was watching. Joyce was pulling her bra cup down and off to release her breast. It was bigger, rounder, and more potent-looking than Curt had imagined it to be. Even from this distance, he could see that her nipple was deep red, and swollen into a thick cylinder. Then Joyce held the baby's mouth up to her young bare breast, letting her nipple brush across the infant's lips until they accepted it. Curt saw Joyce's nipple and areola disappear into the baby's mouth, and he noticed how the suction seemed to pull her tit slightly away from her chest. Then April took off her bra and, bending over an adjacent crib, pulled out another infant. She put the child to her (smaller) breast and began to nurse it. The two girls began chatting again. Joyce's boyfriend rose, disoriented. "Where's Joyce?" He was standing with April in the foyer after the service. She was fully dressed. "She's still in the baby room," April was saying. "You can go in if you like." She grinned. "What are you doing?" asked Curt. "I'm nursing," said Joyce, quietly. He had opened the door and stepped in cautiously. There had been Joyce, sitting quietly, another baby in her arms. Something was wrong with the scene. Curt had looked carefully. One of Joyce's pale, round breasts was exposed. The baby was sucking contentedly at it. Curt probed a bit. "Don't you have to have a baby to do that? To feed it, I mean." Joyce looked matter-of-fact. "No. You can get milk on your own. A lot of girls do -- you have to have milk to work here." "So, uh, that's why you would never let me touch you there?" "Yeah." She grinned mildly. "I was afraid something embarrassing would happen." "Like, it might hurt?" Now he was smiling too. "No," she replied. Her smile faded slightly. "If you squeezed them, milk would start coming out." "Oh." There was a pause. Curt said, "But you're not, um, hiding yourself now." Joyce smiled again. "You're ready." Just then, Mrs. Thomson walked in briskly. She gave Curt a sharp look. Then she walked over to Joyce. "Thank you for nursing Jessica," she said, taking the baby in her arms. "I'll see you next week." Mrs. Thomson walked out, giving Curt another sharp look as she passed. Joyce sat serenely in the middle of the room, then, her legs together, one of her breasts exposed. She smiled. "Well," she said, "what do you want to do?" Joyce let her bra drop completely off as she made her way to the door of the baby room. She locked the door. Then she went back to the chair and sat down. "Come'ere," she said. Curt knelt before Joyce and kissed her lips. His tongue slid forward through the tight passage and into her mouth. It met her tongue, and the two velvetly intertwined. But before he knew what was happening, Joyce was moving his head firmly down, down to her chest. Her hands pressured his shoulders until his lips were in front of her big, soft orb. It seemed even bigger now that he was right in front of it. "Come on," she was saying. "Try my milk." Then he was sucking at her nipple. He noticed several things at once: how puffy her large areola was, how its soft moistness helped him to latch on, how full the nipple itself felt in his mouth, and then, in a quick stream, how warm and so very sweet Joyce's milk tasted. Curt felt close to his girlfriend as he nursed from her thick nipple, and as he sucked more intently, he felt her hand begin to caress his hair. His stomach began to feel warm and full. When she was done breastfeeding Curt, Joyce sat up and reached up her dress with both hands. She slid her panties off smoothly, and after she let them drop to the floor, she spread her legs. Her dress slid up past her thighs. Curt didn't have to be told what to do. As he opened her, leaned down, and let his tongue slide through the trough of her vulva, Joyce drew in a slow breath and thought of the other time this had happened to her. She was fifteen the guy was nineteen. She didn't exactly understand the purpose of it, until she felt a warm tingling burning white hot pleasure there between her legs. There was just one of them, and she didn't know for a long time that this was an orgasm. But Joyce was twenty now, and she knew a lot more than she had five years before. Joyce felt some of her education pay off right about then -- she found herself escalating into a soaring pleasure oblivion as the blur of Curt's slithering tongue pushed her over the edge. She had no idea how long she felt the ecstasy, only that it seemed to melt through minutes. However long, she came down only to find herself on the verge of coming again. She could see Curt burying his lips between her labia, sucking her clitoris into his mouth and refusing to let it go. She began a quiet yelp -- "No, it's too . . ." -- that was stifled as she rocketed away into a second orgasm. Curt had noticed that her hands had found her bare breasts. A finger delicately orbited each nipple until drops of her milk trickled and spilled around her areolae. Curt had had enough. He dropped his hands to his pants, unzipping with fury. About the time Joyce's third or fourth orgasm (she'd lost count) ended, he presented his penis at the opening of her vagina. "Wait," he heard her say. She pushed the chair back and slid to the floor. Even Curt, not the hallmark of sexual experience, could tell how hungry Joyce was for that final act, coupling. She spread her legs so far back and apart that she could grasp each ankle with ease. Her cunt was opened wide, a stretched set of moist pink lips surrounded by a thin trail of light brown hair. But though Curt could see the entrance to Joyce's vagina easily, he noticed that the tunnel itself hadn't opened much at all. "Enter my gates with thanksgiving," Joyce joked nervously, making a pun of a hymn the congregation had sung during the service. Curt didn't let it spoil the mood. "I love you," he said, dropping the head of his dick into Joyce. Both gasped at once. Curt felt how warm -- no, hot -- she felt inside, how soft, how wet. Joyce was recalling the previous, first cock she had let inside her. She knew Curt was barely inside her, but already she could tell that he was bigger than the other guy was. He didn't exactly know what he was doing, but pumping in and out of Joyce's cunt felt good, and he found himself doing it at a fairly fast rate. Joyce, it was obvious to him, was enjoying it, too: her hands were back at her breasts, milking the nipples with tight squeezes, while her mouth was open. He wondered if she would come. Joyce was coming.About five strokes into intercourse, the sweep of orgasm suddenly enveloped her, and it refused to let her down. It melted into different stages: she tingled all over, then her crotch burned almost painfully, then she was aware of the relentless ramming of Curt's dick in her pussy. Then her breasts -- oh, her breasts. God. Each light touch of a finger to a puffy areola made her sting with a delicious pleasure, a tiny orgasm in itself, on top of the one that now seemed continuous. When it slipped away, she opened her eyes to watch Curt leaning over her, thrusting at the brown furry patch between her legs unrelentingly. God, what a turn-on. She found herself coming again, but relatively briefly. When those 30 seconds were through, she opened her eyes again, and this time the determination on his face soon sent her back into ecstasy. And the cycle continued. After twenty minutes of this, Joyce knew that it had to stop soon. If she'd counted right -- which she doubted -- she'd had at least, say, twenty orgasms. And though they seemed to become more intense each time, sometimes much more intense, she felt as if she could barely take anymore. "Oh, Curt, I love the feel of your dick," she confessed. Curt, meanwhile, was at the end of his rope when she said that. He couldn't hold out any longer, though he'd heard so many times that it was his duty to fuck a girl until she came at least once. "Joyce," he said, gasping slightly for breath, "have you come yet?" Joyce giggled softly. "Yeah," she whispered. "I have." She cupped a breast with her hand. "Here," she offered, "it'll help." Curt leaned down to her tit and, taking a good portion of it in his mouth, drew streams of milk from her. Joyce closed her eyes, involuntarily swept away. The whole idea was such a turn-on to Curt that he began to feel a really strong pressure in his groin. "God, oh, God," he said, slowing his thrusts to long, powerful strokes. It was over in a few seconds, and Joyce could feel a new wetness deep within as come gushed from his dick. They spent a long time that way, with Curt's head resting on Joyce's chest, his mouth gently sucking at her full round breast, her hand brushing against the back of his head. She felt tender and fulfilled as she passed her milk to him. He felt warm inside; he felt as though he would never take enough of it. And from the other side of the two-way mirror, April smiled.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9478.txt

tikij@hotmail.com

My Life - In a Nutshell

"I had never seen a guy's dick before," started Mia. "Oh, this is good," said Devon. Jennifer gave him a dirty look. I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, Dev, or you're not going to get the rest. Anyway, I woke up around 6:00 AM because I was suddenly very cold. Our buddy Cal here had stolen the blanket, and there was a wind howling in through the window. The blinds were crashing around and everything, and this big lug is happily sleeping away, wrapped up in the entire comforter like a little baby." "Be nice," I said. "So I go over and close the window – there's rain coming in – and climb back into bed. I was still freezing, so I decided to steal the comforter back. After a couple of minutes of tugging and him going, 'cut it out,' I managed to steal the entire thing back from him. So now, he's the one shivering. Then I fell asleep again." "Blanket thief," I muttered. "Shut up. About an hour later, I wake up again. He's kicking me." "I still don't believe you." "Who's telling this story? I made him stop though." "How?" asked Jennifer. "Kicked him back. Square in his ass. He stopped," said Mia with an evil grin. "Then he rolls over and tries to steal the comforter back." "I was probably cold," I said. "Whatever. Anyway, I wouldn't let him have it, but he's rubbing up against me, trying to stay warm or something. I noticed he had a hard-on, so I decided to investigate." "Ha!" snickered Devon.

Chapter 7

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11987.txt

A. Van Peebles

Snowbound

"Dr. Lombardi, it's your wife on line two, and your four-thirty appointment has been canceled. You have no more appointments scheduled for today." "Thanks, Margaret," I said to the receptionist. Then picking up the phone, "Hey, Cath. What's up?" "I'm in St. Louis. The airport here just closed due to the snow. My flight from L.A. made it in here, but my connecting flight is canceled. I'm stuck here, at least for tonight." "Damn. Well, I guess it can't be helped. Anything I can do for you?" "No, I'm staying at an airport hotel. I'll call with the number later. Karen is having some friends over for a slumber party tonight. Do you think you can manage?" "No problem. Fifteen-year-olds are pretty self-sufficient," I said, even though being alone in a house full of giggling, teenage girls was my idea of purgatory. "That is, if you think you can trust me alone with a bunch of nubile young girls," I teased. "Sure. You're not that much of a stud," she teased back. "You'll have to go to the grocery store. We don't have that much in the refrigerator." "Anything else?" "Just that I love you." "I love you, too." I looked out the window and realized that it was snowing steadily now. Two inches had accumulated already. I buzzed Margaret. "What's on the docket for tomorrow?" "The hospital called and rescheduled tomorrow's surgery for two weeks from now. They are canceling all elective surgery due to the snow. That was the only thing on your calendar." "Have you notified the patient?" "Yes, disappointed but understanding." "Okay, I'm leaving early. I have to go to the grocery store. I have a house full of teenagers this weekend." "Lucky you." The store was mobbed. What was it about snow that made the city go wild? All the milk was gone by the time I got there, as well as most of the bread. The people had also made a good dent in the store's supply of toilet paper. I spent forty-five minutes in the check-out line, and another two inches had accumulated by the time I left the store. As I started the car, the weatherman on the radio raised the prediction from eight inches to twelve. My cellular phone rang. "What is it, Karen? I've already been to the store, and if I didn't buy it, I'm not going back to get it." "No, I was just wondering if you could pick up Allison. Her parents don't want to drive her over in the snow, but you should be going right by her place." "Where does she live?" "112 Terrace. You should know that; you've taken her home from swimming practice lots of times." "Oh, that Allison. Sure, I'll go right by. Any other of your friends you want me to pick up?" "No, just Allison. Cheryl and Susan are walking over. Oh, and Mom called. She's stuck in St. Louis." "I know, we talked too. I'll be home in ten minutes, providing Allison is ready. Bye." "Bye." Allison was ready, running out of the house as soon as I turned into the drive. "Hi, Dr. Lombardi," she said as soon as the car door was closed. "Thanks for the ride." "No problem." I turned to her as I said it, and was rewarded with a wonderful smile. Allison was my favorite of Karen's friends. She was by far the prettiest, stunningly beautiful actually. Much prettier, even, than Karen, and I see Karen through a father's adoring eyes. She was bright and more mature than most fifteen-year-olds. While she had the looks to be a model, she had once told me that she wanted to be a doctor and we had a long talk about the medical profession. I remember being struck with how perceptive her questions were. Even though Allison had been ready, my prediction was way off the mark. It took us twenty-five minutes to get home. The side streets were treacherous, and the car was sliding all over. At one point, I completely lost control and the car slid down a hill sideways. Miraculously, I didn't hit anything and we came to a stop at the bottom. I looked over at Allison to see if she was all right, and her face was covered with a big grin and her eyes flashed with excitement. The fear that always follows a close call in a car disappeared. I laughed and apologized. Then, I put the car back into gear, and we drove the rest of the way without incident, but not without a bit more sliding. When we got home, a disaster was in the making. Domino's would not deliver in the snow, and the girls just had to have pizza. I made the situation worse by calling Karen, "Kitten," my pet name for her, mortifying her in front of her friends. Heroically, I managed to save the day by producing the ingredients for homemade pizza from the grocery bags, and the "Kitten" incident was quickly forgotten. Making the pizza was fun. The girls did most of the work, and I kibitzed and flirted with Karen's friends. I suppose my presence embarrassed Karen a bit because there were a few "Oh, Daddy!"s out of her, but she didn't seem to mind too much. After dinner, the girls disappeared upstairs into Karen's room, and I went into my study to read. My reading was interrupted with the sound of a crash.The girls had been having a pillow fight, prematurely because I had always believed the slumber party pillow fight was supposed to be scheduled after lights out, and Allison had taken a tumble down some stairs. She was sitting on the landing, holding her ankle, tears in her eyes. I delivered the usual rebukes about rough-housing to the assembled girls while I examined Allison's ankle. It didn't appear to be broken, probably just twisted, at worst a sprain. She had full range of motion in the joint, although not without pain. I helped her to stand, and then with her left arm over my shoulders and my right around her waist, I helped her back up the stairs and into my bedroom. She was wearing some kind of perfume; it smelled pleasant. As we moved, I became aware that her left breast was pressed against my rib cage; that was pleasant as well. My hand rested on her hip, and I marveled at her slim waist and the wonderful curve of her hip. Allison sat on the edge of the bed. I took off her shoe and sock and told her to roll up the leg of her jeans so I could put a bandage on it. "I think they are too tight to roll up." I looked, and noticed that they were indeed very tight. They could have been painted on. Her shapely calf was clearly displayed. "All right, then you'll have to take them off." "Take them off? In front of you?" "I'm a doctor. You don't have anything I haven't seen a thousand times already, and don't worry, I won't watch you undress." I went into the bathroom to find an Ace bandage. I gave her some extra time to finish taking off the jeans before emerging from the bathroom. I sat on the floor at her feet and started wrapping the ankle. The skin of her legs was soft, like a child's. The shape of her legs, though, was that of a woman. She sat with her legs slightly spread, and I could see her white, cotton panties which covered the mound of her vulva. A few wisps of hair poked out through the elastic. I glanced up at her face, framed by disheveled, light-brown hair. Her eyes were soft with tears, and she was biting her lower lip against the pain. I felt the blood begin to flow to my penis and the beginnings of an erection. I forced myself to focus on the medical task at hand, to be professional. It had been a long time since I was distracted by a pretty patient, not since I was a resident. Pretty women often distracted me, but not while I was treating them. What made it worse was that she was only fifteen and my daughter's best friend. When I was done with the bandage, I went up into the attic to find the crutches I used after my last skiing accident. By the time I returned, Allison was dressed and trying to hobble about the room. I adjusted the crutches to her height, gave her a large dose of ibuprofen for the pain, and told her to keep weight off of the ankle and to let me know if it started to swell. I got a kiss on the cheek for a reward. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. The snow kept falling; the predictions had been upped again to eighteen inches. There was the expected giggling and slumber party noises from Karen's room and the TV room, but no one else took a header down the stairs. I had decreed "lights out" at midnight, and no more pillow fights. The talking and giggling continued for some time after that, but I didn't really care. Around one o'clock, I clicked off Conan O'Brien and decided to go to bed. I stopped in the living room and looked out the front window at the snow. The neighborhood was almost unrecognizable. The road had not been plowed yet and the neighbors' cars were just white humps along the side of the road. I heard a noise on the stairs and turned. It was Allison, hopping down the stairs on her good leg, banister in one hand, crutches in the other. "What are you doing up?" I asked. "I came down to get a drink." She moved across the room, stood next to me, and looked out the window. She was wearing a short, white nightgown. It came down to her mid-thigh, her perfect legs extending out of the bottom. The gown was also low cut in the chest, placing her fifteen-year-old breasts on display. They were not large, but were round and firm and perfectly formed. She looked vaguely angelic in the white gown, but like an angel that was about to taste the fruit of the tree of knowledge. "It's beautiful." "It sure is," I replied, not taking my eyes off of her. We stood there for a few moments, Allison looking out the window, and me looking at Allison. Then she turned, looked up at me and smiled. She then leaned over and put her arm around me and her head against my chest. "Thanks for having us over. I'm having a lot of fun, despite the ankle." "You're welcome. I'm always happy to have Karen's friends over." Pleasant as it was, I realized this had gone far enough. I had to stop this before I did something irretrievably stupid. "How about that drink? I think there is some juice in the fridge. We ought to save what's left of the milk for breakfast." After getting Allison some juice and helping her back up the stairs, I went into my bedroom, stripped down to my underwear and went into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror and tried to convince myself that I was normal, that there was nothing wrong with being aroused by a beautiful, fifteen-year-old. She was a young woman, not a child. I didn't do anything to take advantage of her. This was healthy. Well, maybe not healthy, but natural. It did not make me a pedophile, or at least that is what I tried to convince myself of. The next choice would be a cold shower or masturbation. I prescribed the latter. I was already semi-erect, and my cock sprung to full size at the first touch. As I stroked, I imagined that Allison came into the bathroom, wearing that nightgown. Wordlessly, she knelt before me, put her hands on my hips and took me into her mouth. I looked down and I saw her take all of my cock into her mouth. She looked up at me, engaging me with those piercing blue eyes. She let my cock slip out of her mouth, and grasping it around the base, ran her tongue around the head, all the while looking into my eyes. She then smiled and tilted her head to take my balls into her mouth. I ran my finger around my balls, pretending it was her tongue. Then I resumed the stroking of my cock. In my fantasy, she continued sucking for a while, using her tongue expertly along the underside of my cock. Not wanting this to end too quickly, I grasped her head and gently stopped her sucking. I raised her up until she was standing before me; then I leaned down and kissed her. She responded eagerly, sliding her tongue between my lips. As we kissed, I ran my hands under the nightgown and along her body. Her skin was soft, but firm. Her belly was flat, smooth and taut, baby fat gone, adult fat yet to come. I ran my hands up and grasped her breast. I ran my fingers across the nipple, feeling it harden under my touch. Allison shuddered when I touched the nipple and broke our kiss. "That feels wonderful, Dr. Lombardi." "You just sucked my cock. You'd better call me Alan." "OK, Alan." "Allison, I'm not sure..." "Alan?" "Yes." "I want you to fuck me," she said, boring a hole into my head with those blue eyes. "Are you sure?" "Yes, Alan. I want you, more than anything." I led her into the bedroom, and lifted off her nightgown, tossing it aside. She stood before me, half girl-half woman, naked and beautiful. Her breasts, small and perfect, capped with erect nipples. Her smooth stomach. Her amazingly thin waist and the gentle curve of her hips. The wisps of hair that covered her mons. We kissed again; this time she was aggressive, shoving her tongue deep into my mouth and scratching my chest with her nails. We fell onto the bed, the fall breaking our embrace. I started kissing her throat, and moved down from there until I reached her breasts. I took one, then the other, into my mouth, at first sucking and then twirling my tongue around her nipple. Then I slid further down, past her navel, until I was between her legs and that sweet-sour musk filled my nostrils. I licked, tentatively at first, up and down her labia. She was already slick. I tried a quick stab of my tongue at her clitoris. She yelped and clamped her thighs around my ears. I looked up and she looked down. Her blue eyes, glazed over, tried in vain to lock onto mine. "That feels wonderful, Alan. No one has ever done that to me before." I smiled and continued my work until she was shaking, violently shoving her hips into my face. I moved back on top of her and kissed her deeply. She broke the kiss and took my earlobe into her mouth, tugging it with her teeth. "Fuck me, Alan. I want you inside me," she rasped into my ear. I positioned myself at the entrance to her vagina, and slowly pushed forward, not wanting to hurt her. She was tight, tighter than any woman I had ever felt, but I entered smoothly. I wondered if she were a virgin; I could not tell. The doubt excited me more than if I knew she was. Allison tossed her head back, eyes closed, and moaned. I started thrusting, and she began gyrating her hips, matching my thrusts. She brought her head forward and opened her eyes. Her blue stare had a fiendish intensity as she stared deep into mine, bucking her hips all the while. I could not hold back much longer. I closed my eyes and started thrusting violently. Our movements mismatched, I slid out of her. I fumbled to try and reinsert myself, but she was quicker.She darted down and again took my cock into her mouth. I shot my load all over the bathroom tile, but in my mind's eye it was down Allison's throat. She swallowed it all, except for a drop of semen which ran down the side of her chin. She brought her hand to her face, cleaned the semen off her chin, and then licked her finger clean, all the while staring up at me with those eyes of hers. I cleaned up the tile and went to bed. In the morning, the girls fixed their own breakfast; then three of the girls went sledding. Allison stayed behind because of her ankle. I headed out into the snow to shovel the driveway. It needed it, and I did not completely trust myself in the house alone with Allison. There was a lot of snow, but it was dry and light. It took me about two hours to clear the driveway and path, and by that time my lower back was stiff and burning. I really should buy a long-handled snow shovel. Once inside, I shed my boots and coat and realized that I was soaking wet with sweat. A critical choice faced me, a shower or lunch? Hunger won out. I quickly got out of my wet clothes, changing into sweat pants and a T-shirt and headed into the kitchen to make a sandwich. In the kitchen I dropped a knife, Allison must have heard me moaning as I tried to bend over and pick it up; the pain in my back was excruciating. She hobbled into the kitchen. "What's the matter Dr. L?" "Just a stiff back from shoveling." "Would you like a massage? I give them to my Dad all the time. I'm pretty good at it." "No, thanks. It'll be better in about an hour." "Come on. You fixed my ankle, let me fix your back. It'll feel great." That was what I was afraid of, but she kept pleading, and finally I relented. I had a day bed in my study that was the closest thing to a massage table in the house. Allison led the way. We must have been quite a sight with her limp and my gasps of pain with each step. I lay face down on the day bed with my hands folded under my head. I closed my eyes and Allison climbed up and straddled me, her bottom lightly resting on mine. Allison started in on my shoulders. "Oh, you are really tense. All knotted up. Too bad I don't have any massage oil, but I'll have to make do." She leaned forward so she could bear down harder. Her hair hung down and tickled the back of my neck, and I could feel her breath on my cheek. I could also feel a raging hard-on developing. Gradually, she moved her ministrations lower, working my shoulder blades and down my sides. "You are kind of sweaty." "Sorry, it's from the shoveling. I guess I should have showered first." "Don't worry. I don't mind. In fact, it's kind of sexy." She giggled. "I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have said that." "Just massage. No comments from the peanut gallery." I didn't know which felt better, the relief from the back pain or her hands kneading my flesh and her hot breath on the back of my neck. Also, every time she shifted her weight, her crotch rubbed back and forth across my butt. My penis screamed for relief, but it was pressed hard against my stomach and got none. Allison got off the couch, moved behind me, and started massaging my legs. I was glad that my penis was pressed up against my stomach and not extending down into one of my pant legs for her to find. "Roll over and I'll do your front." That I could not do. In my loose fitting sweat pants, I would pitch a circus tent. There had been nothing overtly sexual about her massage, but my penis felt like it was at least an inch longer than it usually got. "Thanks, Allison, but no. My back is one hundred percent better. I'll just lay here and try to nap." "OK, Dr. L. See you later." I managed to avoid Allison for the rest of the day. The other two girls left around three, and Allison's parents came by to pick her up around four o'clock. Before she left, she sought me out to thank me for "fixing" her ankle and having her over. I remember looking into her eyes as she thanked me and realizing that her eyes were brown. I had thought they were blue. I guess I was not that observant. It disturbed me since I had been looking at her all weekend. At about eight o'clock on Sunday, I heard a car in the drive. I walked into the foyer and Catherine, my wife, was coming through the door. She set her bags down, and I took her into my arms and kissed her hard. "Well, somebody missed me," she said when we came up for air. We kissed again. "Oh, gross! PDA," said Karen behind us. "God, my own parents slobbering over one another. You're worse than the teenagers in school." "It's nice to see you, too, Dear," replied my wife. "I'm going over to Cheryl's to watch a video," announced Karen. "School night. Be back by ten," reminded Catherine. "But, it's eight now. The video won't be over by ten." "Ten thirty," I said. Karen sighed, and left, kissing her mom on the cheek as she left. "You're getting generous in your old age," joked Catherine. "Generous? I am being completely self-serving. I just bought us another thirty minutes of being alone together." "Oh, I see what you're up to. Poor man. Cooped up in a house filled with, how did you put it, 'nubile, young girls.' No wonder you're so eager. Let me get cleaned up. I have a surprise for you. Meet me in the bedroom in twenty minutes." Twenty minutes later, I was lying on the bed and Catherine emerged from the bathroom. She was wearing a low-cut, white nightgown that came down to the middle of her thigh. "Believe it or not, there is a Victoria's Secret store in the St. Louis airport." She spun around, modeling it for me, not realizing that I had seen it just last night. It fit Catherine better, though. It was designed for a woman with larger breasts, and Cath filled it out nicely. Somehow, it did not look angelic on her; it looked damned hot. She slid in bed next to me. As we kissed, I ran the back of my hand along her cheek. Her skin was soft, but not firm like a teenager's; it was yielding instead. She took my finger into her mouth, sucking on it and looking up into my eyes. I then realized that those piercing, blue eyes about which I had fantasized did not belong to Allison; they belonged to my Catherine. END

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14228.txt

Ann Douglas

Deja Vu

"Connie, honey, wait!" Johnny called out as he leapt off the couch after her. "I'm sorry, I got a little carried away! Please don't go!" The words were coming out of his mouth as fast as he could think of them. He wasn't really aware of what he was saying. Anything to keep her from getting dressed and walking out that door. With his hands on both her shoulders, he began to lightly stroke her arms and pour on the charm. "Why should I stay?" Connie asked him as she looked into his bright blue eyes. Johnny looked deep into her eyes as well. He could see the combination of lust and anger reflected there. It was like a scale perfectly balanced on the edge. His next words could cause her to go either way. He had to say the right thing or lose her forever. She was that angry. "I'll tell you why..." He said after taking a deep breath. "Because next month, the Bluecoats are going to get an audition with RCA. And if they sign us, and I really think that they will, then we'll be on our way. Then it'll be you and me, right to the top. 1956 is going to be our year." "Oh Johnny!" Connie gushed as she dropped the pile of clothes and threw her arms around his neck. She covered his face with kisses and kept telling him how much she loved him and how happy she was going to make him. How she was going to stand by him every step of the way and when he won that first gold record she would be standing right next to him. Returning her kisses and playing with her breasts, Johnny considered trying again to get her to try it with her mouth. He wanted it so badly. She was so excited that she might change her mind. But he finally decided to take what he was sure of getting. If he got that recording contract like he was sure they would, then there was no way she could refuse to try it then. If not, then there were sure to be lots of other girls on the way to being a star. "I want you Connie," Johnny panted. "I want to love you, I want to love you right now." "Oh yes, Johnny." Connie babbled on. "I want to love you too. I want to be with you forever, I want to be with you now!" Johnny eased Connie to the floor, atop the soft pile of her clothes. She suggested that they move to the bed to be more comfortable, but he said that he didn't want to wait a moment longer. Her panties were gone in a flash and he parted her legs. Looking down, he got his own first good look at the small dark triangle he had lusted after for so long. Johnny could feel Connie tense up as he laid on top of her and positioned his hard cock at the entrance to her pussy. He shifted his weight and she eased up a little. Moving to the bed now seemed a good idea but he couldn't stop now. The bed would be good enough for a second try. Connie grunted a small cry as he forced his cockhead between the lips of her maidenhood. Despite her previous lubrication, it still hurt as the membrane began to stretch. "Don't you have to wear something?" Connie suddenly asked, now immensely aware that however slightly, he was now inside her. "So we don't make a baby." "Don't worry about that," Johnny said reassuringly. "You can't get pregnant the first time, didn't anyone ever tell you that?" Connie thought about it for a second. True, her mother hadn't actually sat down with her and given her "The Talk", but she and her girlfriends had talked about guys and sex a lot. She remembered Tina Marie once saying that she had once heard that too. Also that she should make sure she drank a lot of coca cola the next morning. Something about it preventing babies too. After all, Johnny wouldn't tell her that if it wasn't true. And even if something did happen and she somehow did get pregnant, it wasn't a problem. Johnny and her were in love. They'd just get married. "Oh yeh, sure." She replied as she ran the name Mrs. Connie Coravelli over and over in her head. Another jolt of pain shot through her as Johnny pushed forward a little harder. This time, Connie bit down on her lip. She didn't want Johnny to think she didn't love him enough to do it. The pain eased up as Johnny slid his cock back. Then ripped through her like a hot iron as Johnny grabbed her ass and thrusted forward as hard as he could. Connie yelled at the sudden pain as she felt her hymen rip. Tears formed at the edge of her eyes, born both of pain and happiness. Despite the hurt which was already fading, she was now a woman. Freed from the barrier of her virginity, Johnny began to pump in and out of the young woman as hard as he could. He put such force into each thrust that he lifted her ass off the floor each time. He could feel his heart racing like a jackhammer as his breath began to come in shallow gasps. "Oh God, you're so tight!" He yelled as he drove in her once again. Laying spread open on the floor, unsure what she should be doing while Johnny pushed in and out of her, Connie couldn't help but wish he had yelled out something more in the lines of how much he loved her. She also felt that she should be doing something other than just laying like a piece of meat for his satisfaction. But no one had ever discussed that with her. She had assumed Johnny would guide her, yet except as an object to satisfy his raging lust, he now seemed almost oblivious to her presence. Eventually, even as she just laid there, Johnny's persistent thrusts began to feel pretty good. It had started as just a nice feeling that had replaced the initial pain. Now it resembled a rising tide that brought waves of delight washing over her body. It resembled the feeling she got when she played with herself, yet at the same time it was different. Still, it was getting better with each passing minute. Suddenly, Johnny stopped and his body seemed to stiffen. He uttered a loud groan and Connie felt a new sensation between her legs, centered in her new womanhood. She really didn't know how to describe it, but she was sure it had been the result of Johnny's having climaxed. A thought that was confirmed was Johnny slid out of her and rolled onto his back. He wasn't even looking at her, just staring up at the ceiling. "That was so great," He said. "That was it?" Connie asked herself. "That was the great IT?" The young girl, now a woman, felt a great sense of disappointment. She couldn't believe it had been such a letdown. It hadn't even been as good as when she masturbated. "Maybe it's just because it was the first time," She said to herself as she sat up. "That must be the reason why. It couldn't always be like this." "Oh what a mess," Connie said as she looked down and saw Johnny's now limp cock covered with a mixture of cum and blood. "What?" Johnny said as he too sat up. "Oh gross!" He exclaimed as he saw his blood smeared cock. Grabbing the first thing he saw on the floor, Johnny began wiping his cock clean. It overtook a moment for Connie's bright white panties to become a blood-stained rag. "Hey!" Connie cried out. "I need those." But it was too late as Johnny wiped himself once again with the only clear part. "Sorry," He said sheepishly. "Forget it," Connie replied, the tinge of disappointment still in her voice. "I have another pair in my purse. As she grabbed her bag and the pile of clothes off the floor and headed for the bathroom, Connie was sure her mother never considered this situation when she always told her to carry an extra pair of panties in her purse in case her period came unexpectedly. By the time she had finished cleaning herself up in the bathroom, Connie had reconciled herself to her rather uninspiring first time. True, it had fallen far short of what she thought it would be, but what was done was done. The important thing was that she and Johnny were going to be together. And in just six weeks he was going to have a recording contract and they would be on their way. "Johnny, would you be a dear and get me my shoes and socks over by the couch," She called out from the bathroom. Her voice had a sort of instant maturity to it. Johnny handed her the shoes and socks as she walked back into the living room. He really hadn't cleaned up, he just pulled his pants back on. "Are we going out tomorrow night?"Connie asked as she slipped on her shoes, trying so hard to act as if losing her virginity was the most natural thing in the world. Something that happened every day. "I don't think so," Johnny said rather evasively. "There's going to be a special about Rocky Marciano's retirement on tomorrow night. All the guys were going to go over to Vito's house to watch it. His family just got a television." "That's okay," Connie said. "We can always go out later in the week." "I think we're going to have to play it by ear right now," Johnny said with a forced smile. "I'm really going to have to spend a lot of time with the band over the next couple of weeks. What with the audition and all coming up. We want to be at our best, right?" "Sure, right," Connie replied cautiously. For the first time, Connie now noticed the quirk in Johnny's voice. Was something wrong? Had he found the experience as disappointing as she had? Had there been something wrong with her? Was there something she should've been doing to have made it better? But he had said it was great. She was considering asking him right out what was wrong but couldn't bring herself to do it. It was silly she knew. After all, look at what they had just shared, the most intimate thing a man and woman could share. How could asking a simple "what's wrong" be so hard? In her heart, she knew the answer. It was because you were afraid of the answer. Before she could steel herself to ask the question she knew she should, the lights of a car pulling into the driveway flooded the room. It was followed a few moments later by the beep beep of a car horn. "It's my brother picking me up," Connie stated. "I asked him to when you told me your car would be in the shop. But he's over an hour early." "That's okay," Johnny said as he pulled his shirt back on. He didn't want Connie's big brother to see him without it when he walked her to the door. As athletic as Johnny was, big Jim Esposito outweighed him by 60 lbs and was a star halfback for State. He didn't want to think about what that bruiser would do to a guy who'd just fucked his 16-year-old little sister. "Hi Jim!" He called out as he and Connie stepped out the door into the driveway. "Hey there, Johnny!" Came the reply as he waved. "Looks like I wasted the trip," He added as he pointed to the green Ford in the end of the driveway. Johnny's eyes followed Jim's pointed hand until they came to his car just sitting there. He had forgotten that he'd told Connie that his car was going into the shop. Nothing was wrong with it, but he had figured saying there was would make sure they spent the night at his house rather than going out. "It turned out to be a quick fix," Johnny replied. "Looks like I lucked out." "Hey, if you want to take Connie home, I don't mind," Jim offered. "No, it's okay, you're here and all," Johnny countered. Connie looked at him in renewed disappointment. If he had driven her home it would've given them a chance to talk. Now she couldn't even do that. "I'll give you a call as soon as I can, okay?" Johnny said to Connie as he leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Okay, sure," Connie replied, now even more confused by his platonic action. "And it better be soon," She thought to herself because we definitely have to talk." With that, she ran to the car where her brother was waiting with the door open. Connie stared at Johnny while Jim closed the door behind her and walked over to the driver's side. Watching Jim get into the car and put it in gear, Johnny thought Connie might have found his goodnight kiss a little strange. But there was no way he was going to let her suddenly throw her arms around him and give him a lover's kiss. Not when that might leave her big brother with exactly the right impression. Looking out the back window as the image of Johnny standing in the driveway faded in the distance, one thought repeated over and over in Connie's mind. They were definitely going to have to have a long, long talk. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "Oh Johnny," Connie murmured as she opened her eyes and took in her surroundings in a half-daze. She realized that she had fallen asleep in her chair. The morning light was already filtering in through the windows. It was already Saturday morning. Wiping the last of the sleep from her eyes, Connie looked down at the picture in her lap. It had been a long time since she had dreamed of that night. "We never did get to have that talk, did we, Johnny?" She said to the image of her long-lost love. No, they never did. Four weeks after that fateful night, Connie was devastated when it was announced that Johnny had married Susan Marziatto. She'd seen Sue hanging around the band at several performances. They went to the same high school and were only five months apart in age. Seen the way that flat-chested hussy had looked at Johnny and the other Bluecoats, like a lost puppy. At the time, she couldn't understand how Johnny could've done that to her. How could he have betrayed her love and married such an unremarkable girl as Sue. Six months later, she had her answer with the birth of Mario John Coravelli. Sue had been three months pregnant when they'd been married. The birth of their son also closed the final chapter for Johnny and the Bluecoats. Johnny Coravelli had made many mistakes in his 19 years, but none greater than knocking up the daughter of Jim "The Banker" Marziatto. The local hood may have been forced to accept Johnny into his family in order to preserve his daughter's honor, but having his reluctant son-in-law continue as some god-forsaken Rock N' Roller was too much for the old Sicilian. Within two weeks of the wedding, Johnny was informed that he was now working for the family's legitimate lumber business. Given the option of several broken limbs or giving up his career, Johnny had made the choice that kept all his body parts intact. It had been made clear to the young man that now that little Sue had a wedding certificate and a last name to go with the baby, a live husband was no longer an important consideration. Johnny's marriage had lasted less than two months after they buried the old man in early 1960. By that time, Connie was herself the mother of a sixteen-month-old son, having married Vinnie D'Angelo in 1958. Like Susan Marziatto, she had raced the stork to the altar. Unlike the Marziatto's, The D'Angelo's had a happy marriage that lasted 24 years. A life Connie wouldn't have traded for a room full of gold records. The chimes of the wall clock struck eight, and Connie rose from her chair. Time to start the day. Leaving her mementos where they lay, she tied the sash of the bathrobe she had been wearing the night before and headed for the kitchen. A quick breakfast of coffee and muffins followed. Her daughter Angela had once suggested that Connie should think about hiring a woman, someone to do the cooking and housecleaning. But Connie had quickly put a stop to the idea. She was far too independent and set in her ways. After clearing the breakfast dishes, Connie headed for the master bathroom for a quick shower. She was about to turn on the water when she changed her mind. Her back hurt a little after spending the night in that chair. A bath would feel better than a shower. She had plenty of time, the guy from the agency wasn't due until after lunch. Five minutes later, Connie eased herself into the oversized sunken tub that had been a birthday gift from Vinnie many years ago. The heat of the water felt good as it penetrated her body. The tub was wide and long enough that she could stretch her whole body out. After a few minutes of just soaking, Connie began to wash with a large bar of perfumed soap. The hot water felt good as it splashed across Connie's breasts. She ran her soapy fingers across her large mounds, playing with her nipples. As always, it felt good. Connie slid the bar of soap down between her legs and began rubbing the wet mound. Letting the yellow bar float free, she slipped a finger inside herself, uttering a soft moan as she did. A second finger followed, and then a third. Soon she was furiously pumping them in and out. While the warm water and her fingers caressed her love canal, her thumb played against her clit. Four decades of familiarity with her own body bought her quickly to the edge of bliss. The 54-year-old leaned back against the soft plastic cushion built against the head of the tub, her eyes closed, lost in the moment. Her thoughts again began drifted back to that warm June night 39 years before. Of love lost and desire unfulfilled. It wasn't long before Connie's body began to tremble as her orgasm was upon her. Her mouth formed a silent O as her legs and arms grew weak and repeated waves of delight rippled up and down her naked form. For long moments, she just drifted there, even after her body quake had ceased. She just listened to the twin sounds of her heartbeat and the gentle flow of the water as it bounced off her. Those first moments after an orgasm were meant to be relished. As Connie had grown older and come into her sexual prime, she discovered that her climaxes had become more and more intense. Even now, years later, they still were. Eventually, the water began to cool, and Connie lifted herself out of the tub. Dripping water, she stepped up and out of the marble tub and onto the carpeted floor. She retrieved a large batch towel from the wall bar and began to dry herself. Enjoying the sensation of the soft cloth against her nipples, Connie stopped for a moment and took a long look at herself in the bathroom's full-length mirror. For a woman of 54, Connie D'Angelo had little to complain about as far as her body was concerned. 5'7", she still weighed pretty much the same as she did after Angela was born.Oh, there were certainly more wrinkles, but far fewer than she had seen on other women of her age. Her large breasts sagged some, but that had to be expected. It wasn't like she expected to be a firm, trim teenager all her life. In fact, the extra pounds she had gained over the years gave her a more full-figured look that she actually enjoyed. Her nipples were dark and attractive against her very white skin, as it had been many years since she had sunbathed topless. Her stomach was reasonably trim, with her weight distributed pretty evenly around her body. In fact, if someone had to guess her age by just looking, she didn't think she was being too egotistical by thinking they would say mid to late forties. In fact, the only thing that the woman really disliked about the image reflected back to her was the grayness of the small triangle between her legs. Once, many years ago, she had let one of the more discreet beauticians attempt to color that gray as well. Her skin in that area had proved to be much too sensitive and had produced a small but painful chemical burn. That had been the end of that idea. There had also been a time when she considered shaving it off completely. Then that idea also flew out the window when she saw a 50-year-old at the spa who had done just that. Connie decided it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen - a grandmother looking as bare as a pre-teen girl. The final compromise had been to just keep it as closely trimmed as she did now. Finishing drying herself off and taking care of her daily toiletries, Connie walked into the bedroom, still stark naked. That was one of the advantages of living alone; she didn't have to worry about such things as false modesty. The weather report had called for another warm day, rising up to the mid 80s. From the warm breeze coming through the large bay window, Connie figured they were being conservative in their prediction. Selecting a light sundress and laying it out on the bed, Connie reached into her dresser for a clean bra and panties. The panties were white and rather plain, but these days she selected them for comfort rather than how they looked. Not that she didn't have a few special pairs in the bottom drawer that she saved for special occasions. Like the panties, her bra was designed more for function than form. But surprisingly, it combined the best of both. When she donned the light green dress and looked in the mirror, she had a very ample view of the valley between her breasts. "Might as well give young Mr. Ross a good view," she laughed. A noise from outside the window drew her to it, and she looked down into the backyard. Standing there among a pile of patio blocks and sand was a rather tall, tanned, muscular young man. He was stripped to the waist and clad only in a pair of cut-offs and sneakers. From the look of the patio, the boy must've come earlier while Connie was in the bath, and, getting no reply to the bell, gone right to work. She had to admire his dedication. The work looked like it was almost finished. "Well, I'd better get down there," Connie thought. She stopped by the kitchen, making a large iced tea. If that young man had been working out there in the hot sun for any amount of time, she was sure he'd appreciate it. "Good morning!" she said as she stepped out the back door onto the patio. The dark and curly-haired young man reacted to her voice and turned. A wide smile filled his face. Taken aback by his youthful, sweat-covered form, it took a second for Connie to realize she knew the worker. "Hi there, Mrs. D'Angelo," he said, his smile growing broader. "Jack?" she replied, surprised to see the face of Jack Marziatto. "I hope I didn't wake you with all the noise," Jack said. "Ross got sick and asked me to take his place. I was glad for the work. The only thing was that he forgot to tell me what time he was supposed to come by." Connie didn't hear a word he said. She was too busy looking him over from head to toe. It was almost like Johnny had come back to life, new and improved. "So I took a chance and came by about nine. When I got no answer, I figured you might be sleeping in. So I started work and tried to keep it as quiet as possible." Jack stopped when he realized that Mrs. D'Angelo was staring at him. He wondered if she was angry because he had started the work without talking to her first. "Mrs. D'Angelo?" he asked. "Oh, sorry," Connie replied, snapping out of her fog. "You were saying?" "I said I hope I didn't wake you." "Oh no, of course not," she said, her face genuinely beaming. "I admire a young man who gets right in there and gets the job done. And from what I can see, you're just about done already." "About another hour or so," Jack answered. "I was just about to take a little breather." "Oh, this is for you," Connie said, finally remembering the iced tea in her hand. "When I saw you out here working, I thought you could use it. Unless you'd like a beer or something?" "No, iced tea is fine," Jack said as he took the glass. "Thank you." Connie watched in fascination as he drained the tall glass in one continuous gulp. A small drop of tea splashed across his chin. She watched, enthralled, as it slid down his neck and continued across his well-developed pecs. "That was good, Mrs. D'Angelo," the athlete said as he drained the last drops and handed back the glass. "Thank you again." "It was the least I could do," Connie replied. "Tell you what, since you're probably going to be here about lunchtime, why don't I fix us both a little something? That is, if you don't mind eating with an old lady?" "That'd be fine," he replied as he held the shovel in his hand. "And I'd hardly consider you old. In fact, when Jenny introduced you last week, I was really surprised that you were her grandmother." "Oh, really," Connie laughed. "Let me guess. You thought we were sisters, just like that old TV commercial." "Well, no," Johnny answered. "Actually, I thought you might've been her mother. The way the two of you had been chatting and all. You definitely don't fit the image of what most people think of as a grandmother." "I'll think you're a talented liar," she retorted. "But I'll take that as a compliment just as well." Connie grinned, showing that she hadn't been serious about him being a liar. True be told, she was very flattered. She had been only 38 when Jenny had been born; she could've been her mother. In many ways, she had been. "Well, let me let you get back to work," Connie concluded and headed back into the house. Jack had watched her walk back across the patio to the kitchen. Thankfully, she hadn't noticed him checking out her tits. The college boy had always had a fascination with large breasts, and the fact that this pair belonged to a woman a great deal older than him really didn't make a lot of difference. Most of the guys back at the Gamma Tau Ceti fraternity wouldn't have thought there was something really weird about that. After all, who'd want to look at some old lady when there were all those 18 and 19-year-old coeds bouncing around? There was a time that Jack would've agreed with them. But that was before he'd had a short affair with the landlady of the house he stayed in before he pledged Gamma Tau. Except for an impressive chest, she wasn't really a whole lot to look at - just a rather ordinary-looking, divorced, 41-year-old. Jack couldn't even remember how it really started. They were just talking one night, and one thing led to another. At first, they both were embarrassed to have wound up in bed with each other. That soon faded. She had taught him things that none of those coeds would learn for many years. Stripped of all the stupid mind games, it'd been the most incredible sex he'd ever had. So good, in fact, that he was a little reluctant to move out and into the frat house. But she had insisted. What they'd had been great, but it was only a transitory thing. He had to move on. By noon, the temperature had risen to 92. Connie had replaced the light sundress with a one-piece bathing suit. After lunch, she planned to take a cold dip in the pool. Carrying a tray of finger sandwiches and cold drinks, Connie once more walked outside. Jack was just packing away the last of his tools. He was dirty and sweaty, a condition the older woman found very erotic. "You look like you could use a shower," Connie said as she placed the tray on the wooden picnic table. Stepping under the shade of the wide yellow umbrella caused the temperature to drop a few degrees. "I'd hate to track all this mess into your house," Jack replied as he stepped up and picked up one of the small bite-sized snacks. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Connie answered as she also nibbled at a sandwich. "There's an outdoor shower over there by the pool shed. You can wash up there." "That's perfect, Mrs. D'Angelo," he said as the last morsel disappeared into his mouth. "If you'll excuse me, I'll wash this muck off before I get it all over your clean chairs." "Certainly, but if we're going to have lunch together, I insist you call me Connie. Mrs. D'Angelo sounds so old." "Okay, Connie it is," Jack smiled. The same devil-may-care smile she had seen in her dreams. "I'll be right back." Connie tried not to be too obvious as she stole glances in the direction of the pool shed. The small wall around the showerhead only covered the area just below shoulder level down to your knees. She wished she had the nerve to stroll over there for some reason and take a peek. Watching Jack toss his dirty shorts over the wall, Connie felt a warm flush. Five minutes later, Jack stepped out of the shower, clean and fresh. As he walked back to the table, drying his hair with a towel, Connie was surprised that he now wore a pair of red swimming trunks."I hope you don't mind my borrowing these," he said, indicating the shorts. "They were just hanging back there. The fit is a little snug, but they're a lot more clean than the pair I came with." "Not at all," Connie replied. "They must've been left over from the pool party Jenny had before she left. If no one's claimed them by now, they're yours. You look good in them." The reason being, Connie thought to herself, that they were such a snug fit that they very clearly outlined his hidden assets.

Part Two

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11485.txt

deirdre

Dunes

"Wow!" I said. It was involuntary. "What?" responded Rick, then he followed the direction of my eyes. "Oh, man!" he reacted. A vision, coming out of the waves. Not that I should have been noticing, what with Melody and all. We both stared, then tried to hide it as the woman actually started walking toward us. I wondered if her towel was close by, but then she turned and walked off to a towel about thirty feet away. She was sitting on it and drying off. Rick and I both kept an eye in that direction. "I'm walking by," he finally said, and set out in her direction. I heard his "Hi." My mind raced: was he being too forward? Did he sound like a nerd? I realized he was acting natural, and suddenly was less certain that I could manage to do the same. "Hi." The vision responded. "How's the water?" "Great! You guys should get in and cool off!" She'd noticed us! My mind momentarily registered that she was reading my thoughts, but in a second I realized she was simply referring to the day's temperature. Rick managed to "innocently" circle back (Ha!) and soon he and I were in the water. "Man oh man!" were his first words and without any further elucidation, I knew exactly of what he spoke. "She certainly is *something*!" "We've got to get to know her," said Rick. "Won't help me, but sure, I'll do my best to help you." "Hey, what Melody doesn't know..." started Rick, smiling, "but that's OK with me!" Then we noticed she'd decided to test the waters again. So soon after drying off, and she came over our way too! Sometimes, fate just smiles on you. Or Rick, at least. Her name was Christie, she was very friendly, and when we left the water, she actually brought her towel over to ours and talked to us. She was still friendly, apparently unattached, and she even made a couple of slightly suggestive remarks about "a couple of studs." I had to be very careful not to stare. The bikini she wore was so tiny, and her body! I'd swear she was a model, to see her. Then I realized she was suggesting the three of us walk down the beach! And, naturally, soon we were. She said she liked to get away from the people and a little ways down there was nothing but sand dunes. Soon we were walking through them, her and Rick still talking and joking. I started thinking: why were we doing this? Why was *she* doing this? Walking alone with us through a deserted and hidden part of the beach. "I feel like doing something *wild*," she was saying. She had a gleeful expression. This was like a dream. Rick returned a properly suggestive remark, egging her on. She sat down on the sand, leaning back on her elbows. Her *smile*! Rick was next to her in a second. I wondered whether I should make myself scarce, but her smile when she looked at me, without a word, told me she wanted me to stay. Then I was sitting too, her between us. "*This* could be *fun*," she said in a low, sexy voice. I swear, she knew exactly what she was doing, and was all for it. "Have you had two men before?" I couldn't believe Rick asked her that! I was still in shock or something that this was actually happening. And more than a little nervous. She lay back on the sand and we were each on our sides on each side of her. She still smiled. "It's an intriguing idea," she answered Rick with a smile. She ran her own hands up and down her body. "Do you find me desirable?" she asked, looking at me. "Uh, yes!" I managed. She giggled. "OK, to start, one kiss each," she said, and she pulled me into a kiss. I couldn't believe it. Kissing a goddess! She wasn't the least bit shy about it either, if you know what I mean. You can't believe what it was doing to me. Then she'd broken it, and with a glance and a smile to me, turned to Rick. I watched them kiss. Then they were done. "You know what I'd really like?" she said, still smiling that wicked smile. "What?" answered Rick. "I've never seen it before." We didn't respond. "I'd like to see two guys get it on." I froze, staring at her. Her demeanor hadn't changed a bit. I didn't even want to glance at Rick, but I could tell he was shocked too. "I don't think so," he finally said, in a sarcastic tone, and stood up. My thoughts exactly, and I was up in another second. She was up too, and soon was on Rick. "Oh, come on," she said, in mock disappointment, "Listen: you do this just for me, and I'm *yours*." She was all over him, and then she'd turned to me, with a pleading look in her eyes. She'd somehow grabbed his hands and gotten them on her body. I stared at her. "Just show me a little sixty nine, and then show *me* what *you* want!" She had her hand on his cock and was rubbing it. She whispered something in his ear. Suddenly she was on me. She had her arms around me and her body pressed to mine and she was looking up at me, smiling. She said quietly: "I *want* your cock in my mouth!" Her body was pressed against my cock and it was definitely hardening! I looked at Rick. He wasn't leaving, but was looking at me with a curious expression on his face. She turned back to Rick, but pressed the back of her body against me. "It'll just be our little secret: one little time," she said. Yes, I did think about it. Would I do that, just for a chance with Christie? She was *really* something, and I'd *never* run into a woman, beautiful or not, who talked about sex like that! Rick looked me in the eye. I realized then and there that he was willing to do it, for his chance at Christie. She reached behind me and pressed herself harder into my body, undulating a little. *What the hell*, I thought. She was so happy. Somehow she *knew*, even without Rick or I saying anything. Then she was away from us, facing us. "OK, let's see your bodies," she said. Since we were in swimsuits, obviously she meant our cocks. "Go ahead," she urged us. I glanced at Rick. I sort of casually put a thumb in the waistband of my suit and he did the same. I slowly started pushing it down. Soon we were both standing there, naked in front of her. She looked like she'd just won the lottery. "OK, lie down," she said, pointing out a spot. By this time, I didn't know what to do except follow her lead and soon found myself lying on my side, facing Rick's cock! "OK," she said as she knelt next to us, practically hovering over us. "Take it in your hand," I felt Rick touch me and then hold me. I did it too. "Kiss it."I can't believe I did it, but I did. 'OK, in your mouths,' and on she went. Soon, I was lying there, sucking. "Oh, yes," she said, still over us. She was standing. "Keep sucking!" she encouraged, "This is incredible!" The sound of her breathy voice was so intoxicating. And the noise of the ocean. Yes, I got hard. It's hard not to when someone is sucking on your cock. He did, too. And her voice, as she kept talking, encouraging us. She told us how much she loved it. More than once I felt a sudden sense of unbelief that there was this cock in my mouth and I was doing my best to get it harder. She sounded like *she* was about to come, the way she talked. "Oh, yes, more! More! Do it!" And then I knew it. Knew it for certain. I was definitely going to come. I couldn't *believe* this! *He* was going to, too. And I didn't care--I was ready for it. And she just kept talking and talking. And it was happening. I felt myself go--what relief. And then, in my mouth, the salty liquid. "Yes! Yes! Swallow!" came her desperate-sounding voice. And it was done. I lay there, stunned and beaten. "You guys look useless to me!" I heard her say. I lay there, for a second, staring at the sky. I sat up. She was nowhere to be seen. She'd be back. No, she wouldn't. I stared at Rick for a second, then grabbed my suit and quickly put it on. Then I was standing and he was still sitting there, obviously in shock. I didn't know what to say to him. He didn't say anything either or look at me. I left him there. When I got back, Christie's towel was gone from the beach. I got my stuff and left before Rick returned. Soon I was back at the house. "Hi Honey," I said, seeing Melody. I hoped I didn't look as guilty as I felt: all the way back, I'd been thinking about how I'd almost cheated on her. I *would* have. She didn't answer me. I looked at her. She had something in her hand she was looking at. A snapshot. "What is it, Honey?" I asked. Something was disturbing her. She wordlessly showed me the snapshot. It was a polaroid of me and Rick sucking each other off. I looked at her, to find her looking more angry and disgusted than I'd *ever* seen her. She looked me in the eye as she held the snapshot for me to see. "Honey, I..." I didn't finish. I didn't know *what* to say. How did she get it? How could I explain? I did it so some woman would have sex with me? She obviously wasn't taking it well, but I was stymied. She walked away, leaving me standing there, wondering what to do. It was a quiet evening: she didn't say a single word and *I* certainly didn't know what to say. I wondered how she got the picture. Did she know Christie? We didn't talk. It was like we went through the motions of preparing and eating supper, and reading. At our usual time, she headed to the bedroom, and I followed her, and soon we were ready for bed, still neither of us having said a word since I faltered when she was showing me the snapshot. "Lie on the bed." Her voice startled me and I looked, but she wasn't looking at me. She looked even more unhappy than she was before. I didn't know what she wanted, or rather I didn't know why she asked that, but I didn't want to make more trouble. I lay down. "On your side, facing this way." She was acting very strange. But I did it. She sat on the bed in front of me. Then she put a finger on my lips. "Open your mouth." I did it. She slipped two fingers in my mouth. "Suck." This was strange. Yes, I sucked. Believe me, this was not like Melody--she'd *never* taken to instructing me like this. I lay there, not knowing what was up at all, but in the back of my mind I knew that since she was asking something of me and I was giving it to her, that she was forgiving me, or at least on that path. She didn't say anything more, but just watched me suck on her fingers. I felt so funny, her sitting there, watching me. Finally she put her other hand on my cock through my pajamas, reaching in and pulling it out. This was a big surprise. "Suck," she repeated--I'd stopped for a second. She slowly took my cock and started stroking it. She stroked and stroked it gently, all while she held her fingers in my mouth. And it felt good--I found myself getting hard fast. She didn't stop--just kept her slow soft stroking. She made no other move to get me to do anything, just kept it up. I don't know what it was, but it certainly turned me on even though she didn't start speeding up or anything. I came. Right on the bed. She didn't stop and I kept sucking and lying there. She kept going until I was done and getting softer. Then she withdrew her fingers from my mouth, got a tissue and cleaned things up as best she could. And that was it. I slept next to the wet spot and she slept on the other side of the bed. In the morning, I awoke, to her sitting next to me, stroking my cock. I felt fingers on my mouth. "Suck," she said. It was a repeat of the evening before, complete with her silence, and this time she didn't say another word the whole time. It was so strange. She still didn't start talking to me after we got up. When I came home that evening, she took my hand and led me into the bedroom and told me to lie down again, in my clothes. "Melody, this is strange," I reacted. "Shh," she shushed me, not adding another word. I stood there for a second, then complied with her wish. Yes, she had me suck on her finger and brought me off again. And that night, she did it again, catching me while I was undressed. And in the morning, again. It went for days. After a while, she had me undressed every time. Three or even more times a day. And she still never spoke to me about anything else! Yes, I tried to say something to her, but she always indicated that I should be quiet. Finally, one night I didn't let her stop me: "Melody, I miss doing it with *you*!" I said over her objections. "No you don't." "Yes I do, I..." "Shh. Just do this for now," she said. "Melody..." But she shushed me again, insisting that we do it her way. As she stroked me, getting me ready to come, she said "Shut your eyes." That was something new in our little routine, but I did it and she continued her part for a little while. "You can imagine this's your Rick," she then added. My eyes flew open and I started to sit up. "Lie down!" she said, looking angry. I lay down, but I didn't shut up: "Melody, I'm not interested in *Rick*." "Of course you are. I always suspected." "No!" I wanted to explain more, but she'd had that snapshot: how would I explain *that*? "Just relax let yourself go. Unfortunately, *he*'s not into this so you'll have to *imagine* him here." "Melody..." "Shh!" I was lying there again and she continued to stroke me. I had to stop this: it was too stupid. I'd have to tell her. I pulled her hand away from my mouth and sat up again. "Melody..." "Lie down!" "Melody, I need to explain! I did that because this woman tricked us into it." "No you didn't." "Yes! She... she said she'd have sex with us if we did that." There--I'd said it. I waited for the explosion. She was quiet for a second. "But she couldn't have gotten you to do it unless you were interested," she finally said. It was weird. She didn't seem fazed by my confession at all! "No! She was, well, a devil! Listen, Rick did it too and you're telling me he *isn't* interested." She paused again, as if thinking. I knew I'd made a point. Finally she stood up and went to her purse. I watched her looking over a packet of something-- photographs--and finally she came back with two of them and showed me one. It was Rick, and that woman Christie sucking him off. They were on the beach and she was in the same bikini she'd been in that afternoon. I stared. She showed me the other snapshot. It was inside, Christie was naked and on her hands and knees and Rick was doing her from behind. Finally Melody spoke: "You say you did it so she would have sex with you. Did you make her keep her promise?" I sat there, speechless. I didn't know what to do. Soon I found myself lying there, sucking on her fingers again as she brought me off. I must have gotten so used to the procedure that I'd followed her lead like a robot. She was telling me to imagine it was Rick. I just lay there and shut my eyes and let her bring me off. The next morning, I awoke again to her bringing me off. Then I lay there as she started her shower. I went for her purse. I found an envelope of snapshots and looked through them. The very first one was Christie licking Melody! Melody was standing, naked and Christie was kneeling in front of her in that same bikini! More of the pictures were of Christie licking Melody. All different ways. In our house! Some were outside. Then there was a picture of Rick licking Melody. And Rick doing her! Several like that. I stared. Suddenly I realized Melody was standing next to me, sopping wet, wrapped in a towel. I showed her the picture. "Well, I certainly haven't been getting anything from *you*," she said. I stood there in shock. "Listen," she went on. "Christie has this friend who she thinks could be willing to, well, share your interests..." I lay on the floor. A week later. I sucked on Dan's cock and he sucked on mine. We were both naked and lying next to the bed. On the bed, Christie was naked, on her elbows and knees, Rick fucking her from behind. Melody lay in front of her, Melody's legs wrapped around Christie's head, tightly. Melody moaned. She'd never moaned so much with me.Dunes by deirdre -30- Dunes by deirdre -30-

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11351.txt

Adhara Law

From the Clay

"Come in." His eyes roamed over her as she stood awkwardly in the doorway. She took a tentative step into the room. White chunks of clay littered the floor like muddled, dirty snow amidst furniture that had seen better days. She stood in the center of the room, hands by her sides, waiting for him to speak. "You can get undressed in there," he said, gesturing to the only other room in the apartment. She pulled a faded white curtain closed behind her, emerging a few minutes later in a thin cotton bathrobe. The couch waited in the corner. "Don't be shy," he said, watching her reticence with some impatience. His voice was neither commanding nor condescending. As she lowered herself onto the long, flat couch, she let the black fabric of the robe slip past her naked shoulders, artfully arranging it so as to reveal as little as possible, though she knew what she was there for. She looked at him expectantly. "On your side, your arms along the front." He walked to her and began posing her delicately, moving arms and legs into a seductive arrangement. Then he sat in the middle of the room and began working. She watched the clay in front of him take shape, slowly and methodically, as he worked it with his hands. The unruly strands of his blond hair lay tucked behind an ear while he stared at her intently every few moments. She glanced out the window. "So, you're a student?" Her head bobbed in a tiny nod. "And what do you study?" "English literature." She watched his eyebrows twitch and wondered how much older than her he was. They were silent as he worked, shaping the dark mass of unformed clay as he examined her. She watched the sunlight move across the room as she lay unmoving. "You're too stiff," he said quietly, his hands moving over the clay. She swallowed. "I'm sorry." "Are you nervous?" "Yes." "There's no need to be." His voice was flat, consumed by the clay. "The naked body is a natural thing. That's why I want to sculpt it." She was silent. "You don't think so?" She struggled for something to say. "You should be proud, you're a beautiful woman," he said, but there was no lust in his voice, only the presentation of a fact. "You should let it show, like a work of art." She wondered if she should thank him. He stopped. His hands dropped to the table as he looked at her. "Why did you answer the advertisement for a nude model?" Her voice caught in her throat as her attention focused briefly on the patch of sun warming her naked thighs. "I don't know," she said. "Then I guess we have to find out." * * * She came back the next morning, taking almost no time to arrange herself on the flat couch the way she thought he'd want her arranged. A few moments later, he began sculpting. "What's your favorite?" She frowned. "Excuse me?" "Author. You're an English literature student," he answered. "I study mostly Shakespeare." He sniffed as his hands continued to move swiftly over the clay. "Don't you find it boring?" "What do you mean?" "Well, everyone's read it. You can't go through an entire day without a Shakespearean reference of some sort." He squinted at her for a moment before returning his attention to the clay. "Besides, what's left to study?" She laughed. "So much! You're not reading him properly if you find him boring." She smiled at him. "So what am I missing?" "Well," she began, her body shifting slightly as she turned to face him. The burning awareness of her nudity faded into her intense expression. "For one thing, his use of language. It's poetic, beautiful." "It's English," he said provocatively. As the sound of her bell-like laughter faded into the expanse of the room, his attention became riveted on her. "That's it," he said quietly. "That's what?" He was silent for a moment. "Tell me about Shakespeare," he said. She talked. The sunlight from the high window in the room moved across her naked body as she spoke, lectured, laughed, reveled. He laughed with her occasionally as he sculpted. The visceral passion she had for her subject was obvious as she began moving on the couch, forgetting her nakedness and instead reveling in it. He worked furiously as she spoke, listening and sculpting at the same time. The way the skin of her cheeks stretched across the high bones of her heart-shaped face took shape in the clay, the same way that the slight bow of her belly just above the soft tuft between her legs found its expression in the same medium. She emerged, slowly, on the table in front of him, her animation and energy showing through the immobile clay. As she finished waxing rhapsodic about the beauty of a Shakespearean sonnet, he stood up and went to her, making her pause and falter momentarily. Her smile, which had been constant until now, tripped slightly as he sat next to her on the couch. A slight tremble began in her feet and worked its way to her belly as he lay a clay-covered hand against her cheek. His darkened and dirty nails, caked with an alabaster version of her, contrasted with the clean, white canvas of her cheek. She shook. Slowly, she closed her eyes and let his hand slide slowly down her skin. "Tomorrow, I have something different in mind," he said. * * * Morning sunlight filtered in through the high window of the room, marred by the shadows of the windowpane frames as it crept almost imperceptibly along her calf toward her inner thigh. He moved from his table to her. This time, she didn't tremble. She watched as he sat next to her, his eyes traveling methodically over her skin, taking in the vision of her as if she were living sculpture. She felt as if she was. He leaned down slowly, the strands of his blond hair falling over her chest and teasing her nipples. She tried to remember to breathe. The light touch of his hand tickled her collarbone and then found its way to her own hand as he took it. Then, he kissed her. The tremble began again in her feet and traveled enticingly to her thighs as she wondered if she should stop him. She didn't want to. She felt him move her hand between her own legs and entwine his fingers together with hers as he ran the backs of them over her sex, barely touching the skin but making her shiver just the same. As they kissed, he began a rhythm between both of their hands, first using his own fingers to reach the hidden, secret spot and then using hers. The rise and fall of her chest became faster as it moved in time with him. "I want to sculpt this," he breathed into her ear when he broke the kiss. Her eyes closed, she shook slightly as her lips parted, but no sound emerged. "But it's so secret," she answered finally. "It's beautiful," he said. "Like you." Her eyes answered for her as they closed, her hands moving with their own rhythm while his slowly moved away. He rose silently and went to the table. They worked. Two sets of hands, one on clay and the other on skin, both shaping art. He watched, fascinated, trying to capture the moment in clay as she moved, wave-like, on the couch. Her lips slightly parted, red and flushed like her cheeks. Her nipples hard and dark as one finger traced them lazily while the other hand moved almost imperceptibly between her legs. And the sun crept further upon her as if it were an ethereal lover. Faster now, her breathing could almost be heard through the room as her head turned, eyes closed, on the pillow under her. There was no room, no sculptor. There was sunlight and her and art. Her fingers moved more quickly over her as he worked furiously over the clay. She whispered. What, he couldn't hear. She was alone even in this room with him. Her head slowly tipped back as her lips parted further, the hills of her curving hips moving in tiny circles up and down, side to side. Small sounds filled the apartment, and he sculpted faster, showers of tiny clay pieces falling to the floor like snow. She was close. He worked faster and faster, trying to keep up with her as she arched her back with fingers still working between her legs. Her closed eyes were still filled with expression, more than he had ever seen. Every pore of her skin as it stretched over her, flush with adrenaline, seemed alive and animate.She gave a short cry and clenched her teeth as she came, her hips arching up to meet her hand. The patch of sun laying over them added to the warmth mixed with wetness that was already there. Her breathing slowed. Only the sound of fingers against wet clay could be heard as he added the finishing touches. Smiling as she stretched in the growing sunlight that covered her, she stood up and walked to the table. "This is why," he said. She looked down at the table at the curving, delicate beauty of a secret moment captured in clay, and she smiled.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17135.txt

Chew Toy

Sasha (part 3)

"Five, completely awake now." What was that? I tried to remember what the waitress had just said, but she was walking away with a little sway of her hips, humming to herself. I tasted lipstick for some reason. And the table was a bit damp, as if someone had just cleaned up a spill. But my coffee cup was full, and warm. There was something in my hand. I stuffed it in my pocket and got up to pay for my coffee. I was feeling a bit tired -- might as well go back to my room. I had a bit of trouble finding my way back to my hotel room. The door that I went to first was not the room number I remembered, and when I got to my hallway, it looked oddly unfamiliar. And then my key didn't work in the lock. I checked the room number -- no, this was definitely my room. I decided to knock and hope my roommates would wake up, and would forgive me. Sasha opened the door. "Hi! Come in! I thought you'd never get here," said Sasha. "Would you like some coffee?" "Um... I thought this was my room," I said, stepping inside. "Nope. You're in 223, remember?" Sasha replied, shutting the door behind me and bustling over to the coffee pot on the dresser. "You told me that earlier." "Yeah." 223 was the room I had gone to first. Why had I thought that wasn't mine? "But you're welcome to sit down and stay awhile," she continued, handing me a mug that said it had been stolen from the cafe downstairs. "How was your panel?" "Oh, it was interesting. It was on massage. Want me to show you what I learned?" "Stop right there. You want to spend a long time caressing every inch of my body and lavishing me with devoted, skilled attention? No way, buster." "I'm sorry. I--" "Hee! Just kidding! *Please* throw me into that briar patch!" Sasha interrupted, leaping onto the bed. She stretched out on her belly and purred, in a voice an octave lower than normal, "Do me, baby." So I gave her a massage. She made enthusiastic moaning noises whenever I hit a spot or a technique she particularly liked, which made it very satisfying to massage her. I tried to ignore how much it was also turning me on. The room made a nice setting. Sasha had turned off most of the lights and lit small clumps of candles on the tables and dresser, and draped filmy scarves over the otherwise-tacky paintings hung on the walls. A faint smell of incense floated in from somewhere, and mingled with Sasha's perfume. Eventually, she signaled for me to stop, and lay limply sunken into the comforter for a moment. "Mmm... that was lovely," she said. "Now it's your turn." "My turn?" "Yes, I have to return the favor, don't I?" she replied, sitting up and stretching languorously. Then she looked me straight in the eye. "Lie down." I lay. Thinking to myself that if she kept speaking in that tone of voice, I would probably do just about anything. But she was quiet. Instead, she trailed her fingers very lightly over the back of my hand, and up my arm. My whole arm went limp, tingling as it had before. She did the same to my left hand and arm, which also went limp. It was a pleasant tingling, but still very strange. "Did you wonder when I would do this to you again?" Sasha breathed softly in my ear. "Did you wonder what it would feel like, if I touched you like this... everywhere?" Then she sat down on my butt, pulled my leg up at the knee, and started untying my shoe. I was trying to wonder about things, but actually it was getting difficult to get my thoughts to go in a straight line. My arms felt really... nice. And the thought of exactly which parts of Sasha were rubbing against my butt was very distracting. It had barely occurred to me to wonder why she was untying my shoe when she pulled it off and started gently brushing her fingertips over the bottom and top of my foot, my ankle, my calf... As the tingle spread up my leg just as it had in my arms, she removed my other shoe and did the same thing to that leg. "You're losing control of your body, aren't you?" Sasha said, as her shivery touch trailed up the back of my thigh. "Everywhere I touch. Such a delicious, tingly feeling, isn't it? Like your body is filling up with some strange gas. You can't move your arms, or your legs, but they float away lightly at my touch. I can do *this*--" and she did something to my arm... I felt it sliding over the sheets like an air-hockey puck. I was turning into a helium balloon. Her hands trailed over my butt, and my back. The tingling, airy feeling felt strange in my crotch... my cock would have been rising up in the air already, without that, if it had room to. As her fingers and the tingling rose up my back, up my torso, I felt as if I were wading out into deeper and deeper water, about to get my shoulders under... "Do you wonder what will happen when my hands reach your face? Will you lose all power of thought and speech, or will you fixate on my voice and give up control of your body to me completely, placing yourself in my hands, letting me mold and pose you as I like? Will your thoughts float away with this airy tingling, or will every word I say echo in the hollow emptiness of your head, settling there like your own thoughts? Do you wonder what will happen," her fingertips were dancing up my neck, "NOW." And my head felt empty, hollow, like a balloon. I was no longer wondering about anything... I was just listening to her. "I've always wanted a blow-up doll of my own," said Sasha, smiling. "Let me prop you up against the wall and take a good look at you. You're so light, I may need to hold you down to keep you from bouncing against the ceiling." She gave a tug, and suddenly I was standing. She sat back on the bed and looked at me appraisingly. "Not bad... though that shirt has got to go." She stepped up and pulled my shirt off, first making my hands float helpfully above my head. Afterwards, she pulled my hands back down and stuck them to my sides. "Hm... still something missing. I know!" She unbuckled the spiked black leather collar from around her neck, stood up, and fastened it around mine. Despite the tingling that pervaded my body, I could feel her nipples softly brush against my chest as she stood close to buckle the collar behind my neck. I could feel the soft skin of her arms touching my chest and shoulders. I could still be aware of being turned on by this... even if I couldn't hold any coherent thoughts about it. She clipped a long chain to a ring at the front of the collar, and fastened the other end to the frame of her bed. "Now you won't float away," she said, grinning. "My blow-up doll. Now, let's see how well inflated you are. Looks pretty good from here..." She unbuckled my belt and unzipped the front of my pants, and slid her hand inside. "Mmmm... not bad. What does your girlfriend think of this? Hm?" Sasha's face appeared in front of me. I was floating into her eyes, floating away... "What does Meg say about your cock?" I'm not sure what I would have said in answer to that. But I couldn't answer anyway. I tried very hard to speak, whatever I would have said, but just thinking about trying to speak seemed to take a lot of effort, and I got nowhere... Eventually I gave up. By then I had floated onto the bed... somehow. I was floating over the bed... no, I was tied to the bed to keep from floating away. I felt vaguely grateful to Sasha for tying me down to keep me from floating away. And now she was holding me down with her body, too. She was kneeling astride me, her legs pinning my thighs down. My pants were gone, somewhere... I could feel her naked legs on my thighs, under her skirt, pinning me down to the bed. Sitting back on her haunches... on *my* haunches, she had one arm folded and her chin resting on her other hand. Considering me. I lay sprawled on the bed underneath her, naked, wearing only her spiked collar. I wasn't sure where exactly my arms and legs were. But I was sure my cock was sticking up as straight as it could for her. "I like it," she announced. Leaning back slightly, she pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it away. Her breasts were very perky.But then, that's the first thing I had noticed about her, wasn't it? She had perfect fist-sized breasts, small but happy, drawing more attention to her alert nipples, and the rings running through them, silver against her pale flesh. Sitting astride me with her shoulders thrown back, she had a fabulous silhouette against the candlelight. I was too lightheaded to do more than stare, but my body appreciated the sight well enough. And now my cock was feeling even stiffer, and... And turning into rubber. She was rolling a condom onto me, and it felt wonderful. "It's so hard to tell where one thing ends and another begins, isn't it? You should be covered in latex, my blow-up doll. Can you feel it spreading from my fingers, covering your skin? Can you feel me slide against it?" Grabbing my hips, she pulled herself closer to my condom-covered penis, which strained to meet her. I could feel her thighs sliding along mine... it did feel as if my legs were covered too. And my belly. A strange numbness and warmth was spreading over my skin, like the tingling before. "And now you're safe for me, and totally helpless. My playtoy." She was rubbing my cock between her legs, using me like a dildo. All I could do was stare at her body, and feel her using me. I felt a slight touch of cold as she dabbed my cock with lube from somewhere, and then she took me inside her and leaned forward, riding me, clutching my body and pulling me deeper inside her, tearing the soft rubber of my skin with her fingernails, clutching me tighter and tighter and grinding her hips into me until she came, yelling, eyes closed and head thrown back, moaning a sound that pulled at my insides. "Ohhhhhh!" She lay breathing heavily for a moment, still clutching me between her thighs. Then she leaned forward. "You *are* a fun toy. Don't worry, we're not done yet." She placed her hand on my forehead, over my eyes. "Sleep." The rest of the weekend, I remember only in bits and pieces, and I'm not sure what was real and what I may have dreamed or imagined. I think Sasha did take me out of the room a few times on a leash, with me desperate to be tied down at all times for fear of floating away or something. She may have showed me off to Veronica. I hope she didn't really enter me in the costume contest as an inflatable sex toy. At some point she must have let me go back to my room, because I remember settling up with my roommates on the last day of the con, and packing up the small amount of luggage I'd brought. As I carried it out of the room, I caught sight of Sasha down the hall, and hurried over to say goodbye to her. "Hey! You know, I never got your address and stuff to keep in touch with you. Where do you live?" I asked. "Shoot! I never got that stuff from you, either. Here, here's the flyer that came with my free coffee mug, you can write on the back of it." I scribbled my address, phone number, and email on the paper she offered. Then I dug in my pockets for another scrap of paper for her to write on. My fingers touched something I didn't recognize. "What the... oh, hey, Veronica gave me something I was supposed to give back to you. Here..." I pulled the lump out of my pocket. It was a long gold-colored chain with a red crystal pendant dangling from it. It looked very pretty in the light... I couldn't take my eyes off it. "John, go into trance for me now." I was standing in the hallway... what had I been doing? Oh, right, heading off to the car. I picked up my bags and left. I was halfway home before I started remembering...

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16150.txt

deirdre

Trip

"Hon?" We were lying in bed, and it was time for sleep. "Yes?" "Um, what do you think of... doing it with another woman?" I know the answer to *that* one: "A nice thought, but you are all I want." She giggled a little. "I'm serious! What would you think of doing it with Jennifer?" Well, well, well! Not our usual conversation. In fact, I kind of liked it, though it also made me very nervous because I was not at all sure what Clara wanted to hear, or how she would react. Clara wouldn't put up with my silence. "Come on! I *know* you think she's good looking." Jennifer and Tom are thirtysomething, which is about ten years younger than Clara and myself, and Jennifer definitely looks nice. I still wasn't sure what was going on: "What's all this about?" "Can't you answer a simple question?" She giggled a little, and I could tell she was smiling, though it was dark. "Not fair teasing me like that," I said. She paused a little, then said in a quieter voice: "Sorry. Actually, I'm serious." I didn't say anything as I continued to try to figure out what was going on. I have to admit it: sometimes Clara is beyond me. She finally spoke again: "Tom is going out of town, and, well, we could invite her over..." My mind raced again. It was like it was finally sinking in that Clara was serious about this. But why? Why was she suggesting that *I* get together with *Jennifer*? It made no sense. "Are... *you* attracted to her?" I asked. "No!" she replied, giggling a little again. "I'd just like to see *you* do it with her. Are you up for it?" I lay there, more confused than ever. "Clara, this is weird!" She didn't answer. I couldn't make heads or tails of her objective in all this. "I don't think so..." "Why not?" "It would... affect our relationship. It's dangerous." She giggled: "A million men would *jump* at such a chance, and *I* married a man who doesn't want to." She didn't say any more, and neither did I, though it was a while before I fell asleep as my mind turned this over and over. What the hell was going on? The next day when I came home from work, there was Jennifer, sitting in the kitchen while Clara cooked. There were *three* places at the table. "I invited Jennifer to join us because Tom was busy tonight," said Clara. Then she gave me a look while Jennifer was looking elsewhere. Jennifer had a glass of wine in her hand, and supper was a beef marinade. And more: I wasn't sure when Clara had had time to do all the work. And Clara was dressed up: she wore this party dress with a low neckline as well as jewelry and, in fact, looked like she was ready to go out. I managed to get her alone for a second. "What's going on?" I whispered. She smiled at me: she has this little smirk. "*Nothing*'s going on tonight, so don't get yourself in a tizzy: I just wanted to soften her up and see if you'd change your mind if given a chance." And that's all I got out of her. Dinner was pleasant other than my constant worry about what was going on here. Clara seemed to be going out of her way to be friendly, and Jennifer was pleasant company. And definitely good looking, even if not dressed up like Clara was. Later, Jennifer got a hold of me alone while Clara was in the kitchen. "What's with Clara?" she asked in a hushed voice. "What about her?" I didn't know what to say, so I played dumb. "The way she's acting! I feel like she's *coming on* to me!" We didn't have a chance to continue that conversation, which certainly did nothing to calm my nerves. We all talked and drank a little more wine, and finally, Jennifer left. "Well?" asked Clara as soon as Jennifer was out the door. She was smiling. "What do you mean?" I asked, but I knew what she was talking about, at least in a general way. "You want to change your mind? I think she'd do it." "Clara, I don't like this." "Come on! Tom'll be gone five days, and we could have her in bed with us..." She stopped. She must have seen in the look on my face that I was a bit shocked and not likely to change my mind. "Why do you want this?" I asked, still not convinced she was telling me everything. She paused, then said: "It would be fun. And besides, she's nice, and she'll be lonely." Once again, I went to bed thinking. The next night at supper, Clara told me that they'd changed their mind and that Jennifer was going with Tom. "So you can put your mind at ease," she said. I *did* feel a little more comfortable, even if I wondered what it would have been like. Could I *really* have objected to such an arrangement? They were leaving that very night, and right after supper, Clara went over to their house to get their key and talk to them about getting their mail and so forth. After a while, I heard her returning, or at least I thought I did. "Hello?" came the voice. I looked over at the door to find Jennifer. "Hi, what's up?" And I looked at her and noticed she looked a little nervous. "Uh, we're going to leave now. And Clara is coming with us." "What!?" This was too weird. "Listen: please don't worry about it. I'll..." she stopped. I thought hard. What was going on? "Why?" "Well, we *persuaded* her. Look, we're leaving now..." "What about her luggage? Clothes?" "Well... she won't need any. We'll keep her in the hotel room." I didn't answer, but just stared. Finally, she spoke again: "Listen, it's OK, really. I'll make it worth your while." She immediately got down on her knees in front of me and started undoing my pants. She looked up at me and smiled. "I can be *good*." I backed up just a little, unconsciously. "*Please*!" she said. Then: "You can... do my *ass*!" I just stared at her, kneeling there, pleading. "I'll come over again when we get back. I'll be *real nice*. You'll like it." I didn't say anything, but just looked at her, on her knees. "I could stay here with you; I don't have to go along," she said. I backed up some more. "You don't mind if she goes?" she asked, looking worried. "It's a free country," I said. I was feeling a little weak. She got up and went back to the door. "Can't I stay?" she asked once more, looking piteous. The look on my face must have said *no* because she turned and left. I heard them outside. I looked out the window without being conspicuous: they loaded luggage, then three of them got in the car and drove off. I sat there for quite a while, thinking about Clara. Flying off to Boston with them at the spur of the moment. I should have gone over there to find out what was up. Why was she doing this? What did she *really* want? My mind drifted to Jennifer. Kneeling on the floor, begging me to let her give me a blow job. I'd never seen anything like it. Clara was right about one thing: Jennifer definitely affected me. I should have let her stay. If Clara was going to be like that, I should have had Jennifer instead of sitting by myself, brooding. I heard a car door slam. In a moment, the front door opened. "I... decided to stay anyway," said Jennifer. She was looking at me, obviously trying to gauge my mood. It's been nice, just the two of us. The way she kneels for me. The way she sucks for me is as good as I imagined.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8734.txt

Ann Douglas

The Adventures Of Ultra Woman And Mega Girl

"If you don't need me for anything else," the blond young man said as he picked up the small pile of folders off his boss's desk. "I'll put these away and take off." "Of course, Tim," Jacqueline Kirby smiled. "Enjoy the weekend." As the 22-year-old assistant closed the door behind him, Jacqueline leaned back in her chair and pulled a magazine out from the top drawer of her desk. It was the latest issue of "The Adventures of Ultra Woman and Mega Girl", a book she'd looked forward all day to kicking back and reading. At 26, Jacqueline had been reading comics for over 20 years. Not surprising since her Uncle, Michael Kirby, had founded Creative Comics in the mid-1960s. Since then, the company had enjoyed moderate success, but never came close to challenging the industry leaders. Not until four years ago, that was. Fresh out of college, Jacqueline, or Jackie as her family called her, had gone to work for Creative. It seemed the natural thing to do at the time. After all, she'd been working there part-time since she was 16 and had learned the business from the ground up. Then, four months after she'd started, Mike Kirby had a major heart attack and decided to retire. As the majority stockholder, it was his decision that Jackie replace him. He'd worked too long and hard to hand 'his' company over to someone outside the family. For the first year, Jackie made few real changes. After all, some of the people now working for her had been in the business when she was in kindergarten and didn't readily appreciate interference from a 21-year-old who inherited the job. All that changed, however, the day Joanna Simon showed up in the outer office. Jackie remembered that day well. In her ten years as the receptionist for Creative, Karen Wilson had seen too many young men and women like Joanna to take her too seriously. A portfolio under her arm, the 17-year-old had patiently waited all day for a chance to "show her stuff". Dozens of hopefuls showed up every year, especially towards the end of school. They made the rounds of the major comic companies, and then tried the smaller ones. Each was convinced that they held in their case the next Superman or X-Men. One of the few changes Jackie had made when she took over was that these aspiring artists and writers not be given the bums rush that too many companies gave them. Even if their ideas were worthless, what could it hurt to take a few minutes to look them over and offer some advice. After all, these were the people who brought your product. Also, one day you might actually strike paydirt. You never know, she always reminded them. The problem was that Joanna, or Jo as she liked to sign her work, had come by on the worst possible of days. A good part of the office had come down with some sort of virus, and everyone who was left was scrambling to take up the slack against a rapidly approaching deadline. Karen had suggested that she come back another day, but Jo insisted she would wait. She had used almost all of her savings for the bus trip to New York City and was sleeping on her cousin's couch. She couldn't afford to come back next week. So she'd sat quietly in her chair, watching people rush in and out of the Editor-in-Chief's office. Mid-morning soon gave way to afternoon, and then it wasn't long before the clock on the wall neared six. Karen began to pack up her things for the railroad ride home and then remembered the young girl. "I'm afraid you're not going to be able to wait any longer," Karen said with as much sympathy as possible. "Maybe you could come back Monday when it's not so hectic?" The look of disaster on the young girl's face touched a soft spot in the older woman's heart. She looked again at the wall clock and thought she could always catch the 07:10 train home. "Wait one more minute," she said. "I'm not promising anything, but I'll try." Instantly, Jo's face lit up with a thankful smile. Stepping into the inner office, Karen explained the situation to Jackie. How everyone was so busy today that she hadn't even been able to get the young girl ten minutes with any of the editors. She hated bringing the matter to Jackie but hated even more telling the girl to come back Monday. Especially if she did, only to be told that her work really wasn't as good as she thought it was. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" Jackie said as she signed her name to the last of the pile of papers on her desk. "Give me five minutes to clean up, and I'll see her myself." "Thank you, Ms. Kirby." The 46-year-old said. Karen had never been able to get used to calling her boss by her first name. Even though she had two daughters older than Jackie was. Truth be told, Jackie was dead tired. Getting everything out before the 5 o'clock deadline had been a real struggle. Still, she agreed with Karen, they couldn't simply send the girl away. The thought that if her last name hadn't been Kirby, she wouldn't get past the front door was never far from Jackie's mind. The five-foot-seven brunette took three of those five minutes to use the small private bathroom. It was one of the few luxuries that her Uncle had allowed himself. Running her hand through her long shoulder-length hair and then across her neck, Jackie thought that running this place was a lot harder than Uncle Mike had made it look. Competition was fierce, and some of their major titles were beginning to lose some of their popularity – with the resulting drop in sales. At times it seemed like the job required a 20-hour workday. She was an attractive woman, she reminded herself as she looked into the mirror. When was the last time she'd gone out on a date? Probably just a month less than the last time she'd been laid, she answered herself. "Hi, I'm Jacqueline Kirby," Jackie said with a smile as she reached out and shook Joanna's hand. "Why don't you have a seat, and we'll take a look at what you've got?" she added as she guided the younger girl to the conference table. Joanna was a half-foot shorter than Jackie with short strawberry blond hair. She still carried some of the baby fat of her early teens, as well as braces that showed when she smiled. She was dressed in what Jackie guessed was her very best dress. "Joanna Simon," the young girl said. "My friends call me Jo." Her nervousness evident, Jo sat down and emptied her portfolio out onto the table. Jackie had to hide a smile at the girl's awkwardness. In many ways, it was like looking at a reflection of herself only a few years ago. "Can I get you something to drink?" Jackie asked, trying to put her at ease. "Some tea, or maybe a Coke?" "A Coke would be nice," Jo stammered, remembering that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Jackie produced two cans of Coke from the small refrigerator behind her desk and placed one in front of Jo. She also laid out some of the leftovers from lunch. Taking a sip of her own soda, she told Jo to help herself as she sat down and began to spread out the storyboards on the table. She really hoped the girl had enough talent that she could let her leave with some words of encouragement.

Part One

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16134.txt

Lord Malinov

Passing

"Mmm. Pretty titties." Theresa turned suddenly, jolted by the voice from behind. Three men sat on a green park bench, their backs turned, their heads moving in slow synchronization as they watched a woman approach. Theresa rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the book in her lap. "Excellent complexion," spoke another voice in a controlled whisper, "healthy tan, slight curves. Probably a runner from the tone of her legs." "Look at those legs," said the first man, rather excited. "Imagine those mams wrapped around your waist. I do believe she needs a ride on Mr. Johnson." He chuckled lewdly. "Hair's a tad dark, and I think her breasts are a little flat. I like a perkier bosom." "Fuck, Ed, all they need's a good suck. I'd make those boobies percolate." "Nice top, but I don't like the shorts. No hug." "No way, Ed. You can't tell me you care about her clothes. The whole idea is to get them off anyway." "The clothes she picked out to wear tells me things about her. It all goes into the calculation, Brian. She's wearing shorts, better than pants, less than a skirt, conservative cut which subtracts from her tendency to let loose, running shoes, ankle socks with a little pink ball at the back. I think she has an athletic bra on, which would account for the flattened breasts." "I'd fuck her silly." "Eight point three," Ed said with an air of finality. "Fuck." "Tight-assed bitch," said the third man. "Look at that shit. All she thinks about is her fucking body. You can't talk to a woman like that unless you want to converse about shin splints and the high you get from torturing yourself for twenty miles." "I don't want to talk to her," said Brian. "I just want to fuck her." "All right, you've got a point Richard. Take her down to a seven point nine." "Shit. Do yourself a favor and let her run that little butt away." Theresa shook her head, unable to continue reading. She leaned back to feel the blaze of the sun warm her face. The leaves beyond the slope of hillside rustled with flickers of green silver. "Out!" screamed the high-pitched voice of a child. "No way!" retorted another child. Theresa smiled and stole another glance at the three men on the bench. The young one, Brian she supposed, pushed a lock of his sandy-colored hair away from his face, drawing Theresa's attention to his forehead, gleaming beneath a receding hairline. Theresa smirked. "By a mile!" squealed an angry child. Theresa noticed a handsome man coming down the path, tall and lean with a full head of dark curls cascading down to his broad shoulders. She sighed as he turned off the black asphalt and sat down to lean against the thick trunk of an old oak. Theresa stared as the young man unzipped his blue satchel and withdrew a thick volume. "Do overs!" "No way!" "Wow," said Brian. Theresa turned to see. A small woman with huge breasts came bouncing over the crest of the hill. "Momma." "Too big," said Ed. "No such thing," said Brian. "Tell me you don't dream of sucking titties like hers. Squeeze them together and titty-fuck the girl." "Ugh," said Richard. "She's a whiner." "I knew this one chick, Missy, with big bazooms like those and she loved having her titties fucked. Pointy nips. She always wanted me to shoot my wad on her face. Big eyes." "Six six." "With an ass like that?" "Six five." "Ed, look at that ass. I'll bet she's a wicked witch in the sack." "And I'll bet you've got a little dick," said Theresa under her breath. "She could be my ex-wife's sister," said Richard, disgusted. "Big hairy snatch and no imagination." "You're twisted, man," said Brian. Theresa smiled, considering the understatement. "We pick Tad," said a child on the field below. "Kristen," said another. "Terry." "Chris." Giggles erupted into rollicking laughter. Theresa watched the man beneath the oak as he turned a page of his book, wondering what he was reading. The book was cloth-bound, no dust cover, just a pale blue volume with a glimmer of gold embossing. Theresa felt her nipples tighten, deciding the book was probably fiction, hoping against spies or adventure. Horror would be all right, although she preferred something with a vampire. Maybe something classic, rich with allusion and poetry. Theresa stretched her lean legs out, tickling her bare thighs with the thick carpet of grass. A warmth flowed between her legs, watching him read. "Mommacita," said Brian. "Beautiful, beautiful skirt. Look at those hips gyrate." "She is fucking hot. I can smell that pussy from here. I'll bet she's not wearing panties." "You're dreaming." "I'm telling you. No bra, either. Look at that jiggle." "She's a slut," said Richard. "My favorite flavor," said Brian. "Nine point two." "Twelve point twelve, with a bullet," countered Brian. "She could be prettier," said Ed. "Her face, I mean." "You don't fuck a face," said Brian. "I do, but you don't." Brian fell off the bench, laughing. "Your wife still won't give you a blowjob?" "Like Mags is going to change." "That marriage would be over, if I were you." "Yeah, well, there's more to it than getting your dick licked." "I don't know," said Brian, sitting in the dirt, tossing up dust clouds with his hand. "Living with a chick is hard enough." "Harder than you know," said Richard. "Shit," said Brian. "You just need a woman who knows how to satisfy. The rest is words and sleeping." "Right," said Richard. "I'll ask you about that in ten years, boy." "I'd die smiling after ten years of that twat." "After your ten minutes of love, she'd be off looking for another guy and you'd be snoozing in dreamland." "Shit." "Ha!" said Richard. "Michael's on our team," said a child in the field. "Then we get Jerry." "I'm not playing on Cindy's team." "Who wants you?" "You know what I like," said Richard. "A woman who can just hang, you know, spend some lazy time doing nothing, like this. The women in this city are all looking for something. I've got to get out of this up-tight place." "I'm going to LA," said Brian. "This fall, a buddy of mine is moving down there and I'm going to stay with him and find a job." "Worse," said Richard. "Wait," said Ed. "What about that one?" "Where?" asked Brian. "There," said Ed, nodding toward the south. Theresa watched as another woman came into view. "You're kidding me," said Brian. "Oh well," said Ed. "She looked good for a moment." "You guys are so full of shit," said Richard. "Like you can tell anything about a woman half a mile away." "The whole package includes the wrapper," said Brian, "and if she doesn't fire my afterburners, what's the fucking point?" "What is the fucking point?" asked Richard. "Hell if I know," said Brian, "but I have to get my rocks off." "Don't get married," said Ed. "Seven three." "Shit," said Brian. "Don't marry Mags, you mean." "I'm telling you. But don't mind me. You'll find out." "I know better," said Brian. "You just have to score the right babe." "No such thing," said Richard. "I knew one I thought was right, but then she married an accountant and moved to Jersey." "Bitch." "Andy was fine." "Accountant? Head for numbers, eh?" Brian laughed hard. "Giving head for numbers," he sputtered. "Yeah, yeah. I got stupid when she dumped me and I married Jackie on the rebound." "Did she give head?" asked Brian. "Nope. I wouldn't let her. Nasty woman." "You were stupid." "We all are." Theresa picked up her purse and dusted a few blades of grass from the red pattern embossed on the back of her thighs. She shook her head as she glanced at the men on the bench and started up the slow incline of the hill. The children below laughed happily as they kicked a red rubber ball over the dusty diamond. Theresa took slow steps toward the oak tree. Nervousness spread through her breast as she tried to feel casual. She tried to talk herself out of continuing, but something pushed her forward. "No way!" "It was out of bounds!" "You're out!" "No way!" "Excuse me," Theresa said as she drew near the handsome man. He didn't even look up. "Excuse me," she repeated. Sultry blue eyes finally glared at her, seemingly annoyed by her intrusion. "Hmm?" "Do you have the time?" "No," he said abruptly, frowning and looking back at his book. "Oh," said Theresa, blushing deeply. "Sorry." He said nothing. Theresa made her way back to the asphalt path and deliberately walked toward the bench. "What does he know?" she asked herself. "Stiff." The three men sat quietly, watching her.Theresa looked at the soft, bubbling clouds above the distant horizon, avoiding the eyes fixed on her approach. A few crude terms drifted softly through the breeze, and Theresa felt herself smile. Richard sat stiff and cocked his head sideways. Ed, a large man, his white oxford clinging to the sweaty bulge of his male breasts, seemed to be turning numbers through his head. Brian almost drooled, talking obscenely. Theresa felt each step as she walked past the three judges. "What pretty titties." "Nine point seven." "Almost," said Richard. "Almost worth the heartache." "Fuck them all," Theresa said with a smile, strutting proudly. "Fuck them all."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9460.txt

Lord Malinov

Dogged

"Kevin!" My eyes opened reluctantly. I tried to read the red glow of my clock. Someone banged on the door, downstairs. "You bastard!" It sounded as if the woman was hitting the door with a crowbar. I found my glasses and winced as I realized what time it was. "Fucking asshole," she screamed. I pulled on a pair of shorts and went to the window. "Kevin!" she screamed in a long wail that betrayed both fury and pain. "Kevin!" I pushed the window open. "Hey," I called down. "Kevin's not here." "I'll fucking kill him," she shouted. I didn't recognize Debbie at first. She had always been really quiet, when she came by the house with Kevin. It's funny how different people can sound when they're drunk and mad. When she stepped away from the door to shoot her anger at my window, there was no mistaking the bright flame of her hair and her soft pretty face. I've said it before; Kevin gets girls he doesn't deserve. Nevertheless, I was a little glad when I recognized the raving lunatic as Debbie. "Hey, Debbie," I said, emphasizing my weariness. "Come back on Monday. You can get in line to kill him then." "I fucking will! The fucker left me waiting all fucking night." Then Debbie screamed and stumbled on the step down from the porch. A light came on at the house across the street. "Great," I said to myself. Miss Blanche would have had the police here in about three minutes, once she realized it was our house causing the trouble. "Debbie," I called down in a hushed voice. "I'll be down in a second. Just keep cool." "Kevin," she moaned out loudly. I stubbed my toe on the leg of my desk as I tried to get to the front door. "Fuck," I muttered, hopping down the stairs as I rubbed my injured foot. I could deal with Debbie. I didn't want cops dropping by at two thirty in the morning. I unlocked the door and Debbie fell in, collapsing onto the linoleum. "Oh, Brian," she said as I helped her stand up. "I'm sorry about this. He's really not here?" "He flew out this morning. Business, I think." "Liar," she said sharply, her gaze suddenly fierce. "I . . . ," I started, shrinking back from the accusation. "No," said Debbie, sounding sorry again. She walked into the living room and sat down on the tweed sofa with a sigh. Her black skirt rode high as she slid lower, exposing a generous view of her white satin panties. I coughed and went into the kitchen to start some coffee. "Kevin's my problem," she said. "I won't make you rat on your brother." "Hell, he's been my problem longer than he's been yours. I gave up protecting him a long time ago. He told me it was business, but he'd lie to me just as quick as he'd lie to you. He's a real dog." "I know he's with that bitch, Sherry." Something told me she was right, but it didn't matter. If Kevin wasn't with Sherry, it only meant he was dogging some other girl. Picking one of his women for jealous rage would seriously miss the point. As far as I could tell, Kevin didn't care about any of them. All he wanted to do was shoot and score. The smell of brewing coffee made me nauseous. "You want some coffee?" I asked. "How about some wine?" Debbie replied sleepily. I turned off the coffee maker and pulled a bottle of Chablis from the fridge. All our glasses were dirty, so I poured two coffee mugs of the purple wine. "You can sleep here," I said, handing her the mug. "I'm not going to let you drive if you drink that." Debbie smiled. "Brian," she said seductively, holding the cup up to knock mine. "You dog." "Runs in the family, I guess." "One of you is adopted," Debbie said. "Or you took the good genes and left Kevin the bad ones." "Kevin's just like Dad," I said. "Figures," Debbie said. "My father . . ." 'The thing I don't get is, you're a bright girl, beautiful too." "Brian," she purred. I took a drink of wine to steel my nerves. "You know Kevin's a dog. He's lied to you a million times . . ." "Really?" asked Debbie. Her tone was angry, but her body seemed to have something else in mind. I could clearly see the puff of an aroused pussy creasing her immodest panties. Hints of stiff nipples appeared in the cotton blouse she wore. "Why do you put up with his shit?" I asked abruptly. "He's so sweet when he talks. Even when I know he's lying, I want to believe him and so I just do. Then, when he goes too far and I decide to ignore him or hit him or whatever I do, he turns up the charm and it's like a lullaby, and the madness goes away and then he fucks the rage out of me. He's like a drug. I know it's killing me, but, goddammit, give me another hit." As Debbie spoke, she rubbed her pussy gently. All I was wearing was a pair of nylon shorts and my prick quickly threatened to pop into view. I tried to adjust myself as I sat on the easy chair, but with every brush of my fingers, my cock leapt higher. Linda, the closest thing I had to a girlfriend at that point, had been out of town for two months. I was hurting to get laid and Debbie was sticking needles in my wound. "Forget him," I said after clearing my throat. "You deserve better than my little brother is ever going to give you." "Yeah," Debbie said, her voice low. Her right hand still fiddled with the fabric between her thighs. "What about you?" she asked. "I'd just use you and make you miserable. It runs in the family. I'm twice the dog he is." "I don't believe you," Debbie said in a whisper. Her eyes were closed. I sat quietly, nursing my mug of wine, daring myself to stand up. Sexual hunger was making my heart pound like the timpani in a bad orchestra. Debbie's fingers stopped their small circles, and rested quietly on the crest of her barely shrouded secrets. I stared, imagining, unable to help myself. "Can I get you a blanket?" I finally asked. Debbie didn't answer. I thought about getting up, but instead I fell asleep. I don't know how long I slept, but it was still dark when I awoke. Debbie was sucking on my dick. I lifted my hips to push myself deeper into her warm throat and then I opened my eyes. Her tongue tickled my stiffness as she slipped rhythmically from bottom to top and back again. Waves of pleasure poured over me. I wove my fingers through her thick mane, letting my hands follow the bob of her head, up and down. "Debbie?" I suddenly asked, realizing by pieces what was happening. "Mmmm," she moaned, still playing my flute. "Wicked girl," I chastised her lovingly. She tickled my balls and then pushed my cock deep. "Are you sure?" Debbie halted the wet suckle. "Don't you want me?" she asked, coyly. She sank my sensitive prick back into her moist mouth. "Yeah," I said slowly. "I just. . ." All at once, Debbie stopped. She stepped back into the soft beam of moonlight streaming through the front window. I tried to catch my breath while I resisted the urge to leap up and take her. Debbie peeled off her tight blouse. Her tits bounced as she let her shirt fall. My cock throbbed with a carnivore's hunger at the sight of her big liquid breasts. "Wow," I said. Debbie smiled and unzipped her skirt. The black cloth hit the floor in a puddle. "You're just going to fuck me," she said. "That's all I want from you." I nodded my head, mesmerized by the shadowy vision of her naked body. "Please," she said. "I just want you to fuck me." "Okay," I said, at a complete loss for words. Debbie came over and took hold of my hard-on. "Promise?" she asked. "Yes," I said as she guided me into the hot pit of her cunt. "Good," she said, thrusting hard against my pelvis, driving me deep inside. "I was so angry," Debbie said, her titties bouncing steadily. "I have to fuck." I squeezed her full round ass. "Your dickhead brother taught me this." She bit her lip and pinched a nipple hard. "So beautiful," I said, trying to hold my excitement while I watched her ride me. "Call me your fuck bitch," she said. "Fuck bitch," I said softly. "I'm your fuck bitch," she said, anger raging in her voice. My cock shot straight into her. "Fuck bitch!" I screamed. Debbie shuddered wildly at my thrust, as though an electric shock had taken hold of her cunt and she flailed in the ripping current. I went mad. I came hard but wouldn't stop fucking, driving hard to keep my cock fueled. Debbie whimpered, collapsed in tremors of ecstasy, but I turned her over and started pounding her hard from behind.I slapped her white bottom as I fucked her, called her my slut and my hot fucking cunt. Debbie screamed in rages of passion until I wondered if the cops wouldn't be showing up soon. Finally, I pulled my hammer free and spent a thick load in her mouth. My memories of the scene are vague, but that's what I remember, anyway. When I woke up again, the sun shone brightly. Debbie still lay wrapped around me. I kissed her cheek and pulled myself free. She hardly stirred. I pulled on my shorts and started a new pot of coffee. "Oh, God," she groaned as I set the table for breakfast. "Good morning, Debbie," I said. "Want some coffee?" "Oh, wow," she said as she looked for her clothes. "Yeah, I guess so." "I was getting ready to make omelets, but I have grapefruit or bagels or cereal, if you prefer." "You're so sweet," she said, pulling on her panties. "I can't believe you." "And you're beautiful," I said, bringing her a mug of steaming coffee. "No," Debbie said with a blush, pushing her straggled mane of hair away from her face. "You don't have to do this," she said, sitting at the table. She took a sip. "I mean, I didn't mean to...." "Look. I know we didn't plan this, but I've had a crush on you for a long while, Debbie," I confessed. "After last night, I'm going to do my best to keep you. If you don't mind my trying." "Brian," she said sweetly. I blushed and sat next to her. Her bright green eyes opened wide as she looked at me, and then she leaned forward to kiss me. A sultry smile spoke volumes of encouragement, and my heart skipped a beat. I tickled her thigh absentmindedly. "But what about Kevin?" she asked. "I'm kicking him out. He's behind in his rent anyway. Besides, there are always girls trying to bust down the door and kill him. I don't need anymore of that. He can go live with Mom. She's used to that shit." "But you said you only wanted to use me," said Debbie with a smirk. "I lied," I said. "I can't help it. Runs in the family. And I have to warn you; I'll probably lie again." "You dog," she said, rubbing the crease in her panties. "God help me, but I do love it when you lie to me." "Well, I'll never be faithful," I said as I took her in my arms. "And there is no way I'm ever going to love you." "Now don't make me mad," she said, pulling me closer. "You bad, bad dog."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14302.txt

HotScribe

Female Slaves

"M'lord, this is Stephanie." You gesture towards an attractive woman standing beside you. I look her up and down slowly. "So, you wish to pleasure me?" "Yes, m'lord." "Well, you certainly come highly recommended." I look at you and you smile at me, nodding your head in agreement. "But," I continue, "I'll have to check that out for myself. Both of you come with me." I lead you and Stephanie into the kitchen. "Strip." You both look at each other for a quick moment, then you each peel off your clothes until you eventually stand naked before me. I gaze over you both, taking in the fullness of your breasts, the curve of your bellies, the triangles of your sex. Already I feel my cock twitching, but it is not yet time. I tell you to get up on the table, lie down and spread your legs. Once you've done as you're told, I pull you forward so your legs dangle over the edge. I order Stephanie to lie on the floor under the table. She does so. Now I drop to my knees, my cock and balls hanging above her face. "Suck me good." As Stephanie's mouth begins to suck and lick on my cock, I bury my face between your thighs, thrusting my sex deep into your cunt, tasting the sweetness of the raspberry juice you'd already placed there before arriving. I lift your legs, put them on my shoulders and plunge my tongue into you, then licking across your labia, through the folds of flesh to find the tiny bud of your clitoris, circling it, pushing against it. And all the while, I feel my cock enlarging as Stephanie continues to draw it in and out of her mouth, then each of my balls in turn is sucked upon. I feel your body bucking on the table as my licking and thrusting tongue brings you to a climax, and the heels of your feet thump against my back. As your orgasm fades, I order you off the table, tell you to get on top of Stephanie. You position yourself in a sixty-nine fashion. "Eat her," I order you. Your mouth opens and your tongue begins to lave her cunt even as I did you. Now my cock is fully erect. I pull it from Stephanie's mouth, thrust it into your cunt. "Continue, Stephanie," I command. And as I begin to pump my hard rod in and out of your sex, holding onto the table for support, I feel Stephanie's tongue flicking over and across my balls, then sliding up to stab my anus, then back again. I feel her hot breath blowing against my testicles, the muscles of your cunt sucking at my cock. And as you thrust your tongue into Stephanie's cunt, as you lick and nibble at her clit, she suddenly begins to writhe beneath your body as she climaxes, her breasts heaving upwards against your stomach. The feel of her body against yours, the ramming of my cock deep into your cunt causes you to orgasm again and you cry out in ecstasy. Then I too begin to climax, shooting the first streams of hot semen deep into your cunt, then pulling out of you, it spills out over the opening of your ass and cunt, then continues spurting onto Stephanie's face and breasts until there is nothing left in my cock to ejaculate. I lower it to her face once more, and she sucks it in, her tongue licking the final drops of semen from its tip. Then you turn around, your own mouth joining hers as you lick and suck my balls, then the shaft of my cock already wet with sticky cum and the juices of your cunt and Stephanie's mouth. You look up at me. "Did we please you, Master?" "Yes, very much so. I look forward to further pleasure from you both."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17596.txt

PH Prime

RAPIST'S LAMENT (No explicit sex)

"She screamed when I took her. A terrible sound. But I didn't care. God, what a body she had! She tempted me with it, flaunted it in front of my eyes. Well, I had to take her. I had to! But her screaming!" He looked at the speaker, a bald-headed, misshapen form of manhood. He knew the type by heart — a loser. He'd always been surrounded by losers. This wretch hadn't stopped babbling since they brought him in, early that day. "She pleaded with me. 'No, don't, please! You're hurting me!' Well, how did she think I felt all those times she'd parade in front of me in her skimpy underthings. Taunting me! No, it was too late for pleas of mercy. I was too wound up. I had to have her! But I hadn't counted on the screaming. God, I didn't know she could scream so much! There she goes again! Asking me to stop! Tell her I can't stop, will you? I did stop. I didn't mean it. Honest. If I knew it would end this way, I wouldn't have let it start." "She lorded it over me, you know. She knew what her sexy walk was doing to me, bending in front of me and showing me her tight little ass in the silk panties. Daring me to touch, to feel. Day after day, until it became too much. I couldn't take any more. Jesus, I got so annoyed that I took her. Took her by force! I had to teach her, you see. You do understand?" His head was reeling. This conversation kept going around and around in his head. The justification for the action. The talking, talking, talking giving him a splitting headache. But the drone kept on and on and on — steady and endless, on and on. "If only she hadn't tried to scratch my eyes out. That's what she did. I had her down. I could feel her silky breasts on my chest, I could taste her hot breath on my mouth and then she tried to scratch me! That's when I got mad. That's when I decided to fix her. Fix her but good!" It can't be happening, he thought. It is just a dream. Close your eyes and it will go away. But no, there it is. A singular drone that slices through the mind's barrier. That drone again. Steady as a clock ... on and on ... endless. Please! Somebody, turn it off! Please! "I hit her hard. That's what I did. And I took her panty hose — you tired or something? I mean, you have your eyes closed — yeah, well, I took her panty hose and ripped it in two and tied her hands behind her with one half. She struggled but I sort of liked it, the feel of her soft body against mine. It made me more determined to have her. I tore off what was left of her dress. She was naked now but still fighting me. She was screaming, calling me bad names. But I kept doing what I had to do. I was on fire now. I couldn't stop. But when I entered her, she started pleading with me to stop. Screaming at me to stop. Like she is doing now! Tell her I have stopped! Tell her. Tell her I was afraid her screaming would get us in trouble, that's why I put the other part of the panty hose around her neck. I told her to be quiet but her mouth kept spewing out sounds like a siren, calling for help. I tightened it around her skinny neck — amazing that such a small neck could hold such a large voice box." Oh God, won't somebody turn off the talking? he asked. Steady talking now for — let's see — Oh God, it seemed like forever. And still his voice droned on and on. Steady as clockwork: on and on. Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! he shrieked. But he could not break the droning. "She kept screaming even though her eyes began bugging and her face turned purple. She was flopping around and I was riding her and I couldn't stop myself. I felt the explosion coming. Then, she slumped over and was still. Peace! Peace at last, I thought. But then she started screaming again. Even after she was gone and they brought me here, her screaming continued. Like now. Please, somebody, make her stop!" Then give me peace, his soul begged as the sound crashed against his ears as the pounding seas crash against the rocks. "But she won't stop screaming. Even now I still hear her. She keeps asking, 'Why did you do that to me?' As if she didn't remember all the temptations she put in my path. She knew. She knows so please tell her to shut up." His eyes focused on the wretched being facing him. My God! He could be taken for my twin, he thought. And still the drone kept on and on. Not making sense now, though never making sense, yet going on and on and on. Steady as a clock, Almost like a water torture: drip, drip, drip. Only this was an endless babbling in his ears, throbbing in his temples until his whole body ached with the pain. "I thought death would stop her but no. She kept on. Her mouth refused to stop, I can see it now. I can hear it now! And out the words tumble, one after another, accusing me. I didn't mean to kill her! Do you hear me? I didn't mean to kill her. I only wanted to love her. I told them that, but they wouldn't listen to me. They hear her screaming and accusing me. That's who they hear. They won't listen to me. "Poor me! Here I am, not even able to get away from her voice. If I stop talking, know what happens? She starts. On and on she'll go. Accusing me. That's why I can't stop talking." Oh, God, why me? Why must I bear the burden of this man's guilt? Spare me the details! Turn off his voice. Please, please stop, I can't stand any more. Please stop. Please! Please! Please! I'll kill him if someone doesn't stop him. Stop! Stop! Stop! "Here she is again. She's threatening. Stop talking. I didn't do it. Don't accuse me. Listen to me! Stop, stop, I implore you to stop. Stop mouth! Shut up mouth! I'll kill you, mouth! Mouth! Mouth!" Silence — what was it like? What is it like to sink into the deep depths of your mind, where only your own peaceful thoughts can penetrate? Desist, foul mouth, with your senseless babble. Yes, that's right, be firm, Stop it now. Silence! Quiet! But the voice interrupted and droned on and on. "I can't stand it any more. I'm going crazy, Talk, talk, talk. I can't take it any more. Shut her mouth. Please stop her talking. I order you to stop talking!" It's got to stop, he agreed, looking at the man's throat, pale under a red face but soft and inviting. I'll kill him, he thought. Wrap this shirt around his neck. Ah, there is peace, coming slowly in the darkness ... quietness is settling over the room. At last, real peace. The doctor looked down at the body, before they wheeled it away. The forty-year-old man looked at rest now. He had been brought in for questioning in the rape-murder of his wife's stepdaughter. He denied killing the voluptuous woman. So they left him here in the interview room by himself. He had been looking at himself in the mirror when he must have taken off his shirt and strangled himself, the doctor thought as they took the body away.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12181.txt

E.Z. Riter

The Punishment Fits The Crime

"My object all sublime, I shall achieve in time. Is to let the punishment fit the crime, the punishment fit the crime." Gilbert & Sullivan The Crime My wife, Rebecca Gooding Wharton, aged thirty-seven, mother of Jennifer 18, Julie 17 and Jason 15, stood quietly in the center of our den. Her head was turned down in submission and humiliation, but her big brown eyes peered up at me from under her long lashes. You know that look, that "I am in deep trouble but I will seduce you out of my punishment" look. She was wearing a long dress in a floral print design which covered from her beautiful, long neck to her dainty, elegant feet. It was a classy, expensive, and demure dress, but she still looked like a wet dream. From the tightness of the dress around her breasts, I guessed she wore her "nuclear bra," as she called the push-up delight which maximized her already significant natural endowment. She probably wore a pair of shocking pink thong panties, if she wore any panties at all. She knew I loved that dress because I knew what she looked like without it. I knew that dress hid from the gaze of others a dynamite, beauty contest winning, figure covered by soft, touchable skin, both of which she pampered constantly. She was wringing her hands, twisting the white lace handkerchief in them, and the tension was evident in her voice and face. "What are you going to do, Charlie?" "I should divorce your adulterous ass!" "Please! Never! Oh, God, Charlie, I could not think of life without you!" "You should have thought of that before you fucked Harry." "Please, Charlie. You know you still love me." She turned now to face me, raising her head to look me in the eye, brushing her long light-milk-chocolate colored hair from her face. The dress suggested her flat stomach and her hourglass shape as it clung to her. She took a step toward me and began to cry. Slowly, she collapsed to kneel on the floor, knees demurely together, hands still clinched around the handkerchief with which she daubed her eyes. "I know you love me, just as I love you. We have loved each other since we were six years old, Charlie. Remember first grade, when I pledged undying love to you and you ran in horror?" "I had good instincts even then. I should have listened to them." "Oh, Charlie, please don't say that. We have had a lot of good years. Remember? From then on, it was Charlie and Becky, Becky and Charlie. Who first held my hand? Who gave me my first kiss? Took me to the prom? Took my virginity? Filled my stomach with his seed giving me our children? Who, Charlie?" "Were you thinking of those things when you were sucking Harry's cock?" "Please, Charlie. This is hard on me, too." I noticed her legs had parted now, her knees shoulder-width apart, the demure dress tucked tightly around her delicious thighs. Man, what thighs! Thighs to die for. Thighs that when you crawl between them you enter paradise. She was trying to arouse me. She did not have to try hard. I got aroused just looking at her, thinking of her, smelling her, touching her. I always had, and, damn my soul, I always would. I knew that, and so did she. Our problem was Becky had an affair. She was seduced by Harry, the tennis pro at the country club. That is nothing new. If men realized seventy-five percent of their country club bills were directly attributable to their wives fucking the help, half the clubs in America would close. Harry videotaped them together. He tried to blackmail her with the videotape and did receive four payments. But, then I found out. He was in jail and probably would get sent away for five to seven years, but the tape had been reproduced and sent to all our friends. I had seen that tape. The porn industry wished they could make something that hot. There she was, my Becky, in all her naked splendor, fucking Harry. She was hot, sweating, vocal, whimpering, her delicious body oscillating, her hands holding him. That body. The one that had been mine. I always knew she was a hot little slut. We had joked and laughed about it. But, she was hot only for me and only I knew how hot she was. Now, she was hot with Harry and everyone knew. I would bet you a year's wages every man in town had beat off to that tape. I knew they had seen it because they had told me. And, if they saw it, they beat off. "Charlie?" It was the voice she used when she said "Charlie, let down my hair" or "Charlie, come lay with me." That voice. "Charlie, I think you have an erection. Were you thinking of me?" A toying, teasing voice. "I was thinking of the tape." "Don't think of the tape. Think of us! Think of that first time in your parent's bedroom. Remember how frightened you were when I bled? Think of the nights in Acapulco, by our private swimming pool at Las Brisias when we fucked in the water. Think of the week we spent at Sanibel Island, just us in that big condo. Oh, Charlie, think about all our great times together. We could have another great time right now. I can do something about that problem in your pants." God, she was sexy. Her body language screamed "fuck me" with her shoulders slightly bowed to offer her breasts to me, her pouty lower lip extended, her eyes flashing, the skirt now so tight over her pubis I could see it protruding. "Why are you coming on to me?" "Please, Charlie. I love you more than life itself. I want you and me to be one again. I will do anything to get you to take me back. Anything! I am going to fight for you, Charlie. I will not accept a divorce. I will not go quietly. I will fight with everything I have. But, what weapons do I have? All I can fight with is my love, our memories and my sexuality." "Memories? I have a tape full of memories that plays in my head. How can we generate positive memories now, in this town? How do you expect to live here after what you have done? How do you expect me to live here?" "Please. We will find a way. As long as I have you, I can live with anything, any shame, any horror. But, I must have you, Charlie." She was inching forward, now within arm's length. I stood and walked away. If she touched me... "Running from me?" she said. Now, it was the voice she used when we played a bondage game and she was the dominant one, the voice which said "I own you and I will make you beg me to stop fucking you before I am through with you." "Look, you stupid slut. I love and want you, too! If you touch me, I won't be able to resist you." "Is that so bad, Charlie?" she said, in a sultry, teasing tone. "Remember. You like touching me. My skin. Here. Next to my pussy. Smooth. Or, here along my sides where my waist narrows. Under my breasts. My back." In one graceful movement, her long skirt was above her waist. She was panty-less, her pussy shaved as it had been for years. I could see the honey dew glisten. She touched between her legs and held her finger up to me. "Here, Charlie. This is what happens when you touch my pussy. I am all wet for you. Would you like it?" "Dammit it, Becky. Cut it out! This is serious." "I know it's serious. But, it is not fatal. It will be all right if we are together. Oh, I want to be with you, Charlie, I want you in my arms, between my legs. Please." "Why should I stay with you? Why should I live with an adulterous slut? Why should I endure the humiliation of a cuckold? Why?" "Do you really think I am a slut? Do you? I am almost forty and there have been two men who had their cocks up me. One was a sonofabitch who fucked me six times in a two week period. The other was you. How many times have you been up me, Charlie? How many times have I opened my legs to you since that first time twenty-one years ago?" "Is he the only one? Or, have there been others?" "Oh, Charlie, how could you?" She began crying again. The skirt again covered her. Her eyes ran and her lip quivered. "Sorry, Becky, but I had to ask." "Why? You know me so well. You knew about him the first time but were afraid to ask. You knew, Charlie. I could see it in your eyes. There never has been another man but him."I wish to God I could take back those two weeks, Charlie, but I can't. I will live with that the rest of my life." She straightened her back, gathering her resolve. "Look, Charlie. He fucked me six times. I sucked his cock eight or nine times. That is all. He never held my hand. He never walked with me on a beach on a summer's day. He never toasted me with wine on our anniversary. He never stroked my hair as we danced in the moonlight. We never lay in bed with our baby child between us, holding hands in joy over our little one. He never curled against me in the morning and told me he loved me." "Did you enjoy it?" "Please, Charlie. Don't ask. Don't make me say it." Why did I ask? I must be some kind of masochist. Anyone who saw that videotape knew she enjoyed it. That is what made the tape so special. A very special woman was wildly enjoying sex. No Hollywood actress. No put on. Real pleasure. Real sex. Sex like only I use to have with her. "Becky, even if I could take you back, something else is weighing on me." "I know. Everyone in town knows I did it. They all know. Oh, it won't be easy. Those bitches at the club will gossip behind my back. They will look down their noses at me. But, I can take it if you are there for me. You and the children." The children were very aware of what their mother had done. Some so-called friend of Jennifer had shared the tape with her. She sat in a group and watched her mother being fucked by someone other than her father until she ran screaming from the room. Now, all three had seen it. Teenagers are very aware of sex and of shame, of status and of humiliation, which they see hiding behind every tree. Our children had been humiliated as we had. They showed no signs of forgiving their mother, cursing at her if they deigned to speak at all. "What do you want me to do, Charlie?" "I don't know. I need time to think. No man likes to think of his wife with another man. Particularly me, Becky. And that is only half of it. The children. The community." "I know. May I continue to live in the guest house?" "Yes. Of course." "Please, speak to the children for me. I...." She broke out in tears again, curling into a little ball of sobs kneeling on our floor. How I wanted to hold her, comfort her, take her cares away. And, yes, I wanted to fuck her, too. I wanted to fuck her so hard I would drive Harry from her mind and pussy and soul forever. And, I wanted to fuck her gently as I often did, sharing love with her. I knew then what my answer would be. I knew that somehow, someway I would work it out for us. She knew, too, for we knew each other so well. So, my problem was to find a way to vanquish her guilt allowing her to exorcize that devil, create sympathy for her in the children and the community, restore my status in the community as a man by removing the cuckold stain from myself. In short, I needed to do something that would restore harmony and balance. No small task. ***** The Punishment It had been four long and lonely days since Becky and I talked. Four days of pure hell! She stayed away from us as if she were serving solitary confinement. I was exhausted, my nerves frazzled, my emotions shot. The children were in as bad shape as I was. Becky was calm and serene. "I can only trust in you, Charlie, and, I do trust you. I will abide by your decision, unless it's divorce. Then, I will fight like hell to stay with you." It came to me as I lay in bed, in the dark of our bedroom which now felt so lonely and cold. I ran from the house in my underwear, threw open the door to the guest house. She was asleep in the chair, wearing her thick, terry cloth robe. I explained my solution to the riddle. She threw her arms around me and kissed me hard. "Oh, Charlie, you are such a clever man. What a brilliant solution." "Thank you," I replied smugly. "Charlie, it will work. Our problem will be solved." "Well, not solved, but mitigated." "Oh, Charlie, can we make love again? It has been too long for me." "I don't think." I was stopped, my words frozen in mid air, as the robe slipped to the floor leaving my Becky naked. "Take me, Charlie. Please, take me and fuck me until nothing else in the world exists but your cock in me. I need that. I need you so." "No." I turned away, fighting for control of my own needs, my own cock. "Please, Charlie. Fuck me. You know how hot I am, how good. I need you, and you need me, Charlie. You need to be in me, loving me." She was pressed hard against me, her breasts burning a hole in my back, one hand through the front of my shirt caressing my chest, the other on my cock. "No, Becky. Not until you are punished." "But, you are punishing yourself, too, by denying yourself me, Charlie. Me. My body. My legs around your waist. My hot pussy wrapped around your cock." "No." Showing more strength than I knew I possessed, I pulled her hands off me and stepped away. I could not look back as I left. I did not have that kind of control. We invited four couples to see Becky's punishment. We considered inviting the children, but decided against it for obvious reasons as you will see. Jim and Peggy were our closest friends and had stood by us. Only Jim of the males in my crowd had not made remarks about the video, although I knew he had seen it. We invited Marsha and Dick and Jason and Rachel. The last couple, Matt and Janie, were not close friends. But, I knew Janie would rather gossip than breathe and what transpired would be all over town in less than twelve hours. They all arrived about eight and I led them into the garage. No drinks or hors d'oeuvres were served. It was not that kind of occasion. The guests were seated in folding chairs set up on the cement garage floor. "Has everyone seen the video?" I asked. The women twittered and blushed. The men looked away. But, they finally admitted it. They had all seen it. I wondered then if they had all beat off watching it. "Becky is to be punished for her indiscretion. You are here to witness it. Afterwards, I wish all of you and everyone else would realize she has been sufficiently punished and forgive her. Forgive and forget. Move on with our lives." "No real man would forgive a wife for what she did. I am surprised you are even thinking about staying with her," Janie whined in her most imperious country club bitch voice. "A real man, a man confident in his own masculinity and strength, a man loving and caring of his wife, would punish her appropriately and forgive her. He would forget her adultery and remember all the good times they had together. That is what I intend to do. Punish, forgive and forget. And, I want you to forgive and forget, too, Janie. Becky has been a good wife and mother for twenty years. Two weeks are unimportant." "Well, maybe, if the punishment was harsh enough. What do you think, Rachel?" Yes, Rachel, what do you think? The rumor was Rachel was Harry's little playmate before Becky. "Yes. We should all forgive even without punishment. And, if the punishment is severe, well, Becky would have suffered enough." Soon, as I had hoped, all were in concurrence. If the punishment fit the crime, forgiveness would automatically follow. "Becky!" I called. My wife had been waiting impatiently outside the garage. When I called her name, she entered, her terry cloth robe draped around her and slippers like ballet shoes on her feet. With her head down in shame, she walked to stand by me. "Tell them your punishment, Becky." "I am to be..." "Look at them and speak clearly." She was beet red as she fought to bring her eyes to theirs. Tears formed and slid down her lovely cheeks. The audience was silent, appearing not even to breathe, as they stared back at her. "I am to be stripped here in front of you and whipped. Then, I will wear a chastity belt the rest of my life to prevent further adulterous behavior." "No," Peggy gasped, bursting into tears over her friend's punishment. All were stunned, their faces showing true shock. "Sit," I commanded and Becky sat. I had prepared a broomstick, cutting grooves in it and using rope, to make a device to hold her legs spread. She raised each leg in turn to allow me to put the slip knots over her slender and delicate ankles, holding her legs more than shoulder width apart. I helped her to stand and maneuvered her in front of the group. She was facing them, her robe still covering her. I retrieved the chastity belt from its box. It was impressive looking, with its shiny, stainless steel belt to fit around her waist and its matching plate to fit over her pussy and lock to the belt. I let each of them see it and handle it. Oh, they wanted to ask questions. Red faces and embarrassed expressions gave way to insatiable curiosity, with questions starting at "where did you find such a thing in this day and age." Finally, I answered the question they wanted to know but were afraid to ask. "When she has it on, nothing can penetrate her and she can masturbate, but not easily." After asking them to sit, I returned to Becky. I wrapped each of her wrists five times in a soft, white rope and tied it off securely. I crossed her wrists and bound them together. Then, I lowered the chain on the electric hoist I used for my work in the garage, attached her and raised the hoist until her arms were over her head and she was stretched with her back to the audience. As I prepared her, I observed my little group of witnesses. My guess was at least two of the four couples would do a little B&D as soon as they got home. The robe had been draped over her shoulders. I undid the belt and pulled it off her. They gasped. I will have to admit my Becky is something to gasp at. She was not naked but wearing a thong bikini which, as you know, covers little in the back, which was their view. I pulled the whip from its container and showed it to the audience.It was not a severe whip. It would not cut or maim her, but she would know she had been whipped. "Anything to say, Becky?" "Thank you, Charlie, for giving me this punishment and forgiving me. I am sorry for what I did and I love you." I laid the first lick on the cusp between her ass and thighs. She jumped and gasped as did all the witnesses as if they had been struck also. I will not describe every blow, every time the whip found her tender flesh. Nor will I describe in detail how she struggled in her bondage and her skin turned red and mottled from the punishment, or how she finally reached a breaking point and I stopped. "Now, the belt." I fastened the chastity belt around her waist and hung the key around my neck on a chain before draping her with the robe again. "Sufficient punishment?" I asked them. They concurred as I expected, removing stains from her honor and mine. "Please leave now. I want to be alone with my wife." Becky was naked except for the belt as we stood in our bedroom. It was the first time we had been together there in far too long a time. "You were magnificent! God, what a man. First, you plan it. Then, you execute it to perfection! Oh, Charlie, they thought you were punishing me with that whip. If they only knew how I love it, how hot it makes me. Oh, Charlie, I really need you right now!" I was busily removing my clothes as Becky spun happily, dancing around the room. "How did you do it, Charlie? You kept me right on the edge of orgasm the whole time. If I had not been tied, I could have cum. Wouldn't that have been something? And, your little touches. The tampon to keep my pussy juices from running down my leg. The oil stain remover to hide the smell of my pussy. Charlie, you are really something. Hurry!" I was naked now. She lunged at me, throwing her delicious body into me, covering me in kisses as she jammed her steel-covered cunt into my cock. "Come on, Charlie! Get this damn thing off me! I need your cock in me really badly!" "Becky, the belt stays. The whipping was not a punishment for you. You loved that. The belt is your punishment." She stepped back, a stunned expression on her face for she could not believe what I said. "Charlie, I agreed to wear it forever but only when you were not around. You are here. I want you to take off this goddamned belt and fuck me! And, I want it now!" "No." "You bastard! You sorry bastard! I have never been this horny. Charlie, I cannot stand it!" she yelled, pummeling my chest with her closed fists in frustration. "Try begging instead of screaming. That might work." She dropped to the floor prostrate and kissed the top of my foot. "Please, master. Please fuck your worthless slave who needs you so desperately." "Keep begging." She balled her fist and hit me on the top of my foot. As I danced around, she stood and reached for the key around my neck. "No. Bad girl," I said, slapping her hand away. She spread her legs, put her hands on her hips and thrust her pelvis out defiantly. "Charlie, I am still the best piece of pussy in the whole damn state. Why deny yourself me? Don't you want me?" "Yes, I want you and only you. But, I want you to know I am serious about this. This has devastated me!" Tears in her eyes, she put her arms around me and held on tightly as I did the same to her. She felt so good in my arms. "Oh, Charlie. I am so sorry. I do love you so much." I took the belt off fifteen minutes later to make wild, passionate love to my wife. I had committed no crime. And, I had already been punished way too much.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12514.txt

Jan Williams

I Wish it Did

"Fuck me, do it now," I asked as I guided his cock-head into the warm, moist petals of my nether lips, aching to feel it plunge into me, wanting to draw his body into mine, feel his cock pulse and thrust within me like a tamed wild animal straining at its leash, snarling, purring as it gently licked me. My body tensed as I felt it press against me, opening the petals, feeling the ridge of its head slip through and flare out to hold itself within me. I wanted it to stay within me until my passions had died and my body had consumed his seed. My soul waited for him, my hips lifted, my breasts waiting to be pressed between our chests, my mouth waiting for his lips and tongue as he slowly became one with me. I gasped as he withdrew and sighed as I felt him penetrate again and flare within me once more. I could feel him inside me now, his cock head separating, smoothing, caressing the inner folds of my cunt as it slowly glided in; then emptiness as he withdrew and renewed excitement as he entered me again...again and again. Each penetration a new beginning and a deeper ending, the exquisite pleasure both given and received by those so perfectly designed members increasing as each thrust drove his cock ever upward toward my heart until my cunt was filled with his cock and my soul was filled with joy. I gripped his cock and held it within me, wrapping my legs around his thighs to hold us fully joined as I savored the pleasure of our coupling, smiling as I thought of what was still to come. He lowered himself onto me, playfully rubbing his nipples against mine as we came together and our lips joined and our tongues intertwined. I felt his pubis press against my protruding clit as he tilted his groin toward me, felt the fire of my orgasm light as his coarse hairs caressed my tender clit. I only felt the fullness in me now, the memory of the filling subsiding as we lay together. His cock moved within me, slight but still felt; a pulse like a clinch of my cunt. It stiffened and swelled against my inner flesh again and I squeezed back, giggling as we fucked without moving. His pubis massaged my clit again and then, sudden emptiness as he withdrew all but his cock-head. "No," I whispered as I lifted my hips up to him. "Yes," he hissed as he lunged against me, his cock-head rippling through the folds of my cunt, the padded flesh of our mons coming firmly together, his pubis against my clit, and then emptiness again. If only I could stay filled, but it was the filling that was the pleasure, that delicious feeling of his cock rippling through the folds of my cunt, massaging its flesh; not restful like that of his fingers on my shoulders and back but exciting, indescribable, more like a scratched itch deep within me, raising the heat of my passion. The pleasurable tenderness of my clit changed to pure pleasure as each stroke caressed it, his caresses not hard enough now; pressing back against him to make them felt and last. The loneliness of the emptying of my cunt forgotten, replaced by the anticipation of the filling; noticing the pleasant feeling of my cunt closing in behind his slowly withdrawing cock-head, the pause as it rested for a moment to kiss my nether lips before plunging into the depths of my body again. The air cooled my sweating breasts as he released my lips and raised up on his arms to thrust harder and deeper. I opened my eyes to watch his cock slip into me, see my breasts jiggle as he came hard against me, watch him caress my burning clit before his glistening cock slowly appeared, paused, and then suddenly thrust into me again. My eyes closed and my head tilted back, faint cries of a woman being fucked by her lover coming through my parted lips as he came against me; "uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh," sweet bliss that I wished would go on forever but could not, "uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh." Something happening inside me, in my mind, a need for more of him in me, all of him into my womb to be born and nursed. I pulled him down to me, my fingers digging into his back, my tongue thrusting into his mouth. My heart raced as my orgasm built, carrying me toward that plane of euphoric ecstasy that would cloud my mind with incoherence, incoherence that would blot out all but the pleasure of the consummate union of a woman with a man. My hips thrust my vulva against his crotch as my legs pulled him to me, my cunt gripping his cock as it glided into me; each stroke faster, harder but no greater depth achieved. The center of my sex took over my body, the contractions of my cunt that would draw his seed from him sending waves of joy rippling through my body to shake it, sting my breasts and release the cries of my climax from my soul, "ah, ahh, aahh, aahhh, aaahhh, ahhhhhhh." Blissful peace as he moved to his side and held me to him, caressing me and kissing me while I slowly returned to reality; longing to return to that plateau from which I was reluctantly falling. Perhaps in a little while.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17585.txt

Parker

Honeymoon

"Aren't you going to carry me over the threshold?" "This isn't our home," I answered. "Just a weekend cottage." "Still..." Still. And so, I picked her up and carried her through the doorway, across the threshold and into the cottage. Well, maybe cottage is a bit misleading; really, it's more of a small mansion. My parents, however, had always referred to it as the "cottage," and who was I, now that they had passed away, to say any different. "Uhmph..." I groaned as I carried my young bride down the entrance hall. "Oh, stop it," she frowned, feigning anger. "I'm not so heavy as all that." She wriggled out of my arms and put her feet on the floor. She was right. Kate was a slender girl; not heavy at all. "Of course," she added, grinning, "you *are* an older man. Don't want to cause a heart attack." "You..." With a giggle, she took off down the hallway. I gave chase, but held back a bit, aware of my dignity. Perhaps too aware; Kate was always teasing me about being too stuffy. Well, easy for her to say. Kate was in her early twenties, over twenty-five years younger than myself. She was a master's student, doing her final year in history at the university. I had met her at a fundraiser for the university museum. One of my companies was a regular donor. We had started talking and, well... one thing led to another. And here we were. She let me catch up to her at the bottom of the stairs. "Old man," she laughed as I put my arms around her and drew her to me for a long, passionate kiss. When we finally broke apart, her breathing was shallow. "Hmmm...," she whispered, running her tongue along her lower lip. "Maybe not so old." We kissed again. I really can't say what she saw in me. As I said earlier, I'm quite a bit older than her. Not old, exactly, but *older*. And Kate, well she was as beautiful a girl as I'd ever met: tall, slender, elegant... there weren't enough adjectives to do her justice. With her long, blonde hair, blue eyes and exquisite features, she could have been a model. I think that she could have had any man she'd wanted. And she chose me. "I have a surprise for you." She raised her eyebrows. "A surprise?" She gave me that lopsided grin I'd come to know so well. "I love surprises." I gestured towards the stairwell. "Upstairs," I told her. "In the spare bedroom." "Mmmm..." She began walking up the stairs. I followed close behind. "I *love* surprises," she repeated. I must admit, I was more than a little nervous as we walked across the landing towards the closed bedroom door. Kate was sexually adventurous - *god*; no one knew that better than me - but I wasn't sure whether I'd gone too far with this particular surprise. Kate also - and once again, I knew this better than anyone - had a vindictive streak in her. She was slow to hate, but when she did hate... well, it ran deep. And so... "C-Carl?" "I believe," I said quietly, trying to sound more confident than I was, "you know Andrea." For the first time since I'd met her, Kate was at a loss for words. Maybe that's not too surprising, given the sight that awaited her in the spare bedroom. It was Andrea Cross. Or, rather, Professor Cross. Of course, Kate knew her. Professor Cross was - had been - a teacher in the English department at the university where Kate had begun her master's degree in English and history. She had been Kate's tutor, and the single major reason why Kate had dropped the English component of her course. For some reason, the woman had taken it into her head to do everything she could to make certain that Kate failed out: unbearable course load; unreasonable schedule; impossible assignments... the works. Kate had borne it as best she could until halfway through the spring term before dropping the English courses. I tried to talk her out of it. It seemed like such a waste, particularly with Professor Cross going on sabbatical the following term, but Kate, in tears, had had enough. 'She couldn't,' she told me, eyes red, 'bear another moment with Cross.' Well, maybe. Professor Cross - no, I really should call her Andrea, I suppose - was in her late thirties, only six years younger than myself, but she really didn't look it. From Kate's description, I had expected some cranky old battleaxe, and the first time I saw her - crying and struggling wildly as her clothing was cut away in the back of a moving van - I had been more than a little surprised. She was a slender woman, with small, well-formed breasts and rich, shoulder-length auburn hair. If it hadn't been for her face - she had one of those thin-lipped, severe faces - she might have been beautiful. I had seen her a number of times in the month since she had been taken: naked with her arms tied high above her head and her small breasts shining with sweat, striped red with the whipping she had just received; kneeling in front of one of Mistress Angela's guards, heavily made-up lips wrapped around his cock while having her naked ass caned; squat-fucking herself on a massive dildo which had been stuck on a sawhorse, all the time rubbing her small breasts and moaning in simulated passion that she was a 'slut' and a 'whore' and that she needed to be fucked... but the sight of the woman as I entered the room behind Kate took my breath away once again. Mistress Angela had outdone herself. Andrea was on the bed, lying on her back. She was almost naked, wearing nothing but a leather collar, nylons held up with garters, and a pair of bright red pumps (at least six-inch heels) strapped onto her feet. Well, that's not entirely true; she did have a thick leather strap around her middle to which her wrists were cuffed, but I don't know if that really counts for clothing. Her legs were spread, held apart by a spreader bar to which her ankles were attached. I noted that Mistress Angela had cut Andrea's hair quite short, in a spiky punk style, and dyed it a bright red. Nice touch. Oh, I suppose I should mention the small, gold nipple rings to which a pair of cheery little bells had been attached. Mistress Angela had thought it a bit early for them, but I wanted everything to be perfect. For Kate. Andrea looked over at us as we entered the room, but didn't say anything. Her face, however, reddened when she recognized her ex-student. "Oh my god... Carl." Kate walked slowly forward, her hands clenched together in front of her mouth. "What have you done?" "Do you like the surprise?" Was it too much for her? Nervous, I walked past my new wife and over to the side of the bed where the bound woman waited silently. "She's perfectly trained." I reached down and put the back of my hand to Andrea's mouth. She flushed an even deeper red, her eyes darting between Kate and myself, but the training held. Hesitantly at first, but then with more enthusiasm, she extended her tongue and began to lick my hand. An obedient dog. Kate just watched, her blue eyes wide. After a few moments, I extended my middle finger. Andrea stopped licking my hand; instead, she took the finger into her mouth and began sucking on it while making quiet moaning sounds. I watched Kate, but I was completely unable to gauge her reaction. Was she angry? Horrified? I couldn't tell. She just stood there, watching. In for a penny, in for a pound. I reached down and unzipped my pants. "She's spent the last month in training," I explained to my silent bride. "Being turned into the perfect slut. She's now not only able, but willing to satisfy a man or woman with any part of her body." On cue, my penis fell away from my pants, long and hard. Andrea let out a quiet moan and raised her head, straining her neck for a chance to taste it. I obliged, kneeling on the side of the bed. The bound woman twisted her upper body and took my cock in her mouth. I reached down, grabbed a handful of red hair, and pulled her head forward until her face was buried in my crotch. "See." I looked over at Kate, who still had not said anything. "She's been trained to have no gag reflex; she can take a cock almost all the way down her throat." I looked down at the top of the professor's head.Mistress Angela had recounted to me the countless hours of cocksucking practice Andrea had been subjected to before she had gained this skill. It had been worth it. I released her head and she slid her lips down my cock, all the time sucking and working her tongue. It was exquisite. Practice had indeed made perfect. Still, Kate had said nothing. Worried, I pulled my cock away from Andrea's mouth. A line of drool connected us for a moment, but then fell loose across the woman's chin. She fell back to the bed as I stood up and replaced my cock in my pants. What was Kate thinking? Had I gone too far? Perhaps I had misjudged her; I had thought that she would be delighted to see her former tormentor brought so low, but maybe... "Kate?" Finally, she spoke. "Why," she asked quietly, "doesn't she say anything?" I turned back to where Andrea lay on the bed, staring at us. "She's been trained to keep silent," I told her. "Slaves don't speak unless they've been given permission." "Slave." Kate turned that word over in her mouth, trying it out; tasting it. "Sla-a-ve." I stood in silence, waiting for Kate's reaction. For the first time, I felt a wave of real fear pass through me. I didn't want to lose Kate. I couldn't... She turned to me. Her eyes were shining. Tears? "Oh Carl," she said, her face turning into one big, lopsided smile, "this is wonderful." I let out a loud sigh; I hadn't realized it, but I had been holding my breath. "Can I try her out?" She turned back to the bed. "Can I use her?" "Of course," I answered, smiling myself. "That's what she's here for." Kate immediately reached down and pulled up her skirt, giving me a view of her long, stocking-clad legs. She grabbed ahold of her panties, pulled them down and slithered out of them, letting them fall to the floor. Then she clambered up onto the bed and swung a leg over Andrea, straddling her new slave with her thighs. Grinning, Kate reached down and took one of Andrea's breasts in her hand. She fondled it for a moment, paying special attention to the ring and bell. Then she gave it a vicious pinch, eliciting a small cry from Andrea. "Oh, you bitch," my wife growled. She shook back her blonde hair and then shifted her body so that her panty-less crotch was positioned over the mouth of the bound woman. "Suck me, bitch," she ordered, grinding her crotch downward and letting her skirt fall over Andrea's face. Andrea must have obeyed, because Kate immediately got that dreamy look on her face as she slowly rode up and down on the other woman's mouth. My mind went back to the first time Andrea had been forced to service another woman with her tongue. Mistress Angela had used Cynthia, a fat black woman, to train Andrea in the art of pussy sucking. It had been about a week into her training; Andrea had been pretty much broken and obedient by then, but it still took a solid caning before she would stick her tongue in her trainer's pussy. I had been present for the first time, and remembered Andrea, tears streaming down her cheeks, nuzzling her face between the black woman's heavy thighs, sucking and licking for all she was worth. All the while keeping her reddened ass stuck out for the cane in case her black mistress detected a lack of enthusiasm. Cynthia had come, after a while, but had been far from satisfied with her student's performance. She had given Andrea a stern lecture and then forced the university professor to do it all over again, all the time calling out instructions, orders and threats. I'd left soon after. According to Angela, it had taken almost two weeks of pussy and ass sucking, and, ultimately, toilet duties, before Cynthia had grudgingly admitted that Andrea had developed any facility at satisfying another woman. That long hours of hard work had clearly paid off, as my lovely bride's cries and moans demonstrated. Professor Cross clearly knew her way around a pussy. Kate was now bucking up and down, riding her ex-teacher's face like it was a bucking horse. Excited, I walked forward and ran my hands along the inside of Andrea's thighs. Andrea's legs were held apart by a spreader bar, and her pussy was clearly visible. It was, of course, completely devoid of hair. On Mistress Angela's recommendation, I had ordered that she be shaved, both in front and in back, and then subjected to electrolysis. Andrea was now permanently hairless. I reached down and slid a finger into her exposed pussy. Wet. I smiled. Mistress Angela had done her job well. Slave Andrea was as helpless to control the humiliating reactions of her own body as she was to refuse the commands of her owners. It was perfect; her mind was still her own - she must be hating every moment of her subjugation and slavery - but her body couldn't help but react like a slave. Since she was getting so excited, I decided to help out. I walked across the room, picked up a large banana from a bowl of fruit and returned to the bed. Kate was about done now, bouncing up and down on the bed as though it was a trampoline. I reached down and slowly slid the banana into the teacher's sopping pussy. She clenched her thighs, trying to prevent the penetration, but was helpless to stop it. I kept pushing, and managed to get it completely inserted, with only the tip sticking out, when Kate came. I stood back and watched as my gorgeous bride bounced and screamed on the bed, her head thrown back and long, blonde hair flying all over the place. I'd never seen her come so hard, which was a little disconcerting, but I resolved not to be insulted. I had, after all, been responsible for placing this woman at her control. It must be more than a little satisfying for her to have control of the woman who had caused her so much anguish over the last year or so. "Oh gawd, that was intense." Kate brushed back a lock of blonde hair from her sweaty forehead as she pushed herself up to her knees and slid off the bed. Andrea gasped for air as her face appeared from under Kate's skirt. Her features were red and shiny with the younger girl's pussy juice. Kate stood beside the bed, grinning down at her former teacher and readjusting her skirt. "Carl... how did you do this?" She turned towards me. "This bitch is supposed to be on sabbatical." "That's what made it so easy," I told her. "She's supposed to be travelling in Europe. No one expects to see her for the next few months. It was dead easy to pick her up for... training, I guess you'd call it." I looked into my bride's shining blue eyes. "I know how much pain she caused you over the last year. I wanted to give you the perfect gift." "Oh Carl..." Kate skipped forward and hugged me. "It *is* perfect; there are so many things I want to do to her!" We kissed. When she broke away, she dropped her hand to my crotch and felt the bulge. "Oh," she giggled, "but I'm being selfish, looking after my own needs while my husband goes unsatisfied." She looked over at where Andrea lay on the bed. "Does she suck cock as well as she sucks pussy?" I smiled, thinking of the countless hours Mistress Angela had forced Andrea to practice her cock-sucking, first on dildos, then men, slowly training her to deep throat. In fact, I remembered the very first time. Andrea had to be strapped down and fitted with an O-gag so that she wouldn't bite. The trainer had crouched over her face and slid his huge cock into her mouth through the gag. Andrea had moaned and thrashed about, the tears streaming down her cheeks, but couldn't stop him from fucking her mouth until he came, shooting ropes of sperm all over her face and upper body. She had come a long way since then. "Oh, I think that she can manage something of that sort." Kate laughed. Within a few moments, we had Andrea kneeling on the floor. Her bonds were unchanged; we had just pulled her down and over the foot of the bed, so that she was kneeling with her legs spread. The banana slid out about an inch or so, causing Kate to laugh again. "You've shaved her," she noted, looking at Andrea's bare crotch. Andrea's face turned red again. "It's permanent," I told her, once again unzipping my fly. "It'll increase her resale value." Kate looked puzzled at that, but didn't say anything. Instead, she ran her long, cool fingers over my rapidly hardening penis and then guided it into Andrea's waiting mouth. Then she stood back and watched as her ex-teacher sucked hungrily at my penis. I didn't use my hand to hold or help her; I just stood there as she moved her mouth up and down on my penis, alternately sucking and then running her tongue up and down its length. Once again, the practice had paid off. She was a wonderful cocksucker. Kate just watched for a few moments, making only the occasional comment regarding the technique displayed by her ex-teacher. I must say, I was right about her being able to hold a grudge. "You said something about 'resale value'?" "Yes." I fell silent for a moment as Andrea's tongue did the most exquisite things at the base of my penis. "It costs a lot of money to train a slave, particularly when they're not entirely... well, willing, to be blunt." I slid my cock back and she teased the tip with her lips. "Once they're trained," I continued, "however, there are a lot of people willing to pay good money for them." "Who? Where?" "Well, the Middle East is always good; there's always room in a harem for a well-trained white woman." Andrea moaned in fear. "There are a number of establishments in Mexico - well, two I can think of off the top of my head - that pay for new 'employees'." I looked over at Kate; her hand had dropped to her crotch and her face had taken on that dream-like quality I knew so well. She was really enjoying this. "And there's always South America.I understand that there are any number of drug lords or heads of state who would enjoy a new 'mistress'. Kate let out a small moan. She walked around behind where Andrea was kneeling at my feet, threw her arms around my shoulders, and ground her crotch into the back of Andrea's head. This forced the bound woman to take my cock all the way into the back of her throat just as Kate brought her lips to mine for a long passionate kiss. We kissed for a few moments, and then broke apart, breathing heavily; Kate continued to grind her crotch against the back of her ex-teacher's head, causing the bound woman to slide her lips up and down on my cock in time with the pressure. No more of that wonderful technique, but by then it didn't really matter. And, of course, the feel of Kate against me more than made up for any deficiency in the cock sucking department. Not that Andrea wouldn't be whipped for it later. Of course. "Where else?" Kate whispered, biting my ear. "On the other hand, there's no need to leave the U.S.," I answered, breathing heavily. "There are plenty of buyers available. I understand that there's a string of men's clubs that 'purchase' strippers to whore for them at their various clubs across the country." My thrusts became more violent as I approached orgasm. Caught between my penis and Kate's crotch, Andrea was helpless to do anything other than ride it out. Her nipple bells jingled in time with our movements. "There's also a certain 'Club' in California that's always looking for new talent." I began to move my hips faster now, thrusting forward as Andrea ground down. The bells jingled steadily now. Almost... "And, of course, there are the usual bikers or pimps who would be more than willing to take this slave off our..." I could hold it no longer. With a groan, I jammed my penis down Andrea's throat and held it there as it stiffened and then released jet after jet of sperm into her mouth. Just as I did that, Kate let out a loud moan, and stiffened, all the while frantically running her crotch up and down along the back of Andrea's head. "Oh gawd..." My beautiful wife wrapped her long legs around behind me and shoved hard with her crotch, pushing Andrea's face even further down onto my penis, if that was possible. Kate hugged me close, and we engaged in a long kiss as we both orgasmed while Andrea gagged and gasped for air. It seemed to last forever, but it couldn't have been more than a minute or so before we broke apart, both of us panting like we'd run a marathon. Kate unwrapped her legs and put them back on the floor. We stood like that for a few moments, just staring into each other's eyes. I loved that woman so much... I felt a continued sucking at my penis and looked down. Andrea, red-faced with the effort of holding her breath with my cock jammed down her throat, was still sucking at it, cleaning it. As she had been taught. Kate let out a short, vicious laugh. "Darling," she said quietly, toying with my hair. "I know it cost a lot of money to train her and everything, and I really like the thought of her being sold like you said... but... but, can we keep her? Just for a bit? We can always sell her later." I smiled. I had sort of been expecting this. "Of course," I answered. "She's my honeymoon present to you. You can keep her for as long as you like. I've had the kennel fixed up in the basement so she'll have a place to..." Kate cut me off with a long kiss of thanks. This was one purchase I wouldn't regret. Afterwards, I pulled my cock away, and Kate stood back, leaving Andrea kneeling on the floor, her legs spread on the bar and hands still fastened to her waist belt. I turned to Kate to say something, but then... "P-please." It was Andrea. I looked down sternly. She had spoken without permission. Well, Mistress Angela had warned me that she wasn't fully trained. The slave would, however, be punished for it later. "If you have something to say," I told her, "address it to your new mistress." I gestured towards Kate. Kate grinned. "What is it, sla-a-ve?" She was still enjoying the word. "Please, mistress," Andrea begged in a small voice. "Please. Can I... c-come?" I looked a little closer and saw that the banana that I had inserted in her pussy was now three-quarters out and rested partially on the floor. Andrea was trying to spread her legs further so that she could press downward and create pressure on her clit. She was attempting, in short, to fuck herself with the banana. Kate and I both laughed. Here was Professor Andrea Cross, clad in a leather collar and bound on her knees with her hairless pussy exposed to the world, small bells jingling as they hung from the nipple rings on her naked breasts as she gasped for breath, her face shiny with pussy juice, sweat and sperm... and was she begging to be let go? To be released from her humiliating bondage? No; she just wanted to come, and was trying desperately to squat fuck herself on a banana. Mistress Angela had done a splendid job; in one month she'd turned a university professor into a whining, crawling slave slut. I'd have to make certain that there was a bonus included with the final payment. Kate walked forward and ran her hand through her slave's short, red hair. "I don't think so," she said, kneeling down so that her face was directly opposite Andrea's. She reached down and slid the banana back up into her ex-teacher's sopping pussy. "I expect you to keep that banana in your cunt until I tell you otherwise. And you don't come until I say. Do you understand?" Andrea whimpered, but managed to stammer out a "Yes mistress." "Good." Kate smiled. She brought her hand up and began toying with Andrea's breasts, cupping one in her hand and then letting it fall free. The bells in Andrea's nipple rings jingled whenever she did this. "We have lots of things to discuss about last year," Kate said menacingly. "Yes mistress." Kate stood and turned to me. "And as for you," she grinned, "it occurs to me that we haven't consummated our marriage yet. And this seems like the perfect time and place." She patted the bed. I stared at her, flustered. "But... I don't think..." My bride just grinned. She walked up to me and gave me a long kiss. "Don't worry," she whispered, "I'm sure you'll be 'up for it'. Under the right conditions." And do you know, she was right. THE END

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11807.txt

Stephen Peters

Trisha and Jennifer

"Oh, Mom!" Trisha protested. "I'm sorry, young lady," her mom answered. "But Marie can't make it this afternoon, and your dad and I need the help." "But I was gonna..." "Trisha, please!" Trisha was usually lucky about these things, normally she got the day to herself, but this time she was stuck - no doubt about it. Her parents were hosting another one of their endlessly long social get-togethers, and when their housekeeper couldn't make it, it was her responsibility to help out. Even if she were only a kid, she still had to act the sophisticated lady, the perfect hostess. It was part of what was expected of her, and her parents would not tolerate any dissent. And that's how Trisha found herself on a beautiful mid-summer's afternoon serving punch to a bunch of people she didn't know (or even care to know) while listening in complete and utter boredom to her dad ramble on to one of his business partners about his wonderful daughter. To the casual observer, Trisha had everything. She was beautiful; tall and lithe with a long, elegant neck and high cheekbones. Her eyes were a light china doll blue, her hair was the color of ripe wheat, and when she moved, it was with a natural feminine grace that in another, earlier time would have marked her as a person of noble birth. In addition, both her parents were successful business people (her dad was a corporate lawyer while her mom brokered high-priced real estate), so Trisha didn't lack for material possessions. She basically had everything she wanted - or at least her parents thought so. What Trisha didn't have was their attention. Oh, they acknowledged her presence and were always quick to point out to their friends what a lovely daughter they had, but they never seemed to talk to one another, or listen, or do anything together as a family...Attached not only to her, but to their physical relationship as well. From the very beginning, Jennifer knew that Trisha was attracted to her body, and she was surprised by how natural and unselfconscious their sex play was. It was totally different from any "doctor games" Jennifer had ever played, and she genuinely enjoyed Trisha's hugging and touching. As for Trisha, she was relieved beyond words that Jennifer did not reject her advances. Many times during those long walks, if they could find a place to be alone, Trisha would stop and lean against a tree or building and wrap her arms around Jennifer, pressing their bodies tightly together. Sometimes, with Jennifer's strong body supporting her, Trisha would bury her face in Jennifer's hair and wrap her legs around Jennifer, rubbing herself against Jennifer's hip. As they became more at ease with one another, Jennifer started unbuttoning her pants, letting Trisha slip her hand beneath her panties to touch and caress her. Soon, Jennifer was reciprocating. The first time Trisha spent the night at Jennifer's house, Jennifer undressed Trisha totally, then had her lie down so she could caress her from head to foot. She even sucked Trisha's large, cherry-red nipples. Still, despite these shared intimacies, nothing prepared Jennifer for the sight of her friend, legs splayed out across her bed with the bear tucked tightly in her crotch, masturbating herself with obvious enjoyment. Jennifer gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Trisha, suddenly realizing she was not alone, bolted upright on the bed and hurriedly tried to smooth her dress. Wide-eyed, they stared at each other. Jennifer stammered a frustrated, embarrassed "Uhh...", then did the only other thing she could do under the circumstances; bust out laughing. Great fits of laughter racked her body, till she could no longer stand. With her back against the doorjamb, she slid to the floor, hand clamped over her mouth. Meanwhile, Trisha, in a desperate effort to contain herself, buried her head into a pillow. She wasn't sure if she would die first of suffocation or a rupture. For several minutes, both girls were completely incoherent with laughter, till Trisha finally brought herself under control long enough to speak. "Oh wow, Jennifer," Trisha said, still trying to catch her breath, "the look on your face..." Just thinking about it sent Trisha off onto another round of hysterical giggles. "I'm sorry, Trish," Jennifer stammered, "I -- I came looking for you to see if you could come over tonight. Your dad said you might be in here. I, uh, didn't know about the party." She stifled another guffaw, then took several deep breaths, gradually bringing herself under control. "My parents' parties are just the pits, aren't they. Here - come on over and sit." Trisha indicated a spot on the bed next to her. Jennifer stumbled over and flopped down on her back, holding her tummy. It was still sore from laughing. Trisha continued, "I was getting real bored and well--" she paused, "I decided to go to my room. I really wasn't planning on doing anything, it just happened." "Don't worry about it," Jennifer replied, trying to reassure Trisha, "my brother has walked in on me more than once." She picked up the stuffed bear and looked at it, turning it over and examining it. Finally, in a rather curious voice, she asked Trisha, "I didn't know you used a stuffed bear to, um -- masturbate." Despite Jennifer's reassurances, Trisha had an embarrassed look on her face as she answered. "Well, I don't really, I was just remembering one time when I was playing around with a friend. Mostly I use my hand -- like I do with you." She looked at Jennifer, gave her a conspiratorial grin. Jennifer grinned back. "Promise you won't tell?" "OK," Trisha replied. "Well, you remember how I said Mark had walked in on me, well - one time I let him watch." "What!??" Trisha exclaimed. "Shhhh. I was on the couch watching TV with a blanket over me. I was in the middle of, uh, doing it when he came in, and I just couldn't stop. I'm sure he knew what I was up to 'cause he grinned right at me." They fell silent. Trisha looked around the room, as if waiting for something. Jennifer eyed her friend thoughtfully, noticing that Trisha would not look at her. It was clear what she wants, Jennifer thought, she's just too shy to ask for it directly. Oh well. "Hey, Trish," she said finally, "do you want me to, uh, caress you for a while?" Trisha actually let out a sigh of relief. "Oh please, yes. But first, lock the door." Jennifer went to the door and drew the old-fashioned bolt lock closed. Trisha lay down and again spread her legs, this time bringing her dress up to her chest. Jennifer returned to the bed and sat on the edge, next to Trisha. In what had become their private ritual, she moistened the two middle fingers of her hand with her mouth, then placed them against Trisha's pussy. Although they had felt each other up many times before, this was the first time Jennifer had ever seen Trisha's cunny up close in the daylight, and she wanted to take her time and explore. Leaning over Trisha's body, she cupped the swell of Trisha's mons in the palm of her hand, letting her fingers frame the pink slit of her friend's vulva. Trisha looked and felt wetter than she could ever remember. Gently, she parted the lips, revealing the pearl of Trisha's clit and the moist, pink folds of her flesh. The dark red of Trisha's vagina reminded Jennifer of a budding flower, waiting to bloom. Jennifer slipped her fingers between the lips, softly stroking the folds, spreading them until Trisha's clit was completely exposed. She then added her thumb and, with slow, gentle squeezes, massaged Trisha's nubbin, smearing Trisha's copious juices across her mound and into the tuft of pubic hair atop her pussy. Trisha moaned, soft and low. What came next, Jennifer didn't plan, it just happened. With a sideways, peek-a-boo glance at Trisha to catch her reaction, she pressed her middle finger to Trisha's vagina. "Uh?" Trisha voiced, then her eyes opened wide as she realized what Jennifer was about to do. Instantly, she was up onto her elbows, staring down her body at Jennifer's hand as it covered her pubis. Trisha tensed, waiting. It was as if all her senses were concentrated at the entrance to her vagina, balanced on the end of Jennifer's finger. Jennifer finally turned her head and, for the first time, looked openly at her. "Can I?" Jennifer asked softly. Trisha questioned her with her eyes, and Jennifer answered with a shy but knowing smile. "It feels good -- really," Jennifer whispered. "You've...done it?" Trisha whispered back, not quite believing. Jennifer nodded. Trisha had always trusted her friend, it was simply part of the relationship, and she knew Jennifer would never hurt her. Slowly, she sank back onto the bed, closed her eyes, and with a quick shift of her hips offered Jennifer a straight path into her body. Jennifer worked her finger into her, slowly rocking her digit against the tight opening till, suddenly, she was in to the first knuckle. The rest of the way was easy, and for a long minute, Jennifer held still; her hand covering Trisha's cunny, Trisha's warm, wet vagina tight about her finger. "Jenny - hurry!" Trisha groaned impatiently. Trisha's eyes were closed, and her body tense, hands in fists at her side. Jennifer settled in and started masturbating Trisha in earnest; rubbing Trisha's clit with the palm of her hand as she drew her finger in and out of her friend's pussy. Trisha moaned, low and breathy, then lifted her hips off the bed, pushing her cunny into Jennifer's enclosing hand. Suddenly, with complete certainty, Jennifer realized that Trisha was going to reach climax. She slipped her finger out of Trisha's vagina and started running it across her friend's clit, silently urging her on. Trisha's mouth opened wide, and she shook her head from side to side, gasping for breath in between her moans. Finally, with a long, high-pitched keen, Trisha climaxed, then exhaling deeply, sank back onto the bed. Slowly, she relaxed, the tenseness flowing from arms and legs as her breathing returned to normal. When she opened her eyes again, Jennifer greeted her with a warm smile. "Beats the heck out of that bear, doesn't it?" asked Jennifer. With that, she collapsed onto Trisha, burying her head in Trisha's chest. Trisha threw her arms around her, and together they lay, rocking back and forth, giggling and hugging one another. Jennifer was genuinely happy for her friend and, although she would never admit it, proud she was able to make Trisha climax. "Wow," Jennifer said, finally sitting up and grinning, "that must have been great for you." "It was," Trisha sighed. "I've cum before when I, uh, you know, rubbed myself, but it was nothing like that." She paused, looked at Jennifer solemnly. "I've never had anyone put their finger in me before." "It didn't hurt or anything?" asked Jennifer. "Oh no, it felt good, it felt like -- Oh, I don't know how to describe it." She smiled, shrugged her shoulders. She really didn't have to say anything. "Say," Trisha continued, "has anybody ever, like, given you an orgasm before?" "No," Jennifer replied. The two girls stared at each other. Now it was Jennifer's turn to look shyly away. The next question did not have to be asked, nor an answer given. Trisha simply patted the bed beside her. "Lie down," she said. Listening to Trisha, watching her body move as she caressed her; these things had thoroughly aroused Jennifer. Now the thought of Trisha doing the same to her made her stomach tighten in excitement, and her breath come in short, shallow gulps. She stood and unsnapped her jeans, let them slip off her hips to fall about her feet.Her panties were next, floating down her long legs to lie about her ankles, and then she kicked them both off onto the floor. Climbing onto the bed, she lay down next to Trisha. Trisha rolled over and sat up on her elbow, facing her. Jennifer parted her legs, waiting for Trisha's hand. Instead, Trisha sat up and got off the bed. "What is it?" Jennifer asked. Trisha did not reply. She walked around to the foot of the bed, paused, then flopped between Jennifer's outstretched legs, letting her head come to rest on Jennifer's tummy. With a wiggle, she scooted down a bit, then, crossing her hands over Jennifer's pubic mound and resting her chin on the back of her hands, looked up at Jennifer. Trisha gave her a shy grin, but her eyes held something else; something that Jennifer could only describe as a longing, almost pleading, look. "What's the mat-" Suddenly, it dawned on Jennifer what Trisha wanted: permission. Trisha wanted permission to put her mouth between her legs. "Oh. Trish," she breathed. Once, in the sleepy afterglow of the sex play accompanying an all-night birthday party, they had talked about it, about "kissing down there" as Trisha so delicately put it. Trisha confided to Jennifer that she would never let someone do that to her, it was too dirty, too gross. Now, laying there between her legs, Trisha was offering Jennifer the very thing that she herself was unwilling to receive. Jennifer took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she propped herself up on her elbows. She wasn't sure if she even knew the words to say to let Trisha know that it was all right, that she had longed for this from the first time they had talked about it. In the end, she used Trisha's own words. "Trisha," Jennifer's voice was as steady as she could make it, "if you want to kiss me down there, it's OK." Trisha opened her mouth and placed it full over Jennifer's cunny, tongue resting flat against her clit, and for a brief moment she tasted Jennifer's sweat and the faint, peppery spice of her pee. It was not an unpleasant taste and, for Trisha, a simple part of her friend's natural allure; nuzzling Jennifer's mons, she slid her tongue down Jennifer's vulva, drenching her with saliva. The heady, musky odor of Jennifer's sex filled her nostrils, and as Trisha dropped her face lower, Jennifer told her to keep going, whispering soft words of encouragement and pleasure. Trisha trailed her tongue across the soft, milk-white skin of Jennifer's thighs, then into the angle where thigh met crotch. She kissed Jennifer's cunny as she would a mouth, cuntal lips to her lips, tongue reaching to explore every small and delicate fold. Jennifer was very moist now, and Trisha stopped to savor the warm, almost sweet wetness; with a flick of her tongue, she drew the juices into her mouth. She swallowed, then went back for more, lapping Jennifer clean. Jennifer, her voice now little more than a soft moan, implored Trisha to keep going. Slowly, lovingly, Trisha lapped her friend's cunny, letting her soft, wet tongue cover Jennifer from vagina to clit, painting her with saliva. They were both making noises now, Trisha a deep purring sound in the back of her throat, and as Jennifer's cunny began to flower, Trisha buried her nose between the opening lips, tongue searching for Jennifer's vagina. Trisha wanted very badly to put herself inside Jennifer, just as Jennifer had put her finger inside of her. Jennifer, sensing Trisha's desire, lifted her knees off the bed and spread her legs wider, consciously trying to relax and open herself to Trisha's steady, firm probing. Trisha got her hands beneath Jennifer's bottom, steadying them both, then cocked her head to one side. With her open mouth held tight against Jennifer's pussy, she curled her tongue and very slowly, very carefully worked the tip into Jennifer's cuntal opening. She paused, and then Jennifer suddenly relaxed and opened; with a gentle, steady push, Trisha entered deep into her friend's body. Jennifer cried weakly, her breath gone, taken by the incredible, indescribable sensation of Trisha's tongue slipping into her. Trisha could hardly breathe, her face was so tight against Jennifer's crotch, but she didn't stop until she was as deep as she could go. She tried moving her tongue back and forth, but Jennifer's pussy had closed tight about it; all Trisha could do was move it ever so slowly in and out. When at last Trisha withdrew completely and looked up at her, Jennifer arched her back, not wanting to lose contact with Trisha's mouth. "Please Trish, please - make me cum," Jennifer pleaded. Trisha closed her mouth around Jennifer's clit, gently sucking. Jennifer gasped, clutched the bedspread. Trisha, seeing her friend's reaction, started licking her again, this time concentrating on Jennifer's small, stiff clit. Jennifer groaned, tossed her head back. She was literally shaking with ecstasy. Her head reeled, her body clenched, and then she came, screaming Trisha's name. "Ohhh....Oooohhhhhh......TRRISSSSHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" For a long while afterwards, the girls lay utterly still and quiet, Jennifer sprawled out on her back as Trisha rested her head atop her pubis. Jennifer was totally drained -- legs weak and rubbery, while her stomach felt like it had been turned inside out. She could not believe the intensity of the orgasm, nor the wonderful, peaceful afterglow that now washed over her body. Trisha too was tired (her jaw ached and her tongue felt plain worn out) but she was happy; a feeling born of the pure, golden warmth of contentment. As she got up from between Jennifer's legs and crawled beside her to lay down, she wanted nothing else except to fall asleep holding her friend. When Jennifer stirred, turning towards her, Trisha cradled her in her arms. "Oh wow, Trish, your face is covered -- I mean....Oh, you know!" Trisha lowered her head, suddenly shy, as Jennifer brushed the hair from Trisha's face, then wiped her chin clean with the palm of her hand. "Do you want me to do it to you?" Jennifer asked when she had finished. In truth, Jennifer didn't know if she had the energy to bring Trisha to climax a second time, but if Trisha wanted it, she would try. Trisha looked at her wishfully, then finally shook her head. "We better not," she replied. "I've been gone a long time, and we better get back before mom and dad start looking for us." She took a deep breath, paused. Jennifer waited. "Jenny," Trisha confessed in a great rush of breath, "I was wrong about, uh, you know -- kissing down there. It isn't dirty or gross at all. I'm, uh, glad you liked it....Can I still come over tonight?" Jennifer, smiling at her friend's unnecessary question, nodded yes. Reluctantly, they disentangled their bodies, got up off the bed. Panties were found and slipped back on, dresses smoothed and hair brushed. After one final inspection, Jennifer unlocked the door. "Ready?" she asked. "OK -- oops, one more thing," Trisha replied. She bent over and picked up the stuffed bear, tucked it next to the pillow on the bed. She straightened up, then took Jennifer's hand. "Come on, let's go," she said. Hand in hand, they slipped out the door. ---------- later that day ---------- "You know, Jenny," Trisha said, smiling through a mouthful of chicken, "I really would like to finish this." It was dusk, and Trisha was standing in the middle of the familiar, chaotic mess of Jennifer's bedroom. Her parents' party had finally broken up about 7 pm, and Trisha quickly showered and changed, grabbed her pack and bedroll, and wandered over to Jennifer's house just in time to enjoy the last of a summer's evening barbecue. Jennifer was with her dad and her brother Mark, and together the four of them sat around the picnic table, Trisha contentedly munching on a chicken leg while watching Jennifer and Mark engage in their playful brother/sister teasing. She really enjoyed being around Jennifer's family, but it was a bittersweet pleasure. There was genuine love here, and an easy, warm informality that Trisha could only contrast to her own family's stiffness. It was not a favorable comparison. Jennifer was in especially good spirits this evening and started chasing Mark in and out of the house, occasionally grabbing for Trisha as she ran past. Mark finally sought refuge behind Trisha's chair, gasping for breath, and Jennifer was about to go after him through Trisha when her dad called a halt to the roughhousing. "That's enough," he said, "Jenny, come here and give me a hand with these dishes, will ya." Jennifer grumbled, but went to help her dad as Trisha motioned Mark to sit down next to her on the bench. Mark was the only boy Trisha felt comfortable around, could talk to without clamming up, and she took every chance she had to talk to him. Tall and gangly, cute rather than handsome, he had the same athletic ability as Jennifer and a good dose of brains besides. Even at his age (just a year older than the girls), everyone assumed he was going to grow up and go off to college and, as Jennifer's dad liked to say, become "someone important". He also had the ability to make people laugh, especially Trisha. She never got tired of his humor, his ability to see the bright side of things even when it seemed to Trisha there was no bright side. Trisha understood why Jennifer always talked about him, loved him so. Trisha loved him too, in her own way. While Jennifer and her dad did the dishes, Mark and Trisha talked, long and easy. Jennifer's dad stuck his head around the sliding glass door. "Mark, how about you and I go and pick up a couple of videos for this evening. Your sister says she'll stay here and keep Trisha company." Mark left, and Trisha realized she still had not yet finished her meal.Hungrily, she turned her attention to finishing the last piece of barbecued chicken when she heard the front door close. Almost immediately, Jennifer appeared, grabbed her by the waist, and guided her into the house, down the hall, and into the bedroom. It wasn't very subtle, Jennifer realized, but they had some unfinished business. Jennifer's bedroom was definitely that of a fun-loving, athletic, tomboy. Old clothes were piled in one corner, beneath a large Air Jordan poster that dominated one wall of the room. Library books, fan magazines, toys, and a basketball were scattered about on the floor. Mark's baseball mitt hung over one of the bed posts ("how did that get here?" Trisha wondered), and the sheets were thrown off to one side, just as Jennifer had left them when she bounded out of bed that morning. Like Trisha's bedroom, Jennifer's had a south-facing window, and the warm, golden-red light of sunset filled the room. The familiar surroundings comforted Trisha, but she was a bit overwhelmed by Jennifer's obvious desire. Even now, as she held the last piece of chicken in her hand, Jennifer stood before her, fumbling with the top button of her shirt. Trisha put down her meal, wiped her hand on her jeans, then put her hand over Jennifer's. "Hey -- slow down," she said. "I'm not going anywhere." Jennifer stopped, dropped her hands, then leaned her head against Trisha's shoulder. "Trisha, I'm sorry." Her voice was soft, apologetic. "I guess I am acting kind of dumb." She paused, struggling for words, then looked at Trisha in exasperation. "Oh, Trish! It's hard to explain. It's just that what we did this afternoon - you know, when you did it with your mouth - it felt so good. I get really turned on thinking about it, and thinking about tonight and maybe doing the same to you." "You don't have to," Trisha replied. "I WANT to," Jenny said, no doubt whatsoever in her eyes. "I really do. It's just sort of scary, that's all. I've never felt this way before, so turned on, I mean. Especially --" she stopped, realizing what she was about to say. "Especially by another girl?" Trisha finished the thought for her. She could guess what Jennifer was going through. Jennifer bit her lower lip. "Yeah, that's part of it." She gave Trisha a rueful smile. "Kind of weird, isn't it?" "Yeah, I guess it is kind of weird, but Jenny, look. We're best friends, and I really like you. When I -- make love to you -- (there, Trisha thought, I said it out loud) it's the neatest thing in the whole world. I can trust you not to hurt me or make fun of me or anything. And I also know you like it when we're together and do all the things we like to do. That's all that really matters, right? That we're friends and we can be together and have fun and trust each other. There is nothing wrong with that." Trisha stopped, out of breath. It was quite a speech for her, and not knowing what else to do, she started playing with a wisp of Jennifer's hair. Jennifer looked at her, smiling, almost laughing at her friend's utter confidence in herself and in her. "Trisha, you're amazing sometimes," Jennifer said. "Doesn't getting turned on by me, by other girls, ever bother you?" "No." It was that simple. Jennifer thought about it. "Well," she said slowly, "I guess it won't bother me either. At least, not as long as it feels as good as you make it feel." She leaned over and kissed Trisha's cheek, smiling, her dark eyes understanding, playful, willing. That look sent a shiver of anticipation and delight through Trisha. "All right, 'nuff said," Trisha replied. Jennifer nodded her head in agreement. "I wanna get undressed, OK?" They undressed each other down to their panties, pants first, then tops. Trisha pulled Jennifer's tank-top over her head, and as they sat down, Trisha once again stared in frank admiration at her friend's athletic body. Jennifer's legs were strong, lean with muscle, and her hips were narrow; the hips of a graceful, fast cat. Jennifer was six months Trisha's junior and just starting to enter puberty, but already she had breasts -- small, firm handfuls topped with smooth brown nipples. Trisha thought (although she never told Jennifer this) that they were simply, truly beautiful. Trisha was also into puberty (unlike Jennifer, whose young pussy was totally hairless, her pubis sported a patch of fine, golden peach fuzz), and her hips were beginning to lose their boyish, angular lines, but so far her breasts were no more than large (albeit pretty) nipples. Trisha was terribly self-conscious about them, and she could not begin to tell Jennifer what it meant to her when, on the night of their first sleepover, she so tenderly took them into her mouth and sucked them. That small act, more than anything else, had cemented their relationship. Together they sat, cross-legged on the floor, their knees touching. They talked softly, no hurry, words flowing easily from one to another. As they talked, they touched, Trisha resting her hands lightly on Jennifer's legs, stroking her knees, while Jennifer played her fingers across Trisha's bare chest. When Jennifer brushed her nipples, Trisha stopped in mid-sentence, swallowed hard. "Oh boy," she whispered, "I think I almost came." "You can't do that from me just touching you, can you?" "Right now, I think maybe so." Trisha paused. "Jenny, before you do me, I want to feel you up, OK?" Trisha stood, then leaned down and brought Jennifer to her feet. They stood face to face, inches apart. Suddenly, Trisha grabbed Jennifer and held her close, pressing her pubic mound against Jennifer's. It was like the breaking of a dam; they both hurried, excited, fumbling to remove their panties. Trisha pulled hers from around her waist, let them drop to her ankles. With one swift motion, Jennifer removed her own panties and stood naked before Trisha. Without a word, Trisha reached for her, and they stood together; Jennifer with her legs apart, foreheads touching as they both looked down to watch. Trisha slipped her hand between Jennifer's legs, cupping the bare pubis in her palm as she nestled her fingers between the lips of Jennifer's vulva. Trisha was very good at this, stroking her clit, fondling the lips, applying just the right amount of pressure on her mons, and soon Jennifer was weak at the knees, clutching at Trisha's arms so she could stand. Jennifer bit her lip, cried into Trisha's shoulder as she climaxed. It was a lot easier than the first one that afternoon and wasn't as overwhelming, but she still had to lean against Trisha's body as her legs recovered. Trisha ran her hands over Jennifer's bottom, bringing her back to earth. "Mmmm," Jennifer whispered, "you're so damn good at this, you know." Trisha just smiled at her. Jennifer shook her head, breathed deeply. "OK, Trish," Jennifer said, her eyes shiny and bright, "your turn." Playfully, she pushed her friend over onto the bed. Trisha's legs dangled over the edge, panties still around her ankles. Jennifer knelt before her, removed the panties, and let them drop to the floor. With her ankles now free, Trisha spread her legs wide, allowing Jennifer to stare straight into her open cunny. Jennifer's playful expression was gone, replaced by a look close to reverence as she raised her hand to touch Trisha. The girls exchanged excited whispers, Jennifer telling Trisha how neat and soft her pussy looked, Trisha reassuring Jennifer that hers was just as wonderful. Jennifer gave Trisha a few soft strokes, then carefully placing her palms against the inside of Trisha's thighs, braced herself. She closed her eyes, hesitated, then with a deep breath leaned forward and pressed her lips to Trisha's moist, pink slit. Her tongue darted from her mouth, and for the first time, Jennifer tasted Trisha's musky, sweet/salty wetness. Tenderly, she kissed Trisha's pussy, inhaling deeply the familiar, arousing odor. (Although she had never tasted Trisha before, Jennifer loved her smell. Oftentimes after masturbating Trisha, she would un-ashamedly cup her fingers to her nose and savor the secret, special scent of her.) Jennifer kissed the sparse pubic hair atop Trisha's mound, then held her friend's pussy open with her thumbs to tongue her from clit to vagina. Back and forth she went, kissing and licking the lips of Trisha's vulva. Before long, she had covered Trisha's pussy with her mouth and was eagerly sucking the folds, stopping only to catch a quick breath and swallow the mixture of Trisha's wetness and her own saliva as they filled her mouth. Trisha started her familiar low, breathy moan, started bucking her hips against Jennifer as she neared climax. Jennifer held her mouth to Trisha's pussy as best she could, licking Trisha's clit with long, wet strokes of her tongue until Trisha cried out, climaxing in a great burst of wetness. Jennifer stumbled to her feet and collapsed onto the bed next to Trisha. The sun had set, and in the half-tones of dusk, Trisha's skin glowed white, her cherry-red nipples turned to dark red. Jennifer gazed at Trisha's profile; her small, delicate nose, her high cheekbones, the way her hair shimmered in the half-light, and, as if for the first time, she realized how truly beautiful Trisha was. She wished her eyes were cameras so she might keep that image of Trisha in her mind forever. "Trisha?" she asked softly. "Mmmmm," Trisha mumbled. "Would you sleep with me tonight?" Normally, after their sex play, they would return to their individual sleeping bags to talk and maybe hold hands before drifting off to sleep. "Mmmmm, OK, sure," Trisha was starting to waken from the afterglow. "I, uh -- can we do it some more?" "Yes, Trish," Jennifer answered quietly, nodding her head.For the next hour or so, the girls lay in Jennifer's half-made bed, tangled tightly among the bedsheets and pillows, caressing and sucking one another until they were to the point of exhaustion. They could no longer pretend (nor did they want to) that what they were doing was innocent, girlish sex play. No, they made love to one another -- passionate, hungry, physical love. For Trisha especially: normally she was the initiator, but tonight Jennifer took control, and Trisha found herself opening her body to Jennifer in ways she never would have dared before. She was still wet from Jennifer's mouth, and Jennifer spent a good deal of time playing her fingers in and out of her cunny, at times reaching so deep inside that they touched the back of her cuntal wall. Jennifer rolled her over and caressed the cheeks of her bottom, showering them with playful kisses. Trisha returned the favor. They tried sixty-nine, but it was too awkward; neither could concentrate with the other's tongue in their cunny, and they ended up collapsing in giggles. Jennifer finally rolled Trisha onto her back again and brought her to the edge by thumbing her clit while stroking the folds of her vulva. Trisha was so excited she didn't say a word when Jennifer's fingers wandered towards the private, forbidden places below her vagina. Jennifer got to her knees and, still fingering Trisha's cunny, leaned over and took a nipple into her mouth; almost immediately, Trisha responded with another shuddering, bucking climax. After Trisha finished, Jennifer sat back on the bed and, to Trisha's utter and everlasting amazement, put her fingers in her mouth, sucking them clean before finally laying down next to her, resting her head on Trisha's chest. "Oh -- sweet -- Jesus -- that was good," was all Trisha could manage. That wasn't all. Jennifer, in a soft, earnest voice, told Trisha how good it felt to caress her and (blushing only slightly) how good she tasted. Trisha had never had anyone talk to her like that before, and the words struck her with almost physical force, arousing her as much as her friend's touch had. When Jennifer finally rolled over onto her back to take her turn, Trisha did not hesitate; she slid to the foot of the bed, nestling herself between Jennifer's outstretched legs. As she lowered her face to Jennifer's pussy, Trisha caught the clean, floral scent of soap; mixed with the darker, musky odor of Jennifer's cunny, it created a perfume that touched a deep and elemental desire within Trisha. She was fast losing control of herself and roughly parted Jennifer's pussy with her fingers, her tongue searching, not stopping until it again rested inside her friend's vagina. For a crazy moment, Trisha started drawing her tongue in and out, loving Jennifer as deeply and as intimately as (she supposed) one girl could love another. She stopped only when Jennifer took her by the shoulders and pulled her away to lie on top. They embraced, tightly, Trisha a bit scared and embarrassed now by her sudden display of passion. Jennifer was meowing softly, almost a cry, and Jennifer's heart was beating so hard Trisha felt it against her own chest. "Oh wow," she whispered "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so carried away. Are you all right?" "Yes," Jennifer squeaked. For a long while, she was silent. Then, "You felt like a boy inside me." Trisha rolled off of her onto the bed. Together they stared at the ceiling, holding hands, waiting for their bodies to relax and their breathing to return to normal. "Jenny," Trisha finally asked, breaking the silence "you've never done it with a guy, have you?" Jennifer giggled, nodded her head no. "Well," Trisha said "I guess then that was for practice." Jennifer smiled sweetly and cuffed her with her pillow. Trisha, properly chastised, slid back down the bed and, with as much tenderness as her passion would allow, sucked her friend to climax. The finished as they usually did, engaged in a long, playful session of mutual masturbation. Afterward, laying side by side in the dark, they were content to simply touch one another. Trisha cupped Jennifer's warm, wet cunny in her hand while Jennifer idly ran her fingers through the soft, golden hairs crowning Trisha's pubis. "Jenny," Trisha's voice was sleepy, wistful "sometimes I wish we could, you know, cum at the same time." Then, almost as an afterthought, "Actually -- I wish you could make me cum by laying on top of me." "Yeah, that would be neat," Jennifer said through a wide, sleepy yawn. She was exhausted, having been in a state of almost constant arousal since early that afternoon. "Trisha -- I gotta get some sleep, OK?" Almost apologetically, she took her hand from Trisha's cunny, trailed it over the length of Trisha's body before she rolled onto her side, curling up next to her friend. "More tomorrow," she mumbled. "Yeah, I guess so," Trisha said softly, to no one in particular. She lay there awhile, then reached down and pulled the covers over them. Jennifer was already breathing the steady, shallow breaths of contented sleep. Trisha snuck a quick kiss on the lips, wished her a good night, then closed her eyes. Within moments, she had joined Jennifer in the arms of Morpheus. "Trisha, come on, wake up." Trisha opened her eyes to find Jennifer's face inches from her own. Jennifer was laying on top of her, rubbing her body against Trisha's. "Huh, what?" Trisha said. Jennifer wedged her knee between Trisha's thighs, working them open, and then Trisha understood. With a sudden rush, she awoke, wrapping her legs around Jennifer's hips, then clutching Jennifer's bottom, she pressed her friend's pubic mound against her own. Jennifer arched above her, strong arms holding her body steady against Trisha's crotch as Trisha rotated her hips, rubbing her clit and fore-cunny against Jennifer's hairless mound. Jennifer met Trisha's thrusts with her own, one time knocking the headboard against the wall with a sharp bang. Back and forth they rocked; wet sex against wet sex, hot breath on each other's faces. Trisha raised her hands to Jennifer's budding mounds and pinched. Jennifer's arms gave way, and she collapsed onto Trisha, grinding her nipples into Trisha's hands. Trisha was close to coming, high on the plateau of ecstasy, and when Jennifer stuck a tongue in her ear, it was all over. She exploded, thrashing wildly against Jennifer's body, driving her cunny hard against Jennifer's bare pubis. Jennifer growled, long and low, then scrambled to her hands and knees and reached for her own pussy. Closed-eyed and slack-jawed, Jennifer swiftly brought herself to climax. When she came, she again collapsed, this time spread-eagle over Trisha's body. Trisha held her tight, feeling Jennifer's body stiffen then release as the orgasm flowed through it. "I -- I wanted to make us cum together," Jennifer said softly, her voice wavering "like you wanted before." Her head was buried in the crook of Trisha's neck, and Trisha couldn't tell if Jennifer was disappointed, or satisfied, or what. Gradually, though, Jennifer's body melted into Trisha's, and they lay in peaceful, contented silence; Jennifer's warm breath in Trisha's ear while Trisha trailed her fingers lightly over Jennifer's spine. "You wanna try it with me on top?" Trisha finally inquired. "Na, I just want to lay here for a while. Jeez, what time is it?" Trisha turned her head towards the alarm clock on the bed stand. "12:30. You didn't sleep ..." Suddenly, she was shoving Jennifer off of her, trying to hide herself between Jennifer's body and the wall. "Oh no, it's your dad!" Trisha whispered in terror. Jennifer rolled over to face the door, shielding Trisha. Someone stood in the doorway all right, but the tall, lanky figure was not that of her father, it was her brother. Jennifer put her finger to her lips, shushing him, then motioned him over to the bed. Silently, Mark crossed the room, sat down on the floor facing Jennifer. Trisha, peeking over Jennifer's shoulder, watched in dumfounded amazement as Jennifer calmly snaked her arm out from under the covers, palm extended. Mark brought his hand up to hers, and they intertwined fingers, a ritual of greeting they had used since they were children. They hand wrestled for a few seconds, then dropped their arms onto Mark's lap. "Mark," Jennifer whispered "what are you doing here? You really scared Trisha." "Sorry, Trish," Mark whispered back "Look, I can't sleep with you two -- ummm, how do I say this politely -- getting-it-on right next door. I can hear almost everything." "You think dad can hear us?" Jennifer asked. Mark shrugged his shoulders "Maybe. I don't think he cares." "Could you really hear us?" Mark couldn't see it, but Jennifer was blushing. "Yeah. Did anyone ever tell you you sound like a cat when you cum?" "Mark!!" Jennifer was still holding her brother's hand, and she gave it a hard squeeze, bending his fingers back. "Ouch," he cried softly "be careful." "Uh, Mark, Jenny," Trisha had finally gotten her voice back "are you two going to sit there and have a nice little chat or what?" Mark and Jennifer were so wrapped up in themselves that Trisha's sudden comment startled them into silence. Jennifer cocked her head to one side and stared at her brother, her face questioning, hopeful. Mark pursed his lips, looked off into the distance. Trisha could tell something was up, but she dared not guess what. When Mark's eyes returned, he didn't say anything, only looked at his sister. The kids were communicating on a level that only twins or very close siblings understood. "You sure?" Mark asked her. She nodded. Trisha's eyes grew wide. Jennifer rolled over and, facing Trisha, pulled the sheets over their heads. She wanted to explain this to Trisha privately, without her brother's wise cracks. Her voice was soft, matter-of-fact."Well, uh, Trish, I never told you this, but Mark and I sometimes sleep together." Trisha's eyes grew wider. "It's not like we have sex or anything," she added hastily, "we just like to, well, sleep together." She paused, waiting for Trisha's reaction. Trisha was still trying to get her mind around the events of the last few minutes, and all she could do was nod her head slowly. Jennifer continued, her voice a little easier now. "When we were little kids, we fooled around, you know, watching each other pee and things like that, but we stopped doing that stuff until, well -- you remember when that guy broke into our house?" Trisha remembered. About a week after Trisha had moved into the neighborhood, someone had tried to break into Jennifer's house by crawling through her bedroom window. Jennifer awoke and sat up in bed, startling him, but instead of backing out, he fell through the window into the room. Jennifer told Trisha later that she had never been so scared in all her life as when he got up, his face cut and bleeding, and rocketed through the room to the hallway and out the front door, followed by Jennifer's terrified screams. "Yes, I remember," Trisha said. "Well, after the cops had left and Dad went back to bed, I was shaking so badly that I couldn't sleep, and I asked Mark to come to bed with me. It felt so good that the next night I crawled into his bed. I guess that once we got started, we never stopped." Jennifer paused. Her voice was soft and defiant. "Trisha - I love my brother. Going to sleep with him beside me is the most natural thing in the world. It's just like you said before about us, all that matters is that we love and trust each other." She stopped, looked straight at Trisha. Only then did Jennifer realize she was trembling, holding her pillow tight in her fist. "Jenny, you really want Mark with us?" Trisha asked. Jennifer nodded. Trisha didn't know what to say. She remembered talking to Mark earlier, how comfortable she felt around him. She could also see the look in Jennifer's eyes and how badly she wanted her to say yes. "OK," she said softly, "I don't want to fool around or anything with him, but, yeah, he can join us." It was awkward at first. Mark crawled in, snuggled up to Jennifer as Trisha took Jennifer's hands and held them to her chest. They lay in silence for a while, their bodies stiff, hardly touching. This was not working out like Jennifer had hoped. She was about to call the whole thing off when Mark raised his head, looked over her to Trisha. His face was solemn, serious as he spoke. "So Trisha, do you come here often?" Trisha glared at him, raised her hand. For a second, she remained poised to strike, then the laughter welled up inside her and she collapsed into her pillow, sobbing, the events of the day finally spilling over into tears of release. She reached out again, this time grabbing Mark's hand, pulling it towards her. "Come here," she said, voice hoarse with emotion. Mark reached for her, and Jennifer was buried in a tangle of arms and legs as they tried to hug one another. Mark finally got his long arms around the both of them, pressing Trisha's body against his sister's, and together they lay, Trisha quietly laughing and crying into Jennifer's chest. Jennifer rocked her back and forth, holding her as Mark caressed her, running his hand over her back and through her hair. It took quite a while for Trisha to calm down enough to speak, and when she did, she and Mark slid into quiet conversation. For a long while, they talked, Mark listening wide-eyed as Trisha haltingly explained how it was with her, what had gone on that day, and how she had ended up in his sister's bed. Jennifer lay on her back between them, watching them both, idly drawing the tips of her fingers in circles on Trisha's stomach, occasionally reaching across her body to touch her brother. Mark would sometimes absent-mindedly return the caress, but his attention was focused completely on Trisha. Several times, he started to reach for her, but Trisha kept right on talking, oblivious to Mark's body language. Finally, with deliberate, exaggerated slowness, he reached across and put his hand on her hip. Trisha froze. Jennifer, caught in the middle, turned first from her brother's open and frank stare of want, to Trisha's look of -- not fright or dread or panic -- just resignation; as if she were steeling herself for some unpleasant chore. For a moment, everything stopped as Mark and Trisha eyed each other. Trisha finally turned and buried her face in her pillow. "No, Mark, please," came the muffled reply. She turned her head to face them both, and for the first time since Jennifer had known her, Trisha seemed small and fragile. "If it were some other time or place, I might want to say yes, do something with you, but not now....I'm not ready." She paused, took a breath. "Besides," she continued softly, "I'm, um, well, -- cummed out, if you know what I mean. I'm just not in the mood anymore." For a long while, silence. Mark put his head back down on Jennifer's pillow, brought his hand to his chest. The warm, easy mood of a few minutes ago was gone, and Jennifer was afraid one or the other would get up and leave. "No," she thought to herself, "I'm not going to let that happen." She had spent countless evenings that past year longing, (no, be honest she thought: fantasizing) about this moment, having both Trisha and her brother in the same bed with her, and whatever it took, she would see to it that they remained. "Mark, put your arms around me." She rolled over so that her back was to Mark, then grabbed his hand and guided it around her. "OK, Trish, you do the same." Trisha stared at her uncomprehendingly, then Jennifer scooped Trisha's body up as best she could and dragged her over till they were touching, stomach to stomach. "Look, you two," she said quietly, "Right now -- what we're doing -- is very special to me. I love you both, and I want to have you next to me and cuddle me. Both of you. Can I have that much? Please?" She waited. "OK," her brother replied, and Jennifer knew without looking that he was giving her a 'you won but I don't mind' smile. "I think my arms are gonna' fall asleep though." Trisha didn't say anything, she just put her head against Jennifer's and snuggled her free arm between Jennifer's back and Mark's body. "G'nite," someone mumbled. Jennifer got her wish. Jennifer awoke early the next morning, in a house that was still and quiet, searching for Mark. His warmth was gone, and for a moment, she was disoriented, groping blindly around her till she opened her eyes. It was dawn, and sometime during the night, Mark had gotten up and left. Trisha was still cuddled close, sleeping on her side, and with her hand curled loosely in front of her mouth, she looked like a young child. A lock of hair had fallen down across Trisha's forehead to lay across her face, and with every slow, steady breath, it danced across her mouth. For a long while, Jennifer lay there, watching her friend, wondering if anyone could be as peaceful as Trisha looked at that moment. Or, for that matter, as beautiful. Trisha simply glowed. "You know," Jennifer thought to herself, "I could get *real* used to this." She reached over to brush the hair from her friend's forehead, and Trisha slowly opened her eyes. "Hi ya," Trisha said softly. "Hi ya," Jennifer replied. "Where's Mark?" Trisha closed her eyes again, and Jennifer waited as Trisha willed herself awake. "Um, he got up and left before it got light out," Trisha answered sleepily. "I think he was, uh, kinda frustrated." She gave Jennifer a wane, knowing smile, and both girls broke into soft giggles. "Poor guy," Trisha said as she snuggled closer, "He is soooooo sweet too. Maybe next time." Jennifer raised a questioning eyebrow, but, snug in Trisha's arms, she really wasn't in the mood to pursue her friend's last comment. Rapidly, Jennifer drifted back into light sleep full of strange dreams of flying. It was full daylight before Trisha finally shook her awake. "Good morning," Trisha said brightly. Trisha was sitting up on her knees, facing Jennifer, and as Jennifer watched, she yawned and stretched, every muscle in her slender arms visible as she clenched her hands. She gazed at the ceiling and shook her head, letting her long hair shimmer down her back like a blond waterfall. Her young nipples stood erect. "You're gorgeous," Jennifer said in awe, so enraptured by Trisha's form that she was hardly aware she had spoken. Trisha giggled, covered her mouth, then buried her face in her hands, wrinkling her nose. "Oh Jenny," she said with disgust, "I need a bath. I smell like -- well, like I've been doing it all night." "Silly girl," Jennifer shot back, "you have." Trisha laughed, fell down next to Jennifer, and they wrestled, enjoying the sensual feel of their naked bodies. They ended up sitting on the edge of the bed, side by side, Jennifer with her arm around Trisha's waist. Trisha was staring out the window, and Jennifer gazed at her profile, watching the morning sunlight as it reflected off her big, pale blue eyes. "Trish," Jennifer said, her voice a mixture of satisfaction and wonder, "that was really neat, what we did last night. Do you think it's always like that? I mean, making each other cum like we did." Trisha didn't answer immediately, she just continued staring out the window, lost in thought. "I don't know," she finally replied, "maybe it's only something that happens with real good friends or -- maybe we're both just good at it. Whatever it is, I'm glad." The girls looked sideways at each other, exchanging secret, contented smiles. Trisha stood up. "Come on, you wanna take a shower with me?" Jennifer caught the happiness in her friend's voice. "Yeah, let's do it," she replied.Together, wrapped in one of Jennifer's bathrobes, they stepped out of the bedroom into the brand new day.

Part 1

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12562.txt

beba-fun@bigfoot.com

The Tribunal (humil, FF, FM, Fdom) Part 6 : The End

"Fine, then you may leave for the day as it's nearly 5 o'clock anyway," Miss Locksbridge said. "You will be using the local Hilton this evening while we make several alterations to the inside of your house. Here is your room key; everything you need will be there for you. See you tomorrow." "Mistress L, may I take a piss and clean up before I leave?" Angela asked desperately, realizing she'd not been for a piss since before they were caught fighting earlier and that the stream of cum running down her legs was not yet stopping. "Of course you may, slut," replied Miss Locksbridge. "Feel free." Angela moved for the door. "No, she said 'feel free,' not 'leave the room.' If you want a piss, then feel free, but you're not going anywhere," insisted Sam. Angela wanted to protest, but after considering her options for a second, she began to squat down to take a piss on the floor, right in front of the two women. "You need to learn a little more quickly, slut," said Sam impatiently. "Now stand up and ask again." "Mistress Sam," Angela said slightly confused, "may I take a piss and clean up, please?" "Of course, Angela," replied Sam. "If you need a piss, feel free. Have one now, right now, as you are." Angela then knew what she meant. She would have to do it, right there where she stood if she was going to do it at all. She bowed her head slightly in humiliation and said, "Yes. Thank you, Mistress." She parted her legs slightly and relaxed the control of her bladder. After a second's pause, the warm urine began to gush from her. As it flowed, the huge amounts of cum she had in her began to flow with it. Angela stood for over half a minute pissing for her mistresses, the warm liquid running over her legs. Load after load of cum oozed out of her and down her lush legs. When she was finally finished, the floor was awash with urine and cum. Angela couldn't believe that amount of sperm had been inside her, and at the same time knew she must have nearly the same amount in her ass. "Is that better, slut?" Miss Locksbridge asked. "Yes. Thank you, Mistress L.," replied Angela, her head still down. "Fine, now get out," ordered Sam. "Oh, if the bell boy at the hotel wants a tip tonight, let him fuck your ass, and if the maid wants one when she does your bed tonight, offer to eat her pussy. OK?" "Yes, Mistress L.," answered Angela as she closed the door behind her. "Have you rung Paul and Sarah at the hotel?" Sam asked Miss Locksbridge when the door closed. "Yes, they're both going to make sure they get Angela's room on their shift tonight. Paul's going to really test her resolve, I think, and Sarah is going to be interesting for her too," she replied. Angela lay in bed that night, exhausted and aching after her exploits. The bell boy had pulled the vibrator roughly from her ass before fucking her with his huge cock. It wasn't as long as the vibrator, but it was a good inch wider. She couldn't believe how unlucky she was to get someone with a cock like that. She thought she would split in two as he sawed in and out of her battered asshole, but she came heavily despite the pain as he shot yet another load of cum into her. When the maid had finished making the bed, Angela had hoped she'd just leave and wait for a tip the next morning. She was not to be put off, though, and Angela did as she was ordered. "You want a tip?" she asked. "Well, let me do something for you instead." With that, she just went for it. If the maid ran off, she'd done her bit anyway. But the maid never moved as Angela dropped to her knees in front of her. Angela pushed her skirt up, slid her panties completely off, and dived straight into her nicely trimmed pussy. Thirty minutes later, Angela was starting to grow tired. This woman had moaned and groaned, wriggled her ass around, and oozed juices all over Angela's face, but just wouldn't cum. "Fucking hell, don't you ever cum?" gasped Angela. "My mistress told me I couldn't cum until you told me to, but not to tell you that unless you asked," the maid explained. "Who's your mistress?" Angela asked. "Mistress L.," she replied, and then it all fell into place. "Oh god...look, you can cum now," Angela said, feeling totally defeated. Angela began to lick the maid's cunt once more, and she came within seconds, flooding Angela's face with cum and groaning loudly. With that, she picked up her panties and walked out of the room. As Angela fell asleep, she considered just how much control Mistress L had over the maid. Simply telling her not to cum had stopped her from submitting to the orgasm she had yearned for since 5 minutes after Angela had started. Her last thought was that this was the same control Sam would have over her in no time at all...and even though she was showered and rested, she fell asleep with a damp pussy. Angela awoke after a night's sleep full of erotic dreams of bizarre bondage at work, gang-bangs in an office, and fucking the hotel staff. She was amazed at how vivid they'd been too. She thought a little more about them as she dressed quickly in the only outfit in the wardrobe. No underwear today, she thought, as she realized that she'd not got any with her. That wasn't unusual for her, nor was her presence in the hotel they used when they had early morning shoots. What was unusual was a blouse like this; it was a little brazen, and the fact that she couldn't remember what the shoot was that morning. She was sure that Tracy would tell her when she got to work, though. Tracy? Wasn't she in that dream somewhere? She rushed from her room and straight to the office, amazed that her asshole still hurt after letting that male model do her in the rear last week. She was sure it had been getting better. "Morning, Tracy," Angela said with indifference. "Oh good morning, Angela," replied Tracy from behind her desk, a little too enthusiastically, Angela thought. "Can you tell me what I've got on this morning?" "Well, you've got a busy day today. The first thing you can do, though, is come round here and help me with this," Tracy said, turning her chair to the side. "What?" asked Angela impatiently. "What do you need help...oh god!" Angela rounded the desk and watched as Tracy hitched her short skirt up to her waist, showing off her stockings and a lack of panties. "Oh fuck! It wasn't a dream!" croaked Angela. "Well, it's a dream come true for most of us, you whore. Now finger your pussy and eat me 'til I cum, slut," laughed Tracy. Angela fell to her knees in submission, finger buried in her moist cunt, and began the first day in her new job. Company Slut. The End - Probably... B.

Part 6 : The End

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16915.txt

Tom Bombadil

"I Promise"

"Pffft... pffft." Dorothy was trying to blow a stray lock of hair out of her eyes without any success. She was far too tired to use her hands. Chris, not quite so tired, but just as sweaty, reached over and brushed the offending blonde hairs out of the way. "Thanks." "You're welcome. In more ways than one." "Don't flatter yourself. You're not that great!" Despite her tone of voice, she smiled a half-grin, taking any possible sting out of her words. "That's not what you said five minutes ago. Back then it was 'Oh, oh yes, more, please, more, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.' Or don't you remember anything from that long ago?" "Nope. Don't remember a thing. Nope nope nope. Nada. Nothing. Besides, that's not admissible in court anyway. I was under duress when I said that. Extreme coercion." "And I guess I was the coercer, wasn't I." "I won't admit anything at all. Nope." "Well, even if you won't admit anything, I will. You were wonderful, as always." Chris began to play with one of Dorothy's nipples. Dorothy rolled over towards her lover, curling up at the same time to break off the contact. "Nooooooooo, I can't take any more right now. Everything's too sensitive. Don't touch!" "How about this then. A nice, light, lip-to-lip massage. Mmmmmm." Dorothy closed her eyes, straightened out a little, and let Chris kiss her, open mouthed, for a few minutes. Her lover finally leaned back. "I guess that didn't hurt. At least, I don't think those were moans of pain I heard." "No. But I've really had enough. Just hold me." They lay there for a while, with Dorothy curled up in Chris' arms, covers pulled up over their cooling bodies. Off in the distance they heard a door slam and a woman's voice call out. "Honey, we're home!" Dorothy's mother Pat Penny and her husband Will had just returned. "Okay Mom!" Dorothy yelled. "We'll be down in a while!" "Does that mean I have to move?" groaned Chris. "Absolutely. Somebody has to drag my poor, abused body into the shower. I know I can't." "Oh, I feel sooooo sorry for you, you poor abused thing you. That last tongue lashing must have been sooooo brutal. <Snicker>" "If I had any strength left, I'd hit you. Now get that big black body of yours in gear and help me get my poor abused self into the shower. I want dinner and a rest before you do anything else to me. And *you're* gonna change the sheets tonight before we go to bed." "<Groan> Henpecked already. Three months before you even move in with me and you're nagging." "Now now dear. If you don't want to go through with this, just say so. You can go home if you want and forget aaaaaall about me. I'll just lay here and cry my little eyes out." "<Snicker> Right. There's about as much chance of me letting you get away, Lady Di, as there is you letting me leave." "Oh you beast. Can't a girl have any secrets? Just 'cause I'm hopelessly in love doesn't mean you can get away with anything you want. You're gonna hafta work around the house too, you know." "I'll do my share. You think my place stays clean all by itself? And what's this hopelessly in love stuff? There's nothing hopeless about it. Or doesn't that little rock I gave you mean anything?" "<Sigh> It's the second most beautiful thing in the world." "I'll bite. What's the most beau... Okay, okay. I got it. Let's go have that shower now. Like I said before, your taste is all in your mouth. But I love ya anyway." They were interrupted by a rap on the door. It was Pat. "Come on you two. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, and I assume you both need showers. If I don't hear the water running in two minutes I'll come in there and drag you into the bathroom myself." "And she'd do it too, wouldn't she." Chris whispered. "Yes I would! So get moving!" "And she's got really good ears." Dorothy whispered back. They got up, groaning and complaining to each other, and headed for the en-suite bathroom. Dorothy's blue eyes were sparkling with laughter as she teased her lover, while Chris' dark brown eyes just rolled to the heavens."After all, I'm not picking on you about eating that huge slab of protein, am I?" "Tetchy, tetchy. A body would think you were all wound up or something." "C'mon, Chris. It *has* been six days, after all." "Not my fault. You're the one that has relatives over, not me." "&lt;Groan&gt; Don't remind me. Putting up with them is bad enough. Not being able to have you around, or go see you, makes it lots worse." "Three more months, and then it doesn't matter what your family thinks anymore. You'll be legal. At least your Mom and Dad have sort of accepted us." "Yeah. And my big sister. I'm glad they finally came around." "Me too. Especially your sister. I thought she was gonna rip me apart there for a while. And she could do it, too." "I guess she could. That's what weights do for a person. Professional bodybuilder. Can you see me looking like her?" "Absolutely not. I'm really glad you got most of your mother's genes instead. You're a perfect height, beautiful, with gorgeous blue eyes, cute little dimples, and moderate curves in all the right places. Very pretty and very cuddly. The only thing you got from your Dad is his blonde hair. You sure don't look anything like that Aryan demigod. Though he does look like somebody I've seen before." "Well, most people think my Dad looks like that Dolf Lundgren guy. You know, the one in the He-Man movie? Just a bit shorter. Yeah, I'm glad Giselle got his genes and not me. She needs them with her temper. How about you? You glad you got most of your Dad's genes?" "Sorta. I've got his height and the looks from his side of the family. I'm glad I didn't get his personality and temper though. Would you like me better if I was short like my Mom? Even shorter than you, that is?" "Nah. I like cuddling in your lap." They were interrupted for a few minutes by their waiter clearing the table and taking orders for desserts and drinks. A whispered conversation started just after he moved off. "Hey Bonkers, I think he's got a woody!" "Yeah, Di? Think he noticed?" "Maybe. He might have seen us kissing." "Really? So you think his nasty imagination got him all excited?" "Yep. The perv. Should we give him a show?" "Now now, Lady Di. Remember, discretion above all else. If we don't advertise, they'll never know for sure." "&lt;Sigh&gt; It's just so hard keeping my hands off your beautiful body." "You're just all wound up. I'll 'unwind' you later, you little minx. For here and now, keep your hands, and your lips, to yourself." ******************************************************************* &lt;Later that evening in Chris' bed.&gt; "There you go, Honeychil'e. That should take care of all those nasty little kinks and tense little muscles of yours." "&lt;sigh&gt; Bonkers, you give the nicest massages. Just one itty bitty little thing, though." "What?" "That hand you've got in my pussy. If it keeps doing what it's doing, I'll get all wound up again." "Do you want me to stop?" "No, not really. Just giving you fair warning. You'll have a horny little blonde minx crawling all over that beautiful black body of yours - again - if you keep it up." "Ooooo. Is that a threat or a promise? I'll batten down the hatches and prepare for the worst. Now you just hold off as long as you can. That's an order. And just to help, I've got a question for you." "Mmmmm? What?" "What's the hardest thing you've ever done?" "Is this a serious question?" "Sure. Why not. When you're finished, you can ask me one too. Just be honest." "Let's see... the hardest thing I've ever done is finish grade eleven. I have never, in my whole life, had trouble with anything like I did with that stuff. You remember, don't you? Math, and biology, and English, and that idiot typing class I took, and all the rest of it." "I remember helping you with 'that stuff' every other night for what seems like months. In fact, it *was* for months. I tell you, it was so frustrating. You were so wrapped up in all that school work you rarely had any time for *us*." "Yeah. It was tough for me too. Without your help I'd have flunked out of school for sure. That stuff was hard! I think I made it up to you with that party we had. I'm not sure what kinda shape you were in, but I could hardly move for two days." "It was a glorious weekend, I admit. And no, I was in no better shape than you were, but I carried on anyway. I had to go to work on Monday after three hours sleep. You skipped out that morning. Your Mom told me." "Snitch. I'll get her for that one. Now my turn. Same question. What's the hardest thing you ever did in your whole life, all twenty two years of it?" "Easy question. I don't even have to think about it. It was six months ago. That give you a hint? No? You were there. Still no clue? So were your parents and your sister. Ah, now a glimmer. It was sitting in that chair, not saying a word, while you told your family about us. Believe me, nothing in the world, except your sweet self, could have made me sit through that." "I know. I'm sorry. It's just that I wouldn't have had the courage to do it if you weren't there for me. It almost broke my heart as it was. Especially when Dad called you all those nasty names. Then my sister threatened to tear you apart, and my mother fainted... God, it was horrible." "At least you have fairly reasonable parents. And an understanding sister, sort of. They did eventually come around. It took a while, but you still have a family." "Yeah, and they're your family too, now. After all, you don't have much of one anymore, do you." "No. The only ones who'll still talk to me are my little sister and little brother, and since they're still living with Mom and Dad, I don't get to see them much. Out of two brothers, three sisters, both parents, and eight uncles and aunts, that's not much. I guess if Mom wasn't so dominated by Dad she might too, but it's hard to tell." "I thought you said you had an aunt and someone else you could still talk with?" "Sorry, you're right. Aunt Geraldine and grandma Desmonda. Mom's 'Chicano' half-sister and 'Chicano' Momma. Dad hates them too, almost as much as he hates me now. Of course, that means they talk to me as much to spite him as because they like me. I guess I shouldn't complain. They do still talk to me." "I know what you mean. I wonder if my big brother's ever gonna speak to me again. He hasn't spoken to me ever since I told him and we had that argument. Six months worth of calls home and visits and all he's ever done is glare at me. Ooooommmmmmaaaahhh! Those fingers of yours are really getting to me. Enough of this serious stuff! Grrrrr, roll over and get ready for hurricane Di!" ******************************************************************* &lt;Saturday morning in Chris' bed.&gt; "&lt;Groan&gt; Not that again." "Yep. Just can't get enough of that Captain." "Di, if I have to watch 'The Love Boat' every Saturday morning for the next fifty years, I'll take up jogging, or cycling, or bowling, or something, just to get out of here!" "Aw, it's not that bad! One hour a week won't kill you." "How come you like that Captain so much? He remind you of someone you know? Like maybe a bit of your father?" "Nope. Maybe that's why I like him. I wish my Dad was more like him. Now Archie Bunker reminds me of my Dad, if you can imagine him being a six-two blonde Nordic weight lifter. The personality and attitude are so close, it's scary. How about you? Does that guy (pointing at the TV) remind you of your Dad?" "The bartender? Not even close. Imagine a black Al Bundy, but without the personality and sense of humour. Now add in a real mean streak. That comes close." "How about your Mom?" "Oh, she's usually great. She just won't go up against my father for anything. Did you ever see the movie 'To Wong Foo: Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar'?" "Yep. Five times. It was great!" "Well, pretend that the chequita 'girl' is black, with less of an accent. That's my Mom. Actually, without any changes, that's my Grandma. Mom's usually pretty good, except when it comes to Dad." "Hey! I'm missing my show!" "Aw, I'm sorry. &lt;Grin&gt; Really I am." "Suuuure you are. Lucky for you I've seen every episode ten times, or I'd get mad. I'd hafta sick somebody on you to teach you a lesson." "Like who?" "Nasty question. Let's see... who would be nice enough not to hurt me, but mean enough to beat up on you. Emma Peel?" "Nope. Got the skills, but not enough of a mean streak." "I know - Xena!" "Ouch, that's getting nasty, bringing her into this. She probably would, too. Let's see, cut your hair about a foot shorter, add in some orange tinting, pad your bust and hips, and you'd be a Gabby look-alike. Yep, she'd do me for sure, you mean woman you. I ought to put you over my knee and paddle you for even thinking that!" "Oooo, promises, promises. Chris, do you think I'll ever meet your parents?" "Mom probably. Dad maybe not. That's up to my father. If he changes his attitude, and decides that I'm not the world's worst offspring and a totally ungrateful child, I might forgive him for some of the things he's said about you. Now Mom is a different story. She's a lot more understanding than him, but he's got her so well trained, she almost never goes against him. Sort of like Archie and Edith Bunker. This time, though, he might have gone too far. She really loves all us kids. Even me, the misfit, the wild thing, the hellion, the demon-spawn from the stygian abyss." "Were you really that bad?" "Maybe. Let's just say I earned my nicknames." "All right, Bonkers, you evil child you. What horrible fate have you got planned for us this weekend?" "Nothing for today, unless you need help with school.""You go back home and finish your chores and homework and whatever. Tomorrow morning, I'll pick you up right after church. We're going for a *drive*." "Really? I can't wait! Where are we going?" "I've got this place in mind, waaaaay out of the city. It's a converted plantation manor house. We're gonna get countrified. Just picture the two of us, out on the lawn, sitting at a table under a big magnolia tree, you having your mint julep, me emptying a nice big pina colada. Dress up for this one. It's two hours there and two hours back. We'll be having lunch there, and dinner in town." "We're going in the 'vette?" "Of course." "Top open?" "Definitely." "Halter top and shorts?" "To get there and back, as long as you bring a nice dress." "Can I put my feet up on the dash?" "Only if you bring slippers." "Can I bring some tapes?" "Anything you like. Even some of that, ugh, Pavarotti stuff. But if you make me listen to him, you're gonna have to suffer through some Elvis." "It'll be worth it!" "Okay, you ol' houn' dawg you. Oh dear! I just realized something. Something terrible!" "What? What!?" "Er, your show's over." Dorothy was dead on target with the pillow."I'll get you for that!" "Hush up, or I'll just go to sleep. Where was I? Oh yeah. There was this blonde bimbette I knew, a real pretty one. We'd been spending some time together. Some in the library, some having the odd lunch together, some doing homework - your grade ten stuff and my book work from tech school. But mostly we just talked. We talked about anything and everything. You learned about all the problems and prejudices I suffered through that you never saw, and I learned about all the different problems and pressures you had on you. My friends certainly hassled me about hanging around with some dumb honky, not that peer pressure would've made any difference to me. You lost a few friends, I know now, and had a few arguments with your folks that I never heard about until later, but you never let any of those things interfere with our friendship." "Yeah. I was doing my own rebelling back then. Besides, you're one of the few people who ever liked me just for being me, not for who they thought I should be, or because of my father, or for who I knew, or because I was so cute." "Hey, who's telling this story, you or me?" "Sooooreeeee." "That's better. One Saturday you missed out on our time in the library. Then you missed lunch on Sunday. I was concerned, but not overly so, because you and your folks weren't getting along all that well and you might have been grounded or something. You showed up Tuesday for homework night, but you were quiet and looked a little upset about something. I couldn't get anything intelligible out of you, so we just did our school work, drank some diet cokes, and you went home. Thursday went about the same way. I was worried about you, you know that?" "Yeah. Now I know. Back then, I was so wrapped up in my own pain I never noticed." "So you missed Saturday in the library again. Sunday, you were there for lunch, but even quieter than before - so unlike your normal yap yap yap self." "I'll get you for that too." "Despite the heavy clouds, we went for a walk after we ate, down near the river. You were getting sadder and sadder, and I didn't have the slightest idea why. You never said a damned word about what was bothering you, even denying that anything was wrong. You were about as miserable a person to be around as you can imagine. Talk about lousy company." "But you stuck around." "Hey, best friends are hard to find, in any color. I don't remember why I sat on that bench. Maybe I had to fix a lace, maybe I wanted to look at the scenery, probably it was something else altogether. Whatever. I sat down for a minute, and the next thing I knew, you were in my lap giving me a death-grip hug that wouldn't quit. What was I supposed to do, dump you on your keyster? I held you close. You felt good." "Hey, I just needed a hug real bad!" "Suuuure. I know better. So we sat there for a while, just rocking back and forth a little, with you hanging on for dear life. Your head was on my shoulder, your eyes were closed, and you looked so sad, so vulnerable, and so in need of some loving, I just couldn't help myself. All I did was turn my head a bit and we were mouth to mouth. It felt so nice, your lips were so soft and warm, I just couldn't stop. I closed my eyes when you started kissing back." "Yeah. I noticed that when I finally opened my eyes and saw someone really was kissing me." "I guess that's how you managed to catch me by surprise. You stood up and slugged me! Talk about a rude shock! It hurt!" "You deserved it! Taking advantage of an emotionally distraught and vulnerable young thing like me." "Ha! You beat the life half out of me! When you finally realized I wasn't fighting back, you broke into tears and crawled into my lap. We sat there on the wet grass in that misty rain for a long time before you started talking. We were both soaked to the skin by the time we left. Back then, I didn't know why you wouldn't tell your parents or your sister what happened." "Yeah. Then I got you to make that promise." "Yep. And it was six months before you managed to get me to break it. Just proves that I should never make promises while I'm emotionally involved with someone else's problems. Even yours. You still owe me a blouse, you know." "I know, I know. One day ..." "Here, let's break my promise again. Kissy kissy?" "Nmmm" <Saturday afternoon, a week later, the Penny's kitchen.> "A wedding? You two are going to have a wedding?" "Yes Mom. We are. Next April, if everything goes okay. One of Chris' friends will be performing the ceremony. If we lived somewhere more liberal, like, oh, maybe California or Nevada, we might be allowed to have a real marriage, but Louisiana just isn't all that progressive. We might go somewhere later and get a certificate, but we both want a church wedding here at home. For us, and for anyone who wants to come." "Why? What possible reason could you two have for a wedding?" "<sigh> Why does anyone have a wedding? A J.P. is cheap and easy. Why bother with the work, the expense, and all the hassles? For us, it'll be a symbol of what we mean to each other, a confirmation of what our relationship is and of the commitment we've both made. Just like any other couple. Besides, it'll be a lot of fun." "Your father will never agree to pay for something like that, you know. He's just barely accepted the fact that you two intend to live together. Have you thought about that?" "Yes Mom, we have, and we've both had enough promises of support that we can do it without any money trouble. Even without help, we'd just wait another year and do it ourselves." "Can I ask who's helping?" "Well, Chris' boss for one. He's promised some help, and so has Chris' aunt and grandma. So has Giselle." "Your sister? After what she said?" "Yep. She's kinda gotten to like Chris, now that she's spent some time with us. The Pastor down at St. Paul's said that he'd let us hold the wedding in the chapel. He can't perform it, but he said he'd let us use the place and pretend." "That's very nice of him. I'll have to thank him next time I see him. I didn't realize he was quite so liberal." "Actually, he's got a niece in the same boat as me, and she got treated almost as bad as Chris, so he's a little bit sympathetic. I kinda like the old goat too. He didn't act at all upset or condescending about what we're planning on. That was really nice for a change." "I tell you, it'll be the oddest wedding I'll ever be at. I can just hear the vows now. 'Do you, Dorothy Constance Penny, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to ...'" "Yeah, and then her part - 'Do you, Christina Emmanuelle Jackson, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife ...'" "So what happens when you get to the part about kissing the bride?" "Well, what do you think we'll do?" "Oh. Okay. What about all the rest of it then? I mean, how will you be dressed, will there be ushers and bridesmaids, all that kind of stuff?" "Chris will be wearing a tux. She wants that. I'll be in a white wedding gown - I *am* still a virgin, you know. I'm planning on two bridesmaids and a maid of honor - Giselle, of course, if she wants to. The 'best man' will be Chris' kid sister, and her kid brother will be one of the ushers. That'll sure look weird in the photos!" "Have you told anyone else about this?" "Besides the people helping out? Only Daina, Chris' kid sister. Did she ever laugh when we told her she'd have to wear a tux! She wants lots of pictures for her own special album." "A wedding. Between you two. I've got to admit, you sure know how to surprise me. How I'm going to break this to your father, I don't know. He can hardly stand the thought of what's going on now. When he learns that you're planning on ..." "Mom! Don't worry about it right now. We've got almost a year to get him primed and used to the idea. Besides, by then aunt Stacy will know about it too." "You'd tell your aunt before your father?" "Yep. For sure. After all, I told Giselle before I told you. Besides, I want his sister there when I tell him about it. I'll need all the support I can get. I tell you Mom, this is scary, but it's what we want. For Chris, I'd do almost anything, and I know she'd do almost anything for me. This is something we both want." "I know, hon. It's just, well, it's such a big step, like you're making this permanent." "Mom, if Chris was a guy, you'd be thrilled. Your first child to have a wedding. You'd wish us a long and happy life together. We want this to be something wonderful, and it's for *us*. If you don't think you can handle it, you don't have to be there. Neither does Dad." "Don't you dare suggest such a thing! Of course I'll be there! So will your father, even if I have to drag him to the chapel hog tied and gagged." "Thanks Mom. You don't know how happy that makes me. And Chris. You know, there's probably only gonna be four people from her whole family at the service. Well, maybe more, but only four we can count on. Her father will definitely *not* be there, and she doubts her mother will be either. The only ones we can count on are her kid brother and sister, her aunt Geraldine, and her grandmother. That'll make things a little bittersweet for her, but, we're gonna have a lot of fun with it anyway. Just think. The father of the 'groom's' place will be taken by a fifty-nine-year-old white woman - her grandmother. The 'best man' will be the 'groom's' younger sister, and the 'priest' will be a forty-five-year-old mother of four." "That's sure going to be some strange wedding. I wouldn't miss it for the world! Of course, I do have one regret." "What's that, Mom?" "It's just that you were my last real hope for grandkids. You know Dan can't have any, since that accident."And Giselle - well, with her career, she won't be able to have kids until she's into her thirties, if ever. "I know, Mom, I know. I guess I'm going to have to let you in on a big secret, something really important to me and Chris. We've talked about letting you in on it before, but we couldn't figure out how to do it. You have to keep it a secret too, from everybody. An absolute secret. Can you do this?" "I - I think so. If it's that important." "It is. It's something me and Chris have been dreaming about ever since we started going together. If everything works out okay between us, we're planning on having children of our own in a few years. We want at least two." "But... but you and she... two girls can't... that means you'd have to... ohhhh..." "Mom. Mom! Oh, Lord. Giselle! Mom's done it again!" ******************************************************************* <Friday night, a week later, Chris' bedroom.> "Why won't you be with me at my grad, Chris?" "We've been over this before, Di. I will be there, just not with your family. I'll be in the back somewhere, watching. You know I wouldn't miss it for anything." "But I won't see you! It's not the same!" "You'll know I'm there, though. That's the important thing. Your grad is for your family and your school friends, not for me. I wouldn't be welcome, and my being there could ruin things for you and everyone else." "I don't care about everyone else! To hell with them! I want you there! You've done more to get me through school than anyone, especially Mom and Dad! You deserve to be there! I want *you* there!" "I won't do it, Di. I won't give anyone a chance to cause a big scene. I wouldn't do that to anyone you or I care for. Not to your mother, not to your sister, not even to your father. They're trying, and they deserve something for that. After all, how would we have managed without at least some support?" "It's just not fair! You gotta be there! You gotta!" "I can't, Lady Di." Dorothy rolled over to the edge of the bed, facing away from her lover. She ignored everything for a while. Chris let her alone. When she figured enough time had passed, she spoke. "Di? You finished your pout yet?" "I guess. Did I sound as silly as I think I did?" "Worse. You sounded like my kid sister did a few years ago, when she got told she couldn't stay at camp for the whole summer. Daina even managed tears for *that* tantrum. Hugs?" Dorothy rolled over into Chris' arms. "Di, what's really the matter?" "Nothin'." Chris rocked Dorothy in her arms, waiting for her to say something. It took a while. "It's just not fair." "What happened, Di? Arguing with your Dad again? Or with someone else? Bad day at school? Bad hair day? Well? I know you're upset about something." "Another call. Tuesday. The guy phoned five times." "The police caught him then?" "Oh, sure. But he didn't make any threats either, just like the last guy. So he's getting charged with harassment. He spends one night in jail and gets out on bail. Later he'll get convicted by some old-fashioned judge, get a slap on the wrist, and walk off. Big deal. Why can't they just leave us alone? It's not fair! <sob> It's just not fair!" Dorothy began crying on Chris' shoulder. "I know, honeychil'e. It ain't fair. There's too many jackasses in the world and not enough good folk. It's okay though. We'll find someplace." Chris stroked her love's hair until the crying died down to the occasional sob. "How come they can't leave us alone? We're not hurtin' them, are we? Are we, Chris?" "No, not really. Only in their minds. Hey, think about this instead - where do you think we should move to? It needs to be someplace with lots of good people, someplace not too big, someplace where they might just let us be us. Got any ideas?" "I dunno. Maybe San Francisco? That's where all us folks is supposed to go, isn't it?" "No, Di. Not all 'us folk' are supposed to go there. Somebody has to live somewhere else. How about San Diego? Wonderful weather, wonderful beaches, great zoo... Or Maine? They're supposed to be really friendly people in a beautiful landscape." "Maybe Seattle? Everyone there's supposed to be soooo laid back, maybe they wouldn't care too much." "Or maybe somewhere in Canada? How about Newfoundland, on the coast, in a small fishing town. Lots of fresh seafood, great ocean view, fishing boats everywhere, an accent thicker than the fogs, you up to your armpits in seaweed..." "Eeew. Maybe we'd be better off moving into the middle of nowhere, with nobody around anywhere, so we can be all alone without anybody mean ever bothering us. Maybe?" "Maybe not. I still need to work, remember?" "I guess. I just wish people would leave us alone! It's not fair! We shouldn't hafta move away from home, should we? I mean, we're both nice people, right? Everybody who knows us says so. So why? Why? <sob>" "Hush, little one. Hush. Enough tears for today. Think about what our home will be like. It'll be out in the suburbs somewhere, on a nice shady street, in a nice quiet neighbourhood. We'll have a big white house, three stories high, with blue trim and a fence all around the outside. We'll have a big back yard, with two apple trees, and..." "And a cherry tree?" "And a cherry tree, so we'll have apple blossoms and cherry blossoms in the springtime, and we can make apple butter and cherry jam in the fall. There'll be a swing set for the kids, and a slide, and a teeter totter, and we'll also have..." "Don't forget the sandbox. Kids gotta have one, y'know." "Right. The sandbox. Can't forget something important like that. A sandbox for the kids to play in, and a small wading pool, and a dog house for that ugly beast you want..." "S'not ugly. Cute." "Riiiight. A cute bulldog. Okay. And we'll have mittens to keep scruffy in line..." "Here kitty." "Mmhmm. And you'll have a garden to grow tulips and daffodils and mums and peonies and those other funny looking things you like..." "Bluebells." "Bluebells. And what will we do once a month, all through the good weather?" "Barbecue?" "Yep. A big barbecue, for us, for our kids, for the neighbours and their kids, and for some of our other friends. You'll like that, won't you?" "Uh huh." "Someday we'll have all of that. Someday. Somewhere. Somehow." "Promise?" "I promise. Someday we'll have a home." <sniffle> <In a quiet, soothing voice> "Someday, Lady Di. Someday soon. A home, and a family, and a dog and a cat, and a nice flower garden, and nice trees, and rose bushes out in the front yard, and we'll be friends with all the neighbours, and you'll cook and clean and keep the house tidy, and look after the kids while I'm at work, and we'll have wonderful dinners, and we'll play with the kids until they all go to bed, then we'll sit on the couch in front of the fire and cuddle and call each other silly names, and I'll tickle you 'til you're giddy, and then we'll go to bed and make sweet, wonderful love all night long." <Di, almost asleep> "Mhm" <Chris, whispering now> "I promise." <Fin>

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7566.txt

Bronwen

"Stocking Filler"

"It'll be brilliant. A real laugh," he'd said, and I had to agree with him, though I had my reservations. My husband, God bless him, was going to go the full Monty this Christmas and dress up as Santa. "You know the boys are old enough - and savvy enough - to stay awake to try to catch him this year. But as long as I'm disguised in the full regalia when the little buggers leap out of the wardrobe, the Christmas mystique'll be preserved to the hilt. You can't say that's not a great idea." It happened that a colleague of James had a Father Christmas outfit he was prepared to lend out. His own kids had grown out of Santa. James assured me that this was not only *an* outfit but *the* outfit, an extremely high-class job with stage-quality whiskers and real red velvet. So why wasn't I brimming with enthusiasm? Well, it was my husband's happy and ever-present knack of ballsing up simple domestic tasks - fixing the shower attachment so the only thing that got wet was the ceiling, managing to weld his toecaps together... Little things like that. "OK, sweetheart. You know how soppy I am about Christmas and the kids. It's a great idea. Very thoughtful. But no trying to come down the chimney. Don't forget the work we had done when they put in the new boiler!" With many promises of seemly conduct, my chirpy robin redbreast of a husband set off for the office on Christmas Eve, promising to knock my socks off with a superb bit of costuming at the witching hour. Well, I had plans of my own, but they'd have to wait. Wait while I wrapped stocking fillers, baked gingerbread, peeled vegetables for tomorrow's feast, entertained small boys and hid dozens of packages. We live in a big old house, but it's amazing how soon you run out of hiding places.... Seven o'clock came; supper time for the boys, and my beloved staggering home at last after battling his way through commuter hell: white, tired and carrying a large parcel. It's been a long year for both of us. He collapsed with a stiff drink, the Christmas TV guide and a marker pen. Two small boys to bathe, to read to and tuck in. I gaze at them fresh out of the bath: perfect limbs, chubby feet, silky blonde hair, sparkling eyes. They look unfeasibly angelic. "Now be sure to get to sleep straight away. You know Father Christmas won't come if you're awake." "Yes, mummy!" comes the chorus. Far too perky for children due for imminent sleep. Ah well, this year we have a secret weapon. Or two.... I smile to myself. Oh, well, onward and upward. Mummies don't stop. A happy, tiring evening for me - icing the Christmas cake to look like snow and arranging the traditional porcelain Santa on top, baking a few last-minute mince pies, ironing tiny best clothes for the morning (bringing as it would the witness of the grandparents' relentless video cameras...) James slumps in front of the box, soaking in my quiet domestic bustle. He likes housework. Could watch it for hours... James is looking forward to watching a late thriller. I lie to him. I have some final preparations before midnight mass, I say. If you do the stocking delivery when your movie finishes, I'll see you in the living room around 1am... I give him a little wink. He grins back. We're already planning a little celebration of our own, but I want to conceal the time I'll need for my secret additional preparations for this erotic appointment.... But I'm not going to church. At midnight, I slip upstairs through the shadows and into the upstairs bathroom with a couple of expensive-looking bags. I light candles in the wall sconces, run myself a long, warm bath and produce my present from myself from the first carrier. I've bought myself a complete set of Chanel 19 products, and lollop glorious scented oil into the water with a lavish hand. I pile my hair on my head and slide down into the milky water. Half an hour of luxurious drifting. Lying in the perfumed steam, I stroke my pussy lips, squeeze my breasts, flick my nipple tips... Sensing myself drift into drowsy sexual reverie, I pull myself together and clamber out, relishing enjoying the warm but bracing snowdrift of our best towels. I've got things to do, and I'm too tired to relax. If I'm going to be ready to surprise James, I must at least keep awake! Weaken once, and I'll be out like a light 'til morning... Gleaming in the candlelight, I smooth body lotion up my legs and body, paying special attention to my breasts and thighs. None between my legs, though - strong perfume and pussy don't mix - not unless you fancy hopping about on one leg for ten minutes. Sitting on the loo with my feet on the edge of the sink, I paint my toenails scarlet. While they dry, I stick false ones in the same shade on my fingertips. Used to be I had lovely hands, but nowadays, with my lifestyle, elegant nails have become something I have to buy. Now for makeup. The whole works. James doesn't go for the natural look. "Slap it on, girl!" he always urges. "Let glamor be our watchword." I smile to myself, because James has no idea of my secret. He's expecting passion, yes, but he's expecting the housewife with her tousled allure - not a full-on temptress under the tree. Dusky eye-shadow, lashings of mascara, glitter highlights on the browbone, eyeliner to provide that Bambi look. A startled fawn for my big buck. Lastly, the lips. I outline them carefully with crimson, filling in with a brighter red and polishing off with gloss. A mouth as red and shiny as holly berries. A cock-sucking mouth. I'll stripe him like a candy cane. Poor bugger won't know what's hit him. Now for the second bag. I open it and peek in, relishing the monogrammed tissue paper. This was a very expensive treat. The bag is extremely light. Silk *is* light, after all. And when I slip the items one by one from the bag, I am certain James will be only too pleased to find the bill on our credit card statement. Scarlet garterbelt, split-crotch panties, tiny lace bra and a gauzy wrap. Obvious, yes, but saved from sleaze by the sheer quality and cut of the garments. Besides which, they don't make flimsy bras in my size at the cheaper end of the market. At least that's my excuse. I've bought stockings too, sheer black with a proper seam at the back. Fantasy stockings. I already have the shoes. Tiny red peeptoes with a four-inch spike heel. Of course, I can't actually walk in the damn things - but then I didn't buy them for that! As I put on my new lingerie, I study myself in the mirror. Leaning forward to settle my heavy breasts properly in the cups, I grin at my reflection. I'm not the slim girl James married. Time, my own good cooking and pregnancy have seen to that. But I'm deliciously feminine. My breasts aren't as high as they were, but - my, my - *aren't* they full now! As for my nipples, they're outrageous - jutting, dark and assertive. My wider hips are compensated for by the still-narrow waist, and my legs are long and elegant. Certainly, my husband's demonstrations of affection haven't lessened over the years. He likes to use silly Victorian expressions - "demonstrations of affection". He likes to tease me about how I can still get him hard with just a look. Straightening up, I adjust my stockings one last time, slip the robe over my shoulders and loosen my hair. The thick dark waves fall down my back. I've tweaked a couple of white hairs out of my hairline during the past year, but otherwise, I still look pretty good. I know James will think so, anyway. I gaze at myself questioningly - at the finished effect. I think I look gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as I did ten years ago, but still gorgeous. I know James will show his appreciation with immense and varied dedication..... But I wonder to myself if he'd really desire me as much if he didn't love me so deeply. Just how attractive am I these days? James sees me with the eyes of love, and I see myself through his eyes. But what would a stranger think? Would he see an overweight middle-aged woman? Past her best? Morbid thoughts. Christmas is a time for morbid thoughts - that's why the suicides, the family break-ups, the traditional ghost stories. Literally, I shake off my doubts.As I toss my head, my long hair shines and ripples under the candlelight. I love James, and he loves me. We have two precious little ones sleeping down the landing. At least in theory they're sleeping. I won't check, though. If they're not asleep, my appearance will trigger a whole new round of requests for drinks, stories, or teddy-retrieval. But we have love in this house, and I shouldn't doubt it. "Don't be silly, girl," I order silently. It's 12:45 now, and James will be up to do the stockings soon. Yes, I can hear his tread on the stairs; there's one that creaks. I blow out the candles. Now he tiptoes past the bathroom door, and I can hear him creeping along the corridor towards the boys' rooms. He must be round the corner by now. Santa Claus is coming to town. Sneaking the door open silently, with my slut-wife shoes clutched in one hand, I slip out of the bathroom and am down the stairs like a scarlet ghost before James can spot me. I'll be waiting in the living room for him. I grin to myself at the thought of his face when he sees me. He loves me dressed up. I creep into the living room. Deserted, as I hoped. There are no logs in our huge stone fireplace. There never are, these days, thanks to clean air regulations, but the gas fire is beautifully warm. Turning out all the other lights, but leaving the tree ones to sparkle multicolored on my flesh, I skip over to the hearth and lie down in front of the fire. We've got a couple of diehard old sheepskins inherited from my parents. The fleece is still thick and soft. A couple of cushions off the sofa make a comfy couch, and, slipping on my slut shoes, I snuggle down in Christmassy expectation. I'm all ready to surprise my own darling Santa on his return from a successful mission. The dark corners of the big high-ceilinged room are hung with evergreens, and the scent of tree and leaf fill the air with aromatics. It's so quiet.... So warm, so quiet - so blissfully peaceful. The only sounds are the whisper of the fire and the faintest patter of needles falling off the Christmas tree.... Blinking, I gaze at Santa. I must've dropped off. Hardly surprising: all that peeling and baking would wear out an Olympic athlete, not to mention wrapping two dozen stocking fillers.... Still, he's here now. And it is a good costume. In fact, it's a bloody good costume. Admittedly the light's poor, but his own mother wouldn't recognize him. James is Father Christmas to the life. I stretch and sit up, smiling. "Happy Christmas, darling. What did Daddy say when he caught Mummy kissing Santa?" OK, it's corny, but then I'm corny. I recline on the rug again, stretching like a cat to flaunt the opening in my panties. "Come here and try a taste of this," I invite. "Not bloody likely. Look what it's done to your knickers!" It's James's joke, but it's not James's voice. It's richer, fruitier, a touch of an accent. He's playing a game. He's going to stay in character. I always feel awkward playing a part, but I'll give it a go. "Have you got a present for a good little girl, Santa?" I breathe, all Marilyn Monroe. "Sure have, sweetie," he replies. "Come here and have a feel in my pockets." Clambering to my feet, I sashay over to him (can't not sway in these shoes) and wrap my arms around his waist. Not very far round, though. James must be wearing padding. OK, he's no longer slim (my cooking again, I'm afraid) but he's quite a bit slimmer than this. It really is a very good costume. The velvet is thick and luxurious. I slip a hand into his pocket as Santa leans down to kiss me. Our lips meet as I sink into his dear embrace. "HOLY SHIT! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" I'm electric with panic. This isn't James. No way is it James. For one thing, there's a difference between the perfectly honed kiss that comes from ten years of practice with the same person and the velvety expertise of a great kisser you never met before. For another, there is no pocket in Santa's suit. It just goes straight through to warm naked flesh - and there's a lot more flesh there than James has ever possessed. Loads. In a split second, I've realized I'm cuddling a strange man dressed as Father Christmas. A strange, very fat man dressed as Father Christmas. Where is James? Are the kids OK? Are they alive! What the fuck's going on? With a small shriek, I pull away, staring in horror at the stranger under my Christmas tree. He smiles at me like sunshine, his big brown eyes crinkling gloriously, his broad grin nearly hidden under his snowy mustache and beard, his white prawn eyebrows dancing. His smile is as sweet as a child's kiss, his eyes as full of fun as a baby's laughter. He has a lot of James about him - but he isn't James. On the other hand, surely this is no psychopath? Though aren't the worst ones supposed to laugh innocently as they fillet you? The stranger is having a weird effect on me. This old man's whole being floods merriment and sexual energy into the room, into my flesh. Half-fearful, half-delighted, I stand staring at him, tingling with excitement. "Happy Christmas, honey!" he carols, and chuckles. And as he chuckles, I hear the distant sound of jingling bells. "You've been such a good girl all year I thought I'd give us both a special treat." I am trying to remain stern. I am trying to remain worried. But such is the power of his merriment, the vibrancy of his shining eyes, that I feel myself soften. Soften and warm.... Warm? Bollocks. I'm getting hot. Mentally pulling my adult authority around me - not easy in a flame silk negligee - I square up to the intruder. "And who the hell are you? I warn you, my husband's upstairs, and we've got a top of the range security system. The police will be here in a couple of minutes." "I'm Santa Claus, sweet stuff," the old man replies. "As imperceptible to both husbands and security systems as pixy dust. Your babies are snug abed complete with the best stockings they've ever seen. And I'm here to bring tidings of comfort and joy, among other things..." His infectious, joyful grin contains an edge of mischief. "But you modern girls are such sceptics. Tell you what...." and he vanishes. For a moment, I stand, baffled, in an empty living room. Then I hear scrabbling and thuds behind me and, as I spin round, down our chimney pours an avalanche of chubby scarlet trimmed with black boots and white fur. Santa Claus springs to his feet in our empty grate (where's the gas fire gone?) and, dusting himself off, comes springing out onto the rug. Behind him, a huge log fire manifests in the fireplace, already in full blaze, crackling and filling the air with the scent of apple wood. The smile is even broader now, and the twinkling of his eyes puts the Christmas lights to shame. "Santa Claus at your service, ma'am!" he chuckles. "Or Father Christmas if you prefer. Some of my lady friends like the Father C bit - gives it that naughty incestuous edge!" and, roaring with merriment, he holds out his hands. I will not go to him though. Even if he is Father Christmas. And he is Father Christmas, I'm sure of that. For one thing, where did that all too real fire come from? For two, even the most skillful of burglars couldn't slip down our chimney. Not since we had it bricked up last summer.... This is magic. But magic or no, I am no adulteress. At least, not in the flesh. Dreams don't count. Not even that one about 12 Axel Roses and a double-decker bus. This big jolly stranger may be Father Christmas - he might be the man in the moon for all I care. Makes no difference, what matters is that he isn't James. Because I am married to James - and I plan to stay that way. I stand firm. "Ah, but it doesn't count, sweetheart," he chuckles. "What doesn't count?" I stare, nonplussed. "Goodness, angel!" he twinkles his eyebrows at me. "Frankly, for a writer, you don't have a lot of imagination," Santa teases. "Surely you should have worked out for yourself that I'd have to be able to read minds. How else could I fulfill the dreams of millions of little hearts? And surely you realize that this isn't happening in real time? Or perhaps you have a logical explanation as to how I visit so many precious children in one enchanted night? Let alone the refreshments I get through!" And he gives another fat chuckle. I know that voice, somehow, but I can't place it. I stand there with my mouth open. But I am an arm's length away from him, still uncertain. "My darling Christmas angel, I am Santa Claus - he of a million smoking chimneys. And hot sex with Santa Claus can't possibly count as real-time infidelity. After all, you never worried about being had up for sacrilege, did you?" I can feel myself blushing from my thighs up. All those wicked priest fantasies and me not even a Catholic. Even James doesn't know about those. It's all too shamefully true. I'm having to repress a hysterical desire to giggle. It would make novel graffiti, anyway: 'Father Christmas is a telepath!' "Come here, you scarlet woman," he urges. "No, I'm not trying to seduce you, silly creature. I just want you to see something. A little surprise I laid on for you. I know you'll like it!" "Come to the window," he coaxes. "I've got something to show you." In a dream, I float towards the curtains. My negligee flutters in the draught, but somehow I'm still toasty warm. Santa Claus waves a large hand, and the curtains are open. The scene before me makes me gasp with pleasure. I feel like a child. Anyone could set up the sleigh. At least anyone motivated enough to seduce me - and people have gone to extremes in the past. And the reindeer wouldn't be impossible. Difficult, but not impossible. What convinces me, what carries me right over the edge, is the snow.... This, after all, is the Home Counties - nearly London. Four inches provides a year to remember.... Snow, that is.But as far as the eye can see, my familiar landscape is covered in a thick, sparkling Disney coating. It's more than white. It's more than snow. It's pluperfect Technicolor dazzle. Artistic icicles hang from every conceivable horizontal. Scatters of luminous sparkle hang in the air. My Christmas dream. Santa Claus is humming "Walking in our Winter Wonderland" as I turn and slip into his arms. It's ages since I was this close to a fat man. And even he (naming no names) wasn't as fat as this. It's ever so cozy. Santa and I are snuggling on the hearth rug. We're doing some good old-fashioned Christmas necking. It's ages since I did this, too. Mouths - faces - in the dark, connecting - flexing, pouting. Lips parting, rippling, quivering... I run the tip of my tongue along the inside of his top lip, he tickles my palate with his... The beard's fun, too. I'm not used to beards. His mustache must be getting a bit damp though. Good thing it's real.... Play havoc with stage whiskers, I'll bet. We speak in tongues, sometimes playful, sometimes hot - demanding. He floods my mouth with warm saliva, pumping his narrowed rigid tongue tip in and out in tiny imitation of our imminent fuck. Obvious. But sexy..... I like obvious but sexy. My body is filled with the pleasure of his nearness. Jolly bugger sends out waves of festivity - or something..... I'm so enjoying just this kissing. James and I kiss, but not for hours. And it seems like hours, though I suppose time has been suspended. Of course, it's an additional kick that each time we part - for breath, to gaze into each other's eyes - the darkness between is hung with starry colored glitter, for all the world like cartoon magic dust. But I'm beginning to speculate about what 'next' will be like. Because next is going to be soon.... My breathing is chaotic. Santa's is deep and even. But not crisp. He's not rushing the pace. I'm so liquid, so lustful - it looks like I'm going to have to.... New styles for new people. Santa's too fat for what James and I usually do. I'll have to go on top. Putting a hand on each shoulder, I push him gently back. Lying on his belly, head by his heart, I push a hand into each of his pockets. Warm, soft hairy flesh inside. I'm moving my hands down and together, though my scope for maneuver is limited. "Holy fuck, Santa! What's that?" Stupid question. It feels a lot like the biggest cock I ever felt in my life. I can't get hold of it properly. Each hand can only just reach his shaft, huge and pulsing against my fingertips. I slide off him, sitting up, skidding to unbuckle that big silver buckle, wild with excitement. Strange to say, he's not laughing. Just a big, slow grin and those brown eyes full of glee... Wrench the black belt undone, unbutton those thick velvet trousers.... I'm unwrapping Santa. Both hands diving in, like a kid in a lucky dip. He grunts as he raises his mighty buttocks off the rug so I can pull his trousers off. Must've wriggled out of those boots while we were snogging. I wouldn't have noticed if the house had burned down. It's the biggest, most velvety, hardest gorgeous great dick I ever saw in all my wild life. "Oh, Father Christmas!" I breathe. "What a lovely surprise!" "I call him Rudolph," Santa Claus says modestly, and giggles. I'm one of nature's cock worshippers, so I can't help but suck it. Can't get the whole head in my mouth - impressive if frustrating - so confine myself to licking it, gripping it, hefting his huge balls in my hand. Dipping my head, I tongue the little dripping mouth, running my tongue-tip round the underside of the head, rasping the rough underside with the very edge of my bottom teeth. I twist down between his thighs, running my tongue up his taut scrotum. Peppermint. Warm furry candy. "And visions of sugar plums danced in her head," whispers Santa. It's a miracle. A weird, sexy miracle. I'm not rushing. After all, we have all the time in the world. I keep drawing back slightly to admire the sheer size of his beautiful cock. He's circumcised. That's a novelty, too. "I didn't know they went in for circumcision in the frozen north," I remark vaguely. Silly thing to say, really. It's not as if I know a lot about anything to do with the frozen north. "Don't tell me Father Christmas is Jewish!" I giggle. Then I get it, the full "Ho! Ho! Ho!" Every fold bounces with mirth. His cock bounces and swoops. His eyes crinkle and tears roll down his cheeks. I'm laughing too, though what at I'm not sure. All I know is a sense of total happiness. I cuddle and giggle. We rock and nestle until gradually the great rollicking chuckles subside. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he grins at me. "Honey, I'm American. And heavily influenced by Hollywood. Surely you've noticed the cartoon peripherals. Love 'em myself!" And he gestures to demonstrate the luminous spangles that follow his fingertips. "Pixy dust. Constant source of pleasure. And the elves. Reduced the workload - and the isolation. Oh yes, I'm largely American in my current manifestation. Invented by Coca-Cola. Thought a lady of your education would have all that at her fingertips." Now he mentions it, I do remember something about it. "Oh yes, the red outfit and all that," I say. "But aren't you our English Father Christmas - and Saint Nicholas too?" I feel him change. Just a little. There's still an immense warmth emanating from him, but now it is perhaps a fraction less cozy, a fraction more untamed. "Yes and no, darling..." At last I recognize the accent. He sounds exactly like James Stewart. It figures. Oh, yes, it figures. "I'm a Coca-Cola figurehead, and your own Father Christmas, and I'm Saint Nick who gave gold to poor girls to save them from prostitution. Nothing I hate more than commercialized sex. Sex needs freedom like wild swans need freedom. Sex is sacred to Santa Claus... Because though I may be a dozens myths in one, it helps to remember my first incarnation." "And what was that?" I ask, chastened. "The ancient green-coated wizard of the North who flew by night. The man of power. The life bringer. I'm a pagan. And I can be very pagan indeed..." He grips me in his huge velvet-covered arms and the world turns over. Suddenly weightless, I am high over him as he lifts me up across his belly and lowers me onto his cock head. I gasp and cry out as the smooth rounded heat stretches my cunt. His hands are on my shoulders, gently but inexorably bearing me down on what feels an impossibly large hard-on. An image of Egyptian priestesses riding the great stone phalluses by the Nile flicks across my mind's eye. It may feel impossible but it also feels incredible. I'm going to fuck this cock if it's the last thing I do. Doesn't seem likely to be the last thing I do, though. In fact, as he forces me down and I urge myself to open to its mighty breadth, it seems as if this is the first of a million things I might do. All things are possible. I am flushed with power, with dark green shoots of vitality. Oh yes, give me your cock! Gimme it all!" I beg. Either I am slighter or he has grown. He seems seven feet tall as he gazes up between my braced thighs. Riding his broad belly stretches me like riding a horse, and his huge, hot cock pillar feels like a tree within me - a python, twisting and growing, hot and flowering. Flexing my thighs and calves, digging in with my heels, I jam myself down on him with a fury. I feel impossibly full, but the stretching is making me come. God, it's making me come... The muscles deep in my cunt ripple sideways across his shaft, stretching, gripping, appreciating his godhead. My breath is deep and quiet as moonlight, my cries are far away. My back arches, the muscles in my belly ripple and shift. I can feel my hot juice all over his balls and under my arse. I have reached a stage where orgasms pump cumjuice out of me like water, where my breasts harden and my nipples ache with arousal. Which he has noticed, and with one bound they are free. Very slick, the way he pushes both hands quickly up close to my ribcage from beneath, toppling my swollen gleaming breasts out of my bra cups in one deft motion. My nipples rage out in front, big crimson raspberries of excitement. He has both in one hand, while a sideways thumb slips down to press against my soaking mound where the root of my twanging clitoris is sealed against his cock and belly. His palm and fingers are clenching, jerking, hard yet just right, on my nipples. I feel the rush down to my clit, where his thumb exerts a pressure that is making me buck and scream. Just when I thought I couldn't come any harder, I am avalanching sensation. My cunt beats like a heart, holds him in a death grip. Heat consumes us, my eyes are screwed up, I pant like a dog. I am possessed as orgasm shakes me over and over again. In a moment of white-heat clarity, my face unravels and our eyes meet. His are now as green as glass, as wild as wolves, as loving as a mother's heart. He grips my hips and arches up as I ram myself down with all my tenacity. I feel his cock in my head now, I feel my pleasure in my bones. I shove my own hands under my breasts, jutting them out more. "I've got the whole length now. It's right up there. Every last fuckin' inch. Now you can really give it me. Go on, give it me!" His size doesn't hinder his movements. He has me safe and tight against his huge chest and flips us over in an instant. I am flat on my back with my ankles round his ears. I'm right, he has got bigger, though he'll not crush me. His beard flows over my breasts, gentle on my hot skin. Vaguely I notice he still has half his clothes on. So do I. Not that it's any handicap.... And then he takes all his weight - and mine - off the floor and rocks us both deeper together. There is no strain, just an easy opening of my liquid pelvis wider than I dreamed possible. How can so much go so deep - feel so immensely good?He starts to fuck me, hard and deep. All my force and skill fly up to join him. His strokes are controlled but growing steadily more assertive, more insistent. I love that moment when the control goes. It has to be my favorite moment in the world. And it's coming, it's coming.... "Yes! Fuck, yes. Oh yes! Please, oh please! All the way. All the way..." I am urging him to give way, and he is teetering on the precipice and he is lunging that long, smooth, incredible stroke that breaks control and his cock slides into me faster and faster until, in the most beautiful, exquisite way, the force takes on a life of its own and slams to a beat that pumps repetitively, unmistakably, savagely.... Christmas is coming.... Oh yes, Christmas is coming. I lose myself in that endless drenching moment but I swear that in that fleeting mystery his red velvet shoulder turned to green.... We are wrapped in each other's arms. My eyes are closed, happy tears on my face. Say what you like about muscles and so forth, fat men are so deliciously cuddly. So warm. My heart is full of candlelight. I feel newborn. I have never felt so marvelous. I could do anything. At least I could probably do anything in a little while, after we've had this nice cuddle..... "I've got to go, sweet," he whispers tenderly and kisses my forehead. Regret and love breathe in his words. "So many stockings and pillowcases to fill, so many dreams to fulfill... So many snacks to consume..." The giggle is returning to his voice. "Of course you do." I am returning to my own self too. No small child shall be deprived for my wild Christmas Eve. I cannot ask him to stay. But I am not sure what to say.... How to part. The fire he created is embers now. He stands and is immaculately dressed in a second. Yet another plus point of magic I think, with some amusement. A handy trick. Very handy. Specially on school mornings. Ah well, we mortals must accept our limitations.... I am still half-sprawled on the hearth rug, drenched in sex, stockings askew. Heaven only knows what my makeup looks like now. But then, who cares? He smiles down at me, wrapping me in loving kindness. "Happy Christmas, my good girl," he grins. "Though precisely whether you're naughty or nice is quite beyond me!" Laughing, he steps into the fireplace. The fire roars up around him and glossy green leaves surround his wild, joyful face. "Happy Christmas!" he roars, huge, radiant and suddenly majestic. "Why, you're the Green Man, too!" I cry. "Knew it would come back to you eventually!" he thunders, his triangular grin splitting his beard. And the laughter grows and the flames blossom and he is gone.... Just a ripple of laughter and a distant jingling. "Wake up, sweetheart. The kids'll be up in a minute!" I am being jiggled. "Where.. What?" I am on the hearthrug. My body tells me it's early morning. James is rocking me gently, his face creased with affection and sleep. I grab my senses round me urgently. What's happening? Who's here? What've I done? We are cuddled together in front of the gas fire. It's so warm and stuffy we must've been here all night. My Christmas lingerie is rumpled, sweaty, stained. My hair is damp. A creased Santa Claus suit, including beard, lies in a pile under the tree. James is naked, his sweet self. So we gather up all the evidence and creep up to our chilly bedroom to set all to rights before the excited squeaks of children make the dawn chorus of our Christmas morning. Once decent in Daddy-type pajamas, James sneaks down to make us both coffee. Grabbing the necessary bits, I whisk silently into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I've got to move fast to remove my smeared makeup and swap my sexy rags for a cheery floor-length tartan nightdress. Want to be in bed like something out of Little House on the Prairie when the kids rush through to show off their surprises. But first I catch my own eye in the mirror and give myself a long slow appraising look. Dear, sweet Father Christmas. Pagan sex god maybe, but also kindly old gentleman. He's given me an out, a little unspoken message. "You don't need to feel guilty. After all, 'twas but a dream." Was it fuck! He can set the scene all he likes but he's forgotten to remove the fairy dust that permeates the silk of my wrap and still sparkles on my breasts. He's also forgotten that good old joke, which I now know to be plain - and sticky - fact. "Christmas comes but once a year. But when he does he fills your stockings!" It'll have to be a very long hot shower. Grinning, I start my day.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/18209.txt

James Bellamy

Grandma's Story

"Wow, what a night," Little Eddie smiled. "Thanks for everything." I hugged him to my breasts and told him good night. "Can we come back again, sometime?" I smiled back, feeling genuinely tender at the pleasure he had given me, too. "Of course, sweetheart, I think we should do this again sometime if Jeff will let us!" Jeff was just finishing the table, "Hey, I'm Mr. nice guy, here, I got left out of everything!!! When do I get my turn?" "Jeff, you're my Grandson, after all!!!!" I protested with mock horror. But in my heart I secretly wanted to hold him close and teach him. I had noticed how lean and wonderfully strong he looked as he lost hand after hand. "I wonder," I thought, as we closed the door behind the boys and I felt Jeff's arm around my waist........... She had gone off to her room and Jeff to his with a cheerful "night Gram, hope you enjoyed the party??!! No regrets, I hope?" "No, ... no regrets ...." She replied slowly. She rolled her eyes at him. "I hope it was OK with you, sweetheart ..." "Oh, sure, .... It was ... fun. ............. You were a big hit, you know. Wonderful. I enjoyed just watching you. You really looked wonderful and young, if that's what you are wondering! I found you very ... desirable ... I can tell you that.!!!" He smiled at her with the usual affection. "Night." She sat looking into her mirror, unsnapping her bra and letting the cups fall away from her large pear-shaped breasts. "Well, what do you really think of yourself?" she muttered, fondling her tender breasts, tender from the assault of the lips and tongues of those three eager young men. "Well, Isabel, you have been well and truly fucked, tonight!" She smiled a little at her language and the little pride that had crept into her thoughts in spite of herself. "I don't know what to think, but I do know that it was fun while it was going on." She thought back of Billy's large black cock stretching her and stretching her as he excitedly pressed it into her. Her hand rubbed the tenderness between her legs, now matted with the combined juices of her first night of multiple lovers. "Oh" dear, it really felt good, though." She thought to herself. She slipped her panties off and down the silken path of her thighs, then loosened the garterbelt and stripped off the Christian Dior stockings all in one motion, dropping them in a tangled heap on the bench beside her. The brisk hot water of her shower refreshed and relaxed her as it streamed down between her breasts and then cascaded off the silk covered pubic mound. She soaped between her legs, feeling the happy massage of her pussy lips. They too were a little tender from the attention they had enjoyed all evening. She bent over to examine their redness, her finger teasing her clitoris again. She toweled off and padded down the hall to say one more good night to her grandson. Opening his door without knocking, she surprised him just coming from the shower – naked as the day he was born. Jeff started to hide himself with the towel, then decided against it, exposing the raging hard-on to his Grandma's gaze. "Oh, ... sorry, Jeff, ... I should have knocked." She shrieked and backed out the door. "Just wanted to say goodnight!" Isabel went back to her own room. A smile escaped her lips as she thought of how proudly he had stood there completely exposed and how terrific he looked with his bulging cock standing so erect from the patch of pubic hair at his crotch. Jeff came down the hall, wrapped in his big fluffy terry cloth bath robe with a sheepish grin, he said, "Can I come in?" "Oh, sure, honey come on in. I'm sorry about that." "Well, quite an evening, Gram, eh?" "Yes, ... Quite and evening. I couldn't help noticing ... that it left you ... a little aroused, should I say." "A little!!! That's not the word for it!" Jeff admitted. "But you've always excited me, you must know that." "Well, yes, I guess I did. All those years. I probably even lead you on sometimes. That wasn't fair, was it?" Jeff's hand had fallen on the heap of silkiness of her stockings lying on the bench. He jerked away self-consciously. Then put his hand back flat on the pile, feeling the silky smoothness of the nylon still clipped to the garter belt, and stared at his beautiful Grandmother sitting on her bed, her hands fiddling with her hair. Her breasts were lifted by the position of her arms and seemed to point directly at him through the thin robe she wore. The robe had parted and gave him a view of her thigh and the darkness between her legs. "Just throw my clothes on the floor if they are in your way, dear." "No, actually, I kind of like the touch of your silky things. Drives me crazy sometimes. Really did when I was a kid!!" "Oh, yes, I remember now. Sometimes my underwear drawer would be a mess!" Isabel smiled at him. "It's natural enough for boys to be fascinated and excited by the mystery of all those lacy things, I think, don't you?" "Yeah, I guess so, but no matter if it is or not, I can tell you it was always exciting to find that you wore something so sexy. To be honest, I would sometimes find them laying around where you left them in the bathroom ...... now that would drive me off the end! The scent of your body still clinging to them, you know." "Aha," she smiled, "that explains some of the unusual stains I'd find in my panties, sometimes. That was you, was it?" "Guilty," he replied, a little unhappily. "Well, that's not so bad, Jeff, because, when that happened, I could smell your body or your juices on them. I confess to enjoying that, too. So, we're even. OK?" She stood and moved over to him hugging him to her breasts. Jeff's arms circled her. His arm low on her hips, feeling the round warmth of her. "You know, I guess, it hasn't been fair, that you were left out of the game tonight. ............. I don't quite know what I mean. But, I know it wasn't fair to you. What can we do, though. It probably isn't right, ......... but, ........would you ... want to sleep in here ...... tonight ..., with me? I don't want to do anything which will ruin our relationship, ..... . What do you think, Jeff?" Jeff thought about the ramifications of the question. He took a deep breath. "I think it would be great. ..... I think it would be OK, Gram, ..... I really do. How do you feel?" Isabel rubbed his back, fondling him and feeling the warmth of his cheek against her breasts. Her nipples were responding to him already. "You know, I think we can do it. At least this once." She said at last. "Would you like me to wear some of those things you used to admire?" "Would you? Yes, that would be great, too." "Sure sweetheart, you pick them out." "These would be nice for a start," he said holding her nylons and garter belt up to his cheek. He was soon rummaging in her panty drawer while Isabel added a little bath powder and a dab of perfume between her breasts, along her thighs leading to her pussy and a dab at the top of the cleft of her pussy lips. She jumped as the alcohol in the perfume stung a little in the sensitive slit. Jeff's robe was open now displaying his hardness under a bright blue pair of bikini shorts as he handed her a matching panty and bra set. The panties very sheer and decorated with a little lace to frame her pussy, the bra also sheer, but with embroidered flowers surrounding the cups with one larger one centered where her nipples would nestle. "Oh, good, those are pretty," she smiled at him. "So are these, by the way," stroking his shorts lightly. She leaned over, letting her breasts fill out the cups of the sheer bra, pulling it up on her shoulders and snapping it in the back. She slipped her fingers under the band and shrugged her tits into a comfortable position. She watched Jeff's gaze taking her actions in, with an eager, unblinking stare. He licked his lips, in excitement. She loosed the stockings from the clips and then sat down to slip them up her legs. Isabel liked the feel of their silkiness on her legs. She clipped the garter belt to the stockings, slipping the straps under her panties so the panties could be slipped off later. And last, Jeff handed her a full-length slip which slipped down to a comfortable fit on her hips and covered her jutting breasts in lace. She blinked out the light and taking his hand, she led him to her bed. Jeff stared at her hips moving easily over her hips, lining the edge of her panty legs across the expanse of her buttock. He reached to trace the panty line across her softness.His breath was coming in short bursts. They sat a little self-consciously on the edge of the bed. Isabel lit a candle and turned out the last light. She turned to him and, looking into his eyes, she kissed him tenderly on the lips. Jeff tasted the bright red lipstick with pleasure. "Mmmnnnh!" was all he could say as his arms surrounded her and her breasts brushed against his bare skin. They lay back on the bed, deep in an embrace, and then Jeff lifted her legs up onto the bed, admiring the silkiness of the nylons tight on her calves. His hand teased her foot, feeling the old-fashioned seam which ran from the top of the stocking all the way down to the tip of her toes. He played with her toes under the nylon for a few moments, letting her legs extend, and he ran his fingers along her nyloned legs, and his cock became tight with his desire. Parting her knees, he kissed the hollow behind her knee, smelling the perfume she had placed there for him. His hand was at the edge of her slip now. He looked at the delicate lace and then at his hand as it slipped under the lace to grasp her thigh flat against his palm. He felt her spread her legs slightly to give him a free range. His hand found the top of her stocking, and his mind reeled back to how the darkness at the top of her hose looked in contrast to the thigh underneath. He moved higher, touching the smooth skin above her stocking leading to the center of her body. Jeff moved himself between her legs, his hands splitting her legs, the nylon making a shiver run down his spine. He noticed the candlelight flickering shadows across her breasts and the swelling of her stomach above the mound of her pussy. The slip slid up her thighs before his hands. He felt the clasps of her garters under his hands and heard the sharp intake of her breath as his lips touched the curls of her pubic hair under the sheer white panties. The contrast was delicious, slightly obscured, but revealing and inviting at the same time. His tongue touched the top of the cleft. The wetness from his tongue made the fabric cling to the shape of her pussy lips, joining now with her own moistness. His tongue ran up and down the slit between her legs, his nose resting on her mound as his tongue tasted her at last. The smell of her that he remembered as a child standing there with his nose pressed against the panties she left for him after her shower. The smell was the same, but warmer, and more pungent with her perfume now. His cock was throbbing with need. "Oh, Honey," Isabel coached, "here let me help." She slipped the crotch of her panties aside. "There, sweetheart, now you can have my real taste. Does it taste the same as you remember?" "Oh, yes..." His tongue flicked out to delve into the copious wetness he found there, now thickly coating his tongue and his lips. Her scent and juices surrounded his mouth and cheeks as his tongue reached deep into her pussy. "Oh, that feels... Just wonderful... Ohhhhh, ahhh... Yes, sweet..." Isabel's hips were forcing her cunt against his burrowing tongue. She reached for his hands now fondling the nylon-covered cheeks of her ass and pulled them to her breasts. He lay prone between her legs, his tongue licking her pussy and her clitoris, his arms along the silkiness of her body all along her sides to reach her bulging breasts through the soft silkiness of the slip and bra. Isabel felt her nipples harden against his palms as he squeezed her breasts. They lay that way for a long time, Jeff fondling and tasting her, not wanting it to end. Her relaxing and feeling the longing in her young grandson, relaxing and enjoying the sheer pleasure of his fondling and licking of her body. She reached for his head, moving it from side to side, spreading her legs as wide as she could, using his tongue to tease her clitoris, then pulled him up to her lips. Their tongues entwined. She could taste the bitterness of her own juices on his tongue, thick and rich. She pulled her slip over her head and sat between Jeff's legs, looking down at the bulge in his shorts. She gently pulled the front down, and his cock stood up eagerly for her gaze. "Jeff, you are so beautiful." Slowly she wrapped her hand in the material of her slip and caressed his striving cock with its silky folds. "How's that feel, sweetheart?" she breathed. "Great..." Jeff wheezed. Then he pulled himself around so that her pussy was again over his lips. His mouth sought her through the now wet, wet panties. Jeff felt the heat of her breath on his cock head first and then the hot warmth of her mouth as she slipped her lips around the glans of his dick, sliding it deep into her throat. "Oh, wow..." Jeff was overwhelmed. The wetness of her throat, her tongue teasing the head of his cock, then surrounding him as she took his entire length, making her choke a little and recoil along his length. Her weight pressing against his face was a pleasure of wetness, heat, and the scent of pussy. "Oh, Jeff, hurry," he heard her say urgently. Quickly now, Jeff reached for her panties. "Leave them on, if you like, honey," Isabel said. "If you like the feel of them against your cock." Jeff laid the length of his cock along the length of her pussy lips, the wetness of their mingled juices feeling hot against the large vein down the underside of his cock. The nylon covering the wetness pooled there between her legs was a luxurious, sensual feeling better than anything he had ever felt. "Oh, Jeff, that feels lovely. How about you, baby?" "Yes, yes," his lips found her nipples through the thinness of the bra, pulling on the large, long, hard nubs. His cock rubbing against the softness of her pussy lips under the nylon, his lips on the nylon-covered nipples had him in ecstasy. He felt himself near cumming and rested there in the chasm of her warmth. "Now, sweetheart, now," she urged. Together they pulled aside the crotch of her panties to make room for him to slip into her love tunnel. He could tell it was there, open, waiting for him, waiting for him to fill his grandmother, waiting there with its warmth, its slickness, waiting for his exploding cock. Jeff felt the head of his cock pass the panty leg, felt her pull it further aside. Felt her hand close around him and move his cock head against her clitoris, then down the slippery valley leading to her center, to her cunt tunnel. She positioned him at the opening. "Now, sweetheart," she whispered. "Now, let's... Ohhh." He slipped quickly inside, two inches at first. Then again, he reached into her. "Ohhh..." She whispered again. "Yes, dear, that's it." Isabel's hand pressed against his ass, urging him deeper. Jeff felt the heat of her surround his cock. Felt her lips part and then hold onto the shaft, following the head of his cock into the dark, wetness and heat of her pussy. Gratefully, he sank his shaft all the way into her waiting, grasping, clinging cunt. He could feel the folds of her vagina surrounding him, he felt the end of her cunt channel at the tip of his dick. Her muscles surrounded him, massaging his big dick. "Sweetheart, I had no idea... you had got so BIG! You're splitting me," Isabel whispered into his ear. "You are tearing me apart, you're so huge." Jeff was excited now, he began stroking into her deeper and harder. His hands found her bra, and he found himself pulling it apart in his hands. Her breasts sprang free from the constraint into his hands. He grasped them for leverage as his cock pounded into her hot cunt, his balls slapping against the cheeks of her ass. He could feel the silkiness of her panties against them. "Harder... hon... that's it... that's it!!!! ...more, more... That's it, that's it, that's it... Ohhhhh, fuck me, my big boy, fuck me, fuck me." Jeff found it surprising and exciting that his grandma was urging him on with these blunt words. His cock raging now, slammed deep into her in rhythm with her chant. He felt his juices welling up in his balls, ready to explode deep into her pussy. "Ohhhhhhh," he heard himself scream. Isabel was waiting for this. She felt him surging into her, their pubic bones slamming together. She reached to hold his balls in her grasp, pulling him to her. Her feet slammed against the mattress, urging her hips up to meet his thrusts. "Yes, darling, yes, darling, cum now for me, darling... Give it to me... Give it to me... Harder, darling, harder. Shove it in, shove it in, shove it in, baby. Shove it into me." Jeff heard her and felt her hand on his scrotum. His hips thrust wildly into her as she splayed her legs even wider to get every bit of him into her grasping cunt. "Arggghhhhh!" He felt the sperm come fountaining out into her cunt, first one hot spurt, then another, then another, another, and then just a little spasm, as Isabel wrapped her nyloned legs around his ass to keep him in her. She woke as Jeff struggled to disentangle himself from her and from her clasping pussy. "Wait," she said quietly. Jeff saw her struggling under the sheet covering her curves. "Here, honey, a souvenir of tonight for you!" She smiled up at him as he bent over her to plant a tender kiss as she slipped her panties into his hand. "Thanks, Gram. Nice!" he replied. Jeff held the damp garment close to his face and inhaled with a smile as he made his way down the hall and into his room.

Chapter Two

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17066.txt

Ann Douglas

Awakenings

"That was simply the best play I've ever seen," Kathryn said as they exited the theater. "It was good, wasn't it," Yolanda smiled. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it." "So what's next?" Kathryn asked. "I guess that's up to you," Yolanda said. "After all, this is your night, isn't it?" Glancing up at the now dark night sky, Kathryn considered for a moment that she really should be heading home. As it was, she wouldn't get there until well after midnight. "Is there somewhere we can go and get a drink?" she asked instead. "Well, there are a few nice places in the neighborhood," Yolanda said in response. "But they're all likely to be pretty packed on a Saturday night." "Oh, I really wanted to have a drink and maybe talk some," Kathryn pouted. Yolanda took a few long moments to think about it. Long enough for Kathryn to start framing another question. One that was cut off as Yolanda finally spoke. "Well, if you really want to talk," the olive-skinned woman said with a little hesitation, "I supposed we could go back to my apartment, it's only about twelve blocks from here. I'm sure I have something we could have as a nightcap too." "That's a fabulous idea!" Kathryn gushed with enthusiasm. "Let's go!" she added as she took Yolanda by the arm. "All right," Yolanda surrendered. "But it's this way," she said, turning both of them northward. "My, this is nice," Kathryn said as she looked up at the old brownstone her friend had led her to. "Which floor do you live on?" she asked. "Actually, I live on all of them," Yolanda replied. "All of them?" Kathryn repeated as she looked up at the three-story building. "How can you afford that, the rent must be incredible." "I sort of own the building," Yolanda said as she slid a key from her bag and put it into the lock of the first-floor door. "Me and First City Bank that is." Stepping inside, Yolanda turned on the light and led Kathryn inside. The large room that took up much of the first floor had been made into a combination office and workroom, filled with several computers and peripherals. "What's all this?" Kathryn asked. "This is Southstar Enterprises," Yolanda replied as she checked for any new email on one of the active terminals. "This is what I do when I'm not consulting." "You run your own company too?" Kathryn asked. "Sweetheart, I am my own company," Yolanda smiled. "President, Mailroom Clerk and Chief Bottle Washer. Which is why the job I'm doing for Moore and Ryan will be my last for a while. Southstar is finally beginning to take off and I'm going to devote myself to it full time for a while." "Can you afford to do that?" Kathryn asked curiously, wondering if she'd ever get the chance to do anything like that. "I can't afford not to," Yolanda said as she guided Kathryn to the staircase leading to the second floor. "Not if I ever want to break out from the pack." By the time they reached the second floor, Yolanda had changed the subject. Kathryn still had at least a dozen questions about what she had seen downstairs, but there would be time for that later. "Is white wine okay with you?" Yolanda asked as she stepped into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "That would be fine," Kathryn said as she looked around the simply furnished living room. She couldn't help but compare it to her little apartment over her parent's garage. "I fixed us a little snack too," Yolanda said as she came out of the kitchen with a tray filled with three kinds of cheese and the wine. "It looks delicious," Kathryn said as she picked up one of the wine glasses and took a sip. "This is also very good," she added. "Would you like to hear some music?" Yolanda asked as she turned on the bookcase stereo. As the soft sounds filled the air, Yolanda sat down next to Kathryn and took a taste of her own wine. "Now there was something that you wanted to talk about?" Yolanda asked as she put her glass down on the small coffee table. Kathryn took a long taste of her wine. Now that she was where she thought she wanted to be, she hesitated. Long silent moments passed as the redhead collected her thoughts. Moments that Yolanda just sat there, she was in no hurry. "We don't have to talk," Yolanda said with a small smile. "We can just sit here and enjoy the wine and music." So for the next ten minutes, that was exactly what they did. "I think I love you," Kathryn suddenly blurted out. "Really?" Yolanda said quietly as she took another small sip of wine. "And how long have you felt this way?" "I'm not sure," came the reply. "A while I think, but I didn't realize it until today." Yolanda took another sip of wine, giving Kathryn a moment to consider what she was saying. "Have you ever had feelings for another woman before?" Yolanda asked. Kathryn quickly told her about Sally and her brief introduction into female sex. The telling brought back that same warmth between her legs. "That's lust, not love," Yolanda noted. "Not that there's anything wrong with that at times." "And I have had feelings for some of my girlfriends too," Kathryn added. "Ever tell any of them about it?" Yolanda asked as she moved just a little bit closer. "No," Kathryn said. "I didn't think any of them would've understood." "Not even Angela?" Yolanda asked as she took the wine glass from Kathryn's hand and put it down on the table next to hers. "Definitely not Angela!" Kathryn said quickly. "Pity," Yolanda mused. "She's got dynamite tits," she laughingly added. The comment caught Kathryn off guard. Then, picturing the number of times she'd seen Angela's big-nippled breasts in the flesh, she had to agree with Yolanda's assessment. "I guess she does," Kathryn smiled. "But I'm glad she's not here," Yolanda said as she leaned toward Kathryn. "And that you are." And then their lips met.... The kiss Yolanda planted on Kathryn's soft lips was like that she would give her sister. A light peck denoting tenderness and affection. Then she kissed her again - this time with passion. Kathryn felt the press of her tongue against her lips and opened to receive it. Sparks erupted as she felt Yolanda's tongue brush up against her own. Yolanda reached up with her hand and cupped Kathryn's breast through the thin material of her sundress. It felt so nice to the younger girl, sending another surge of emotion through her. Now it was Kathryn's turn as she put her arms around Yolanda and kissed her with all of the desire she could gather. Kathryn and Yolanda sat there on the small couch kissing like long-lost lovers. Every time she felt Yolanda's tongue slip through her lips, Kathryn's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't been this excited since the first time she'd done it with Eric. Unlike Eric, Yolanda's lips were soft and sweet, the taste of cherry evident each time they pressed against hers. Another thing vastly different was the scent of perfume that filled her as she pressed against Yolanda. So unlike the smell of a man, it was soft and gentle. It was also highly intoxicating. "Why don't we get you a little more comfortable?" Yolanda asked as she kissed Kathryn one more time. With that, Yolanda pulled the zipper of Kathryn's dress all the way down, exposing the lacy strap of a thin yellow bra. With no objection from Kathryn, she pulled the flowery print down across her shoulders and then began to pull it further down toward her waist. For a moment, Kathryn felt very exposed, which was strange since she had no real phobia about being nude. Yolanda made her self-conscious about her body in a way that no man ever had. Yolanda began to kiss her way down Kathryn's neck, running her tongue across the recesses of her throat to the soft flesh of her collarbone. Her green eyes opened in appreciation as she reached the pale white mounds cradled by the sheer lace bra. The contrasts between her breasts and the deeply tanned skin around it was highly erotic. "Your breasts are so beautiful," the black-haired woman purred as she planted a soft kiss on the top of each of Kathryn's enclosed globes. A gentle tug on the thin material exposed the bright pink nipple beneath it. The erect tip was only visible a brief moment before it vanished between Yolanda's lips. She wrapped her lips around the entire areola as she painted a path with her tongue across it. Then her lips closed as she sucked hard on just the now erect nipple.A loud sigh erupted from Kathryn as she felt the wetness engulf her stiff nipple, bringing back the memory of Sally's touch from so long ago. The memory quickly faded in the face of reality and the knowledge that Sally was a rank amateur next to Yolanda. With only one nipple exposed, Yolanda took her time. Her tongue darted to and fro, tracing wide circles around the pink nipple. Then she would tickle it directly before taking it whole into her mouth again. "Oh, this feels so good," Kathryn moaned as she laid back with her eyes closed and just enjoyed the feel of Yolanda's attentions. "Let's see how you like this?" Yolanda said as she picked up the closest wine glass and poured just a little of it on the center of Kathryn's breast. "Oh yes!" Kathryn gasped as Yolanda licked up all traces of the wine. A few minutes later, Yolanda exposed the other pale white breast and repeated her performance, sending Kathryn further into a blissful state. Finally satisfied, Yolanda turned her attention away from her new playthings and kissed Kathryn again. This time the kiss was brief, just enough to signal a temporary end to their play. "I want to try that on you," Kathryn said excitedly, wondering what it would be like to taste another woman's breasts. "Oh you will soon enough, my new love," Yolanda said as she planted another kiss, this time on the cheek. "But I think we should be practical for a moment." Kathryn looked at Yolanda for a moment, a puzzled look on her face. "This has already gone far beyond what I think either of us had planned," Yolanda said. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. But if you do plan to stay here, I think it might be a good idea if you called home and told them." The call home only took a few minutes. Virginia Gray agreed with her daughter's decision to spend the night at her friend's house. It was far too late for her to be riding the subway and buses home. A wicked smile formed on Kathryn's face as she spoke, imagining what her mother's reaction would be if she could see her right now. Standing in the center of the living room, her dress still down around her waist with her breasts hanging free. Her nipples still wet from the kiss of her new lover. Virginia started to suggest to her daughter that she try to get home early in the morning and have brunch with Eric, but Kathryn quickly dismissed that idea. "I'll probably have breakfast here, Mom," Kathryn said, bringing the conversation to a quick close. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Bye." No sooner had Kathryn put down the phone when she felt Yolanda's arms close around her from behind. The older woman pulled tight against her and brought her hands up to cup Kathryn's breasts, rubbing her fingers against the stiff nipples. "Mmmm," Kathryn said softly as she closed her eyes and cherished the warmth of the embrace. Still holding her tight, Yolanda kissed Kathryn's neck, then her cheek, then finally ran her tongue along the inner edge of the redhead's ear. Kathryn wanted this moment to last a lifetime, she felt so warm and secure. The only thing that made its passing bearable was the knowledge that it would only get better. Yolanda turned Kathryn around and kissed her softly a few more times. She took Kathryn's hands in her own and guided them up under the bottom of her blouse, pressing them against her own breasts. Kathryn squeezed them softly, feeling Yolanda's nipples through the thin material of her own bra. With practiced skill, Yolanda undid the buttons of her blouse, letting it fall open, giving her friend a much better look at her endowments. Then, just as quickly, she undid the front clasp of her bra and let it fall free into Kathryn's hands. Wasting no time, Kathryn let the material drop away, quickly placing her hands back on the now exposed flesh. It felt so warm to her touch. "Can I kiss them?" she asked softly. "Of course you can, darling," Yolanda said with a smile. "You can do anything that you want." Yolanda lifted one of her breasts and offered it as a gift to Kathryn. She leaned down and kissed the center of the dark silver dollar she had admired in the theater. Unlike her own breasts, Yolanda's were all one hue, a combination of her natural color and a proclivity for nude sunbathing. Her large nipples and wide areola were a dark brown, several shades darker than the surrounding skin. Kathryn tickled the stiff nipple with her tongue, before taking it into her mouth. "Yesss," Yolanda moaned as she felt the wet embrace of Kathryn's mouth. "You do that well." In reply, Kathryn let the hard nub slip from her lips and ran her tongue across the wide circle a few more times before taking it again fully into her mouth. Back in college, she had regretted the fact that she had never had the chance to taste Sally's breasts. Tonight she was going to make up for that and much more. After a few more minutes of play, Yolanda shifted her other mound to Kathryn's eager mouth to give her neophyte lover a chance to feast on that as well. As she worked her way across this new morsel, Kathryn was intoxicated by the erotic combination of Yolanda's natural scent and the perfume she wore. It was strongest in the deep, dark valley between her breasts, a place the twenty-three-year-old was quickly becoming very familiar with. When she was satisfied that Kathryn had enjoyed herself enough for the moment, Yolanda lifted both her breasts and rubbed them against Kathryn's own. They kissed as their nipples rubbed against each other, their tongues becoming one. "I want you," Kathryn panted as she broke the kiss. "Right here, right now." "I have a better idea, my love," Yolanda said in reply as she ran her tongue across Kathryn's red lips. "We have all night, and I want this to be special for you." As she spoke, she slipped her hand down and under the hem of Kathryn's dress. Sliding between the band of her panties, her fingers came to rest on the redhead's wet mound. Yolanda rubbed against the lightly haired bush, sliding her index finger up into Kathryn's tunnel of love. Back and forth she moved it, just enough to give Kathryn a quick thrill. Then, just as quickly, she removed her hand completely from her panties and brought it up to her face. Even in the lamplight, Kathryn could see the shiny residue of her excitement on the tanned index finger. "Hmmmm," Yolanda purred as she slid the outstretched finger between her lips and licked it clean. "I do so love a little appetizer before the main course," she laughed. Kathryn smiled back, wondering what it would be like to taste Yolanda's nectar. A question that she knew would be answered in a very short time. "I want to give you a few minutes to catch your breath," Yolanda abruptly said. "To give you one last chance to decide if this is what you really want." Kathryn opened her mouth to say something but was stilled as Yolanda placed her index finger against her open lips. She could easily smell her own scent filling her nostrils. It was a heady aroma. "Don't say anything," Yolanda continued. "I want you to wait here and finish your wine. Wait fifteen minutes, then if you're still sure, follow me upstairs. I'll be waiting for you." With that, Yolanda broke the embrace and headed up the wrought-iron circular staircase and disappeared onto the third floor. The quiet swing of the pendulum on the wall clock counted off each of those fifteen minutes as Kathryn sat and finished her wine. The drink only added to the warmth that still filled her body. The soft caress of Yolanda's lips against her own still tingled, more so those against her breasts. In her heart, she felt more sixteen than twenty-three, more like a virgin than an experienced lover. Deep within her, Kathryn could hear a small voice calling out to her. It was the voice of caution, urging her to take a large step backwards and carefully examine what she was about to do. That voice was balanced by that of her soul, filled with the fire of suddenly realized dreams. At that moment, Kathryn recalled her dream of the night before. Only this time she could see the face of her lover. It was a face she had caressed so lovingly only ten minutes before. The wall clock chimed the quarter hour, and Kathryn put her now empty wine glass down on the table. She looked up at the staircase leading to the third floor and decided to follow the voice of her soul and dreams.

Part Four

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14793.txt

Dimitri M

Celebrity Hypnotist Chapter 7 (3/5)

"Man!" cried Bart, realizing the story was over, "How long did that take?" "Hours," I replied, "I had to implant my insurance policy, make sure the memories were pushed into the short-term memory, and that everyone believed it to be a particularly potent fantasy in the first place. I regretted not getting a tit-fuck from Debbe, although I did feel her up and suck on them for a bit before I deprogrammed her... she was the last after all, and I was tired, I felt I needed something for my troubles." Bart grinned and nodded, "And how'd the actual film go down?" "The client loved it, according to The Head," I replied with a grin, "They kept some of the audience footage in and he... or she loved it, they thought I'd captured the sitcom feel perfectly... also he got a good look at Debbi's tits from the various angles we used." Bart smiled, and sipped at his beer. I was drinking water myself, and I had noticed Bart managed to drink large amounts of beer seemingly without any of the negative effects. "I was thinking," he said as I sipped some more water, "I'd like to go for Liv Tyler next and...." He stopped as I sat forward and sprayed the water from my mouth in an admirable spit-take. I coughed and thumped my chest, trying to catch my breath. "What is it? what's the matter?" he asked. "Not...hak hak...not Liv Tyler," I grunted. "Well why the hell not?" he returned, looking pissed off at my reaction. "Her father is a high ranking member of The Organization," I said, calming down, "Also a rather prolific customer and most especially a very protective Father. He's let it be known that if anyone so much as thinks about perhaps maybe considering the possibility of perhaps at some point in the future doing anything to his girl he'll see to it they end up with both legs rammed firmly up their ass, feet first and shoes on." Bart looked a little disappointed. "But you can make it so she doesn't remember, can't you?" he asked. "I'm not taking that chance, not for you, not for anybody," I replied simply, "You can have anyone else, but not her." Bart was on the verge of saying something, but seemed to think better of it. However, I could tell that the aspect of forbidden fruit was now in the back of his head and it was maybe not the last I had heard on the subject. "Okay," he said, "How about this, I had an idea the night after I fucked Jennifer Love Hewitt, it involves a couple of ladies with connections to her. You know Neve Campbell and Sarah Michelle Gellar?"She nodded, not quite sure she understood but knowing enough to follow the gist of things. We chatted for a while after that, and I was able to drop enough keywords and repeat them enough so that I could be sure she wouldn't tell anyone about the private reading I had organized. Saying goodbye and shaking her hand, so that the hangers-on in the cafe who had been watching us in the hopes of selling an exclusive about our secret romance to the tabloids would realize it was purely a friendly meeting or business lunch. I walked past a familiar face, but decided not to say hello. Since she had become pregnant, my infatuation with her had dimmed somewhat. Fickle of me, perhaps, but what did I care? Not long after I got back home, I'd forgotten I'd seen her. Lisa Kudrow, however, did not forget she had seen me. The next day I also 'bumped' into Sarah Michelle Gellar, and basically repeated the same conversation I'd had with Neve. This time, however, we wanted her to spoof her role as Buffy The Vampire Slayer, crossing it over with spoofs of shows like La Femme Nikita and Xena: Warrior Princess. She was a little lukewarm at first, but after bombarding her with a mixture of my own charm and subtle hypnotic abilities, she became eager to spoof her own image. Again, it was a shake of the hand, although this time no one in particular seemed to have noticed us. As I left, I noticed someone else I knew, but this person was linked to me through the Organization, and I didn't want to create a public perception of a connection between us, so I just nodded slightly. And Kevin Spacey nodded imperceptibly back. The eleven of us sat around the table: Sarah Michelle Gellar, Neve Campbell, Bart, seven writers, and myself. The writers were actual writers, but hypnotized by myself to think the script in their hands were the ones they had written. Neve and Sarah were chatting away, Bart was pretending to be a writer, and he was talking easily with the other writers. He had the kind of personality that forced people to like him. I guess I would have to if he hadn't forced himself into my life like an unwanted relative. "Okay," I said, "We'll do a read-through of the scene where La Femme Buffna: Slayer Princess meets Sydney Prescott, who is being stalked by yet another killer with a tenuous connection to the seventh sequel... he was the water boy during filming or something. Neve, your Sydney, of course, Sarah, you're La Femme Buffna, I'll be the killer, Bart over there can be innocent victim #3, and the rest of you guys can be the unaware diners on the other side of the window." Everyone nodded, and we began. I had already been doing my little tricks all morning, ever since Sarah and Neve had arrived, and the hypnotized writers and Bart also used every opportunity to talk to them and use the dropped inflection and repetition I had drilled into them. Now, as we began the read-through, each and every line Bart, the writers, and I read was used to worm into the subconscious of the two beautiful young stars. It was a five-minute scene, which was probably stretching the attention span of today's MTV Generation to the limit anyway. However, we planned to have several different scenes with both the stars and have them run into other scenes as well, and we also repeated some scenes so we could 'make sure we had it set'. So, all in all, we read through almost 30 minutes where every line not spoken by the two women was designed specifically to bring them into a trance where their subconscious minds would be open to my control. When it was ready, I took the two women aside and began to make my commands, setting my orders and placing the plot into their brains. Bart was watching me carefully, taking everything in, and I began to suspect he had plans to begin hypnotizing people himself. This would never do; it's one thing to know how to do something, another thing to actually do it. Pushing that aside, I went to work on Sarah and Neve. Sarah was as easy as anyone, which was no indication of her intelligence, as when it comes down to my skill, it is very rare that someone can resist my talents for very long. Neve was also coming along nicely when I ran into an unexpected roadblock. "You then remove your clothes..." I was saying when she moaned lightly. I raised an eyebrow, Bart looked as surprised as I felt. "No," she muttered under her breath, "No nude scenes, it's in the contract." My eyes narrowed slightly. "Neve, it's not a movie, you're dreaming, you're dreaming you are Sydney Prescott and...." "No," she said, louder now, "No nude scenes." I sighed. I had heard that during Wild Things, she'd made it clear she wouldn't be doing nude scenes. "Okay," I said, "This is going to take a long time. Bart, you might want to take a break." "Nah, man," he replied, "I wanna watch." He wanted to learn the tricks of the trade, all right. Over the next two hours, I slowly drove Neve into the mindset that she was not Neve Campbell, but Sydney Prescott, survivor of attempted murder from three maniacs, one her boyfriend, the other her boyfriend's best friend, and the third the mother of her own late best friend. I was forced to create false memories of a childhood that did not exist, going into enough detail that it would stick but not so much that she would be stuck with the memories for the rest of her life. Finally, I sighed with relief and went back to my original programming. "Okay, Sydney, so you take your clothes off and..." The Next Day. Neve came awake with a start. She looked about, not sure where she was or what was going on. She was sitting in one of the small chair/tables in a darkened school classroom. She could make out the words on the blackboard only barely. "YOUR LUCK JUST RAN OUT BITCH" it read. "What the fuck?" she muttered. She was dressed in a tight white shirt with a brown leather jacket and tight jeans. She had no bag with her, and looking out the window of the class, she could see it was just getting dark. She stood up, her muscles protesting. She must have been sleeping at the desk for hours, but she couldn't remember getting there or even how she had arrived. "This is my old high school?" she said, confused, "The history class, what am I doing here?" "Sydney," whispered a voice quietly, almost imperceptible, it came from a microphone set in the shelves of books at the back of the class. "Who's there?" she asked, looking about. The door came open to the class, and she heard footsteps running down the corridor - Bart. She rushed out into the corridor, but Bart was gone from sight. She looked about wildly. The corridor seemed to stretch out further than she remembered. Looking down, she saw the double doors that led out into the outside world. "Sydney," came the whispered voice again. She spun about and let out a gasp of panic. Standing at the other end of the corridor, which she stood in the middle of, was someone in the costume of Father Death, the costume worn by the murderers in the original Scream movie... except she thought at this time she was actually Sydney Prescott. Father Death was holding a large red container, and even in her fear, she recognized it as a gasoline container. "No," she cried, and twisting about, she began running towards the doors. As she got closer, I (it was me in the Father Death costume, of course) began running after her. She was nearly to the doors when suddenly another Father Death (Bart) stepped out in front of them. "GAH!" she cried and slid to a stop on the linoleum floor, her eyes widening in shock. She twisted about, seeing that I was still there, rushing towards her, gasoline canister swinging at my side. She turned back, and the second Father Death was gone. She decided not to question this and rushed the doors. They were, of course, locked. She turned about, back pressed against the door as if she hoped to melt through it. "Wha... what do you w.. want?" she stammered. I simply stared at her through the blank eyes of my mask, breathing heavily from running after her. I noticed her chest rising and falling, her breasts heaving up and down from a mixture of fatigue and fear. Before she had time to react, I grabbed the gas canister's handles in both hands and threw the contents of it onto her. She gasped and then had to fight the reflex to retch as the fumes of the gasoline were pulled up into her nostrils and mouth. Then her eyes flared open in shock as she saw me light a match. "NO!" she screamed, she lunged forward and knocked me to the side (as planned) and took off down the corridor. "Sydney!" I moaned in a hollow, dull voice, "Come back." She rushed around the corner and slid into the girls' changing rooms, hoping I'd run right past. Inside the changing room, being filmed without her knowledge (we were using a real high school, set up because it would be empty over the weekend, the caretaker having been hypnotized into taking the day off), she quickly began stripping off her clothes, knowing that the smell of gasoline would lead me right to her, and as long as she was wearing them, she was in danger of being burnt to a crisp within a second. She pulled the leather jacket off, grabbed her shirt, and pulled it up over her head. Pulling her belt away, she quickly shimmied out of her jeans until she was only in her bra and panties.The door to the changing rooms slowly opened, creaking ominously, and I stepped through, my robes dragging along the ground. "Sydney," I whispered. "Get away from me," she growled, stepping back from the pile of gasoline-soaked clothes. "Sydney," I whispered, "You must die." "No," she cried, "Who are you?" "The demon," I whispered, "The demon trapped in HIS story." "What?" she was still afraid, but she wasn't really sure what was going on. "HE writes the stories," I whispered, "And I take the form of HIS monsters, they contain me, keep me from being free." "I don't know what you're talking about?" she replied, although a dim flicker of recognition passed through her eyes. "Freddy Kreuger, Father Death, all forms I've been forced to take in the prison of his stories." "Wes? You're talking about Wes Craven?" she asked. "He writes the stories, I'm forced to take the form of his creatures, his monsters.... he mocked me in New Nightmare." Neve remembered, in the movie New Nightmare Heather Langgencamp, star of the original Nightmare On Elm Street had faced off against the demon contained in the form of Freddy Kreuger. "You want to kill me to be free?" she asked. "Yes," I whispered, "You must die." This was the focal point, at this point I had come forward closer and closer, now I stood right in front of her. My hand reached for her throat and instead brushed against her breasts. I paused, my mask tilting to indicate that I was looking down at her near-nude form. She took the opportunity presented to her. "You don't have to kill me," she said, reaching up she grabbed my hand in hers and pressed it against her breast, "I can ease your suffering." I hesitated, then she stepped back. Reaching behind her, she took the clasp of her bra and released it. The straps of her bra released, then slowly peeled away, falling to the floor. The difference between this and the movies was that this time we actually got to see her breasts in film and in real life. Her tits were magnificent, they were large and plump, they didn't stand firm and high which indicated to me they weren't implants, rather they sagged slightly on top, fuller and rounder at the bottom. They were quite frankly incredible. I stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulder, my hands came up, I wore no gloves so I was able to feel her warm breast under my hand as I squeezed it. "Yeah, that's right," she said, "You like that?" "Yes," I hissed. I felt up her breasts for a second, then my hand slid down and pressed under the waistband of her panties. I cupped her hot cunt-mound, one of my fingers pressing up between her cuntlips, feeling the wet pussy inside. "Nice," she moaned, her eyes almost fully closed, she seemed to have forgotten just who it was doing this to her. I pressed the knuckle of my thumb against her clitoris as I continued to slide my finger in and out of her cunt. She moaned happily, grinding her hips forward. I had implanted the command in her mind to take any sexual excitement and focus on it rather than anything else that was happening. So it was that the feel of my skilled fingers working on her cunt. The hand gripping her shoulder had slid down and was kneading one of her tits, fingers sliding around her erect nipple. I slowly moved her towards one of the lockers in the changing room, once her ass pressed against the cool metal I slid my hand free from her panties, released her breast and stepped back. Getting down onto my knees, I grabbed the waistband of her panties in both hands and began to pull it down past her thighs, exposing her trimmed pussy hair. Once past her knees, her white, silken panties fell to her ankles and she stepped out. I slid my hands between her thighs, spread her pink pussylips with the index and middle finger of my right hand, then raised my left hand and pressed the index and middle finger of that hand up into her parted pussylips. "Huuuh!" she moaned as my fingers pushed up into her pussylips and pushed up to the 2nd knuckles in her vagina. Soon I began pushing in and out, my fingers sliding in and out of her cunt, faster and faster, her juices coming quicker now as she quickly became aroused. Her mind was instructed to increase the pleasure she received, and since it was already focusing entirely on the sexual pleasure, all she was really aware of was the extreme pleasure she could feel. Her body began giving little jerks, punctuated by cries of pleasure as I finger-fucked her cunt and she approached a quick, unexpected orgasm. "Uhhh, yes.... oooh! Good..... huhhhh, yeah!" she moaned as I rammed my fingers in and out, in and out. "OH WOW!" she cried and then juices burst from her cunt, female cum running down over my fingers and into the black cloth of my robe. She ground her hips forward, pressing my fingers deep into her cunt as erotic sensation drove throughout her body. Pulling my fingers out, I then stood up, grabbed the hem of my black robes and flinging them up and around my legs, so my naked legs and crotch could be seen. My cock was hard and erect, ready to shove up the young celebrity's cunt. I grabbed her by the thighs, spreading her legs and then lifted her up, her ass sliding against the locker. Once her cunt was slightly above my crotch, I moved forward, because I was holding her up I was forced to press my cock forward unguided, and it took me a couple of probes to hit her fuckhole. However, once I found it, I pressed forward and groaned happily as I felt her cuntlips spreading open and her vaginal passage opening to all my cock entry. It was a groan echoed by Neve as she felt my cock push up into her cunt. Her juices were really beginning to flow, her body reacting to the feel of my cock cramming forward into her cunt. My cockhead was lubricated by the slick juices from her orgasm. She was moving her hips, pushing down so she could get more of my cock into her eager snatch. The sensations which would usually be causing the pleasure centers in her body to buzz must have been going off as the intensity was increased by my hypnotic programming. "So good!" she moaned, "Fuck me, fuck me!" I moaned happily, her cunt was hot and tight around my cock, and it was almost regretfully that I began to pull my cock back after I'd gotten as much into her as I could. I also lifted her body by the thighs as I pulled back, so my cock pulled away quicker. Once only the head of my cock was in her tight little snatch, I released the added pressure in my arms which dropped her back down to where she had been before, my cock slamming back up into her cunt again. Because I had elevated her, I was able to get a good look at her tits, and I moaned in a mix of disappointment and pleasure since I wouldn't be able to suck on those magnificent breasts which jiggled and jumped as I fucked into her. I could have removed my mask but that would have shown Neve my face, and for the plan to work Father Death had to remain anonymous. So I had to be content to seeing what no one but her boyfriends had seen, the magnificent tits of Neve Campbell. I rammed my cock in and out of her cunt. I didn't bother to lift her up with each back stroke, happy to make short, hard thrusts for now. I knew that once we were both on the edge of cumming, we'd both be lifting and thrusting with little care for muscle fatigue, and for now I was more interested in the feeling of her cunt gripping onto my cock as I slammed in and out of the Party Of Five and Scream's star's cunt. "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" she squealed happily, "Give it to me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck!!!" I did just that, ramming into her with my hard cock as I felt her grind her cunt down against my cock. "YES!" screamed Neve, "My cunt's on fire! FUCK ME!" Her cunt clasped my cock every time I pulled out, then it would spread wide to accept my cock as I shoved it back in. Her legs had lifted up wide, she was able to do so because I was still holding her by the thighs. So it was that her legs were spread out wide to either side, her head tilted to the side, thrown back as far as it could with the locker behind her, eyes scrunched shut as she squealed excitedly, loving the fuck she was getting. She slammed her ass down, desperate to keep her cunt crammed full with my cock, not wanting me to pull out but loving it anyway when I did and my cock rasped along her clitoris. I fucked her harder, getting turned on by her high cries of desire and lust. My hips plunged up and down, forward and back, slamming up into her cunt which gripped down harder and harder with each stroke. "YES!" screamed Neve, grinding her clit hard down against the base of my cock and I knew she was going to cum very, very soon. Her face was screwed up in desire as she reached around and gripped my asscheeks, trying to force my hips forward and push my cock deeper into her cunt. Her body was shuddering and her body was jerking and her body was going to cum or she would explode. Her cunt squeezed down hard around my cock and I found it almost impossible to keep on thrusting in and out of her. But I did and it felt even better. Neve threw back her head and squealed out a high-pitched, animalistic scream of erotic release. "YEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!" she squealed and juices exploded out from around my cock, which was buried deep into her pussy. "Jacknife!" I yelled and moaned in pleasure as I felt myself cum, even though I didn't cum. It felt like I was shooting several streams of cum deep up into Neve Campbell's gripping, squeezing cunt and I loved it. "Yeah! good," I moaned.I lowered her onto the ground, and she sat still on her ass with her legs spread, cum seeping from her cunt, her arms hanging limp as her breasts rose and fell, sweaty straggly hair hanging over her face. "Back soon," I whispered, then turned and walked out the door of the changing room. A moment later, Father Death re-entered, but it wasn't me in the costume this time.

Part Seven (3/5)

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16779.txt

Chrissy Lorens

Debasement of Donna Ff F/f bd sm ds PART 2.

"Hmmm, you're quite a good little fuck. For the rest of the night I'm going to tie you spreadeagle to my bed and continue to screw your slutty little-brains out." "OH! Mrs. Lowens!" I gasp as she quickly gets up and lifts me up in a bride-like manner. Holding me in her strong arms, one arm is under my back, the other cradles under my knees. I feel a wonderful sense of safety, being held in her powerful arms. I am small and precious as she holds me. She lifts my face to her lips and kisses me softly. "Ready to be fucked again, sweet cakes?" Mrs. Lowens asks me softly looking down at my face. "Yyyyess!" I hiss back to my new lover. She carries me through her living room, down the hallway and into a large bedroom. The walls are Robin's-egg blue, with tasteful recessed lighting and wood floors. The far window looks out over New York City at night. In the middle of the room is a king-size futon bed with dark bed-sheets and pillows. Mrs. Lowens sets me gently down on the futon bed. The bed sheets feel cool and soft against my naked butt. "Okay, sweety, spread 'em! I want you on your back with your arms and legs straight out." I comply with Mrs. Lowens' request, stretching out my arms and legs and looking coyly up at my new lover's face. "Oooh," I gulp as Mrs. Lowens pulls out a leather cuff from the bottom of the bed near the left corner. She quickly attaches it to my ankle. In no time she has both my ankles and wrists securely fastened to each corner of the bed-frame. "And this little chain tightener on each cuff will pull you nicely taut," Mrs. Lowens tells me as she fiddles with the chain on each cuff. Soon my body is pulled taut in the perfect spreadeagle position. What an unusual feeling it is to be bound spreadeagle to this woman's bed. Pulling at my arms and legs, I realize Mrs. Lowens has left me very little slack. The dark blue bed-sheets feel smooth and cool on my back. I'm naked and completely exposed to this older woman. I have very little freedom of movement. The leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles are actually quite soft to the touch, but incredibly strong, holding me firmly in place. Being bound and totally at Mrs. Lowens' mercy really turns me on. She sits on the edge of the bed and softly strokes her fingers along my legs, my tummy, arms and breasts. Mrs. Lowens lays down alongside me on her bed. The slight jostling of the bed causing my legs and arms to stretch against my wrist and ankle cuffs, reminding me of my bound predicament. This older woman..my new lover lays on her side next to me and casually tweaks and caresses my tits and plays with my nipples (which are now quite hard). "Oh Donna, I'm going to have a good time with your sweet body. It's so tender and firm. Just the way I like it." Mrs. Lowens pinches both of my nipples simultaneously. I groan with desire and pull at my bindings. Her strong fingers treat my breasts like soft bread dough. "Hmmmm," she says while closely examining at my poor breasts. "I think it's time to make you into a nice tittie-snack." Mrs. Lowens lays fully on-top of my spreadeagle form. Her well-toned body and smooth skin feel warm and slightly moist as she slides down against me. Her powerful thigh and hip press directly against my pussy, her other leg clamps against my right leg, grinding her own hot pussy into me. Her hands hold the side of my body, right under my armpits as she brings her mouth up to fully engulf my right breast. I look down in amazement as the older woman's lips stretch around the base of my breast. Her mouth feels soft yet tight. She brings her tongue to play along my nipple. "Oooh, hmm, ooooh! mm-Mrs. Lowens that feels very nice, y-you make my nipples really feel good." I pull against my wrist and ankle cuffs, trying to push up my chest into her mouth, but Mrs. Lowens has me bound too tightly to her bed for much movement. I tilt and roll my head backward in mounting frustration. Mrs. Lowens gently bites into my hardened nipple. "They are special, deary, quite special," she says looking up between mouthfuls of my breast. "And they're mine, completely mine!" With that she arches her back up and takes hold of the base of each of my breasts, squeezing, pulling and kneading them with more force than before. I moan and whimper at her increased frontal assault. The soles of my feet tingle and curl with pleasure. Her hip and thigh snake and rub against my pussy and open bound legs. Still holding my breasts in her long warm fingers, she brings her wide open mouth to my right breast. Her mouth and lips engulf about half my breast this time. She sucks up mightily on my nipple and plays her tongue along the top of it. I groan and pull against my bindings, that's all I can do. She's squeezing the base of both breasts now, causing my tits to 'pop-out' slightly. She goes crazy biting, pulling, sucking and licking my nips, switching frenetically from breast to breast. I roll my head back moaning, my hips bucking up against Mrs. Lowens. "Okay, I think I've snacked enough now." Mrs. Lowens stops her assault. Letting go of my breasts, she holds herself over me. "Aaarh, ooh, ooh, Mrs. Lowens, please, please don't stop now." I pout and squirm under her firm body, pulling and testing my bindings. Our bodies shared a sheen of slippery warm sweat. "Is my poor baby all hot and bothered now?" She says smiling down at me while sliding her mature tits against my own. She softly kisses my neck. I whimper and groan in response. Our breasts slip and glide deliciously together. She kisses me fiercely on the lips. I moan and open my mouth as Mrs. Lowens inserts her tongue into me. She breaks her kiss and looks down at me, inches from my face. "Donna, I had no idea I would have so much fun turning into my complete Bottom. You're really quite a little slut, aren't you?" "Y-yes," I whimper looking up in her sharp angular face. Her long blonde hair cascades down her neck, tickling my bare shoulders. The older woman is fully on top of my bound spreadeagle form. Her legs and hips wedged between my open V legs, her breasts squashed into my own. The inside of my thighs are pressing into her own muscular thigh. I tremble with desire and lust. She kisses the side of my face and slowly licks behind my ear. "Well, my little girl-slut, I think it's about time I put on one of my favorite strap-ons and fuck your sweet young brains out." "Oh!" She suddenly gets off my bound body. The shaking of the bed causes my legs and arms to stretch out slightly. From a nearby drawer, she pulls out a good size strap-on dildo. I gasp, not so much at the size of the thing, just at its sheer perversity. The plastic phallus is jet-black and thickly veined. The tip is a wide mushroom-shaped head. Mrs. Lowens comes back to the bed with the dildo in one hand. With the other, she feels up and down along my pussy and clit. "Mmmm, seems like my baby is ready to take my plastic friend here. I call him 'Johnny.' Great for drilling little sluts like yourself. The other end also gives me a lot of clitoral action. Now stick out your tongue, deary." I do as Mrs. Lowens asks me. She runs the black plastic phallus, from base to head along my outstretched tongue. It tastes a little salty. "That's it, baby, get a good taste of all the lovers that come before you." Uck! I can't believe she's making me do this. But I'm too far gone to really care. I just want her to fuck me! Mrs. Lowens attaches the obscene dong to her hips. The older woman gets on the bed and kneels between my bound open legs. She positions the wide head of the dildo lightly on top of my pussy. I whine and groan as she looks down on me, smiling. "Well Donna, aren't we in a hurry today!"You really want me to fuck you with this thing, don't you, my little whore? "Oooh, Ooow, yes, yes...please Mrs. Lowens..." "I want you to admit that you're a total slut now, who belongs entirely to me!" "I...oh, ohh, oh!" I can barely talk. Mrs. Lowens takes short stabs into my pussy with the dildo, and withdraws quickly. "I...OH!...I..I'm a total slut and belong completely to you, Mrs. Lowens..Ooh!" "Just one more thing, every little slut like yourself has a hidden, nasty fantasy. I need to know yours NOW! Or I'm simply have to put poor Johnny away." I'm going out of my head with desire! I twist and squirm around in my bindings, trying desperately to impale myself on Mrs. Lowens' teasing phallus. But it's no use, my movement is too limited! "Oh, OH! Pleaaaze! Mrs. Lowens, Please!" "Tell me now Donna, or we'll call it a night and I'll see you at the office tomorrow." "OH!" I blurt out my deepest, darkest fantasy to my tormentress. "Hmmm, very nice, quite nasty! Well now, are you absolutely sure you want me to slip this thing into you? How about it slut-face?" "Ooooh, oooh, oh, ooh please..." I'm crying, I'm shaking with desire. This woman is driving me crazy! Here I am, spread-eagle on my back, tied to her bed. She's naked, kneeling between my outstretched legs, her warm knees press firmly..oh-so-firmly against the insides of my open thighs, her strap-on is firmly in place. I feel delirious, out-of-control as this older woman lords over my prostrate body. "All right, sweetie, my little honey of a lesbian twat, here it comes!" Looking down along my bound body I see a depraved sight. Mrs. Lowens moves her hips forward, her thighs press into mine. The wide mushroom head of the dildo slowly enters into my pussy, finally! The plastic dong feels truly wonderful as it moves up inside me. She goes very slowly. I can hear, and feel a wet squishing sound as the phallus moves deeper into my body. I arch my hips downward so the plastic dong will rub against my clit. A warm, tingling sensations spreads outward from my pussy. Whimpering with desire my head shakes back and forth on the bed, pulling against my secured legs and arms. I'm in heaven. Mrs. Lowens ever-so-slowly pulls out of me. I whimper in disappointment. As if in response, the tall blonde inserts the dong back into me. Then out again, and in. She begins pumping me with a slow steady rhythm. She closes down and top of me while maintaining her steady thrusting. I can't believe I'm doing this! Mrs. Lowens has played me very well, I'm completely turned on now, countering each thrust back with my own hip movement up. Our breasts rub together as she gets down on her elbows over my bound form. She kisses me harshly on the lips while looking directly into my eyes. With each thrust I can't help but let out a little moan. I'm so close to the brink. Mrs. Lowens slides her hands under my waist, holding our bodies tightly together, still maintaining her in and out, in and out. This allow her to thrust more deeply into me and gives us full body contact as she fucks me. My orgasm blossoms out intensely from my tummy, causing me to tremble all over and against my lover. My pussy tingles, my breasts jut up proudly against the older woman. Mrs. Lowens stops thrusting into me. She body feels great on top of me, her tongue is deep is in my mouth, her thighs press wetty against my own. I'm completely impaled by her dildo and it feels wonderful. She gets off me quickly and takes off the strap-on and gets back on the bed. Standing directly over me she sits down gently on my breasts, with most of her weight on her knees at my side. "Donna, sweetie," she says softly. "It's time for you to learn how to lick and suck my pussy, right now! It's very important." Mrs. Lowens brings her wet muff forward, towards my mouth. "Oh, I.." I still feel somewhat dazed. "I never really.." "Well, there's no time like the present, now is there." She grabs the hair in the back of my head and presses my face directly between her legs. I'm suddenly overwhelmed by her scent and wetness. Somewhat shakily I stick out my tongue and lick, tasting her pussy. It's not too bad. I can't believe I'm doing this! "Oooh baby. That's the way.." Over the next three hours, still bound spread-eagle to her bed, Mrs. Lowens carefully instructs me on just how to please her with my tongue. She cums on my face a number of times. She finally undoes my restraints. We take a nap curled up together, totally exhausted. We get up a little while later, I'm floating on air. We clean up and get dressed. On my way out Mrs. Lowens wants to show me something. "Come over here, sweetie," Lisa waves me over to a corner of her plush living room, "I want to show you a few things" Lisa shows me her special 'equipment.' Inside a slim cabinet she takes out an impressive array of strap-on dildos, short fat ones and spiky long ones and all kinds of leather cuff restraints and what looks to me like a horses harness. "Donna, I had a wonderful time tonight, but here is where my heart really lies. If you decide to come back tomorrow night I will freely use this devices on your young sweet body without restraint." "Oh Lisa, I will..." "Hush my young one, I want you to think about what you're getting yourself into here. If you decide not to come over tomorrow night, I will remember this wonderful night always and we'll continue our friendship. The choice is yours, I don't want you to give me an answer now, but think on it." "Okay, Lisa, I think I understand." My mind is already made up of course. Lisa pulls out a what looks a small foot and a half tall, two feet wide and three feet long platform for the corner. The top of the platform is covered in a thick soft-rubber matt, strange round metal 'eyelets' were installed on the front and back and along the sides. "This is my little piece of resistance. It's a 'pleasure table.' I can attach my slaves to it in a variety of amusing and accessible positions. If you come over tomorrow, I will secure you, bound and naked, to this platform. As you can see, it won't be a polite 'diner-date' like tonight, if fact you should eat before you come over, because I will not be server food, do you understand Donna?" "Umm, yes Lisa, I understand." I say as I stare, transfixed at the 'pleasure table' before me. I become excited just imagining myself attached to it and what Lisa would do to me. "Donna, you still live with your parents, right?" "Yes, Lisa, I do," I reply in a somewhat embarrassed admission. "Well, if you do decide to come over tomorrow is there any way you stay the full night, into Sunday? I don't care how you do it or work it out, I just don't want anyone to get worried." "Oh, don't worry about that, I'll just tell them I'm staying over at Ashley's, it'll all work out just fine." "Great," smiles my beautiful, older lover. She gives me a full, but soft, kiss goodnight. I go home that late that night as if in a dream. I feel a constant level of excitement in the pit of my stomach. The next morning I'm pacing my bedroom and going out of my mind with anticipation. I just have to tell someone, so I call Ashley, my best friend since High-School. "Wow, Donna, I can't believe you! She bound you to her bed, and you completely ate her out?" "Yup." I tell her the whole story and about my next meeting with Lisa. I think she's duly impressed and even a little jealous of my new sexual experimentation. I work everything out, Ashley is cooperative about the phony sleep-over. Lisa can have me until Monday, if she wants. Standing in front of Lisa's door I feel my heart pounding in my chest. I can't believe I'm actually going through with this. I'm wearing a light mid-length dress with tasteful 'cute' pumps. Lisa opens the door with a big smile and an intense look in her eyes. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun. She's wearing a silk bathrobe and killer high heels. "So, you've come back for more," she says pulling me into her apartment. She quickly closes and locks her door. Lisa holds me to her and pumps her long tongue into my mouth, I gurgle in surprise and try to respond to her kiss. One arm goes around my back and presses me to her, her other hand roughly palms and squeezes my pussy, bunching up my dress between my shaking legs. Wow, this is happening so fast! I tilt my head back, sucking up and down on her tongue. Her hand comes up to fondle and pinch my breasts. Just as quickly she brakes off contact on wheels me around, into her living room. I feel my nipples harden and a wetness develop between my legs just from that quick contact. "Ow, Lisa, we're not wasting any time tonight, are we?" "No, sweetie, we're not, just a few things before we begin," she tells me as we stand in front of her over-stuff couch. Memories of the night before flash into my mind. As Lisa's talking she takes off the robe to reveal black lacy panties and a tight black push-up style bra. I almost giggle, but she does look great! "Umm, Sure Lisa, what is it," I say nervously shifting my weight from one legs to the other. "Well, to begin with you must do everything I command you to do tonight. This is totally necessary for the scene we'll be creating, do you understand?" "Yes, Lisa, I do." "One more thing," Mrs. Lowens says as she spins me around and begins to unzip the back of my dress, "I will probably be the most dedicated lover you'll ever meet, but you mustn't be possessive of me. Just like I won't be possessive of you. If you want to kept your boyfriend that's fine, you want to become the biggest cunt-licker in mid-town that's fine too. You may see me with other woman from time to time, this doesn't mean I love you any less. It's just that I need to be free to do my thing. Understand me sweety.

Ff F/f bd sm ds

PART 2

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12977.txt

JR Parz

WishCraft, Chapter Three

"Hi Carla.....what brings you here?" asked Danny's Mother at the front door. "Oh....hi Mrs. Saunders.....I was wondering if Danny was here?" "Well, I think he is......DANNY" yelled Mrs. Saunders They both stood there quietly waiting for an answer. Nothing. "Mrs. Saunders.......I....I really need to get a book that Chris left over here. Would it be alright if I take a quick look in his room for it?" Mrs. Saunders didn't think Danny would mind but first she wanted to make sure he wasn't still sleeping. "Just a quick look would be alright." "Thanks Mrs. Saunders, Chris really needs this book." Mrs. Saunders looked at the girl, and then smiled; "Okay.....follow me." As they opened the door to Danny's room, the phone rang and Mrs. Saunders said; "Oh....go ahead and look, but be quick.....I'll be right back." Carla slowly looked around the room. Where would Danny keep a book that had powers? As she looked on the bureau, in a stack of books by the cage, a movement caught her eye. She looked closer; "Oh my god! Chris!" she exclaimed while peering inside the cage. He was the size of a Barbie doll! Carla also felt the spell she was under enveloping her, and despite knowing she was falling under the spell's effects, and every attempt to resist the effects, she couldn't stop the effects. Carla gazed down at her twin with rapture..........Chris was naked and he looked, so, so cute! Danny kept on waiting for Brit to age, but nothing was happening. In fact, she actually looked younger. Brit just sat Indian style on the bed with a smile. He then made a wish; "I wish that I knew why Brit wasn't aging back to fifteen." Quite suddenly, the answer flooded his mind. He wasn't allowed to change a wish once it was cast. Danny was confused; "I wish that I could remember the exact words I used when I cast the age regression wish on Brit." Suddenly he realized his failure to set an age to the wish. He looked back at the naked girl and made another wish; "I wish Brittany was wearing clothes that would fit her present body and automatically alter in size and style as she gets younger." Jeans with Winnie the Pooh on the side and a matching pink t-shirt instantly appeared on Brittany. The girl looked at herself and giggled. Danny told Brit to come down stairs with him. Danny looked at Carmen sitting on the couch with her hands covering her tits. "Okay Carmen, you can talk but only in a whisper. I don't want you screaming for help." stated Danny, while admiring the eighteen year old's beauty for the first time. Danny took a seat opposite the couch. He had Brit go into the kitchen and get him something cold to drink. "Can I go to the bathroom?" pleaded Carmen. Danny hadn't even thought about this problem. "Okay, but you go straight to the bathroom, do what you have to do to relieve yourself. In fact, after you go to the bathroom, take a shower and come back down here on the couch." Carmen was up and already heading upstairs to the bathroom before she considered what he said. "What about clothes?" Carmen voiced in a whisper. Danny heard her, but acted like he didn't. He wanted to see her sitting here naked the next time he talked to her. With everything that happened, he wasn't able to appreciate Carmen's sexiness. Now that he had a taste of what sex was all about, he wanted more and he obviously wasn't going to be getting it with Brit. He decided to go home and shower himself. When Brit came out of the kitchen with two glasses of orange juice, he stated; "Brit honey, you stay here and watch television.......If you need anything go ask Carmen, she's upstairs taking a shower. I need to go home, I'll be right back." Brit replied; "What about your drink?" with a pout. Danny said; "Thank you honey, I'll be right back....okay." Danny left before she even answered. Tiffany had just returned from the mall. "Oh goody!" she exclaimed. She didn't mind going to the mall without a bra on, and strangely found herself turned on when all the boys kept staring at her. She thought her new boobies would bounce to much if she didn't wear a sports bra while on her jog and she just had to buy some new jeans and new panties that fit her new form. She was able to avoid her parent's all day, which made her feel like she accomplished something spectacular. If they noticed her new looks, they'd be asking her all types of questions, and she was finding it more and more difficult to think about anything specific. Somehow she knew that questions would hurt her head, and it was so much easier not to think. Tiffany quickly stripped out of her clothes and put on her new panties and bra. "Much better." she giggled. As she put on her jogging outfit, she happily sung; "LA LA LA...LA LA LA...LA LA LA." Tiffany then headed outside to start her jog. Despite her sports bra hugging her new huge knockers very tight, she still saw them bounce. Strangely, they didn't hurt. Her mind wandered over all the important things in her life now.....clothes, sex, clothes, sex, clothes, sex, clothes, sex.......Too funny! She thought to herself while giggling. When Danny walked into his house, his Mom was on the phone and she broke away from the conversation for a second to say; "Oh Danny, Chris's sister Carla stopped by to get his book. She just got here, she's upstairs." Danny's eyes lit up. This should be interesting. When he entered the room, Carla's beautiful ass was sticking out of the closet while the miniaturize Chris, stood on his bed with a cloth tied around his waist. A high pitched voice kept on yelling; "Keep looking, he may not have it with him." "Well, what do we have here." Danny said with a confident voice. Chris spun around and looked at him with fear in his eyes. Carla stopped what she was doing and got up to face him. Danny smiled, holding the book in his hands; "I wish that Chris was back in his cage." Quite instantly, Chris found himself back behind bars. Danny then looked at Carla; "I wish that Chris's twin sister Carla, transform down to the same size as her twin brother and transport directly inside the cage with her brother." Quite instantly, Carla's clothes fell in a heap to the floor and then a flash came from the cage. Danny walked over to the cage, seeing Carla laying on the floor of the cage. Danny thought she was the most erotic sight he's ever seen. Never realizing the effect a shrunken girl could have on him. Chris quickly moved to his sister, kneeling down to make sure she was alright. "She's only sleeping........she's quite the beauty, don't you think, Chris?" Carla's naked body's only movement came from her breathing. Her nudity was a work of art, and Chris couldn't help respond to it. He felt the erection poking against his makeshift towel around his waste. "I don't think she'd appreciate you being clothed and her being naked when she wakes up. So, let me take care of that.......I wish that all clothing material on Chris and Carla's body feel like it burns their body. It will never really burn their skin but it will feel like it is doing that until the material is taken off." Chris quite suddenly felt a powerful burning sensation around his waste and thighs. Knowing exactly what was causing it, he quickly threw it off his body and it landed across the cage.Chris immediately felt relieved from the burning, but angered by the wish Danny made. "Why Danny!?! We were best friends! Weren't we?" "Still are Chris.......I've given you a lover, and a pretty one at that.....only a best friend would do that......and don't tell me that you aren't attracted to your sister. Your dick is obviously not gonna lie." Chris covered his erection with his hands. He felt embarrassed about being sexually excited in another boy's presence, plus somehow perverted, responding to his own sister this way. Danny gazed at Carla. She was a stunning sight. Well, too late now. Once his wish was in place, he couldn't do a thing about changing it. Maybe he could think about doing something different with her, because she sure was a foxy looking Barbie-doll. After Danny showered, he went back over to Brit and Carmen's place and walked inside the living room. Brit was sitting watching television. No longer as old as she had been when he left her. Brit's face lit up with the biggest smile in the world when she saw him. "Hi Danny!" Danny knew he had a serious problem on his hand. Brit couldn't be much older than seven years old now..........she was a cute little girl, though." Carmen's voice broke him out of his train of thought; "What have you done to Little Kitten?" "Who....what?" "Britanny........when is she going to stop getting younger?" Danny thought real hard. He knew that he couldn't age progress her. He looked back at Carmen who was wearing her towel around her body. He knew that she was naked underneath. He had made it where he thought she'd be totally naked sitting on the couch, but she must have held onto the towel after her shower. Then he had a brilliant idea! "Carmen......how would you like to be Britanny's new Mom?" "Are you crazy.....I....I'm only eighteen!" Danny, who still held onto the book, made another wish; "I wish that Carmen age progress to twenty-one years old and that her tits grow even bigger filling with milk for her baby." Carmen screamed; "No!" when quite suddenly she felt her body flood with a strange sensation. Especially in her breasts. Carmen's towel snapped free of her body falling to the ground while Carmen's body grew wider hips and much bigger tits. Stark naked she looked like a vision of womanly beauty. Danny gazed, feeling his own arousal at the naked sight of her. He looked over at Brit who was watching the scene in awe. "How....how can you do this to me....I...I'm not Brit's Mother, I'm her best friend and she isn't a baby, she's eighteen!" "Actually she's only a child, but I'm not going to stop her age regression until she's a baby. "I wish that Brit will stop age regressing when she is six months old. Oh, she'll be Brit inside, with all her memories and intelligence, but unable to verbalize much other than baby talk. She'll love being taken care of by you." Carmen just gazed at Danny with stunned silence. Danny turned to Brit and said; "I wish that Brit recognize her best friend Carmen as her Mommy from now on." Brit quite suddenly felt the wish and everything made sense to her. Brit ran over to hug her Mommy; "Oh Mommy......Mommy." Brit turned to Danny and happily stated; "Thank you Danny....thank you for making my bestest friend Carmen into my Mommy. Your my Mommy, now." "Brit honey.....You need to go upstairs and get ready for sleepy time." stated Danny. Brit hugged her Mommy one more time and then ran over to Danny and hugged him. Brit was so happy to have them both take care of her. She climbed the stairs and went into her room. In looking at the mirror, she guessed she was about four or five. Brit ran off to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She also took a brush to her very long blond hair. Brit ran back to her bedroom and climbed her bed. It seemed so huge. Brit climbed under the covers and went to sleep. Brit was happy, and her smile told the picture. Danny looked back at the naked beauty before him. "Let's go Carmen.....I think we should get to know each other better..." Carmen realized what he had in mind and tried to resist, but her body only followed him upstairs to her bedroom. They stopped for a second to check on Britanny, who was already under the covers with her eyes closed. When they both got into Carmen's room, Danny made another wish; "I wish that Carmen feel sexual desire for me, Danny Saunders, which will be greater than any desire she's ever felt." Carmen suddenly felt the desire for what Danny wanted, more powerful than ever before. Instead of trying to avoid this as she had tried to do seconds before, she know throbbed with desire for the boy's touch. Just before Danny climbed onto the bed to join Carmen, he wished; "I wish that I age progress to a twenty-one year old." Both Danny and Carmen, sporting twenty-one year old bodies, made love like never before! When Carla woke up, she screamed with the reality of her situation, but upon realizing that Chris was with her, she felt herself fall under the spell and everything was alright again. Not only was Chris with her, he was as naked as she was and the thought of what this would lead to made her so, so wet! Chris let her hug him because he thought he should console her, but Carla's hand reached down and started caressing his throbbing erection. The touch of her hands almost made him shoot his wad right then and there. Chris, being a virgin, asked; "Carla, are you a virgin?" Carla turned a shade a red; "Yes." Chris knew that it was useless to try and delay this, moving down to the floor of the cage. Chris put his fingers inside Carla's slit and felt the wetness. "Are you sure, Carla?" "God Yes!!! Please hurry." Within seconds, they both lost their virginity. In the middle of the night, Danny woke up at the sound of a baby crying. He must have passed out with all the sex he and Carmen had. He picked himself up, looking down at his new lover's nudity and felt himself getting hard all over again. "Carmen.....wake up, Britanny's crying. She must be hungry." Carmen, still feeling arousal for Danny, replied; "So, what do you want me to do?" while reaching for his growing erection. Danny got up and grabbed the book. He knew the problem. Carmen may physically possess the body of a young Mother, but still lacked the knowledge. "I wish that Carmen know what to do and realize that she is now responsible for Britanny." Carmen's eyes glazed over for a second, and then she sprung out of bed. "Wait for me....don't fall asleep. I'm going to go feed Brit and be back in a flash. I want a repeat performance of earlier." Carmen said with a sexy smile. Danny decided to go check on Brit himself, to see what she looked like as a six month old baby. When he entered Britanny's room, he saw her laying in the middle of her bed completely naked. Carmen held up the soaked diapers in her hand and stated; "We have a slight problem...Brit needs a change and these are the only diapers we have." Danny went back to Carmen's bedroom to retrieve the book. "I wish that Britanny's bedroom be transformed into a complete nursery. I wish that her closet be filled with Pampers along with a whole wardrobe of baby clothes." When Danny got back into Brit's bedroom, he noted the crib and baby things. Carmen was using the new changing table to put new diapers on Britanny. Danny was amazed as Carmen knew how to do everything, including using the baby powder before throwing on some new pampers on her. Carmen then brought Brit over to the rocking chair and sat in it. Carmen positioned Brit up to her nipple and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Brit's mouth went over it and began suckling. On the way back to the bedroom, Danny went to take a leak. The reflection in the mirror stopped him cold. For the first time since his age progression he got a good look at himself. Six years did him justice. His body was slim and athletically trim. His acne was gone and he actually thought that he was good looking. When he went back to Carmen's bedroom, he didn't have to wait too long before Carmen came back in. "She's sound asleep. She's so cute. I almost think she's trying to communicate with me." "Carmen....how do you feel about all this?" "Well, I'm not impressed with losing my independence. Nor three years of my life, but you wished me to feel desire for you and I can't do anything other than what you want me to do, so, I guess my feelings don't really count....do they?" Danny didn't like the answer, so, he ignored it. He then told her to get back in bed. She did with a smile. Danny climbed back in the bed, moving his body between her legs. She didn't have a choice, but he knew she was loving every second of it. Carmen screamed out with multiple orgasms. When Danny woke up the next morning, he went downstairs to find Carmen moving around the house in just her skimpy panties. She was cleaning. He thought about his wish that she know what to do, and he guessed that she was doing what any young Mother would do with her baby taken care of and her lover sleeping. Danny walked over to Brit, while Carmen joined him and looked down at her. "Do you think she's happy to be a baby again?" asked Danny. "Oh, I seriously think so....I'm not sure how I know, but I do." Danny looked at Carmen's huge tits and remarked; "Do you always have enough...er...you know." Carmen smiled at Danny; "Oh yes. And good thing you made me so huge, because Brit is quite the pig when it comes to her feedings." Carmen said while laughing, looking down at Brit with love in her eyes. Danny reached down and tickled Brit underneath the chin. The baby cooed back with a smile; "She seems to like me."

mc, age regression, shrinking, be, mf

3

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13623.txt

T.S. Fesseln

On French Soil

"M'lord de Valence!" Catherine had barely licked the last of Edward de Valence's seed from her lips when she heard someone yell outside Edward's baggage wagon. Sir Edward de Valence, her captor, heard it too, and with wolf-like speed, he grabbed a piece of cloth and forced it between Catherine's lips, gagging her. For Edward, there was no time to waste upon making Catherine D'Astier comfortable. If anyone knew he had taken a prisoner to ransom without the King's permission, his very life may be forfeit. He shoved his prisoner down and quickly pulled a wool blanket and tapestry down over her. The bulk of the tapestry seemed to cover her little struggles, and he could barely hear her screams through the gag. "Sir Edward de Valence!" the man called again. Edward pulled on his hose quickly before stepping out in the grey morning. A fine, misting rain greeted him coldly as he stood in the doorway. At the edge of his camp, Richard Corfe, Edward's best man-at-arms and sergeant, walked his horse through the mud, escorting another man, the King's Herald. Richard still had the grime of battle ground into his skin, and his armor was well-worn, while the herald, mounted on a light grey horse, looked as clean as any bishop. "M'lord de Valence?" the herald asked, a grim look about him. "Yes." "His Majesty, King Henry the V, wishes your council immediately. You may find him in St. Martin's church." Barely had the words left the herald's lips than the man wheeled his horse around and started back toward Harfleur. The two men were silent until the herald was swallowed by the misting rain. "How now, Richard? Why such a grim face?" Edward asked. "I could not pry any words out of that man, m'lord. His bearing is not good, and I fear what news you may hear," Richard replied, his clear blue eyes now red with the burden of war. Edward nodded, "The men taken care of?" "As well as can be, m'lord. We have a roof over our head and a bit of wine we found, but they were as starved as we are." Edward again nodded, "Water the wine down with this rain water. I fear that the devil may have pissed in the river. See what I can fill our bellies with so long as it hasn't crawled from the sea. Take a few of our archers afield and see what fowl you can put on the spit." "M'lord." "And see to it this wagon is dragged to a suitable site within the walls. I will not have some errant French lick-pizzle steal what little comforts I have. Guard it well and let no one inside save me." Richard nodded, wiping his soggy, blonde hair out of his eyes. "Now I will see what the King has to say." Catherine struggled once again at her bonds and once again was frustrated by their effectiveness. She was on her back once more, and the rough wool against her skin felt like thousands of fleas crawling over her breasts, belly, and legs. The cold wood she lay upon was rough and chafing, and with her wrists bound as they were behind her back, made her even more uncomfortable. But even more than that, Catherine felt an itch between her legs that she could not sate. It troubled her in many ways, chief amongst them was the idea she was wanting of Edward's manhood despite his ill-treatment of her. He had not respected her station. In fact, quite the opposite, as if she were a common slattern. However, no matter how she was treated by the English and how detestable it was, there was no turning away from the fact that her quim was wanting his touch. The wool was rough against her nipples as she squirmed. Each movement, a little blissful agony sparked within her womb and heated the embers there. Catherine strained her hands down and her legs apart, knocking about the empty bottle of wine Edward and her had shared, but her fingers could not solace the need rising in her. Her position and bindings worked against her. Then Catherine heard something and froze. Even beneath the blanket and tapestry, Catherine could hear the muffled voices of men outside and their thumps against the wagon. The thought of them finding her both horrified and thrilled and sent her passions rushing through her like a wild fire. Struggling, Catherine tried to assuage her need with the heel of her foot but found that it would not but brush her swollen lips, teasing herself. Catherine rocked her shoulders so that her nipples would enjoy the friction against the wool. Total rapture was so close yet still unreachable, like a delicious quince hanging just at the fingertips' touch. The smell of her own natural perfume hung in the cloistered air beneath the blanket like an exotic incense, exciting her more. She rocked her hips and tried to rub her thighs together, but to no end. Then Catherine felt the wagon jolt. Her own mewls of need had drowned out the sounds outside and left her isolated. The wagon was now moving, and she was now very aware she was not alone. The rocking and jolting of the wagon across the muddy ground caused the bottle to roll beneath Catherine's splayed legs. She felt its slender neck against her thigh like the prick of an ardent lover. Before the bottle could roll away, Catherine trapped its base between her feet, aiming its slender neck at her moistened quim. The baggage cart jolted again. The bottle slipped from her grasp. A moan of despair erupted from Catherine's lips as she sought to entrap the bottle again. She felt its cool, smooth surface upon her thigh and began to squirm around, hoping to roll it back to her grasping feet. Undulating and writhing, she felt the bottle roll toward her tied ankles. With grunting effort, she trapped the bottle again and tried to slowly point its neck towards her quiff, holding the bottle firm over the larger bumps. The effort took great concentration, but Catherine now had the lip of the bottle against her own moistened lips, a prize so tempting she could not refuse its blissful invasion. With one quick push, she rammed the bottle neck inside herself. The bottle filled Catherine, her slick muscles bearing down upon the glass phallus as if she were possessed by a daemon. Using her heels, she pumped the bottle in and out of herself, fanning the fires within her, building her pyre of ecstasy until it consumed her in rapture... The destruction wrought on Harfleur by the English engines and cannon was even more apparent in daylight. This was the first time Edward had been within the town walls since the night of Catherine's capture. His charge was the guarding of the siege artillery, and as the town surrendered, Edward had to maintain his vigil until all the canon were safe behind the city walls. The smell of smoke still clung to the air, even in the misting rain. Charred timbers of homes and stores poked up through the rubble like ribs of a burnt carcass. But most of the town was spared ruin. St. Martin's bell tower stood like a lone sentinel over the town. The roof over the chancel had collapsed, but the tower stood firm. It was here that King Henry had walked barefoot to give thanks for his victory, and it was here that he made plans for the future of his France. The men-at-arms bowed slightly to Edward as he mounted the steps to go into the church, their faces grim. He remembered the look on the faces of the men-at-arms in England when he escorted Sir Thomas Grey to his audience with the King. The guards seemed to know what was to happen to the traitor Grey. They had the same look as the guards he just passed. John Duke of Bedford greeted Edward with a slight smile. "He awaits you in the tower," Bedford said in barely a whisper. The stairs were steep, and each step made Edward's knees ache. The cold, misty rain seemed to bring out a man's infirmities, Edward thought to himself. He wondered if these thoughts crossed the minds of men walking up to the gallows.The door to the tower was unattended, and with a hesitant hand, Edward turned the latch to open it. "Come, gentle Edward de Valence, and stand with ourselves and advise," King Henry spoke as he stood before the open arches and peered out over Harfleur cloaked in the mist. "My King," Edward bowed and moved beside him. For a moment, neither spoke but looked out at the rain and the rooftops and the men below. The King had a great cloak about him as he stared. This man was a soldier first and King second. The heated lust for battle still glowed in the man's eyes. "'Tis a cold and piercing mist, Edward, as cold as a blade. Winter is to come soon, I fear, and We must show France how to kneel." "Yes, my Lord." "To do this, France must take Us to her bosom like a mother. France must both love Us and fear Our resolve. France must abide by God's and Our will. How shall we do this, Edward?" "Our swords must have lead points but sharp edges, my King." "Mercy will be our sword, Edward, but not without profit first. France is coffer enough for all, Edward." "Indeed." "Our debt to you, Edward de Valence, is great. Or so my exchequer tells. Your service to Ourselves and England is great." "Thank you, My King." "So We will forgive any looting that you may have done despite Our commands. But you will remain here to watch over Our new prize until next spring when We shall begin anew. Ourselves will march to Calais and then to England." "Thank you, My King." "There is still much to do, Edward. The towers on the sea have not bowed to Us and England. You must remedy this. You are well versed in the art of siege, I am told and from what I have seen. My brother Bedford will detail Our plans for Harfluer. You may go." Edward bowed again and started to leave. "Edward?" "Yes, my King." "As a man, was she worth the price?" Edward paused. "There is no price on vengeance that is not high." The house was near the town square and overlooked the Leure as it wound its way through the port. Edward's baggage cart was in front as were two of his men-at-arms. Their faces were set against the cold of the drizzle. "As soon as I survey the quarters, we'll get this baggage in and gather around a fire," Edward said, patting one of his men on the shoulder. The first floor was set slightly into the ground, and the large doors in front belied the building's purpose. As Edward stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the damp darkness, he saw that any stores this place had were gone, and only the lingering smells of tanned leather and suet remained. The store window was barred, and there was but a broken stool and some scraps of leather left. Even the fireplace was dead. "First thing, Talbot, is to get a fire started in this place! I am sure there is enough wood in those wrecked buildings to build a decent one. The cart will go over there, and our stores of powder and shot will fill this up well." "Yes, m'lord," the man-at-arms answered tiredly. They made their way toward the back and up the narrow stairs to the second floor. Already his men had started dropping their personal gear and picking their spots to lay. The windows let in the cold, grey light, and there was a small, sputtering fire in the chimney. Two of his wounded men lay on the floor near it, huddled in their cloaks and sleeping their pain away. The second-story rooms themselves were well-maintained and whitewashed. There were two benches and a table as well as an oil lamp. Through the windows overlooking the grey-brown Leure, Edward could see his challenge towering over the bay, curls of smoke and mist enwrapping it like a vampirish wraith. However, Edward's thoughts were upon the girl still bound in his baggage wagon.

Chapter III - "Of Hot And Forcing Violation"

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9213.txt

deirdre

Merge

"You know what?" Caroline was talking softly, and I knew she was saying something confidential. "What." "Henderson told me: *no one* is being laid off." "No one?" I responded, surprised. I did manage to whisper it. "No one," she repeated. I think she looked relieved. *I* certainly was: we were all on pins and needles about the merger. Yes, we'd been bought out. I guess it was too good to be true, with Caroline, who I got along very well with, as president: in fact, my own position as vice president was certainly nothing to sneeze at, but what I enjoyed most about it was having Caroline's trust. We *knew* each other, and we each knew the other could get the job done. And it was all ending, one way or another. Henderson's company bought us out, and everyone in our company knew what that could mean. I'd supposed Caroline would have a relatively easy time of it, having been the most visible person in the company: I'd been a bit more nervous about my finding anything comparable to my present position. Besides, Caroline still has her youth, being in her thirties, and she has looks I never had: people might kid themselves that that doesn't count for much, but, well, studies show otherwise. But now, at least I knew we had jobs. I looked around at the rest of the staff--Caroline shouldn't have told me: I really hated to see the rest of them worrying so much about Henderson. I knew I wouldn't betray Caroline's confidence, but keeping the secret while they all suffered certainly would bother me. But they wouldn't have to wait too long: Henderson's people had already announced "reorganization meetings", and I was scheduled to attend one the following day. I arrived at the appointed address at an unmarked office building on the other side of town and entered to find what appeared to be a rather large and generous office suite: I couldn't really tell how far it extended through the building. I was a bit surprised to find Henderson's company with such an established office right there in town: I would have thought we'd all have known about it. I was directed down the hall and to an office where a receptionist greeted me. A couple of others from our company were sitting there, waiting: Martha, who is my secretary, as well as Grace, one of the other VPs. A man and woman whom I didn't know were standing on the other side of the room, talking quietly. I looked around for a place to sit, but the receptionist told me we could go into the conference room, pointing out a door behind her to her left. More people from our company were coming in, and soon I was following some of them into the conference room. The receptionist was also directing some of the people to another conference room to her right, so apparently there were two concurrent meetings. I do remember one strange thing when we entered. The man and woman whom I didn't know were standing close to our conference room's door, and as we entered, I noticed that while the woman talked to the man, she sort of looked us over. In front of me was one of the other secretaries who was definitely well-endowed, and the woman practically leered at her like a man might! I actually felt a little strange walking in front of her and couldn't help wondering about her. In the room, it turned out to be seven of us, all women. I wondered about that too, but it didn't worry me too much. Then the man I'd seen in the reception area came in and introduced himself as a consultant hired especially for the reorganization and for integrating us into the new company. He stood in front of us and started telling us about his ideas and the theory of good organization, and I realized in about two seconds he was extremely boring. Soon I wasn't really catching his words so much as simply hearing the drone of his voice. "Grace Steadman," said the receptionist. I watched Grace stand and walk into the door the receptionist indicated. She did keep herself in good shape I noticed: she could easily model nude, but I figured Caroline must be better. Not that I'd seen Caroline in Grace's state. I watched Grace pad in, noticing she had distinct tan lines--when had she been on vacation? When she was gone, I looked back at Martha, sitting on the carpet next to me. Martha definitely had a body that looked good despite her size: even her stomach didn't show any "tires". I looked down at myself: I'm in pretty good shape right now, but any weight I put on goes right to my hips and thighs, leaving my chest as flat as ever. It would be nice to have a body like Martha's. Well, at least my rear is decent. I wondered at the receptionist, with all these bare bodies hanging around her reception area. It must be a bit weird for her, and not all of us were that much to look at. She didn't seem fazed a bit by it, though. The door behind the receptionist opened a crack briefly, and she looked back. Then she looked at a paper on her desk again, and then called "Tamera Black." Me. I stood up. There were still four from our group still sitting there. I approached the door but stopped and looked back at the receptionist. "Go on," she encouraged. It was a large office and very plush. I didn't see any sign of Grace, but there was a man behind the desk and a few other men and women sitting and standing, all watching me enter. It was kind of embarrassing, standing there in front of them naked like that. "Tamera," said a man sitting on a couch, looking at papers on a coffee table in front of him. "Yes," I said. I just stood there, still feeling embarrassed. "Vice President," he said. It wasn't a question, and I didn't respond. No one else said any more, but the man behind the desk stood up and walked over to me. My eyes were on him: they were all dressed in suits, but I could see at a glance that this man was *really* dressed. As he approached, another man told me to go to the couch, and then to lean on it on my hands. Then the well-dressed man came up behind me. I waited there, nervously, as he approached behind me. I didn't look back: somehow I knew I shouldn't. He touched me: his hand went between my legs. "She's dry," he said."This way," the man who'd led me over said, taking my arm and pulling me to standing and across the room. He brought me over to a woman, and I ended up standing in front of her. She felt my vagina too and gave a little mirthless laugh. "Not aroused, are you?" she said. I didn't answer; I could tell she didn't really want me to say anything. While I stood there, the office door opened and Martha came in. The woman in front of me didn't stop touching me but started stroking me gently. She was also dressed very well, in a skirt-suit. She was blonde and looked to be in her late twenties. Something made me think MBA. They had Martha leaning over, supporting herself with her hands on the couch, the way I had been. The woman with me took her hand off me and took some sort of device, putting it on her hand. It had an electric cord and attached to the back of her hand. She then threw a switch, and it hummed. The well-dressed man had been feeling Martha. Then he'd opened his zipper, taken out his cock, and started doing it with her. "Oh, yes," he said in a second, but he only sounded a little affected by it. But Martha was starting to breathe really hard. The woman put her hand on the front of my vagina. It was a vibrating device on her hand, and I was immediately going crazy: I don't remember experiencing anything like that before! She was moving her fingers, and her whole hand was vibrating! Her face was close to mine while she did it, and I ended up looking right into her eyes. She had this amused smile on her face. I was going to lose control--it was out of my hands. Then she stopped. I stared at her: I couldn't believe she could do that! But it was only me being affected like that: she could stop any time she wanted. The man led me back to the couch. Martha was gone. Once again, I leaned over the couch. The man in the good suit felt me again. I was *very* wet. He plunged in. Oh, god, it felt so good. I was coming in seconds, and he just kept pumping away. I moaned and moaned. I felt weak: I felt lightheaded and worried about fainting for a second. One of the men pulled me to standing. "Not her, she takes too long to get wet," said the well-dressed man. The man leading me walked me to a door, opened it, and guided me through. The door shut behind me. It was a small room, filled with women from our company. We were all naked, as had been the group in the reception area. I found a little area on the floor and sat down: I was completely beat. It felt scratchy sitting on the carpet, just as it had in the reception room. Martha wasn't there, but Caroline was. She looked listless: they all did. Nothing happened: we just sat there. Finally, a door opened: a different one from the door to the office I'd just come from. Two women came in, leaving the door open. Behind it was a corridor, and I saw some women walking around dressed like nurses. But the two women who had entered were both in suits: sharp too, though the skirts were a little short. "There she is," said one, and they pulled Caroline to standing. As I watched, I wondered what they were going to do. One of them stood behind Caroline and held her around the waist against herself, and the other one stood in front of Caroline, very close. She put a hand on Caroline's vagina and started moving it, and at the same time, leaned and started licking Caroline's upper lip with her tongue. Caroline just stood there for about a second, but then she said "nooo," and started struggling, though she didn't seem to have the energy to get away from the two women. The two women kept trying for a few seconds, then the one in front of Caroline turned to the open door and said: "Jill!" A nurse came in, holding a syringe. As Caroline continued to struggle, the nurse injected her in the rear. A few seconds later, Caroline collapsed in the arms of the woman holding her, and a couple of nurses put Caroline's arms over their shoulders and dragged her over to a rolling stretcher. I realized one of the women in suits was looking right at me. "What are *you* looking at? This bothering you?" she asked me. I stood there with my mouth open. It was as if I were paralyzed and couldn't answer. The woman then called the nurse again, and the nurse was coming toward me with a syringe. I was lying on my back, looking up at the lights in a corridor. I couldn't move my arms: apparently, I was being restrained. A nurse walked up and looked at me: "She's back," she said. She undid my arms and my legs too, which had apparently also been restrained, and soon she had me sitting up. In front of me were three naked women, all kneeling, facing away from me. In front of each was a kind of meter of some kind. The nurse pulled me to standing and led me to a spot next to the others. There was a meter-like device in front of me, attached to a plastic or rubber protrusion. She had me kneel, and the protrusion was right in front of my face. "Suck," she said. It was like a dildo or something. I put my mouth around it and started sucking. I saw the needle on the meter move as I started sucking. "Good," she added. "Harder." I sucked harder, and the meter rose some more. "Come on, harder!" she added. I did my best. "Keep it up," she encouraged. Another woman behind me said "Harder!" I tried. I felt hands on my body, on my breasts, then down my front to my vagina. They started stroking it, gently. "Harder," she repeated. I got the needle up a little more. I felt her kneel right next to me, practically leaning against my body. "Harder and I'll..." she said, and suddenly her hand vibrated! Just like in the office before. Then the vibration was gone. "Now, harder, and I'll turn it on," she whispered in my ear. I sucked harder--as hard as I could. I got the needle up a little more. I barely felt vibration. "More!" came the whisper. I managed to get the needle up a little more. The vibration increased, just a little. "More! More! Come on, you can do it!" came the voice. I was sucking as hard as I could, I thought, but I managed to get the meter up a little more, and that beautiful feeling continued to increase. "You want it, don't you? Now *more*!" I felt like I was going to explode. I was doing absolutely everything I could. I did manage to edge it just a little higher. "Yes! Now a little more, and I'll turn it all the way up!" It was too much! But this was it: somehow I managed to do just a little more, and suddenly it was like an explosion: I stopped sucking and fell away immediately as the vibrations racked through my body. I sat there, feeling like my heart was going to burst. "Well, that's enough for now," the nurse said. I sat in the cell with Caroline. Our days were simple: off to that machine to suck on, then back to the cell. We didn't talk, though I'm not sure why. We just did what the nurses told us to. But one day was different: I heard the rattling at the door, and it opened. I squinted at the brighter light: the little window in the door didn't let in enough light to keep my eyes used to it. Two men came in the cell. Both naked, except for leather collars around their neck. I recognized one as a guy from our company. "Yesss!" he said, apparently to his friend: "I guess this *is* a reward!" He was looking at me, and then grabbed my hand and started pulling me up. "Hey, this is the prez," said the other one. Then the guy with my hand dropped it and joined his friend at Caroline's bed. I just lay there, watching them. In a minute, they had Caroline on her hands and knees, one of their cocks in her mouth, the other one in her from behind. "Ha, I bet you never thought you'd experience *this*," said the one who'd taken my hand briefly. Soon they were done, and a nurse appeared in the door. She attached leashes to each of their collars and led them out. Caroline had collapsed on the floor, but another nurse pulled her up and attached a collar around her neck and a leash to it, then fastened her hands behind her back with handcuffs of some sort. "Well, I guess we've found a use for *you*", she said to Caroline, and pulled her out. The door shut, leaving me alone. I stood in a little kitchen in one of the office suites. Two secretaries were there with me, making coffee and preparing a doughnut tray. I just stood there, naked. One of the secretaries put a leather collar around my neck and attached a leash to it. Then she fastened my hands together behind my back. Mostly we just waited. A door opened. "We're ready," came the voice of the man poking his head out. The secretaries carried the coffee in. They both returned, one getting the tray of doughnuts, the other taking my leash and leading me in. It was a conference room. Men and women were around the table, apparently having been at a meeting. Some were still sitting and talking, but a few had gathered around the coffee. I was led to a chair at the side of the room and made to kneel. I noticed that Martha was sitting at the conference table. She was dressed really nicely. A couple of the men getting coffee wandered over to where I was kneeling. One of them put down his coffee and sat in the chair in front of me. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. I started sucking immediately. Hard. My training worked well: I came almost immediately.to/erotica/assm/&gt;----&lt;http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13947.txt

Chili Peeler

The Swing Man

"Well, we have been...we've been fucking up a storm out here. And Nikki wants you to join us...I do too," Jonas said, pleased to see Tori's face relax a little. "So, you want Tori, Dad?" Nikki asked with a wink. Tori kept her eyes on his, waiting for his answer. "Definitely," he answered, eyeing her nice breasts. "See, Tori," Nikki said, standing up and walking past Tori's legs toward him. "I told you he'd be hot for you." Nikki pulled her T-shirt over her head, spun naked in front of him, and then sat down on his lap, facing a very interested Tori. Jonas's hands slid around to cup his daughter's lovely breasts almost without thinking. "I don't see any reason to waste any time," Nikki announced. "Come on, Tori...show Dad your body." Tori drank another long pull on the Corona and then stood up, placing the bottle on the table in front of the couch. She was the center of their attention. "Take off your skirt first," Nikki directed her, leaning her head back on his left shoulder as she placed her hands over his. Tori reached behind her, and he saw her pulling down a zipper on the back of the short skirt. Then, she pushed the skirt off her hips, and it pooled around her sandals. Underneath, she was wearing a white thong which didn't leave much to the imagination. Tori looked like she was blushing; a perfectly normal reaction to stripping in front of someone she'd had a crush on and his naked daughter as well. "Now, turn around for us," Nikki continued. Tori spun slowly to give Jonas a nice view of her round buttocks. Her ass was much fuller than Nikki's, and Jonas began to harden under his own daughter's squirming tush as he thought about Nikki telling him Tori was into anal sex as well. Tori looked back at them over her shoulder. Jonas could see the excitement on the young girl's face. "You've got a great ass," Jonas said. "Thanks, Mr. Elliot!" Tori gushed. Jonas began to slowly move his left hand down Nikki's reclining body, and Tori spun until she was facing them again, her eyes on his hand the whole way. "Now, show him your breasts," Nikki said hotly. He could see that Tori was going sans bra today; her stiffening nipples were now much more apparent. Tori hooked her fingers under the stretchy material of her halter and quickly pulled the halter over her head. Her great full breasts were pulled upward with the act and Jonas could tell they were all natural by the way they sloshed back into place. Jonas's hand rode into Nikki's dark muff, and Nikki spread her legs wider in anticipation of his fingers finding their mark. Tori stood before them, pulling at her thimble-sized nipples, as his fingers pulled Nikki's cunt folds open and he worked his middle finger into the center of her exposed pink tissue. "Ahhhhh," Nikki sighed, raising her head from his shoulder to look down her body and then up at her hovering friend. Jonas wasn't sure whether there was some silent communication, but Tori made an excited motion with her hands and fell to her knees between both their legs, her hands falling on Nikki's thighs. Jonas saw the top of Tori's head fall lower, and Nikki let out a strangled cry as he felt Tori's lips and tongue all over the stroking fingers of his left hand. 'It didn't take Tori long to heat up!' Jonas thought, wrapping his left hand further around his daughter's deeply breathing torso and pulling her a little to his right so he could look down her body. His dick threatened to catapult Nikki off his lap when he saw Tori's mouth mashed on his daughter's open pussy cleft, her cute nose pressed into Nikki's forest of pubes. "Oohhhhh...oohhhh......yessss!" Nikki groaned as the two of them worked on her splayed erogenous zone. "Eat her, Tori!" Jonas urged their blonde partner. He saw her eyes look up at him, and she seemed to double her efforts. Jonas could feel her slippery tongue whipping between his fingers, going up and down Nikki's cunt lining. He moved his fingers higher and worked on Nikki's little clit, sending her into a higher octave. "OOOOHHH....OMIGOD.....MMMMMMMM!" she vocalized her unrestrained joy at the way her fantasy was coming true. Jonas watched Tori lift her wet lips from Nikki's pussy, move her small hands to open his daughter's furry sex crease, and then dive back in with her tongue. "OH YEAH....stick that tongue in me!..aaaaaAAAAAHH!" Nikki arched her back, and Jonas held her excited body in place, his right forearm squishing her young breasts while his left hand flattened itself on her lower belly. Nikki's hands reached down to hold Tori's head as she thrust her lap in her friend's face. Jonas just sat there, holding his daughter in his lap as Tori tongued her pussy and her soft ass ground down on his painfully hard erection through his shorts. Nikki could only hold out another minute and a half before she was swept away in a delicious orgasm. "AAAAAAAHH...MMMMHHHHMMM....AAAAGAGGGHH!" Nikki shrieked as she flooded Tori's tongue with spoonfuls of cunt oil, her head tossing back and forth on his shoulder. Jonas could hear Tori sucking and humming down below. Jonas watched Tori finish off his daughter's climax, her mouth munching on Nikki's shuddering twat as she looked up at him. Tori's eyes were wild looking, like she was hyped up on some drug or something. 'Oh, I'm going to enjoy Tori...and my daughter....the rest of the afternoon!' Jonas swore to himself. He'd wanted to swing, but he never thought it would be with his daughter and her friend. It was a beautiful day in Malibu - temperatures up in the high 70's, lots of sunshine. A great day to be outdoors. But no one was outdoors at the Elliot beach house. Not after the way things had kicked off when Tori had arrived. The bedside clock clicked to 3:01, registering in Nikki's subconscious mind through her peripheral vision, but she paid it no notice as she continued going down on Tori's familiar pussy, her tongue repaying her appreciative friend as she lay sprawled on the king-size bed. "Aaahhahaaahhh, Mr. Elliot!" Tori sighed, and Nikki looked up Tori's tummy to see her father squeezing one of Tori's round breasts strongly, his fingers digging into her flesh. Her father was laying by Tori on her right side, watching her munch away and using his hands on Tori's top charms. Her father leaned over and began kissing Tori again, and Nikki concentrated on getting Tori good and ready for him. Her friend's box was tasting very ready at that point, all slippery and oily. Nikki was going to have a front-row seat at Tori's first time with her father, something that Tori had admitted to wanting back when she didn't know what it actually meant to have sex. Nikki worked her tongue into Tori's cunt-mouth, her nose rubbing into Tori's clit-hood. "Oooooooommmmmmm," Tori trilled again, her mouth not occupied with her father's lips. Nikki opened her eyes to see him move his face down and start sucking on Tori's nipples, switching back and forth, back and forth. Tori began slowly writhing under their oral ministrations, her right hand stroking her father's neck as she spread her legs wider for Nikki's mouth. "God, you guys!" Tori gasped as Nikki pulled her tongue from her pink split and replaced it with two of her slender fingers, working them into her friend to the second knuckles. Her father lifted his face from Tori's chest, and the two naughty family members shared a smile. Nikki motioned with her other hand for him to sample her friend's womanhood. "Come on, Dad...69 with her," Nikki suggested. "Let her suck you while you taste this cute thing!" "O.K. with you?" he said, turning his head to Tori. "Mmmmmm, yeah! Let's do it!" Tori readily agreed to Nikki's orchestration of their first three-way. Tori had a little submissive streak in her, and Nikki liked to boss her around once in a while. She could tell Tori to stand on her head and suck her Dad's toes, and Tori might try it just to please her. Not that Tori didn't want to suck her father's cock - Nikki knew she would with a passion. Nikki withdrew her fingers from Tori's slick pussy and pulled her friend's butt lower on the bed as her father raised himself up on his knees beside her.When Tori's head slid off the pillow it had been laying on, her father swung his leg over Tori's head. His thick semi-hard manhood drooped down on Tori's chin as he went to his hands, bringing his face down over Tori's cunt. Nikki looked up between their bodies and saw Tori fist her father's hovering hunk of meat, directing it through her full lips. "Uuuuuhh," her father grunted, looking back under himself to watch Tori begin blowing him. Tori began bobbing her face up at her father's hefty phallus, her hand stroking him also. Nikki could see his cock begin to swell to full hardness, the diameter of his manhood quickly eclipsing that of Tori's chin. 'God, Daddy's a natural!' Nikki thought, watching him begin to slowly fuck through Tori's hand, into her straining mouth. The sight of fellatio excited Nikki almost as much as giving it. Her cunt lips began to tingle as she watched Tori give her father such pleasure. She had to get involved in the action! "Dad?" Nikki said, and her father looked at her, his face hanging between Tori's raised knees. Nikki moved up and kissed him, the two of them swapping tongues as they stood on their hands and knees facing each other. Nikki could feel him humming around her tongue as she Frenched him and Tori gulped on his stiff cock. Nikki loved to kiss her father so deeply; his mustache only reminded her that he was a real man, one that had aged well, one that knew how to satisfy horny young girls like she and Tori. Nikki broke their kiss finally. She used her hands on his shoulders to raise her torso up and scooted closer to him, offering her tits to his mouth. "Suck my tits, Dad," she said hotly as she shoved her left nipple against his mustache. He slurped her small nipple and a good deal of her whole tit into his mouth. Nikki oohed in delight and wrapped her right hand around the back of his head. She could feel his tongue and lips doing such wonderful things to her lust-stiff pap peak. She looked up from watching his mouth work and saw his hips gently rising and falling, Tori's left hand holding his lower back. He was still lightly fucking down into her friend's hand and mouth. "Yeah, fuck her mouth....let me see you really fuck it!" Nikki ordered her father, reveling in the way Tori and she were almost using her father like those others before him. His hips began dipping a little lower and moving a little faster but not enough to satisfy Nikki. "Harder, Dad! Do it harder....fuck her mouth like you're going to fuck her pussy!" Nikki saw him really begin to crank his hips and heard a muffled moan from Tori. 'Oh, I want to see this!' Nikki let her body drop to the right, her young succulent tit coming out of her father's mouth as she lay on her side. Her left hand went to the juicy junction in her own legs as she beheld the hot sight of her father's fat prick flashing in Tori's bulging lips. "Aaaagggghhh!" her father groaned as he pumped away through Tori's fist, deep into her friend's oral cavity. Nikki fingered her horny slit as she drank in every detail. Tori's eyes were closed, her chin tilted slightly back due to her father's longer frame, her thumb was riding along the top side of her father's shaft as she had bent her left arm at the elbow and turned her hand like she was drinking from a soda can. Her father's cock wasn't as big as a soda can but it was close enough. Suddenly, her father jerked himself out of Tori's mouth and tight grip. He got off the bed, breathing heavily, looking down at the two of them. "I felt myself beginning to go," he panted sheepishly. "I need to cool down for a minute." His prick bobbed up and down in front of them. Nikki scooted her body next to Tori, who sat up and wiped off a stream of spit that had run out of the side of her lips during her mouthfuck. "Enjoying it so far?" Nikki said, rubbing Tori's plump mammaries with her left hand. Tori gave a short laugh, not having to express herself beyond that. Nikki began Frenching her, keeping up the erotic-charged atmosphere until her father was ready to join them again. Meanwhile, out on PCH...... Lance Elliot was still fuming as he saw the beach house come into view. He was really going to tell his brother off when he got there. 'The nerve of Jonas!' Lance thought. 'Fucking Carmen behind my back after I let him join us!' Lance had come back from Vegas and Carmen had been in a wild mood, packing her bags. She'd told him how his brother had invited her to the beach house, how he'd told her he'd wanted her to move in with him, how he'd fucked her, and then told her to get the hell out, calling her a whore. Carmen said she wouldn't hang around with him anymore with a brother like Jonas. Lance slowed slightly and turned off PCH, getting a honk from an oncoming car that had had to slow. He slid his Jeep in the gravel and parked it by Jonas's Lexus in a cloud of dust. 'He's here at least,' Lance thought, getting out and walking to the wall gate in a huff. The wall gate was locked. The wall gate was never locked. He shook it hard but it would not budge. Getting madder because his element of surprise was going to be diminished, he pushed the ringer by the gate. Although he couldn't know it, the wiring between the wall ringer and the inside had come undone during the last quake. No doorbell rang inside the house. He stood there a few seconds, then pushed it again. He heard nothing from the house that sounded like a bell ringing. "Maybe the fucker's broken," he muttered, thinking about scaling the wall. The top was covered in bushy vines. Then he remembered he could walk down to the beach access point and just go up to the back of the house. Hell, Jonas could be down on the beach this time of day and not be hearing the bell if it was ringing. He started walking toward the beach access point which was about a block down. "OH, SHIT that feels good!" Tori gasped up at him as he shoved another inch up her heavenly pussy. His daughter was right there, laying beside them, watching him take her friend. No, she was helping him in fact. Nikki's left hand was hooked behind Tori's left knee, holding her leg back and open while his left hand held Tori's right leg back also. With her legs up and back, Tori's blonde-fringed cunt was wide open when he mounted her. He leaned further over her jackknifed form, letting his weight do the work. Another two inches disappeared into the buttery clutch of Tori's sex. "OOOOOHJEESSSUUSSS!" Tori cried, and he felt her pussy clamp down around his deeply buried manhood. Tori arched her back and tossed her head as she came. Just putting it in her, she'd gotten off. "Yeah, oh, yeah!" Nikki cooed and began kissing the side of Tori's face. Jonas knew she had seen Tori get off many times before, so there was no need to announce the obvious. He held himself steady and let young pussy tug and nip at his length as Tori worked herself down from ecstasy. Jonas was happy that she had gotten off. That took a lot of pressure off him - now he could just flay away between her thighs and if he came, it would be no sweat. Just mark it up to the situation. Tori opened her eyes and looked up at him. "God, I couldn't help myself....." she said almost apologetically. "Baby, that's why we're here," Jonas said sweetly, his daughter looking up at him also. "He's gonna get you off again," Nikki promised, pinching one of Tori's substantial nipples. "Well, I'll do the best I can," Jonas hedged. "Don't worry, Mr. Elliot, I'm bound to come again when you start fucking me with that thing." Jonas felt Tori work her vaginal walls around the head of his submerged erection. "Fuck her, Dad," Nikki said shamelessly. "She's all yours." "You heard her, Mr. Elliot," Tori said as she lifted her arms up to him and wiggled her crotch around his impaler, "Fuck me like you fuck your bad daughter!" Jonas fell on the girl, bending her legs back further, eager to grant her wish. He began to fuck her upthrust cunt with hard thrusts. Tori squealed as he skewered her right down to her cervix with his wide manhood, her arms looping around his neck, her mouth falling open. Her tight cunt was paradise, just like Nikki's. 'God, I love fucking these horny girls!' Jonas exalted mentally, plowing Tori's lap with long strokes. Lance finally reached the stairs to the back deck of the beach house and started up. The walk through the sand in his biker boots had been a real haul. He certainly had not dressed for a walk on the beach in his jeans and boots. He reached the upper deck and saw the door leading into the living room was open. He walked past the Jacuzzi before the curtained glass wall of the master bedroom, not hearing the sounds that were coming from it over the surf. He took off his sunglasses and went into the house, finding no one in the kitchen or living room area. Then he heard sounds coming from the hallway. He hung his sunglasses in the front of his tanktop as he walked into the foyer, still wanting to see the look on his brother's face when he appeared before him and began chewing him out. "AHHHHH....MMMMMHHMMM....AAAH!" Lance stood stock-still when he heard those sounds coming down the hall at him. 'Christ! Jonas is screwing someone else....what kind of a monster have I created?!' Lance thought, his anger changing to curiosity. "AAAHFUCKMEHARDER!" 'Man, he's got a screamer back there!' Lance smiled, listening further. It sure wasn't Stella, that he could tell from the voice. The woman getting fucked sounded...younger?? "MR.ELLIOT!....OHGODDDD!" 'Mr. Elliot?' Lance thought, 'Who the hell is he screwing? A secretary? A neighbor girl?' Lance had to get a peek.Lance slid along the hall wall until he was near the doorway to the bedroom. He leaned his head out to look crossways through the door and froze, in surprise and fright. Fright because there was another girl in bed with Jonas and the girl getting fucked; this second girl was laying on her side on the far side of the rutting couple, her face looking right in the direction of the door. All the second girl had to do would be to raise her eyes from the face of the girl getting fucked and she'd be looking right at him. Surprise because it was his niece, Nikki! She was watching her father fuck someone! And she was naked as well! "Don't move...if you don't move, you should be O.K.," Lance told himself. He knew movement attracted the eye and Nikki would have to actually focus on the hallway if she were going to see him. And she looked too wrapped up in the action to do that. "Damn, Jonas has dipped into the family to get his kinks!...little Nikki, who would have thought?.....Jonas must be poking her as well!....this is swinging to the Nth degree!" Lance could only see the top of the girl getting fucked, a short-haired blonde with a decent pair of tits, most of her legs pushed back at her head, Nikki's face, and Jonas's arms and chest. A lamp blocked the view of Jonas's face. "OH....OOOHHH.....I'MCUMMMMING!" the blonde shrieked loudly. She began writhing and moaning, her thighs visibly trembling as they were pushed back even further. "Fuck her right through it!" his niece said hotly, looking up at her father. "Fuck her little cunt!...oh, that's it Daddy!" 'God damn, listen to Nikki!' Lance thought, his cock beginning to swell in his jeans. He was thinking about his pampered niece in a carnal fashion now - hell, if Jonas could do her, so could he! Carmen was forgotten. "UUUGGH...I'm close!" Lance heard his brother grunt. "Come on her tits...I want to see you shoot on her tits!" Nikki said excitedly. "Tori, hold them for him!" Lance saw Jonas dropping Tori's legs to the side and the twitching girl dropped her hands from Jonas's forearms to push her juggs together. Jonas's knees quickly straddled Tori's torso, a hand full of crimson cock dipped over the heaving bosom and SPLAT - a long spurt of cum flew out of the cock, hitting way up on Tori's open mouth, the tail falling on her chin. "UUGGGHHHH!" Jonas groaned. "OH YEAH!" Nikki cried. Lance saw the cock-hungry expression on Nikki's face as she watched her father whack off a series of small spurts on Tori's round tits. His brother coated both fat nipples of the blonde girl with numerous shots of seed and even poured some down her cleavage. Lance had to give it to his brother - a girl knew he'd been there when he was done. Finally, the deed was done. The last straw was watching Nikki suck her father's cock into her mouth. Lance stood up and walked into the bedroom. Nikki was lovingly cleaning her father's prick with her mouth with her eyes closed, hoping that he might keep his starch. After watching Tori get it, her own pussy was ready for some more taboo fucking. Suddenly her father was leaping off the bed, his cockhead scraping through her teeth. "LANCE, wha..." her father started. Nikki opened her eyes to see her uncle standing there! Tori raised up in front of her, took one look at the longish-haired stranger, screamed and ran toward the bathroom. "CALM DOWN EVERYONE!" Lance shouted, a smile splitting his face. "Are you by yourself?" Nikki heard her father ask, very concerned. "Yes..you old devil!" Lance clapped a hand on her father's shoulder. Nikki saw her father noticeably relax. "Hope I didn't take too many years off your life there.....not when you got this going on." Her uncle's eyes came to her. Nikki was over the shock of the intrusion and saw her opportunity to complete her family affair. She'd always intended to try Uncle Lance too - and now here he was, ogling all her charms openly in front of her father. She got on her knees and walked on them toward the side of the bed where her uncle and father stood, giving her uncle a good look at her slinky form. She got off the bed, gave her uncle a wink and headed to the bathroom to calm Tori down. Behind her, she heard the two brothers talking in low tones and felt the eyes of her uncle caressing her wiggling rear. She found Tori clutching a towel around herself in the bathroom. "Nikki, who is that?!" she whispered in a panic. "That's Uncle Lance!" Nikki said, standing in the doorway so she was still visible to her uncle. "From the desert." She saw understanding come into Tori's eyes. "God, you're kidding," Tori exhaled. "I thought he was some Manson biker dude." Tori sat down on the toilet, calming down. "I'm going to leave you with Dad for a while," Nikki said, looking at the two gentlemen. "Now that Uncle Lance knows, he's gonna want to join in ... I think Dad will understand if I take Lance down the hall. Promise that you'll keep Dad happy while I'm gone." "Take your time, Nikki. Your Dad is great." She gave Tori a wink and walked back toward her father and uncle, naked and proud. Her father turned when he sensed she was behind him and she pushed her body into him, looking at Lance. "You have a chance to explain things, Dad?" she asked sweetly. "Well, not all the details but Lance is pretty much filled in." "Good...he's like us, Dad." "You got that right, Kiddo!" Lance said, a big bulge in his jeans. He used to call her Kiddo when she was young and him using it now excited Nikki more. Then her father did something unexpected - he pushed her toward her uncle. She looked up at his face and read it all in a second. He was cool with Lance joining in. Nikki stopped and leaned up to kiss her father, whispering in his ear, "I'll always love you the best." Then she turned, took Lance by the hand and led him toward the guest bedroom. Jonas stood there a moment and then walked to the bathroom. "Hi, Mr. Elliot....everything O.K.?" Tori asked, a towel wrapped around her body as he turned from looking at herself in the mirror. "Yeah....everything's fine." He smiled at the young girl, relaxing her. In his mind, everything was fine. Yeah, he was getting divorced. Yeah, it would cost him a lot of money. Yeah, he'd have to share Nikki with Lance from now on. But there was a lot of exciting days and nights with Nikki and Tori ahead....and with other women once he started to swing in earnest. "Tori...how would you like to take a shower with me?" Her smile was genuine. The End....................for now.

Part 8

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11140.txt

Lord Malinov

At Home

"Mommy!" "Just a minute," Diana said, putting aside her coffee mug and rising from the floor. I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Mommy!" the young voice wailed from the other room. "I'll be right there," Diana shouted, her voice erupting from the depths of her lungs, startling me with the sudden burst of sound. "Mommy," the young boy repeated monotonously, seemingly oblivious to his mother's emphatic promise of attention. Diana left me to attend to the matter. "Thomas?" she said, bending down toward the small boy. Diana's voice had shifted in a matter of seconds to the reassuring lilt of an adoring mother. Stretched out on our family room floor, I leaned back on my arms, watching my pretty wife kneel down to adjust the wooden railroad that vexed our youngest son. Her pigmented blue jeans filled out roundly as Diana bent low to the carpet. My appetite for her had been growing apace since my playful sleepmate awoke me with the brush of a bare breast on my slumbering lips, and I felt my hunger thicken by degrees as I stared at the blue moon of her well-lifted bottom. "All right, now," the young mother said, rising again from the floor, her fingers gently brushing down the white rings of soft hair on the small child's head. A grin crossed my face. How gladly I would tickle hers, those diminutive wisps of gold curled against her lap. Diana teasingly raised her brows as she caught my gaze, easily reading my lascivious thoughts. Her hips swayed playfully as she walked. Sunlight sparkled in golden streams through her hair when Diana strolled past our kitchen window. "Everything back on track?" I asked, suddenly distracted by the bulge of her fluid breasts bouncing in andante my way. "Behind schedule," Diana said, smiling, "but on line." "That's no way to run a railroad," I insisted dogmatically as my wife sat down beside me. I turned to kiss her, bumping her coffee as she lifted it up. An amorphous drop of the tepid liquid splashed onto her cotton sleeve. "Sorry," I said, wiping her arm with a small grey sock that had been hiding partly under the sofa behind us. Diana smiled. "It's all right," she said sweetly. "This blouse is already a mess." Diana pointed out the smear of chocolate on her shoulder and the brush of red mud below her left breast. "I'll gladly trade a stain for a kiss," Diana said with a coy smirk that often accompanied her elegantly forward approach. I leaned forward again, more carefully and touched my lips to hers. "Mommy!" another boy hollered. Diana looked back toward the train station. I lifted myself off the floor, rapidly anticipating her next move. "My turn," I said. Diana nodded and took another sip of lukewarm coffee. "I need to heat this up," she said and followed me into the kitchen. "Daddy," the older of the boys whined, seeing me approach. "Curtis," I said as I knelt by the track. "You can't do that without one of these." I reached into a large cardboard box for a small piece of track. "You see?" I asked, pushing the grooved wooden flat into the gap, finishing the circle of track. "Better?" "Play with me?" Curtis asked. I mussed his yellow-blonde hair as I stood. "Maybe later, buddy. I'm trying to play with your mother right now." "Mmm," said Diana as I turned around and into her arms. She looked up into my eyes. "I'm so glad you stayed home today." Diana paused with an expression of concern. "You won't get in trouble for playing hooky will you?" she asked. I tickled her waist. "You weren't much concerned about getting me in trouble when you teased me into staying home," I chided. Diana flashed a familiar, blue-eyed "who me?" gaze. "Don't give me that," I said, tickling her with greater ferocity. "Stop," Diana laughed. "You knew what you were doing. Don't deny it." I squeezed her bottom with a rogue's hand and brought her body close. Diana shut her eyes to kiss me. "I don't want you to get into any trouble," she said softly, touching her lips to mine. "I do," I said, lifting her slightly to meet my hungry mouth. "I love trouble." My hands quickly roamed, finding the softness of her stained left breast as I turned Diana against the kitchen counter and kissed her hungrily. "Daddy!" Thomas said from the other room. I selfishly ignored the child's plea. "Daddy!" he wailed again and walked in behind us. "What do you want, Tommy?" I asked, a little exasperated by the intrusion. "Popsicle?" the toddler asked, smiling sweetly. "Curtis? Do you want a Popsicle, too?" "Red one," said Thomas. "Red one, red one, red one, red one." "Green one," said Curtis, walking into the kitchen, "green one." "Sorry Curtis," said Diana, pulling the thin box from the freezer. "I have red and purple." "Red one!" said Thomas. "Red," said Curtis. Diana stripped the white paper wrapping from the two rocket-shaped shards of colored ice and handed one to each of the boys. Taking hold of the yellowish stick, Curtis touched the cherry-red treat to his cherry-red tongue. "Mmmm," he said, taking another lick. "Stay in the kitchen with those," said Diana in a serious voice. I wandered back toward the family room, hoping to lead my wife astray. She quickly followed, leaving the boys to their frozen pops. "It never ends," Diana said, folding her leg under as she sat down on the sofa. I took the place beside her and rubbed her denim thigh. "It doesn't matter," I said. "I just get so frustrated," said Diana, laying her head back as my fingers travelled her jean's stiff folds. "I can't even steal a moment for myself." "Mmm," I said, still stroking her lean thigh. "I can help." Diana frowned for a second. "You do help," she said. "I don't know what I want. Just a moment to indulge." I squeezed the muscle of her leg. "So tense," I said. "Oh," Diana murmured. I let my fingers drift down to tease the tight band of her calf. "That's sweet." "What you need," I said, slipping off the sofa so that I rested just below my wife. "What you need," I repeated and I softly kissed the lap of her jeans. "What I need," Diana said faintly. "Mom!" screamed Anna from the top of the stairs. I wrapped my arms around Diana's waist and kissed her nipple through several layers of clothing. A stiffness developed below as my lips nibbled the gentle curve of flesh. "Mom!" our daughter yelled again. "What?" called Diana in reply. I pushed myself away from my wife reluctantly. Anna appeared in the doorway. "Can I have . . . ," she began to ask, stopping before she reached the point. "We're going to have lunch in a minute," Diana said. "But why did the boys get Popsicles?" "I know," said the girl's mother, standing and moving out of my reach. "But I'll fix some macaroni. How's that?" "Yeah!" said Anna with sincere delight. At seven, she seemed a perfect reflection of her mother, transported through time. Long golden hair flowed past their shoulders like July sunlight, while a glance from either girl's limpid blue eyes took away any semblance of control I pretended to exert. Though perhaps master by title, I am only a pawn to my queens. "Let me fix lunch," said Diana apologetically to me. I nodded in understanding and watched my wife move while the pans clattered and the water ran. Lunch proceeded like the feeding at a circus, the kitchen echoing with childish growls, squeals, barks and howls. I ate my sandwich calmly, helping to oversee the small beasts while they fed, keeping them perched on their chairs with their food sloppily shifting from plate to fork to face. Diana walked and turned and walked again the circle of six steps from sink to stove to table to refrigerator and back again a thousand times while the cubs asked for one thing after another. I laughed aloud when they finally excused themselves and left me alone for an instant with my wife. We sighed relief in the short lull in our constant storm. The squall quickly returned. "Mommy!" each called out in turn for no apparent reason other than to interrupt my story. I shooed them away. Finally bored with the game, Anna and Curtis went next door to play. Thomas fell asleep on the sofa, watching some simple childish show on the television. I left the table as the first real moments of silence struck. "Come here, pretty," I whispered lecherously, crooking my finger at Diana and I started up the stairs. "Sure," said Diana, pushing in a chair and picking up the basket of clean clothes she had left on the landing. She put the laundry at the foot of our bed and leapt onto the comforter."Listen," I said, crawling beside Diana and nonchalantly fiddling with the button atop her jeans. She fell back onto the bed, readily exposing the brass nub to my awkward manipulations. I worked the metal piece through the thick denim crevice, unleashing the waist of Diana's jeans. "Do you hear that?" I said, cocking my head. "What?" she asked, pushing her head up again, concerned. "No kids," I said, pulling at her zipper. Diana giggled and wiggled as I kissed her soft belly, gently yanking down on her pants. She lifted her bottom as I peeled the denim skin past her hips and along her lean thighs. Black satin covered the valley between. I teased the slick fabric with a stretch of my tongue, kneading the furrows below with familiar blindness. "Time for dessert?" I asked, pulling at the waistband of her panties, kissing her golden floss. "Lick the plate clean," Diana purred. My tongue tickled her lips as I nuzzled in close, pressing her legs wide apart. I indulgently drank in the musk of her damp cunt, teasing her pink swelling lips with a thick swipe, pausing to watch as the water seeped from within. Diana's clit pushed upward to beg my attention, lifted full against my mouth from below. I cupped the firm swells of her ass in my hands, pulling her hard against my warm tongue. Diana moaned and lifted her shirt to fondle her rigid brown nipples. My prick ached as I stepped up the rhythm of licking, excited to taste her cunt's river bed, taking guidance in the force of her breath, the arch of her back, catching glimpses above as she squeezed her tits hard. I fingered her ass easily, the path drenched with her juice, and Diana twisted to provoke more excitations while I licked her clitoris wet after a long dip in her well. "Mmm," she said, probably biting her lip. I heard a faint call from outside and below. I hurried; licked her cunt harder, drove deeper, pushed faster, digging my short nails in her fleshy ass cheeks, anxious to finish the act before the curtain came crashing down. Diana squirmed and moaned lowly, bucking the beat. I licked fiercely, frightened by the sound of soft steps methodically mounting the stairs. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Diana shouted, grabbing my hair, pulling me nearly into her widened cunt. I licked desperately and with a sudden nervous howl, the shudders within Diana played over my buried fingers. "Yes," Diana cried out, pouring slick lust over my jaw. "Mommy," a small voice called. "Yes," Diana squealed, letting my tongue take one more long slip along her deep gorge. "Mommy," the young boy yelled. The door knob rattled. "Yes," she said pleased, pulling me up to her smile for a sloppy kiss. Diana scooted off the bed and I watched as she quickly squeezed her ripe ass into the blue denim shell. "Mommy," Thomas groaned painfully. Diana opened our door to discover the distraught child. She gave the child a hug. "It's all right," she said, in a soothing sweet voice. "Juice," he whined mercilessly. "Orange juice." "All right," the young mother said, lifting her son up in her arms. She offered me a wry smile. My prick throbbed painfully as she vanished down the stairs. "Someday," I said, picking myself up. "I'll go crazy." "Mom, we're home," another voice called as the front door burst open. I sat up, my heart still thumping. I licked my damp lips, savoring the lost moment's memory and then with a sigh of resignation, I tried to turn my thoughts toward other things; of ships and strings and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9416.txt

Corn53

Jemma: Photo Session

"Let's fix your hood, Jemma. You have such pretty hair, we want to see it," Bill said while adjusting my blindfold under my hood. Then he pulled the hood off. "Try this one on her," another voice said. "We can pull those cute ponytails through it." It fit like a loose ski mask with a slit on either side. They pulled my pigtails with the purple angora ribbons through the holes. I could flip my head back and forth and make my pigtails fly around to my nose. "This looks really cute, Jemma, with your hair sticking out the sides of your new hood. Let me help you get dressed now, sweetie," said the other voice. "Sit down while I help you put these thigh-high hose and high heels on." "But I'm not wearing any clothes," I reminded them, "and besides, I have trouble walking in high heels." "Let me help you with this nightie, Jemma," said Bill. "Your tan lines will show up great through the sheer material." "What am I supposed to do, Bill?" I asked as he helped me get into the nightie. It was open in front, came down almost to my waist, and seemed to have a ruffle around the edge. Bill told me it was white to match my hose. "Jemma, all you have to do is walk around. The photographers will get lots of pictures. Don't worry about what to do. They might tell you how to pose and when to take off your nightie," he explained. "This is a perfect size for you," Bill said, kneeling in front of me. He traced his finger across the tops of my legs from hip to hip, to show how far down my nightie went. It didn't even reach down all the way to the top of my slit. It was about two inches above it. "Your little white slit is perfect, Jemma. This outfit will drive the judges crazy. They're gonna love watching you wobble around in these high heels with your pointy white breasts showing clearly through your nightie. Your tan lines almost make it look like you're wearing panties, except they will see your tight little lips. Let's go." We walked out onto a stage. I could see flashes as I wobbled out holding onto Bill's arm. He let me go, and I continued wobbling around. They had me hold open my nightie, which was tied at the neck, and walk around again. "See if you can squat down on your heels, Jemma," said one of the judges. I did this quickly and almost lost my balance because of the high heels. We all laughed as I recovered. "Such a beautiful little slit, isn't it?" someone commented. "Her tiny pink inside flaps are so small and delicate." "Perfect," said someone else. "So pink. I'm going to sign up for her 'tasting.'" "Want me to show you some of my cheerleading exercises?" I asked, eager to please. "That's a great idea, Jemma," said several of the judges and photographers. I could stand and touch my toes even with the high heels. I did various standing and sitting stretches, feeling complimented by the flashing camera lights. They especially liked the hands and knees stretch when I extended one leg at a time out, up and as high as possible behind me. "Stay on your hands and knees and see how far you can lower your head," the directions continued. "Put your knees a little farther apart. That's it. Good girl, Jemma. Your little fanny is so cute. Your hole is such a light pink, we can hardly see it." "Maybe I could stretch it open a little bit wider so you could see it better. Want me to try?" I asked. "Good idea," said one of the judges, obviously pleased. With the lights flashing through my hood, I let my shoulders rest on the floor and put my hands on my fanny and pulled my cheeks apart even farther. "How's that?" I asked. "Excellent!" said several men. "Take off the nightie now, Jemma, and do some more stretching." After a few stretches, I asked if I could take off the high heels and do some jumps. They thought that would be fine. I did cartwheels, jumping jacks, side twists, jogging in place, and some of the other exercises we used to practice. I sat on the floor with legs straight and wide apart, with palms together over my head. I leaned to touch one foot at a time. "You getting all this on the video, Mark?" someone asked. "I love the way her firm, little, white titties are bouncing." "Every cute little move, jiggle, and stretch. Wouldn't miss a minute," answered Mark. "She should get a whole video of her own when we edit this." I felt so proud of myself. "Want to stretch some more on the table for us, Jemma?" "OK, sure. What do you want me to do?" as they led me down off the stage and lifted me to a padded table. I laid on my back on a towel, surrounded by the judges. "Go ahead and touch yourself now, Jemma, like you want to make yourself tingle inside," suggested one of the men beside me. "Like this?" as I began massaging my own breasts. More flashes. "Here's a challenge for you, Jemma. See if you can touch your front hole and back hole at the same time," dared one of the men by my elbow. "Bet you can't do it." "I bet I can, because I've done that at home. I could even put a finger in each one at the same time! Want to see?" I said, accepting their dare. "Yes!" said most of the judges who were crowding around me. "First I want to put my finger in my mouth to make it slippery. OK?" and not waiting for permission put my right forefinger in my mouth, coating it with lots of spit. I rolled over on my tummy, lifted my hips, spread my legs about a foot apart, put my right hand over my fanny and began making little circles on my fanny hole. My left hand went under me, between my legs and right into my slit, going into the front hole about an inch. Now my back hole was wet, and I pushed my wet finger in almost all the way. "I'll show those guys," I thought to myself, plunging both fingers in and out. Flashes of light told me they were impressed. "Her little fanny is almost a foot off the table," someone noted, appreciating how limber I was. "I know another way to do it, too. Want to see?" I asked into the towel. "Oh, Yeah." "Please do." and other words of encouragement. I pulled out my fingers and rolled over onto my back, lifted my legs and went on up into a shoulder stand. Then I slowly lowered my legs till my knees were almost next to my head. I put my arms between my legs with elbows on the backs on my knees in a yoga-like posture. Then I put my right forefinger into my mouth again to get it really wet, reached up between my legs, and slid it into my 'back hole,' as they called it. It went all the way in in this position. As I slid my other finger into my now wet pussy, I heard the judges shuffling around by my head for a better view. "Let the camera get closer," someone said as I continued to finger myself, beginning to enjoy the stimulation, as well as the attention. "She's gonna love the Vibrator Table." "I'll bet she likes the Anal Catch Game." "Can't wait to taste her. Look how juicy she is already." "It's going to be fun massaging her on the Oil Table," and more stimulating comments which were getting me even more excited, and looking forward to the rest of the 'Contests.' "The tan lines make it look almost like she's wearing panties. Doesn't it Fred?" "And those firm little titties stick straight out in any position," and more comments with each change of position. Those men made me feel so pretty."We're going to check your muscle tone, Jemma," added a familiar voice, although I didn't know his name. "And your skin tone, after we sprinkle powder all over you." Several of the judges seemed to be following me from contest to contest. "We're going to put you up on this table, Jemma, on these soft towels. Then we'll sprinkle powder all over and lightly tickle every square inch of your skin, to test the tightness," added Bill as he helped me up, along with other helpful hands. "Stay on your hands and knees for the first part." Without any further directions, several men started sprinkling powder and 'tickling' it all over me. They covered every square inch, like Bill said they would, but of course, some of my square inches got lots more testing than others! I was noticing the different "touch" of each of the judges - their hands felt different on me - surface roughness, size, degree of gentleness, etc. I liked them all. Each one felt great. One judge was new - big calloused hands with such a light touch. He liked to stand behind me and knead my fanny like it was bread dough. After about ten minutes, the powder had worked into me - or rubbed off - whatever. Anyway, I only changed positions once - from my hands and knees to flat on my back. They even did my face. Each of the judges took turns kissing me to determine the firmness of my lips. They put my legs straight up in the air and tickled them up and down - toes to fanny, while I held my legs up with my toes pointed. I hardly talked at all during this contest, just enjoying the sensations. If this was like getting a massage, like they talked about on TV, it was great. Nobody put fingers 'in' me during the powder part of this contest. Everybody gave my skin tone a score, as if I was in a diving or gymnastics event. "10" "8" "10" "9" and so on. Then they helped me back to my hands and knees and began putting oil on me - long, squeezing motions - sometimes closer to pinching. It felt good, too. Bill asked me if I was OK since I was quiet. "It just feels so good," I told him. With all the oil on their hands, they began slipping their fingers deeper and deeper into me. At first I thought it was accidental when they massaged over my pussy or anus, but each time - a little deeper. I noticed that I was leaning into the pressure of their fingers and not leaning away. They must have noticed, too, because I heard some whispered comments like, "She's gonna like the next contest." "Look how she leans back onto my finger. Must like it." I didn't care. They didn't know who I was, as Bill pointed out between each contest, encouraging me to just enjoy the evening. I almost drooled when the big callused finger slid into my bottom while someone else's finger was all the way in my pussy and two other men were massaging my breasts. The hands and knees position gave them all access and made my breasts more pliable - pointing down - two inches - towards the table top. "Ohhh," I moaned quietly, as the big finger slid slowly into my bottom. All too quickly I had to lay flat on my back again, which always seemed to make my breasts lose what little definition they had. This time I put my knees up so they could reach more of me. It still felt good, of course, but was not as sensuous as the hands and knees position. Bill said I got excellent scores on the skin tone and muscle tone event as we left.

Part 2 of 4

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11764.txt

Phillip Stevens

Rachel's Curse

"R-R-Rachel," Paul repeated breathlessly, feeling the intense pain of the bullet wound. Rachel suddenly stopped. She was completely shocked. He called her Rachel. No one except Paul had called her Rachel since their wedding. "What did you say?" she said sternly, pointing the gun at him once more. She was quite prepared to put more than one bullet in him to make sure she killed him. "Rachel. It's me. It's Paul," he said, looking around blindly because he still had tape over his eyes. His voice was already faltering as he fought the immense pain. In that instant, Rachel felt a level of shock that she had never felt before. She just stood there frozen, unable to move or speak. "R-Rachel," Paul repeated, "It's me, Paul. Come on, let me go." Rachel was finally shaken out of her trance. "He's trying to trick me," Rachel thought, "He knows about the curse and now he wants me to let him go." After spending days grieving, she was utterly convinced that her lover was lying in a coma and the man responsible was sitting right in front of her. She raised the gun again, with the emotional side of her saying that she should kill him before he tried to fool her anymore with his lies. That had been another reason why Rachel gagged him in the first place. She didn't want Jeff Morton to play any mind games with her, stating that Paul begged for it, or something like that. "Paul's in the hospital. You put him there," Rachel yelled at him. "N-No. We switched. Rachel, listen to me. I've got your curse as well," Paul replied, "I got it when we got married. That's why we didn't switch. Rachel, I've been looking for you for weeks. Rachel, I love you." Rachel sought to internally ignore what he was saying. She tried to raise the gun again, but she knew straight away that she would not be able to shoot him if there was even the slightest possibility that he could be her lover. She toyed with what she should do. Finally, she could stand it no more. She walked up to the man in front of her and ripped off the tape around his eyes. He gave a soft cry in pain. His forehead was already hot, and he was beginning to sweat. She had trained as a nurse years ago, and she knew his wound was serious. After all, she was trying to kill him. Paul blinked his eyes open slowly. He was already beginning to fall into shock. The light hurt his eyes because his irises were so dilated from the dark. He squinted his eyes as he looked up and saw Rachel standing over him. It was the most welcome sight he had seen in weeks. But what wasn't so welcoming was the fact that Rachel was holding a gun to his face with both hands. Paul opened his eyes wider as his eyes adjusted to the light. When he could open them completely, their eyes locked. Rachel looked deep into his eyes, "Oh my god," she said as her jaw dropped. A part of her had still been thinking that this was a trick. She was expecting to be looking into the eyes of a murderer. But as their eyes locked, she saw the soul of her lover behind the face. She slowly lowered the gun, and it fell from her hands. Rachel quickly pulled off the tape around his arms and his legs. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but instead looked at his chest and saw him bleeding profusely. She brought her hands up to her head as she began to realize exactly what she'd done. Instead of shooting her lover's attacker, she just shot her lover with what could be a fatal shot. Her nurse training kicked in instantly. She ripped up some clothes and made a makeshift bandage and tied it around Paul's chest. Although she looked calm, internally she was in a state of absolute panic as the consequences of her actions were beginning to sink in fully. When she finished the bandage, she quickly inspected the wound. Her aim had been lousy. She had been aiming for his chest, but she had hit him in the abdomen, and the bullet had passed right through him. Rachel knew this would give Paul at least a fighting chance. Even so, she recognized that such a wound was very life-threatening if Paul did not get urgent medical treatment. He needed to go to a hospital right now. Rachel paced up and down the room a few times. "What could she do," she thought to herself. She couldn't take him to a hospital because he's in Jeff Morton's body. She was going to have to take care of him here. But she was no surgeon, only a nurse. Still, she knew she had no option. She walked over to Paul and dragged his chair over the bed. Although she was in a strong male body and Paul had lost some weight in Jeff Morton's body, he was still too heavy for Rachel to lift, so when the chair was beside the bed, she did her best to push him onto the bed. There was blood everywhere. She removed her gloves and then set about doing everything required to save Paul's life. Paul had remained silent until now as he slipped deeper and deeper into shock. But despite his condition, he opened his eyes and forced a smile as he watched his lover tend to his wound. "It's good to see you," Paul croaked, his voice faltering. Rachel stopped for an instant and looked over. She tried to answer back, but she couldn't speak, so she just smiled. Tears were rolling down her male cheeks. How could she have been so stupid? Her rage and her hatred had blinded her to any other possibility. As far as she had been concerned, there was absolutely no doubt in her mind as to who was responsible. But she was wrong, and now her lover is dying because of it. Rachel continued to work tirelessly, using anything she could find as a surgical bandage or implement. Neither Paul nor Rachel spoke. Rachel struggled to keep her focus. She knew that in order to concentrate, she had to put everything she's just done out of her mind. Eventually, she knew she had done everything she possibly could. It was up to Paul's body to do the rest. Then she knelt down beside the bed, taking Paul's hand in hers. Rachel reached up to put a hand on Paul's face. As she did this, she covered his face in his own blood. The sight of this caused her emotions, which Rachel had struggled to hold back, to finally break through. "I'm sorry," Rachel sobbed, before breaking into a cry. "It's not your fault," Paul gasped out, trying to reassure Rachel. Although Rachel had shot him, none of that mattered. He was finally reunited with his lover. "I-I-I thought you w-were..." Rachel fought to explain. "It's okay," Paul said as he coughed slightly, "You're not to blame. I forgive you," he coughed once more. Paul was feeling so sleepy. He closed his eyes. "Hey, wake up," Rachel shook him. He was in shock, and she couldn't allow him to sleep right now. Rachel succeeded in waking him up briefly, but he just looked at Rachel, smiled and said "I love you", before closing his eyes again. He could feel Rachel shaking him as he completely lost consciousness.Paul struggled to explain. Although it probably wasn't the most appropriate thing to say, this had been the first thing Paul wanted to say to Rachel, to explain who he really was. He had rehearsed what he would say so many times that his mind was just on automatic. "I know, I know," Rachel said, stopping him. "During the night, I found that letter. Then I finally managed to get into that computer over there. I read your story. I know what happened to you," Rachel kissed his hand, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." Paul tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but the pain of his wound stopped him from moving at all. "Ow," he cried as Rachel helped him move. "Hey. How close did I come to... dying?" Paul said, remembering his weird dream about floating in water. "Close," Rachel replied, but she didn't tell him that it was quite literally at death's door just after he passed out. Several times during the night, Rachel thought she was going to lose him when he would get better one minute, then deteriorate the next. But as the sun began to rise, Paul finally started to pull through. But it had been the longest night of her life. She felt feelings of guilt and anguish on a scale that she never thought possible. She couldn't even imagine how she could possibly live with herself had Paul died. Paul looked up at Rachel. Her eyes were red from crying, and she clearly needed sleep. He knew that Rachel never did that much crying when male, so she'd clearly been making up for it recently. The nightmare they had both been living these past few weeks was finally over. But Paul's mind was instantly turned to the future. He realized that it wasn't all over yet. In fact, there was still a hell of a lot to be done. They were both currently in male bodies, and he was still in the body of a wanted serial killer. "Rachel. What are we gonna do about..." he started to say. "Shhhhh. Don't worry about that. First, you need to get better. We're together now. We can worry about all that later. I'll take care of everything. I'll never let anyone hurt you again," Rachel reassured him. Although they were both in male bodies, Rachel was still playing the male role, partly because she had been male for so long, but also because she still felt blame for the whole situation. However, Paul relented. It didn't matter at all which body they were in now. They were together again, and that was all that counted. Rachel reached down and gave her lover a long hug. Paul did his best to return the hug given his debilitating position, and the two lovers remained in this embrace as they both cried in happiness. ONE YEAR LATER Paul and Rachel relaxed on the sofa as they continued to watch the newscast. "...and so nearly a year to the day after he was arrested, Jeff Morton was sentenced to Death by Lethal Injection by Judge Franks. This brought to a conclusion a bizarre sequence of events. The judge also paid special thanks to Rachel Wilkins without whom this man might have never been caught." "For those that don't remember, Rachel Wilkins was the woman who escaped from Jeff Morton, but was knocked down by a car as she tried to run away. She was taken to the hospital where she fell into a deep coma. Her husband Paul Wilkins disappeared out of grief. When he returned some weeks later, Rachel emerged from her coma the next day." The new Paul interrupted at this point, "You know, I'm sure that witch had something to do with that. The doctors told me that 'you' would have virtually no chance of recovering, but the day after we get back to tidy things up, 'he' makes an amazing recovery. It was too convenient." "Yeah. I think you're right," the new Rachel replied, "Maybe she found out what happened, realized she's partly to blame, so tried to put things right by healing this body," as she gestured to her own body, now fully healed. Paul was going to say something, but the TV program was continuing, so they both looked on interested. The newsreader continued. "For the first day, Rachel seemed to be in denial of who she was as her husband comforted her, but the next day, Jeff Morton broke into the hospital despite the police presence. He temporarily overpowered Rachel's husband and tried to finish the job he had started with Rachel. He raped her, but fortunately Rachel's husband recovered and was able to knock him unconscious before he could complete his task and ultimately kill her." Rachel interrupted, "Well, that's the... official version of what happened," she laughed as she thought back to how much of a risk they had taken by sneaking her into the hospital so she could switch back. Switching back with Jeff Morton was not part of the original plan. They had returned to Denver to tidy things up, then they were going to disappear together, find a new female body and live their lives in happiness. But when Jeff Morton recovered, they felt they had to take this opportunity. But had she been caught before they switched back, she could have been the one on Death Row instead of him. Still, everything turned out okay. The newsreader continued, "When Jeff Morton was being dragged away by police, he offered little resistance largely because of a recent gunshot wound. He had to be seen by doctors immediately. Police were puzzled as to who shot him and how well the wound had been tended to." Rachel winced at the memory of how much being shot had actually hurt and how well her lover had tended her for days afterwards. "During his trial, Jeff Morton made wild claims about waking up in the hospital as Rachel. Prosecutors dismissed this as a desperate attempt to claim insanity, and the jurors agreed." "But the most crucial and damning piece of evidence was the videotape later found. On this tape, he confesses to killing numerous women although he mentions no names. During the trial, Jeff Morton denied ever making that recording, despite the overwhelming visual evidence." Rachel once again interrupted, "Hey, you know, even after what he did to me, I feel a bit guilty there. I made that confession, yet it put him on Death Row." "Well, don't," Paul replied, "He's a cold-blooded murderer. We saved a lot of other innocent women by making sure he was convicted. He's getting exactly what he deserves." The news item finished soon afterwards, and the new Paul switched off the TV with the remote and beckoned his wife to join him closer on the sofa. The new Rachel relaxed into her husband's arms as they cuddled up together. "You know, we can switch back whenever we want now with Janet's help. We don't have to wait until our anniversary," Paul said. "I know," Rachel replied, "But we said we'd swap back every two years, and we will. That witch was right. I don't mind being Rachel so much now." Rachel comforted herself in her husband's arms as she thought to herself that she would switch back with her husband again. She now had no problems living as a woman, but she still looked forward to when she would be male again. But at this point, things were so happy for her. Paul had returned to work, and things were back to normal. A few film producers that were interested in making her story into a movie had even approached them, and Rachel had started writing about her ordeal. Of course, she had to make some drastic changes to the real version of events, but it was giving her something to do while Paul was at work. There was a part of Rachel that was telling her that they should stay like this forever, now they were settled. They are due to switch back in eight months time at the time of their second wedding anniversary. It will be quite a change for her to be the man again after being the housewife for so long. Returning to work will also take some adjusting. But as difficult as it might be, Rachel thought that they shouldn't ignore the gift they had. For a brief period just before they got married, they considered this curse of theirs to be a gift. After their marriage, it effectively became a curse again, but now they can both finally appreciate it for what it is. Rachel grinned as she finally got comfortable. Although Paul had offered for them to switch back now and she declined because she was happy, there was one extra reason she said no. She didn't know if it would be even possible at the moment. Her period was late, very late, although she wouldn't tell Paul just yet until she was sure. Her grin widened as she worked out the dates. Their second wedding anniversary in eight months would be perfect timing. She enjoyed being a woman, but she wasn't sure if she could handle being a mother just yet. But compared to everything else that had happened to her in the past few years, maybe being a mother wouldn't be as bad as she thinks... The End.

Chapter Twelve

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17200.txt

deirdre

House

"Oh, I ought to have an apartment like yours," said Gwen. I'd been staring at her house, and apparently she'd been reading my thoughts: kind of big for just Gwen. "It's lovely, and it *is* nice to have your privacy," I replied, politely. It was a typical old city house, certainly dating from before World War II, possibly a hundred years old. But it *was* an attractive house, looking well kept. "Well, I don't know about the *privacy* part. Would you like to see it?" I'd been dropping her off after our shopping. I wasn't in any hurry, so I glanced at her to assure myself she really would be happy to have me in. "Oh, sure, I'd *love* to," I replied, judging that she wasn't just being polite. "Oh, good! We can have tea." Tea. It *would* be pleasant just to sit and talk some more. Gwen and I seemed to be on the same wavelength, and sometimes I felt we could just talk forever. I turned off the engine and followed her in. "I *did* tell you that I rent out some rooms," she said as we approached the porch. That's kind of interesting. I wondered what that would be like. She *was* somewhat close to the university. A couple of graduate students, or maybe an instructor or two? The living room was nicely done, the furniture wasn't new or anything, but the room felt comfortable and she had knickknacks around that, well, if not like I'd choose, they were nice enough. A *man* walked into the living room as soon as I'd gotten a look. "Hi, Ms. Sanders," he said. Well, he was a boy, actually. I judged him to be twenty or so. He looked happy to see Gwen, and stood there in front of us. "This is Jimmy," Gwen said to me, then turned to him: "Hi Jimmy, this is Ms. Billings. We were shopping and she just stopped in for a little while." "Hi Ms. Billings," then clearly addressing both of us, he said "Come in the kitchen: I'll make you tea." "Why thank you, Jimmy," she answered. I must say I was a bit surprised: this Jimmy seemed more polite and obliging than *anyone* I remembered running across in a long time. We followed him through the living room. "He *is* just a doll," said Gwen to me as we followed him, again evidently reading my thoughts. He took us through a dining room and into the kitchen. Gwen and I sat at a nice kitchen table and Jimmy started heating water and getting out tea. "We have Earl Gray, Constant Comment, and some flavored varieties," he volunteered, holding a couple of boxes. "Any preference?" Gwen asked. They all sounded good to me, but naturally I had to say something: "Constant Comment sounds good." I looked at Jimmy turning to work. He was dressed in shorts and a tee shirt and was barefoot. Average height, but looking fit and his face was nice. Kind of a hunk, really. Definitely an undergraduate. *Gwen living with a hunky kid!* Another man came in the back door. Well, a *boy*, if you want to call him that. "Hi, Ms. Sanders," he said and Gwen ended up introducing him as Billy before he sailed on by. Gwen renting rooms to college boys! It was the last thing I would have guessed: they seemed *real* nice and it was easy to imagine it would be very pleasant if you got the right tenants, but still, it was amazing to me. Then Jimmy was bringing the tea over. "Need anything else?" he asked, standing there, like a waiter, for God's sake. "Thank you very much," I said. "No, thank you Jimmy, that'll be all," Gwen added. Jimmy went out the back door. I looked at Gwen and I know my face was registering amusement. "Like my boys?" she asked, obviously picking up on my thoughts. "Are they the sons you never had?" I asked. "Oh, they're just dolls, every one of them," she answered. "How many do you rent to?" I found myself asking. I didn't want to be nosy, but curiosity had caught me up. "Nine right now," she answered. "Nine!? Oh, I'm sorry," I said, feeling embarrassed at the way I'd blurted out. She giggled. "Like them? Wouldn't you want lots of 'em around?" She had a very sly look on her face. "Well, do you have much privacy?" I asked. "Oh, we're like a big, happy family. I'd hate living in a big house like this if it were all empty." She was right about that: the house was quite generous. "I'd think they'd be coming in and out all night: do they bring friends over?" "Well, I have to say they're very nice to me: they're very considerate about not being out too late or making too much noise. Want to see the rest of the house?" I assented, and then followed her back toward the front hall. "Their girlfriends are such *nice* girls: I don't mind having them over." We'd reached the stairs and a boy was coming down. "Randy's girlfriend Jenny is *really nice*, isn't she, Randy?" "Yes Ma'am," he answered. He went on back toward the kitchen and we started up the stairs. At the top was a hallway and several bedroom doors. The hall had a nice, if old oriental carpet and an old chest and was quite attractive. "How do you keep things so neat with all these males around?" I ventured. Yes, I'd had brothers. "Oh, I told you, they are nice boys. Come see one of the bedrooms." We peeked in the room: it had two beds in it and was in perfect order. I heard footsteps behind us and glanced back to see a boy walking by dressed only in underpants! He disappeared into the bathroom, glanced at us and shut the door, but I stood there in shock, staring at the shut door. "Oh, that was Stewart," said Gwen. "We're casual about dress here." "I should say so!" I replied. Someone was coming up the stairs: it was Randy. "The boys don't mind if I see, do you, Randy?" The bathroom door opened again, and Stewart walked back to his room, still in his underpants: briefs in fact, and they certainly showed his bulge! "No Ma'am, Ms. Sanders," Randy replied and he walked into the room we had just peeked into. "He *is* cute, isn't he?" she said to me, in a lower voice. We were just looking at him through the door. He certainly was hunky: muscular looking and a cute face. "Come here," she added, walking into Randy's room. I just followed. Randy, who had been doing something at a desk in the corner turned around and looked at us inquiringly. "Randy, take off your shirt and show Ms. Billings your chest." I had to catch myself to keep from gasping. "Sure, Ms. Sanders," he said, and started pulling his tee-shirt off! I just stood there watching, not believing what I was seeing. Soon he was right in front of us, his bare chest exposed. She put her hand on it softly, then looked at me, smiling. "Nice, isn't it?" "Uh, yuh," I kind of mumbled. "Go ahead, touch it," she said. I didn't move a muscle, then she took my hand and quickly put it on his chest. My heart was beating like it was going to jump out of my own chest. It wasn't just that he was handsome, it was just the *audacity* of the whole thing! "You have a nice chest, don't you Randy?" "Thank you, Ms. Sanders." He was so cheerful about it! "You don't mind showing it off for me, do you?" "No, Ms. Sanders." She sat on the bed that was behind us, and managed to get me to do it, too. "They're really nice about it: don't mind a bit," she added. "Take off your shorts for Ms. Billings, Randy." "Gwen!" I said, suddenly shocked. He started doing it, without a word. "Oh, he doesn't mind," she answered. And there he was, standing in just his underpants! I tried not to stare at the bulge. "Come here, Randy." He approached closer. This was getting too wild. Then she reached up to the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down to his knees! Then she grinned at me. "He's got a nice penis too, doesn't he?" "Gwen!" "Oh, relax, he doesn't mind, do you Randy?" "No, Ms. Sanders." "He really is a nice boy," and she took his cock in fingers and lifted it! I don't see penises that often, but it looked big to me, though not hard at all. She held it one way and another, then pushed his testicles sideways a little with her other hand, letting them swing. "Here, see what it feels like," she said. "Gwen, no." "Oh, come on," she said, and took my hand and put his cock in it. I stood there, like a statue, with that boy's cock laying in my hand. "It's nice and big, isn't it?" I didn't answer. "Oh, don't worry, the boys don't mind, do you Randy?" "No Ma'am." It was weird. I ended up lifting it up and encircling it with my fingers. The last thing I ever expected to be doing. "He does have a nice one. And Jenny certainly agrees, doesn't she Randy?" "I hope so, Ma'am.There had been footsteps on the stairs, and I'd quickly withdrawn my hands, dropping his cock back to its normal position. "It's nice when it's erect, too," added Gwen. And someone walked in the room! It was Jimmy who had made us tea. He didn't react at all to us, just walked over to his closet and got out some sneakers. "Show us how you make it erect, Randy," Gwen went on. "Yes, Ma'am," he responded, ever polite, and he put his hand around his cock and started stroking it back and forth. "And his *behind* is nice, too; turn around and show us, Randy." "Yes, Ma'am," and he turned, still stroking his cock. She immediately had her hands on his buns, cupping them. They *were* rather good looking. Then she ran her finger up the crack of his rear, pressing in, then gave me a knowing little smile. "So how did you get such a cute little rear?" Gwen asked him. "I don't know. Thank you, Ma'am!" He was still stroking. "OK, show us that hard penis!" He turned, and she got him to stop when he was sideways to us. It was somewhat erect, sticking out on an angle. She smiled at me, then lightly touched the underside. It jumped a little. Then she gave his rear a playful little pat. "They all have cute rears, but I think Randy's is the best, and I'll bet Jenny agrees with me. Jimmy," she said, turning toward Jimmy who was tying his sneakers, "come over here." He jumped right up and came over: "Yes, Ma'am." "Take off your clothes for Ms. Billings." He didn't answer, but quickly pulled off his sneakers that he had just been putting on, as well as his shorts, t-shirt, and underpants. "Jimmy has a nice penis too," she said as soon as it was visible. He was standing right next to Randy. "Make it hard for us, Jimmy." "Yes, Ms. Sanders." He stroked it, and I watched it grow. "Randy, go get the K.Y. jelly," she said then. He was off out the door and back in a few seconds with a tube. "This is *really* cute," Gwen said privately to me. Jimmy was still stroking his cock, which was getting harder and harder. She had the tube in her hand and was opening it. "OK, turn around, Randy, and keep your penis erect." "Yes, Ma'am," and he stood there, his buns to us, stroking himself. She started putting the jelly in the crack of his rear! She pushed gobs of it in! Then she told Jimmy to stop stroking himself, and she spread it over his cock! "OK, Randy, lean over the bed," and he leaned over it, resting on his straight arms. "OK, Jimmy, put your penis in his rear." "Yes, Ma'am," and he got behind Randy and started guiding his penis in. "You see a cute rear like Randy's and you just *have* to see *this*, don't you?" she said to me. That really wasn't what I would have thought of! "Are they gay?" I asked. Duh. "Do you like having the penis in your rear, Randy?" "No, Ma'am." "They're just nice boys. They really are obliging. And do you like putting your penis in Randy's rear, Jimmy?" "No, Ms. Sanders." "So why do you do it, Jimmy?" "For you, Ms. Sanders. I don't mind." "Do you like girls, Jimmy?" "Oh, yes, Ms. Sanders." "Now come for me, Jimmy." "Yes, Ms. Sanders." He started moving harder, and Gwen reached over and started stroking Randy's partially hard cock. "How does that feel, Randy?" "It's OK, Ma'am." "Does it hurt?" "No, Ma'am." "Does it make you feel filled up?" She still casually stroked his cock. "Yes, Ma'am." "Do you want to come?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Why, Randy?" "I... you made me hard, Ma'am." "Well, we wouldn't want to mess up the bed, would we?" "No, Ma'am." Suddenly, she leaned over and took his cock in her mouth! She kept stroking him, and Jimmy kept pumping in. Soon, it looked to me like they were both coming. Gwen just kept her head on his cock, and I could see her swallowing. Then she sat up and looked at me, smiling. "Did you like that, Randy?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Even with the penis in you?" "It was OK." "OK, you two go to the bathroom and clean up," she said. They left, and she picked up their clothes and carefully laid them on the bed, and smoothed the bed where he had been sitting. "Let's go see the rest of the house," she said, "and you have to stay for dinner." "Uh, I don't know..." "Oh, listen," she said. "You don't have to be embarrassed: they really don't mind. You heard them say so." "Gwen, this is weird." "Come on, you took me shopping; I'm going to feed you." "Uh..." "Oh, come now. You watched them play for us; what's a little dinner? I'm not going to let up until you agree!" I was in a bind. Even though I'd stood there watching, it was too much: I needed to get out. Randy and Jimmy came back into the room and started dressing. "Boys, tell Ms. Billings she simply has to stay for dinner." "OK, I'll stay!" I said, a little hasty. I don't know what made me suddenly give in, but I felt nervous about continuing the conversation with the boys. They were both dressed. "Jimmy, are you going out?" Gwen asked. He'd put on his sneakers again. "I was planning on it, but if you wish, I could stay." "That's all right, Jimmy, run along. It's your class, isn't it? I don't want you boys to miss your classes!" "Yes, Ms. Sanders," he answered and headed down the stairs. "Oh, and Randy: could you show Ms. Billings the rest of the house? I'd better check on our supper plans." "Yes, Ma'am." "And Randy, I'd like you to do anything Ms. Billings wishes." "Yes, Ma'am." Then she said to me in a low voice: "He licks wonderfully," and she was gone. And I was left there alone with Randy, standing there. "Do you want me to lick you?" asked Randy. "Uh, no! I'd better be going," I answered, deciding I shouldn't have said anything about staying. "If you'd prefer, I can just show you the rest of the house," he said. "No, that's OK," I said quickly, and started downstairs. Gwen was at the bottom. "Supper's about ready," she said, a bright smile on her face. "Well, thanks for having me..." I started. "Nonsense! You're staying for supper. And you've got to meet Jenny." "Some other time. I have to..." But I didn't finish. The front door opened, and in came two young women. "Here they are now!" said Gwen. She was looking excited, like a child at Christmas or something. I thought she'd clap her hands next. "This is Jenny, and you must be Carla!" Jenny was attractive, with a thin face, wavy (almost frizzy) brown hair reaching her shoulders, and a slender build. The girl she guessed was Carla was black and similar to Jenny in height and build. They were both in jeans and sleeveless tops and both looked like very pleasant young women. "Yes, Ms. Sanders," said Jenny. "How do you do, Ms. Sanders?" added Carla. "Why fine, thank you. You're such a lovely girl; Jenny has told us so much about you." Carla looked a little surprised, but didn't say anymore. "And this is my good friend, Ms. Billings," she added. "Hello, Ms. Billings, it's so nice to meet you," said Jenny. "Yes..." added Carla, a little uncertainly. She looked a little confused. "Well, the boys say dinner is ready!" chimed in Gwen again, "so let's get it while it's hot." I found myself walking in with them. The dining table was huge, and I found myself sitting with a bunch of boys: at least eight. At least three more were serving. I sat next to Carla. Besides her and Jenny, there was one more girl, whose name was Brenda and who had short blond hair and, well, a big chest. Dinner was a feast, and was quite pleasant even if the conversation seemed stilted. Gwen would say something, and whoever she was addressing would say "Yes, Ms. Sanders" or "Yes, Ma'am". Carla, sitting next to me, mentioned it. "This is so strange," she said to me in a low voice. I looked at her inquiringly. "The way they all talk," she added. "You're the only one who seems sane. Jenny isn't usually this way." I stumbled a little on what to respond, but finally came out with: "I know what you mean: Gwen just invited me in, and I was leaving when you came." "I think I'd like to go, but Jenny drove and I know she means to stay." "I can drive you back: to school?" "That would be great: I'm in Smith Dorm." "Let's leave as soon as dinner is over." "Oh, thanks! You're a life saver!" We didn't talk anymore about it, but we caught each other's eye a bit when Jenny or one of the others came out with a polite, but flat, robot-like response. After dinner, I was sitting in the living room. Carla had gone upstairs to the bathroom, and after looking at a magazine for a while, I realized she'd been up there a long time: twenty minutes or more! I looked around: a couple of the boys were sitting in the room, studying. Earlier, I'd heard the sounds of cleanup from dinner, but that had settled down. Everyone had left me pretty much alone, which was fine, but I began to wonder about Carla. Finally, I wandered up the stairs. Once I reached the upstairs hall, I realized that the bathroom door was wide open and the bathroom was empty! I glanced around: the bedroom doors were also open, and there was no one around. Except for one door: it looked like it might be a bedroom door. I didn't hear anything, so I quietly tapped on it. "Carla?" I asked quietly. No answer. I cautiously opened the door. Randy and Jenny were standing in there. "Oh, I'm sorry," I gulped, and started to back out. "No, wait!" Jenny responded, coming my way. And Randy was over in a flash and grabbed my upper arm. Not really hard, but I didn't want to pull away. "Come on in, Ms. Billings," added Jenny. I realized that her *no, wait* had had more expression in her voice than anything she'd said so far, but now her voice was that same flat politeness. "Uh, have you seen Carla?" I asked. "No, Ms. Billings," Jenny replied.She then proceeded to shut the door and lock it with an old-fashioned key, putting the key in her pocket. I stared. As soon as she'd done that, Randy let go of me. "You stay here with us, Ms. Billings," said Jenny. "Ms. Sanders told us to entertain you." I stared at her but didn't say anything. She approached Randy and looked up at his face for a moment. Then she started unbuttoning his shirt. He just stood there, looking down at her while she did it. When she had it unbuttoned and pulled out of his jeans, she undid the front of his jeans, then untied his sneakers. "Take off your shirt," she said to him. Once again, her voice didn't have that flat politeness she'd been using before: she almost sounded *angry* at him. He immediately took it off. "And the tee-shirt." He did it. And she kept naming articles of clothing, and he kept taking them off until he was standing there, entirely naked. Then she walked around him and gave his rear a hard slap. She looked at me and giggled and said: "A cute boytoy, eh, Ms. Billings?" She had this sly look. He just stood there, looking straight ahead. "On your knees," she said. Her voice now actually sounded harsh. He was immediately kneeling. She walked over to me and gave me a smile. Something about her look made me nervous. "OK, let's do it," she said, still looking right at me. Then suddenly she was behind me, holding me. And then Randy was kneeling right in front of me, undoing *my* pants! Then he had them down and my underpants down and was licking me! I was pulled into leaning against Jenny who had her arms tightly around me. Then she was taking my blouse off! Then he stopped! I realized I was completely naked, Jenny holding me standing. "OK, on the bed," she said. Immediately he lay on the bed, face down. Jenny shifted to my side and walked me to the bed. We looked down at Randy's back and rear. "Want to touch it?" asked Jenny, as we stood there. I didn't say anything, and we ended up just standing there. "OK, turn over," she finally said, and Randy turned himself over. His cock stood straight up. "Want to ride that thing?" Jenny whispered in my ear. I just stared at it. Then she was at the night stand and came back with K.Y. Jelly and covered his cock with it. "OK, up on the bed," she told me. "Stand over him." She literally climbed up to standing on it, pulling me up with her. She positioned us so we were both straddling him, me standing right over his cock. She stood in front of me, facing me, over his head. We just stood there, and she took off her clothes. I stared at her body. "OK, down you go," she said, and started pressing down on my shoulders. I murmured a *no* or something. I started getting down on my knees: she was pressing harder and harder. "I'll bet it's been a while," she said. Then I was kneeling, right over his cock. She took it in her hand and held it straight up. "OK, do it," she said. When I didn't move, she just sat there, waiting me out. "It's waiting for you," she said in a whisper. She was kneeling over him, facing me, still straddling his head. I lowered myself. I felt it touch. She started feeling me, and positioned it. "Now, down!" she said, a little louder than a whisper. It was touching me, ready to go in. I was scared to do it, but the feeling of it touching me like that was too much. She smiled at me. She knew what it felt like. "Feels good, doesn't it?" she said, proving the point. "Yes!" I said, and started to lower myself. It was going in exactly right. *Exactly right* isn't the word: it was driving me crazy! "You are *very* patient," she said. "I'd be bouncing like crazy by this time." Then she leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, hard. And pushed me all the way down. Then she broke the kiss. I was bouncing, getting it to go in and out. And I realized that she'd finally lowered herself right on his face. I could see that he was doing something, and she was suddenly not looking at me at all, but up above my head. Then suddenly, she seemed to 'come to', and gave me another sly grin, and grabbed my breasts. She touched them and fingered my nipples. I still bounced up and down on his cock. Then she leaned over and tried to get one of my breasts in her mouth. She managed to lick it a couple of times. Then she grabbed my head, stopping my bouncing, and pulled me into another kiss. Her tongue was in my mouth. Then her lips were at my ear and she whispered "Come, you little slut!" Then she was kneeling upright again, but her fingers darted to my clitoris and started fiddling with it. I couldn't take it. I bounced and bounced and came and came. I watched her clamp her thighs harder over his face, and she got that far-away look again, and I could tell she was coming too. Then we were in a heap. The three of us on the bed. I found myself on one side of Randy, with Jenny on the other. None of us moved. I'd lain there a while and no one had moved. Then it was like I'd *come to*: I wondered how I'd allowed this all to happen! I got up and looked for my clothes. I couldn't find them! I would have sworn they'd have been right on the floor. I looked some more. The two of them were still lying on the bed, snuggling. I thought maybe they were both asleep. I was in a panic. Where were my clothes? I found a bathrobe and put it on. Then I looked in Jenny's jeans and found the key. I unlocked the door and peeked out. I didn't know what to do. I went out in the hall, no real plan having come to mind. I explored the hall a bit more, and found that another door was to a back staircase! I went down. It came out in a little hall next to the kitchen. No one was in the kitchen, but another staircase to the basement was there, and I heard talking down there. I quietly went down. There were a bunch of them there. Carla was standing in the middle of the room, naked, and one of the boys was kneeling in front of her, also naked, his face right to her. Another naked boy was standing right behind her, almost pushing her into the kneeling boy. She didn't look at me even though she was generally facing my way: she just had this distant expression. Grace was down there too, sitting on a table watching them. She was dressed in a blue one-piece swimsuit. She looked at me, and then hopped off the table and walked over in her bare feet. "Isn't she doing nicely?" she asked, standing next to me, facing Carla. I looked down at Grace's hand. She was carrying a huge whip. And the basement: it had stone walls, almost like a dungeon, but even more so: two of the other boys *and* the other girl, Brenda, were all chained to the walls! They were naked, chained flat, spread-eagled, facing the walls. I noticed that they were all blindfolded. "I think she's ready," Grace said. The kneeling boy stood up, and with the boy who had been behind Carla, got on each side of her, and walked her to another set of manacles on the wall. She just walked with them, seemingly in a daze. When they got there, they started fastening her to the wall like the others. Grace, who'd just watched them, started swinging the whip around. "She'll do just fine," she said. I turned around and ran up the stairs. I reached the kitchen and still didn't know what to do. So I continued up. The upstairs was deserted too, so I looked at the door that I'd come out of. Randy and Jenny were probably still in there. I quietly opened it. They'd been lying on the bed, but both immediately sat up: "You left," said Jenny, sounding as if I were a complete traitor. "I.. need my clothes," I said. She stood up, but she came over and pulled on my arm. "Come back here," she said. I don't know why: I was so shaken, and she seemed so much saner than I felt. I just followed her lead. She took me back to the bed. Soon I found myself lying between them. And naked again. She turned out the light by the bed and the room was dark. In the dark, she pressed her body against mine and kissed me. And I found myself on my side, sandwiched between them. I felt his cock slip into me from behind. Afterwards, she turned around, and the three of us spooned. It was light and I awoke to find them sleeping soundly. I looked again for my clothes and found nothing. I settled on the bathrobe and slipped out, leaving them still sleeping. In the kitchen, a couple of the boys were busy at the stove. Gwen was there, and so was Carla. "Good morning: breakfast will be ready soon," said Gwen. "Do you want coffee?" I spoke to Gwen in a low voice: "Gwen, I have to go. I can't find my clothes." "Nonsense! Not before breakfast! Say good morning to Ms. Billings, Carla." "Good morning, Ms. Billings." She had that flat, polite look and voice. And she was dressed in a very short nightgown with matching panties. "She's doing very nicely, isn't she?" said Gwen. "And she's so cute. Show her your breasts Carla." She lifted her nightgown to above her chest. I stared. Gwen reached over and started fingering and pushing around one of her nipples. Then the other. I stared as they grew hard. "Do you like this, Carla?" she asked. "I don't mind, Ms. Sanders," she answered. Gwen looked at me and grinned.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7210.txt

Vickie Tern

JayCee

"It's a girl's bathing suit," he said. As I'd suspected and assumed. "Do you think she's been trying to tell you something? You want to look nice, don't you? You've been a boy who's ashamed of his breasts. Now be a girl and be proud of them. Go. I'll wait for you." He was still uncertain. I had to use Petey's dumb line. "You promised, remember?" I sounded reasonable and confident. The fact was, he didn't have a choice. He went in. A few minutes later, he came out wearing the bathing suit his mother had selected. It was an iridescent blue Maillot with flowery front panels, one piece with supported cups - and he really did need them - and a draped detachable skirt gathered to one side. With the skirt clipped on, I couldn't see how his male parts or his female-shaped buttocks fit the suit's bottom, but one thing at a time. "Now you're decent. Stop trying to hide your breasts by slumping - it won't work. Be proud. Shoulders back. That's it. Whether you're a boy or a girl, be proud. It's easier for girls." I decided to go further. "And you're a very pretty girl, Marianne. Let's swim some more, and then we'll see what kind of a girl you can be when you really try. So far you haven't been trying. Another time maybe I'll help you become the best boy you can be, though I'll be frank, you don't look much like a boy to me. Then we'll be able to see which one of you is more you." I stood up and walked over to the edge of the pool. He did the same, a little awkwardly. I decided he was going to learn to walk with mincing little steps, like some cutie pie who's a little timid but thinks her rear end is made of candy. That would be attractive. A bimbo walk is always reassuring to guys who are unsure of themselves. I watched him unhook the skirt and drape it over a chair. His bathing suit was severely high-cut, and it left bare the lower globes of his rounded rear end. They were gorgeous. I saw that he needed a bikini shave, and added that to my agenda for later this afternoon. I also saw that whatever grew there between his legs barely disturbed the neat V-line of his bathing suit's crotch. His genitals weren't very consequential. They'd tuck, and a sanitary napkin would give him a smooth mound, and then any boy could grind his groin into him while dancing, or could feel him up during a heavy petting session, without suspecting anything. As long as the boy doesn't try to dig his fingers in. Off and running, at $225 a week and expenses, and my college money pretty much assured. I began to think about which expensive private colleges attract the most expensive boys, boys who like doing things girls ask them to do, boys who can afford to indulge girls that way. But first things first. I was careful to keep him out in the hot noonday sun and the broiling early afternoon sun too. We splashed, and lay around, and talked some more. I showed him how to sit down on the side of the pool and pose, and stand up again, and lie around, without ever spreading his legs or being caught looking awkward, how to keep his elbows high when he reached behind his neck with both hands to lift his long hair off his back, and how to spread it over his breasts to dry. I decided that we'd both take the two-week modeling course being offered at the high school next week, so he could learn more girlish poses, and how to walk like a lady. He reluctantly agreed. I didn't tell him that posture was only part of what they'd teach him, that makeup and appropriate clothes and attitudes toward boys was much of it, not only "Tips on Travel" but also "Manners and Men" it said in the catalogue. I expected that ten days of enforced sociability with girls who thought he was a girl would have its effect on a lonely, ungainly, embarrassed boy. I figured he'd come out of it happy for the companionship, glad to be one of them. He was so desperate to belong! By mid-afternoon, his scoop back and bra top and V-shaped bottom were outlined in a pretty pink sunburn. When his mother saw those shoulder strap marks, there'd be no question I'd earned my money today, I thought to myself. But we had more to do yet. Though we'd talked about this tryout lasting only a few weeks, I wanted to set things up so there'd be no turning back. So he wouldn't want to turn back.It was cunt or nothing, probably nothing when girls saw that pitiable thing. He had no future as a man. Which returned me to my earlier idea. The more I thought about it, the better I liked it. In fact, I *loved* it. I'd do it! It was past time. Here was a prick ideally designed to take my virginity. But fucking me had to be a reward for obedience. I went into my lingerie drawer. "Here, put these on," I told him, handing him my prettiest bra and panty set, the bra size larger than any I usually wore, and underwired for support. I'd been keeping it in a kind of hope chest, though my own figure hadn't changed much during the past year. It would fit him, I figured, and once dressed in my undies, he'd feel he was mine in a way, sort of gift wrapped. "I can't," he said. "These are girl things!" "Well, duh!" I said, and turned to find him a blouse and a pair of shorts. I took out a full-cut white satin blouse buttoned along one shoulder, draped from the neck and sure to cling and then drape from those boobs of his. Perfect. And I found shorts with elastic to fit him at the waist, flared way out at the legs to look practically like a mini-skirt. And thin-strapped sandals, delicate looking. When I turned back holding his new outfit, I saw he'd slipped into the panties, but otherwise he hadn't moved. "Marianne, you need dry clothes," I told him firmly. "You can't walk down the street wearing that soaking wet shirt. And your bathing suit's wet too. And you can't walk bare-chested! It wouldn't be decent! With that body you'd stop cars!" Before he could object, I slipped the bra over his arms and clipped the band snug behind his back, where I knew he couldn't reach the catch. Boys never can. It'll take him a while to figure out how to get it off without cutting it off, I thought. "Well, OK, but why this? Why a brassiere?" "Tuck yourself into those cups," I told him firmly. "So you don't bobble. Because girls with titties wear brassieres, that's why. And boys with titties should too. It isn't healthy to have those things jouncing around loose. After a while, they'll sag." I paused. "And besides, girls who don't wear bras always seem to be asking for something. If you go without a bra, everyone will think you want to get laid. Do you want to get laid?" He blushed and looked down, reaching for some flaw in my argument but unable to find any. I suppose he never noticed that yesterday, when we first met, I wasn't wearing a bra. He knew he needed one, but he had to put up one last rear guard defense. "I stick way out, JayCee," was all he replied. His voice sounded a little mournful. "How'm I supposed to look like a boy sometimes if I look like this?" He was staring down at what were now obviously a great pair of knockers held firmly supported far out in front of him. I didn't answer. There was no answer. "JayCee, these'll stop cars too," he then said. And he flashed me his first smile of the day. A joke! It was so utterly endearing. Then he added, "I bet I could charge money if anyone wanted to cop a feel!" Well, that was true enough. And before I could say so, he stood up wearing only his bra and panties -- his now, though he didn't know it yet -- and struck a girly-girly pose with one hand tucked into the hair at the nape of his beck, and the other planted on his hip. He waggled those great breasts and his round tush and added, "I wonder how much?" I smiled back. I understood. He was scared. His identity as a boy was slipping away. So he was getting a grip on his fear by joking with me, by pretending to be a loose woman. He thought he was joking. I smiled even more broadly as I wondered seriously whether to include a week as a real streetwalker in his summer's curriculum. A week spent patrolling the freight station area would teach him more about being a girl than any of us knew, for sure, including his own mother. No, I thought. When school begins there'll be plenty of guys hitting on him, and we'll deal with those problems then. He was now moving down the track his mother had laid out when she'd started feeding him those knockout doses of vitamins: if his body looked like a girl's, and it couldn't be changed, then he shouldn't be ashamed of it. As I'd been telling him, he should accept that he looked like a girl, and he could begin to work out for himself what kind of girl he'd like to be. "How does the bra feel, Marianne? Nice? It doesn't bind or pinch?" "Better than I thought it might," Marianne said, a little uncertain. No, it was a little shy. "I like the support. It's like being held and hugged, and when I move my chest doesn't seem so...floppy." "Well, wait till you feel this on your skin." I handed him a satin blouse. When he slipped on the blouse, there came another moment of truth. If anything, the shiny fabric draped across his breasts in a way that accentuated them. Now even his nipples jutted way forward. In fact, they stiffened and poked through to form two pointed tips accentuating the effect. He looked sexy, downright provocative, indecent. "I can't wear this," he said. "Don't you have a loose shirt?" Not for him I didn't. "No," I said. "You look fine. You have nothing to be ashamed of." He was looking down again, and his manly pride struggled with what I'd just said. Not to feel ashamed. But I was reminded again that he was no fool. He just said very quietly, "JayCee, now I do look like a boy with breasts. I look like a freak." "No," I said. "You look hot. No one will ever believe you're a boy." I eyed him, and realized that with that cute face and those globes on his chest, that was true. Was I myself responding to him as a boy or as a girl? Why worry about it? "Just wait," I said. I saw now that I could move very fast. "Put these on and sit down," I said, handing him his flared shorts. He did quickly, without noticing that just off his hips they swirled out to form a cute, flirty mini. Then in no time at all I had his hair pinned up into one of my Betty Grable styles, and he'd slipped into those delicate sandals with just a little heel, and before he realized what I was doing I'd given him just a touch of mascara and lipstick. When he saw the lipstick in my hand coming at his face he tried to object, but I just ordered him to stop fussing. I was thinking to myself that from now on, for the rest of his life, he'll be wearing at least this much makeup, because that's what girls do, and that's what he was. Another first. And that's all it took. "Now you don't look at all like a boy with breasts," I said. I gave him my hand mirror, and busied myself as if with other things. But I kept an eye on him. "No, I don't," he said, as he stared at the face staring back at him from the mirror, obviously uncertain what to think. He couldn't quite say what he saw, a passable teenage girl. So I said it for him. "You look like a girl with breasts. Enjoy it! A girl should be what she can do. From now on those knockers of yours belong to the world, and that face over them. They're your best features. No more trying to hide them! Bras and a little makeup from now on!" "Are you telling me I should look like this from now on?" he asked, as if somehow I hadn't just said it. "For the summer," I said. "That's the deal. After that, it's your choice. You can look like a pretty girl, or like a freaky boy with breasts. I'm telling you nothing. You figure it out. But for the next few weeks anyhow, you're what you see. Now sit down on the bed. I want you to know there are certain advantages." He sat down on the bed. He seemed a little resentful, still trying to think of someone or something to blame that the boy he'd thought he was was getting more difficult to locate. I sat down next to him, and before he could realize what I was doing, I reached for his nearest hand, and placed it squarely on my naked breast. It felt warm on my cool skin. "Feel this," I said to him. "What do you feel?" 'Your breast, JayCee." He turned very quiet, very solemn all of a sudden. I guessed mine were the first he had ever touched, apart from his own. "A girl's breast, Marianne. Like yours. Caress them, please. Kiss them, please. Both of them." I lay back and he leaned over me, bringing up his other hand too. Now each hand held one of my breasts for a moment, cupping them underneath with the fingertips fondling my nipples ever so lightly. I began again to feel a stirring down under, probably like what he was feeling under his panties and flared shorts at this moment. I reached for his breasts as he leaned over me, and began to touch and squeeze his jutting nipples in their satin enclosure, and run my fingers around them, and stroke them. He shivered. "Oooohhhhh" he said in a delicious, high-pitched sigh. He closed his eyes, though his hands were still busy on me. "Kiss them," I whispered. He did. Tenderly, one kiss on the nipple of each. Then gently he put his mouth over one and began to suckle on me, lapping the tips of my nipples with his tongue. "Mmmmmmmm" he sighed again, in that same flutelike tone of voice. I reminded myself to train him to use that voice from now on. It was so very seductive! I cupped both his breasts and then again gently tweaked each nipple. Each grew stiffly erect inside his bra and blouse. His mouth now firmly planted on one of my boobs, he started to breathe more rapidly. "These are mine now, aren't they, Marianne?" I said in a tense voice. He wasn't sure which pair I meant, of course, but he was in an exquisite trance and he wanted to stay there."Mmmmmmmmm," he moaned again, and his lips took in more of me more ferociously, his tongue tip now flicking my nipples, first on one breast, then on the other, then back to the first. "You'll wear a bra until I tell you it isn't necessary," I continued. "And you'll feel proud of your breasts, always!" I began kneading them with my thumb and forefinger, delicately pinching the tip of each. "Because they're beautiful and they're a woman's breasts. And because they're mine and I'm proud of them. Promise me!" "Mmmmmmmmmm!" was all he said. My nipples are small, much smaller than his, but he was slurping and sucking on the one in his mouth like a starved infant. His first since he'd been an infant, I suppose. "Promise!" I repeated. I stopped moving my hands for a moment. He lifted his head. "I promise!" he whispered intensely, and began to lower his head again. "Promise what?" I asked. He raised his head and held his face just above mine, and looked into my eyes. "I promise not to be ashamed of my breasts, JayCee," he said quite seriously. His breathing slowed down. "Because they're a woman's breasts. And because they're yours." Such a lovely boy! Already my lovely girl! It was time to raise the ante. I knew I hadn't made a mistake about him earlier! I smiled up at him, looking deep into his eyes. "Now take off your shorts and panties, Marianne. Then lie back down on the bed. Right where I am. It's all warm and snug right here." I slipped to one side and stood up, and he stripped and replaced me on the bed, his little prick pointing straight up, stiff as a clothespin, swollen thicker than I'd thought it could get, but really not much longer. Long enough. I quickly hopped back onto the bed and straddled his crotch, my wet pussy now an inch or two above that jutting boy-cock of his. It would never get bigger. "I've never done this with any boy," I told him. "You'll see I'm telling the truth. And I won't do it again until I meet the boy I'll marry, if I ever do. But I want to do it with you. You're special. You're not a boy. You're a girl who can put her cock into me and fuck me. Aren't you?" He drew in his breath sharply and nodded, obviously unable to believe his extraordinary luck. It was happening! At last! He closed his eyes and held his breath, unsure what to expect next. I was about to lose my cherry too, and not just as a figure of speech. But I'd had lots of chances before, so it wasn't as big a deal for me. I started to fondle his breasts and his nipples again, and he let out his breath in a sweet sigh. He was already in paradise! "Say it," I said. "Aren't you?" "Yessssss!" My fingertips were rubbing the tips of his satin-tipped boobs again, and he could think of nothing else. He lifted his chest into my hands, ecstatic. "Yes what? What are you?" "I'm a girl who can fuck you, JayCee," he whispered, distracted from his pleasure by the need to speak, eager to relax into those delicious feelings. I let him. "Yes," I repeated. "You're a girl. You're my girl now." And I lowered my pussy until my outer lips touched his little cock. He felt them and held his breath again. I lowered myself a little more, and felt myself gripping his cock head. Just like my small vibrator he felt, but a lot warmer! He lifted his hips as high as he could and held himself absolutely still. I lowered onto him a little more and felt more of him inside me, and finally felt his prick press on an obstruction further in. I stopped for a moment. "Look at me, Marianne!" He opened his eyes. They were filled with so much happiness they glistened! He was such a darling dear! My very first boy! With his hair piled on his head, and his mascara'd eyes, and traces of lipstick still on his lips, and above all those women's breasts rising high over his chest, he was also my very first girl! So wonderful! I looked tenderly and steadily into his eyes as more tears welled up in them, smiling at him, and he smiled back. "My sweet girl!" I whispered when his eyes looked just right, and I felt just right, and it all felt just right, the two of us felt clasped intimately by each other in full sight of each other. Then I closed my eyes and thrust my pussy all the way down on him. There wasn't much left to go on that prick, but enough. I was very tight, and I'd felt him pressing on me on all sides, but then something inside me popped with a sudden sharp sensation, not really a pain, and suddenly I felt much more wet than I'd been. Blood, I decided. My virginity was gone. And, I supposed, that was the moment we could say he lost his too. "Are you all right?" he whispered. I opened my eyes. He was looking at me, worried that my face had suddenly gone serious. I smiled. "Yes," I said. "My darling girl. I'm just fine. Come when you can, my sweet darling girl. I won't this time. Some other time!" He closed his eyes, and I resumed caressing his breasts. He reached for mine, and began to roll his hips. I rocked with him, and decided not to ride up and down on him. Even so, after a minute or maybe less, he reached up and pulled my body toward him, and sucked one of my breasts into his mouth as it deep as it would go, and pushed his little cock into my pussy with a single great thrust upward as far as it would go, and I felt him suddenly begin to pulse. It felt odd but delicious, better than a prick pulsing in my ass, and suddenly I felt very wet! Really slippery! He was breathing almost frantically. When his breath steadied down, I raised myself off him and tucked a towel between us, to blot up some of the blood and semen I was leaking all over his groin. I leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. He raised his chin to meet my mouth, and kissed me. Our tongues tangled. So tenderly. There was no question here who was the dominant partner. From the way he nibbled on my mouth I knew he felt like a shy, compliant young girl who has just been fucked and feels humble and grateful. He'll be easy to break in for boys to use, I thought. Even now I bet he'll kneel down and blow any stud who has the good sense to caress those breasts of his first. I allowed Marianne another moment to grow softer in me, then slowly climbed off him. "There you are, my girl," I said. "I've used you. Now you're a sex object. A fallen woman! We just gave each other our virginity, didn't we? So we've just used each other to become two fallen women, haven't we?" He nodded, overwhelmed by the enormity of the gift he'd just received. "Now you're a lesbian," I went on. "Your little clit has been inside a girl. You've been kissed and caressed by a girl. Some day you'll be kissed and caressed by a boy, and that'll feel nice too." He nodded again in his trance, eyes still shut. I bent over and kissed him on his sweet mouth. Did he understand what I'd just said? He kissed me back ever so gently, only his lips moving. Then more briskly I said, "Now into the bathroom and clean up, sweetheart, then put your panties and shorts back on. Look at that! You didn't even take your sandals off, you were so eager to put out for me! What a slut!" I grinned at him, and after a moment he opened his eyes and grinned back. His eyes were beautiful, with those long, dark, wet lashes, and they were gleaming. He glanced down at the pink splotches on his groin. "JayCee, you've made me so very happy," he tried to say, and he finally got it out the third time. Then he started to cry. "I know," I said. I felt moved too. "But hurry, my mother's due home about now."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7444.txt

Rock Hancock

Louie & Ser

"Frankie, I've been thinking about the frogs. You know they aren't so bad. In fact, that little one has some great legs on her." "Louie, what are you talking about now? You're the one who tried to fry them back in January. Now you say, they aren't so bad. Next, I suppose you'll want to play leapfrog with them." "Yeah, well, that was a mistake, back in January. It's what I get for listening to weasels. Now, I've been looking at Ser over there on her lily pad, and she isn't bad looking. Maybe if I took her a basket of fruit flies, she'd like me." "Louie, Louie. Listen to me. She's a frog, you're an iguana. See the difference here? I'm telling you, the boss is gonna fire you if you get romantically involved with the frogs. You're supposed to sell beer, not create a scandal." "Yeah, yeah. I sell plenty of beer. Everybody watches the commercials to see me. The big chimp ain't gonna fire me. And what's wrong with me and a frog? Ever hear of Kermit and Miss Piggy? Nobody says anything about them, Frankie. What's the difference if it's me and Ser?" "Kermit and Miss Piggy is TV. This is real life. You're a reptile for God's sake. She's an amphibian. And just between you and me, they're a step down the evolutionary ladder. Now you better practice for the next commercial. We've got work to do." "Oh yeah, big practice. 'Weizzzzzzz.' What's so hard about that? I'm gonna steal the middle one's line. Big laugh." "It's 'wei,' not 'weizzz,' and it's a line that'll sell lots of beer, I'm sure, but it's what we're paid to do. You ever wonder why the frogs only say their names? Amphibians aren't as smart as reptiles, that's why. Louie, they're dumb. That's what they are. Dumb. You'll be a disgrace to all iguanas, and you'll get warts if you mess around with Ser." "I don't care. I've never seen a pair of legs as good-looking as those on Ser. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna get her the biggest basket of flies she's ever seen. Maybe some wine, too. Or you think she'd prefer pond water?" With that, Louie, the lovesick iguana, scurried away into the greenery of the swamp. Frankie yelled after the disappearing iguana, "You better watch out for Bud. He's a mean one. You can see it in his beady little eyes. Can't trust frogs. Dumb, but mean. That's what they are. Dumb and mean, I'm telling ya, Louie." Louie paid no attention to his partner. He was already collecting flies for his lady love. Fly collecting is a relatively easy task when you have a sticky 6" long tongue, and Louie rapidly filled his basket. He added a few bulrushes and a cattail or two. A Jack-in-the-pulpit for color, and he was all set. He thought of getting her a fresh lily pad, but decided that would be too forward. He didn't want her to croak when she saw him. That evening, the frogs sat out on their lily pads. "Bud." The biggest one started off. "Wei Wei." The middle one chimed in. "Ser Ser Ser." The smallest one sang. Louie thought the frogs were trying to vary their rhythms, hoping for a jazzier sound. He was about to say, "Forget it, you don't have rhythm. Just do your lines," but he caught sight of Ser's big green eyes bulging on the sides of her head. She blinked languidly, slowly, and very seductively. At least, in Louie's mind, it was seductive. Louie gripped the branch tightly with his suction feet to keep from falling into the water. His own eyes turned up and down at the same time as he tried hard not to stare. His tail curled over his back, and his green skin turned pinkish with the rush of blood. Remembering his gift, Louie held the basket with one hand out to Ser and stammered, "I... I... thought you might like these. They're fresh. Caught them myself, I did." He held the white Jack-in-the-pulpit flower in the other hand. His tiny three-fingered hands shook with excitement, and his eyes swirled around in his head. Ser ignored the flower and licked up a dozen flies at once with her tongue. She swallowed, again closing her huge eyes. Her eyes sank into her head with pleasure and then popped back out. She snaked her tongue toward the basket for more, but stopped when Bud hopped over. "Ser?" Bud croaked. "What's this?" "I'm Louie," Louie interrupted. "I brought Ser a gift. I hope you don't mind. They're the best fruit flies in the swamp." "Flies?" "Yeah, have some," he answered, hoping the big bullfrog wouldn't take too many. The other frog joined his brother and asked, "Why?" Louie said, "Louie," thinking the frog was introducing himself. The frogs all blinked in unison at that, and Louie felt he was getting nowhere fast. He decided to take the plunge and see if Ser would take a hop in the swamp with him. Iguanas don't hop, but they can walk pretty fast. Louie knew he could keep up with the frog, and her hopping would show off those gorgeous gams. His eyes rolled at the salacious thought. He managed to focus both eyes on Ser, a sign of respect among iguanas, and said, "I wonder if you would enjoy having a picnic with me. I know this great place with lots of mosquitoes. I mean if it's alright with your brothers." "Please, Bud. Louie's okay; just misunderstood. And he did bring me a delicious treat." "Misunderstood? Yeah, that's it; I'm misunderstood. I'm really a nice guy. We won't be gone long," Louie added in his own defense. "Why?" the middle frog croaked again. Bud turned an eye toward him, but kept Louie fixed in the stare of the other. "Wei, dis ain't practice time. Go catch a fly or somethin'. I gotta figure dis out." "Why? Why? Why is he misunderstood?" the middle frog asked as he hopped away. Nobody answered his question. "Now look, Bud. We ain't gonna be too far away. We're just gonna have a picnic and be real close by. I'll bring you some mosquitoes too. Ask Ser; she wants to go," Louie turned to Ser. "Don't ya?" he asked. "Sure. I'd love a picnic. We practiced enough for one day, Bud. Let me go, please?" Bud said, "You mess wid my sister, and they gonna find ya at the bottom of the swamp wid yer thing stuffed in yer mouth. Ya got dat? Youse be a gentleman, hear?" Louie gulped and nodded his head affirmatively. The happy couple hopped and scuttled along to Louie's picnic grounds. Louie left the rest of the fruit flies behind for Bud. It would be easy to catch more for Ser and himself later. Soon they came to a stagnant scum-covered pond. The pond was an oily black colored liquid except where the algae spread out. Those areas were a putrid shade of green. The pond was surrounded by tall bulrushes, infested with mosquitoes and flies, a perfect place for romance. Louie led his lady-love to a large flat rock at one end of the pool. "What a lovely spot. However did you find it?" Ser asked. While she waited for Louie to answer, she caught several of the tasty mosquitoes with her tongue. There were so many, she really didn't have to try very hard; even a tadpole could catch these. But she decided to show off her double-twist, half-spin catching technique. Ser's tongue snaked out like a coiled spring, and just as she snagged a treat, she spun the end of her tongue. The mosquito performed a twirling dance on the tip of her spinning tongue on its way to her mouth. Louie was mildly impressed and rolled both eyes in appreciation. He then did a full-curl, roll, and a reverse flip of his tongue, snagging two mosquitoes at the same time. Again, he let his tongue play out with a forward flip this time. This maneuver caused the tip to point down, and he grabbed a large horse fly who chose that most inopportune moment to pass.The buzzing of the angry fly made Ser laugh, her grin stretched from ear to ear. She croaked, "Rib-it. Rib-it. Very good indeed. I give you an 8 for style and 10 for technique." Louie's crinkly dry skin flushed deep scarlet, changing hue almost as well as a chameleon. His eyes rolled uncontrollably, and he tried to think of something to say, but was saved the effort. "You know, Louie, I've always had a special croak for you. Want to hear it?" she asked. "Err... Sure... Yeah. Yeah, I wanna hear it." Ser launched into her song, croaking up and down the scale. It was music to Louie's tympanic membranes, which vibrated in tune with her voice. Louie's heart melted. Ser finished with a series of deep bass notes, guttural and suggestive in their intent. Louie was so caught up in her sexy voice that he slipped off the branch. Just before splashing into the pool, he caught himself by hooking his tail around a reed. He saved face by catching a large dragonfly and presented it as a gift to Ser just as she finished her song. When Ser stuck out her tongue to take it, she touched Louie's. His face went even more crimson, and his eyes spun in their sockets. Ser's eyes were closed and sunk deep into her head. Louie let his tongue slide along the length of hers, and soon they were Frenching. At one point, they almost tied their tongues into knots. After several minutes, they paused long enough to catch their breath. Louie slipped a skinny arm around Ser; his three-fingered hand caressed her hind leg. She rubbed her head against his scaly neck and flicked her tongue around his tympanic area. Louie remembered Bud's warning, but couldn't help himself. He felt as if he'd known Ser all his life, and his heart had always been hers. As if echoing his thoughts, Ser spoke. "I know this sounds silly, but I am so comfortable with you, so at ease. It's as if we've always been together. It feels so right to be with you." She slid her hind leg up under Louie's tail and rubbed her foot against his sensitive erection. "Make love to me," she whispered in a deep-throated voice. Louie needed no further encouragement and moved behind the frog. His tongue licked and kissed her tympanic membranes on each side of her head while he slowly entered her willing wet slit. Ser croaked happy little sounds of pleasure as the big lizard started fucking her. She felt so hot and moist to Louie, much warmer than he thought a cold-blooded frog would be. His own skin seemed to be redder than normal, hotter than it should be as well. He felt totally strange and intensely turned-on. Ser whispered, "Louie, something's happening to me. To you." Louie opened his eyes and noticed they were in front of his head. Also, he couldn't move them independently either. As he continued fucking her with long, slow strokes, he saw her body changing before his suddenly stereoscopic eyes. Ser had grown much larger, and her skin no longer had that mottled gray-green look he loved so well. It was now a shade of tan, still hairless except for the top of her head, which had sprouted a luxurious growth of blond hair. Louie's hands slipped over her shoulders and onto her chest. Here he felt two soft mounds of warm flesh beneath his fingertips. The shock of these mammalian features forced Louie to jump back from his lover. He looked down upon her from a great height. He was standing on his hind legs, erect and in more ways than one. His still unsatisfied cock waved in front of him as he looked at Ser. Ser turned and got to her feet. She stood before him, no longer a frog. Ser had become a beautiful woman with long blond hair flowing to her waist. This shocked Louie for a second, until he realized that he was not a lizard anymore. Somehow, they had both turned into human beings. With this knowledge came the awareness that they had both been lovers, but had fallen under a witch's spell and been turned into a frog and an iguana, respectively. "Sara?" whispered Louie as he took her into his arms and kissed her deeply. Sara finally broke the long kiss and said, "Oh Louie, we found each other and broke the spell. But how?" "Our love cannot be stopped by anything, not even a witch can keep us apart. She made us into different creatures, but I knew somehow, we'd find each other and break the spell." "I'm glad for one thing," Sara said, "you still have some of your iguana attributes. I love it when you stick your tongue out." She guided Louie down to the ground and turned around, facing his feet. Sara sucked Louie's cock deep into her throat all the way to the base with one quick slurp. Her eyes closed, but didn't sink into her head as she deep-throated him. Louie noticed that Sara too had retained one frog characteristic as well. She certainly knew how to use her mouth on his organ. He snaked his tongue deep into her love tunnel - doing a double twist with a half gainer at the tip. Just before surrendering to their lovemaking, he noticed that Sara had retained two characteristics; she had webbed toes. THE END

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13258.txt

Dr. Phil

The Woods

"I must say, Jonathan, I've just had such a wonderful time today!" "Me, too," echoed Sarah. "And you're such a dear to see us home from the party." "My pleasure, ladies. I couldn't see you riding home alone in the dark." Claire giggled mischievously. "My sister and I just lost all track of time tonight! We were supposed to leave a couple of hours ago so we could ride home in the light. I'm afraid that Daddy's going to tan both our hides when we get home so late." Sarah gasped at her sister's comment, and Jonathan blushed and clucked at the horse to hurry up a bit. He had tied his own horse behind the Wilson girls' carriage, and he sat between the two lovely young ladies as they glanced at each other behind his back and giggled. "Now don't you worry about that, Claire. I'm sure your Daddy will be happy that I escorted the two of you safely home. Besides, we can take a shortcut through the woods and you'll save over an hour's time." "Oh no!" gasped Sarah. "Those woods are HAUNTED! There's all kinds of stories about people going in there and never being seen again! I think I'd rather face my Daddy's belt than those woods." "Oh, nonsense!" Jonathan waved his hand in dismissal. "That's a lot of hogwash. I've been in those woods before, lots of times! There's nothing to be afraid of. Besides, you've got me to protect you!" "Well, since you put it that way..." Claire snuggled up to Jonathan. "No, please!" continued Sarah. "I'm really afraid. I've heard some awful stories about those woods. They say there are creatures who live there who eat people that they catch. I'm scared!" "If we go through the woods, we'll still have some daylight. It'll be fine, honest. It'll be much safer than riding home the long way in the dark." "Well, maybe... but I'm still afraid." Jonathan put his arm around Sarah and squeezed her shoulder. Both women huddled against him, and he almost shivered himself, though not from fear. Their softness and the smell of their perfume made his hands tremble, and he shook the reins to hide his shakiness. Claire and Sarah Wilson were two of the prettiest young women around. All the other guys would have given anything to be in Jonathan's place right now. Claire was the older of the two. She was nineteen. Her sister Sarah was a year younger and a lot more reserved. Claire was a bit on the wild side. Many a young man would have liked to rope her in, but she seemed to enjoy being single, even if it meant living with her parents and her sister. This wild streak caused her to look forward to the excitement of riding through the haunted woods with Jonathan. This would give her an excuse to cuddle up and squeeze him, all innocently of course! She knew the effect she had on men, and she loved teasing them just a bit. She giggled and gripped his arm tighter as the carriage turned and headed off the road and into the woods. The three of them rode on in silence as the sun cast long shadows about them. Claire and Sarah moved even closer to Jonathan, who took every opportunity to squeeze the frightened girls and whisper encouraging comments. Claire began talking about the party they had just attended and giggled as she talked about some of the dances she had had. She was trying to cheer her sister up, but Sarah was obviously still frightened. Jonathan seemed a little jealous when Claire mentioned some of the other young men, but she smiled at him, and his ears turned red from embarrassment. They had been travelling through the woods for about fifteen minutes when it finally dawned on them that it was VERY quiet. More quiet than it should be. There were no animal noises. No birds. It was, in a word, spooky. The sun was close to setting, and the eerie silence about them was broken only by the sounds of their own horses and carriage. Suddenly the carriage horse reared up and whinnied, frightened. "Easy there.... easy...." Jonathan tried calming the animal, but it continued rearing and whinnying. "What's going on, Jonathan? Why did he stop?" Claire gripped his arm tighter. Sarah's hands were shaking. The carriage had come to a stop, and the women were trembling in fear as Jonathan continued trying to calm the skittish horse. All of a sudden, Jonathan's horse, which had been tied to the rear of the carriage, broke free and galloped off into the woods. "Ginger! Come back!" Jonathan called out after her, but she galloped away as if someone were chasing her. "Damn!" Jonathan cursed. "I hope she makes it home okay." As the three of them were watching Ginger gallop off, the carriage horse broke free of its harness, reared up, and ran off ahead of them. "Star! Come back here!" Claire and Sarah both yelled out. Jonathan jumped out of the carriage and ran after the swiftly disappearing horse, but it was no use. He walked back towards the carriage and the women who were huddling together on the seat. Jonathan looked at the leather harness lying on the ground, then picked it up. "My God!" he whispered. "This has been cut! How in the world..." Just then, he caught some movement under the carriage. A small, grotesque form crawled out and stood up, grinning at him. At least, it looked like some kind of a savage grin. It stood only about three feet tall, and its mouth was filled with pointed teeth, which made it look like it was grimacing. Its ears were slightly pointed, and its eyes, which were red as hot coals, glared menacingly at him. Jonathan heard the women scream and point behind him. He also heard a slight sound, but before he could turn around, he felt a sharp pain in his head, and he blacked out... When he came to, his hands were tied behind his back, and he was sitting on the ground with his back to a tree. He had only been out a couple of minutes, but all hell had broken loose in that short time. Sarah and Claire were besieged by dozens of grotesque creatures just like the one Jonathan had seen. They were all about three feet tall and hideous. They appeared to be enormously strong for their size and easily overpowered the shrieking women. The creatures were naked, and their skin was covered with a kind of scaly hide. They looked all out of proportion. Their ears were large and pointed, and their faces chiseled. They looked like something out of a hellish nightmare. Their penises were nearly the size of a normal man's, and all were erect. It added an almost comical touch to see them walking about with these huge erect organs, but the raw evil in their faces was enough to make Jonathan gasp and tremble. "Sooooooo... he waaaaketh. Good. Let him watch..." The voice Jonathan heard was part hiss, part low growl. He watched helplessly as the creatures swarmed all over Sarah and Claire, ripping their clothes away. They laughed and grunted as they tore the women's clothes into shreds. Sarah was sobbing as they grabbed her nude body and dragged her back against a tree. They put her on her knees and tied her hands and feet behind the tree. Her bare breasts shook as she cried for help. She called Jonathan's name over and over, but there wasn't anything he could do to save her. When Sarah was secure, they turned their attention back to the squirming nude body of her sister. Several of the creatures were holding her limbs tight as her torso struggled. It was useless, they were far stronger than her, and they now numbered in the dozens. Claire was crouched naked on all fours. Four of the creatures held her arms and legs tightly while the others were all over her, pulling at her dangling tits and grabbing clumpfuls of her white ass. "We eat welllll... Yum..." The goblin-like creatures poked her all over. Claire was screaming as they tugged on her soft cunt-hair and began slapping her wildly thrashing ass. Two of them grabbed her asscheeks and pulled them wide apart, their fingers digging in as they stretched her open. Another goblin walked up and, standing, he thrust his penis into her gaping asshole. They all laughed, and the two holding her asscheeks took turns tugging on her cunt as their companion fucked away furiously. When he was through, he withdrew his penis from her, then, in a sickening display, he crouched down and began licking her ass crease from bottom to top. His long pointed tongue paid particular attention to the rosebud he had just occupied. By this time, there was a line of at least a dozen creatures waiting for their turn at her. One by one, they fucked her ass while their companions held her open and rubbed her cunt.Each one repeated the filthy deed of licking her when he was through. There were roars of laughter from the goblins as she involuntarily squirmed and wiggled. The others were all over the rest of her torso, grabbing and licking flesh wherever they could find it. "Yummm! It's good!" A couple of the creatures stayed by the tree with Sarah, pulling mischievously on her helpless nipples as they watched their companions climbing all over Claire. While this was going on, a few of the goblins had been busy gathering wood and small dead branches for kindling. They dug a pit and filled it with coals, then piled the kindling around them. Above the pit, they erected a large spit. When Claire saw the spit, she began screaming in panic, but the goblins just continued plugging her helpless ass. By this time, the sun was starting to set. The goblins had been at Claire's ass for over an hour. They couldn't seem to get satisfied, no matter how many times they had her. Finally, the leader gave a signal, and the raping stopped. The goblin leader looked at the coals, which were beginning to turn white, then scurried over till he stood next to the trembling nude body of Claire. Her teeth were chattering, and there was a huge puddle of her own sticky goo on the ground between her legs. He reached out a gnarled finger and poked at her a couple of times. "Mmmm... Yummm... it's good!" He walked behind her and happily grabbed handfuls of her white ass, grunting in approval. "Must be more tender!" He slapped her ass quite hard, causing Claire to jump, and the other creatures to snarl happily. "More tender! <SLAP!> More tender! <SLAP!>" He continued slapping at her ass while the other creatures gathered around her once more. They slapped at her wherever they could, concentrating on her meaty ass cheeks. Dozens and dozens of scaly little hands spanked her as she was held pinned on all fours. "Leave her alone!" Jonathan struggled against his bonds. Sarah looked on in wide-eyed horror at what they were doing to her sister. The leader walked over to Jonathan and leered at him. "Keep quiet!" he spat. "Your turn will be next. We'll make you REAL tender... hahaha!" Jonathan gulped and didn't say a word. He watched the spanking continue while two of the goblins took a pole and laid it on the ground near the besieged young woman. Several of the goblins brought out ropes. They bound her hands behind her and laid her on her back. They then bent each one of her knees back to her chest and used a rope to secure each shin to a thigh. With her lying on her back with her knees bent back and spread wide, she was completely helpless as they prepared her for the spit. Many a young man would have given all he owned for a glimpse of Claire's ripe young body spread like that. Her cunt and ass were wide open and ready to be stuffed. Several other goblins appeared with handfuls of what looked like chopped walnuts and raisins. As they stuffed her cunt and asshole full, other goblins used their knives to cut Claire's long blonde hair close to her scalp. Still others grunted and laughed and clustered about her to happily pluck each golden hair off her pussy while she squirmed and gasped. By the time they were through, Claire looked like a delicious young chicken, ready for the roasting spit! She was sobbing hysterically as they slipped the spit underneath her and tied it securely beneath her in several places. Each of her bent knees had a rope tied to it which ran tightly around her to her hands behind the pole. This kept her knees spread wide and her bent legs pulled up and back. She was spread as wide open as she could possibly be and secured that way on the spit. Her ass was pointing slightly up, and her anus and pussy could be seen stretched wide with stuffing poking out of them. Another laughing goblin took a pot from the edge of the coals. He had been heating fat in it. It was very warm, though not quite burning, and he used a brush to baste her all over with the warm fat. Sobbing and pleading pitifully, Claire was hoisted up, and the spit set in place over the hot coals. She felt the heat immediately. It was like lying directly in the sun on a very warm day. "... it not so fast!" The goblin leader said to Jonathan, who was watching the proceedings with shock and horror. His eyes were glued on the nude trussed body of Claire turning slowly on the spit, but he managed to hear the goblin next to him gloat: "This take long time! Long time! Fire low and spit high. She roast all night, VERY slowly! She beg for very long time. Great fun for goblins!" Claire was crying hysterically as she hung there from the spit. She felt the heat on her exposed pussy and nipples as she swung down, then on her ass and back as the spit rotated her up. She begged Sarah and Jonathan to save her, but there was nothing either of them could do but watch helplessly as she was slowly twirled over the coals. One of the goblins positioned himself by one end of the spit, and each time Claire's ass was presented to him, he slapped it and yelled "More tender!" Another goblin had a brush on a stick, and he occasionally basted the girl with more fat as she revolved. Night had fallen, and the scene was lit by torches stuck in the ground. The goblins danced and carried on. The sound of their festivities was punctuated by the loud crack on Claire's upturned ass as she was spanked each revolution. Her hysterical pleadings amused the goblins as she was very slowly roasted. The night wore on. An hour later, Claire's white skin had turned as red as a bad sunburn. A few blisters had appeared on her breasts which hung down closest to the coals. She was still sobbing, and a new goblin had taken over the spanking duties. The warm fat mixed with her own sweat and began dripping off her body. It collected on her nipples, and as it dropped onto the coals, it hissed and sent searing steam up at her exposed flesh. She passed out a couple of times, but the goblins held something under her nose to wake her up. They were clearly enjoying this and wanted to drag it out as long as possible. At this time, the head goblin trotted over to Jonathan, who was still tied up under a tree. "She cook all night... your turn next! Get him ready!" Jonathan struggled helplessly as other goblins grabbed at him. His hands were tied tightly behind his back, and the goblins used knives to cut all of his clothing away. Lying on his back, he tried kicking out at them, but the goblins grabbed his feet, then bent his knees back against his chest and tied them there. They spread him wide and ran ropes from his knees around his back so that in short order, he was tied exactly as Claire had been. His ass and genitals were lifted up and openly presented. He was dragged closer to Claire so he could lay there and watch her turning. One of the few female goblins crouched in front of him and began massaging his shriveled penis to erection. She laughed and snarled as she saw it grow in her claw-like hands. When he was fully erect, she took a small branch and began lightly rubbing it back and forth along the underside of his shaft to keep it hard. She hefted his balls in one hand and hissed: "Yesssss.... we want these full. These are besssst part of a man! Veeery Tasty! Must be full and big for roasting! Hahahah!" As she held his balls and massaged his penis, the goblins began digging another pit next to Claire's and filling it with coals. "No! Please!" Jonathan cried. "Quiet him!" the goblin leader snarled. "We can't hear the pretty young female moan!" A goblin grabbed an apple and unceremoniously stuffed it into Jonathan's mouth. He then used a strip of torn clothing around his head to tie it in place. The female goblin began smacking his ass now and laughing out "More tender! <SLAP!> Hahahah! More tender! <SLAP!>" She stuffed his anus with chopped nuts and raisins and backed away as the goblins tied him to the spit and hoisted him over his own coals exactly as they had done with Claire. As he hung there, he could look over and watch Claire turning next to him. The coals under him had not had a chance to turn white yet, and the heat was not so intense. He'd be cooking for a much longer time than Claire... Just as they had done with Claire, a goblin positioned himself at the end of the spit and began slapping his upturned ass on each revolution while another basted him with warm fat. His cock was still rock hard, and the little female goblin stood by and brushed it occasionally with her branch to keep it that way. His balls hung low and full as he swung down. He'd be feeling the heat there first, and also on his widely spread ass. The two unfortunates twirled side by side, stripped, trussed, and spanked as they roasted. Jonathan cried silently due to his gag while Claire was moaning for the goblins' enjoyment. Sarah watched all this in complete horror. She couldn't help but be fascinated by the lusty sight of Jonathan stripped and spread before her, but the knowledge of what was actually happening to him and her sister was horrifying. She tried to turn away, but the goblins attending her made her watch while they laughed and fondled her. The head goblin leered at Sarah and nodded his head in the direction of the pits. "Soooo, they look delicious, no? We haven't had humans in a long time. They don't come here often. Those two will roast all night..." He licked his lips as he watched them turning. Sarah cried, and a goblin held her head to make sure she wouldn't look away. "Not for you tonight! No! Those two are plenty for a while. We save you for our feast next week. Prepare her!" Sarah screamed as two goblins wheeled up what looked like a small dolly. Basically, it was a low platform on wheels that was pulled forward by ropes. They unfastened her from the tree and laid her on her back on the dolly.She was completely naked, and they lifted her feet up in the air and bent her knees back to her chest. They tied each of her hands to its corresponding foot and then ran ropes down to the sides of the dolly to spread her legs wide open. They fastened the ropes near the head of the dolly so that her ass was lifted up off the wooden platform and spread wide. "Good! Take her to the cave. Yes, my sweet! Take a look at your friends. Next week is the Moon festival. Then you will be our feast! You will be tied to a spit like your friends and slowly roasted all night in our cave. The young ones will turn you until you are done. You are very tender... yes, but we will make you MORE tender!" He slapped her upturned ass hard and motioned for the other goblins to take her away. Two of them picked up ropes and began slowly wheeling her deeper into the woods. One goblin perched himself right on the dolly between her widely parted thighs and grinned as he inserted a bony finger into her anus and licked at her horribly exposed pussy. Occasionally he would remove his finger and slap her ass, yelling "More tender!" while the other two grunted and pulled. Sarah couldn't help but buck and squirm. The goblin had found her spot and he knew it! Like a mischievous child, the goblin grinned and kept at her, laughing as she moaned and twisted. As she was wheeled away, she managed to get one last glimpse of Claire and Jonathan. They both were trussed up like chickens with their legs pulled up and back. She could hear the slaps on their asses and the laughing of the goblins as they slowly revolved over the coals. That would be her in a week! Until then, they would enjoy tormenting her in their cave. The way they had her tied, she knew they'd be at her ass and cunt the whole time, laughing as she moaned and twisted in her ropes. Was there any hope? The horses would probably be back at their respective homes by now. Would there be a search party looking for them? Even if they were in time to save Claire and Jonathan, they'd never find her in the caves! As she squirmed under the tormenting finger, she knew already that they'd never be found. Nobody would think to look in the woods. Nobody ever went in the woods... THE END

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9791.txt

Ms. Christine

Corporate Backlash - The Corporation - Part Twelve

"That should teach you to have better manners and more respect for the fairer sex. I thought my husband warned you, I can't abide bad manners." Seven, eight, nine, ten. He was in agony. She pushed him off her lap, and he landed on the floor. Instantly, his hands went to his burning buttocks. He was red in the face, and his eyes were watering. He looked like a scolded child. "Now I want to hear an apology!" she said as she placed the hairbrush on the dining table. Within easy reach, he noticed. He looked at her still exposed legs, then at the floor. He could not believe he was still lusting after her. Not after what she had just done to him. But he was. "I am very sorry for my behavior," he said. The fact that it was all Alice's fault, he did not think would go down too well at this particular moment. Especially as Alice had been giggling at him throughout his ordeal. He would just have to try and keep out of her way. Or maybe he would just be sent away. He felt that was the most likely outcome. A patent leather stiletto heel dug into his genitalia. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, I really am. Please forgive me." But it ground in harder. What did he have to say to make her stop? Then he realized. How stupid to forget. "I am very sorry, Madam." Lisa removed her foot, and Jack breathed the biggest sigh of relief of his entire life. "Get up, you pathetic excuse for a man," Lisa sneered. Jack stood up and started to pull his pants up. "I think it would be better if I left now. I wouldn't want to offend you any further," he said. "Nonsense, Jack, I would not think of letting you go so soon. I still have to punish you for wanking in my bathroom." That did it. He bent down and tried to raise his pants. Clutching them at half-mast, he headed for the door as fast as he could. He knew he looked totally ridiculous. "Where are you going, Jack?" Lisa inquired, "not outside, I hope. The dogs won't like it." Jack's shoulders slumped. He was at her mercy. "That's more like it. Now, why don't you just take all your clothes off! You won't be needing them for the rest of this weekend." Jack let his trousers fall back around his ankles and gave her a look of silent pleading. Lisa's face was totally impassive and unyielding. So, clinging to the grain of hope in her last words, he reluctantly obeyed. If he could survive the weekend, maybe she would let him go on Monday, and maybe, just maybe, he might still get his promotion. When he was completely naked, she told Alice to put his clothes with the rest of his things. Then she turned to Jack and said, "Come along, follow me. You will be spending the night in my room, I have a place all ready for you." And when she received no response from the dumbfounded Jack, she clasped his prick ever so gently in her hand and continued, "Well, aren't you going to thank me?"

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16584.txt

Ann Douglas

Deja Vu

"Oh grandmother, I still can't believe it!" The young blonde-haired woman exclaimed as she gushed with excitement. "Two days from now I'm going to be in Europe." "Well, it's nothing that you don't deserve." The older woman smiled back. "I'm very proud of you, and all that you've accomplished." "I don't think Mother would agree with you on that." Jenny D'Angelo replied. "She thinks the entire trip is a colossal waste of money." "Your mother thinks everything is a waste of money." Connie D'Angelo laughed. "And besides, it's my money that's paying for this trip, so she doesn't have anything to complain about." With that, Jenny joined in the laughter. She knew she really shouldn't be enjoying a joke at her mother's expense, but she couldn't help it. In many ways, Connie had always been closer to her than her mother. Despite the 38 years separating them, they were more like girlfriends than family. The trip to Europe had been Connie's idea. She had been so impressed when Jenny graduated from high school a year early and then gained acceptance to an Ivy League college. In addition to covering all the expenses for three months on the continent, Connie was also buying Jenny a new wardrobe for the trip. Between the two of them, they had two shopping bags full. The rest of what they had bought would be delivered to Connie's tomorrow. Knowing her daughter-in-law would have something to say about all the new clothes, Connie had wisely put her own address on the deliveries. "It's still early, what say we head over to Kou-feng's for lunch." Connie suggested. "Great." Jenny responded. "But only if you let me treat you this time." "All right." was the reply. An hour and a half later, the two women had lunch behind them and were headed down Main Street. Along the way, both women turned men's heads. An action that they both took so much for granted that neither gave it much thought. Jenny was 5'5", with long blonde hair that ran to the midpoint of her back. Deeply tanned, she wore a pretty yellow blouse and a short blue skirt. A firm set of breasts pressed against the yellow material, highlighting a youthful, athletic figure. She had been on the gymnastics team in school, and all the hours spent practicing were self-evident. Standing a few inches taller than her granddaughter, Connie long ago gave up trying to keep a slim figure. Instead, she had concentrated on keeping her body firm and hard. Extra pounds she may have gained over the years, but very little of it was fat. She worked out as much as she could, maintaining a form that most women her age could only envy. Blessed with a more than full-figured bust when still in her teens, she couldn't defy the long-term effects of the laws of gravity. But no one said that she had to submit to them without a fight. What gray that dared appeared in her hair was banished by frequent trips to her hairdressers. Connie wanted to put as much as she could into this last day she would spend with her beloved granddaughter. She was really going to miss Jenny, but glad she was able to give her the opportunity to travel. She had considered going along with her, but eventually rejected the idea. Better Jenny go with the other girls from her school. It would be a better experience letting her be on her own. It had taken all her authority as the matriarch of the D'Angelo family to get Jenny's parents to agree to the trip. Stephen, her son, had been more than willing to let Jenny go. He had a great deal of faith in his daughter and knew that he could trust her accordingly. Stephen's wife Barbara, on the other hand, had been opposed to the trip from day one. It was a waste of money, she'd said. A young girl couldn't be trusted out on her own. Why, when she was her age... Connie remembered all too well what Barbara, or Babs as she liked to be called then, was like at that age. She was a simple-minded blonde airhead that more than lived up to the stereotype. She was, Connie believed, her son's one great mistake in his life. Try as she could, Connie had been unable to keep him from being swayed by a pretty face and a big set of boobs. Nothing that could have come out of her mouth was going to carry more weight than the things Babs was doing with hers. So she had reluctantly watched when they married at 19. A year later, she could almost forgive Babs for marrying her son when she gave birth to Jenny. It turned out that Babs, now calling herself Barbara once again, couldn't find the time among all her social activities to give Jenny all the attention she deserved. Over the last 17 years, Connie had been more than happy to fill the void. "I've copied down all the places you told me to see." Jenny said as they crossed the intersection. "Sometimes I wish you were going with me." "We've already gone over that." Connie said as she stepped onto the curb. "You'll have a much better time with your friends." She added, wondering if she really believed that. "Maybe, but I wish......" "Hey Jenny, Jenny D'Angelo!" Said a strong masculine voice from the right of the two women. Jenny turned around and saw the tall, dark-haired young man who had called her. He stood about 6'1" and had short, curly black hair. The muscles of his chest and arms were highly defined, and it was obvious that he took exercise seriously. The blue T-shirt he wore clung to him like a second skin. Legs as well developed as his arms stretched out from a pair of red shorts. "Hi Jenny." He repeated. "Jack!" The girl exclaimed as she jumped forward and gave him a sisterly hug. "When did you get back?" "Last week, I'm staying at my mom's." Jack answered. "It's so good to see you again." Jenny continued, her eyes never leaving his face. "You too," He replied. "I heard how you graduated a year early. I knew you could do it." "Thanks." Jenny beamed. "So what are you doing now." "Football scholarship at State." Jack answered. "But I still need to work during the summer to cover some of the extras." He added as he handed her one of the flyers he had been passing out. A quiet cough from behind Jenny reminded her of her grandmother's presence. Slightly red at her oversight, she turned and introduced her. "Grandmother, this is Jack Marziatto." She said. "Jack, this is my grandmother, Connie D'Angelo. Jenny continued turning back to Jack. "Jack and I both went to school together, he graduated last year." She continued. "That's something that your granddaughter deserves most of the credit for." Jack interjected. "If not for her tutoring, I'd have been in the fifth year of high school instead of the freshman year at State. "You passed the exams." Jenny laughed. "I just helped you study." "Marziatto, I used to know a Marziatto family a long time ago." Connie said as she looked at the young man's face, a strange look on her own. "They lived over on 10th Street." "That would've been my grandparents." Jack answered. "They moved over to Bakersville in the early sixties. My parents moved back here about ten years ago when I was 9." "Come to think of it, I only remember the Marziatto's having four daughters." Connie remarked. "How could you have the same last name?" "Well, that's a little piece of the family skeleton." Jack replied, the humor in his voice showing that he had no problem dismissing the long-ago scandal as anything but ancient history. "Grandma got divorced after being married about five years. It was such a messy divorce that she had both her son's names legally changed to Marziatto." "And your grandfather was?" Connie asked, a look of anticipation on her face. "Johnny Coravelli." He replied. "Why, did you know him too?" Connie's face now went pale as all the blood seemed to drain from it. She felt dizzy for a second and had to take a moment to compose herself. "Grandmother!" Jenny called out as she saw her stagger for a moment. "I'm OK," She lied. "Just felt dizzy for a moment. Getting old can be a real bitch at times." She added with a laugh. "I'm sorry, Jack." She said as she took a deep breath and regained control of herself."You were saying?" "His name was Johnny Coravelli," he repeated. "In fact, I was named for him. My dad didn't share Grandma's aversion to his memory. Did you know him?" "I'm sorry, but the name doesn't ring a bell," the older woman said. "It was a very long time ago, after all." "I guess so," Jack said. "I'm sure if you'd known him, you'd remember. He was a musician. My dad told me he was quite a character, always getting into some kind of trouble or another. I met him a few times a couple of years ago, and that really set off Grandma. I can still hear her going on about what a good-for-nothing he was. Then, when he got me a tattoo for my 16th birthday, she really went through the roof." "He got you a tattoo?" Jenny gasped. "Just a little one," Jack said as he pushed up the left sleeve of his shirt, revealing a small blue shark on his upper biceps. "He had one just like it." "He must've been quite a character indeed," Connie remarked as she stared at the tattoo, trying to sound dispassionate. "That he was. It's a pity he passed away last year. He was only 57. The doctor said it was too many years of abusing his body with one thing or another." "Well, it's good to see that you don't take after him in that respect," Connie noted, taking another long, good look at the young man. "No, I try to take care of myself," he answered. "But that's way too much about me. What about you, what have you been doing?" Connie didn't seem to hear as Jenny told Jack all about her impending trip to Europe and how she would be going away to college in the fall. The older woman's attention was riveted on the muscular young man. She seemed to be studying every feature of his face, something she hadn't done in a long, long time. "I guess I've kept you much too long," Jack finally said. With that, Connie finally snapped back to her surroundings. "You must have a lot of things to do before your trip, and I've got to get back to handing these things out," he concluded as he indicated the pile of flyers in his hand. Connie took one of the flyers and glanced at it. It was an advertisement for a small group of college boys, calling themselves "Jocks Inc.," who hired themselves out to do odd jobs over the summer. She recognized the masthead; she had hired two of them last year to paint the guest house. It was a good way for them to raise money for school. With a smile and a wave, Jenny said goodbye. Soon they reached the parking lot where they had left Connie's car. After storing the bags in the trunk, Connie slid behind the wheel. No sooner had they pulled out into traffic when Connie turned to her granddaughter. "A really nice young man," she remarked. "Very good-looking too. Are you sure all you did was tutor him?" "Well...we did go out a few times," Jenny admitted. "But nothing really came of it." "Did you sleep with him?" Connie asked nonchalantly. "Grandmother!" Jenny shot back in a mixture of mock anger and surprise. It wasn't that Connie had asked if she had sexual relations that surprised Jenny. It was that she had asked about if she had done it with someone specific. Something she had never done before. After all, it had been Connie that she had come to last year when she had decided that she was old enough to make that decision on her own. Knowing that Barbara's attitude on the subject was, "Well, if she's going to do it, what can I do about it," Connie again took her mother's place. She'd sat Jenny down and explained to her the pros and cons of being sexually active. Of how she thought she had all the answers when she was Jenny's age, when in reality she had been very ignorant. It didn't take a mathematical genius to figure out that Jenny's father had been born six months after the wedding. That said, she had made an appointment for her at one of the best gynecologists in town and had the doctor help her choose the best form of birth control for her. "Oh, Jack and I made out all right," she finally replied, enjoying the ease with which she could talk to her grandmother about anything. "But in the end, we decided that sleeping together wouldn't be the right thing to do. I'm really not looking for just a good fuck, I want there to be something more between us. Jack was enough of a friend to understand that. I mean, I'm sure the sex would've been great. But I want to be able to have something else afterwards. Jack's the complete opposite. He just wants to have a little fun, and not have to worry too much about tomorrow. Once we got that worked out, we became great friends." "I see," was Connie's only reply. It had only been a week since Jenny had left for London, and already Connie missed her terribly. She had talked to her on the phone a few hours ago and was overjoyed to know that she was having a great time. Yet no sooner had the receiver dropped back on the cradle when she was again filled with an emptiness. "I should have never given up control of the restaurants," Connie said out loud to herself as she turned off the television. "At least that would've given me something to occupy my time." Five years before, on her fiftieth birthday, Connie had turned over the control of the three D'Angelo restaurants to her children. In addition to Stephen, she had a second son named Peter who was now 35. Her daughter Angela had just turned 31. Aside from Jenny's mother, Connie was more than pleased with her children's marriages. Each of her children had been given a share in their own restaurant as well as operational control. Connie, of course, retained majority control of D'Angelo Enterprises. Hers was still the final word. She owed that much to her late husband. Vinnie had literally worked himself to death, suffering a fatal heart attack when he was only 46. It was his dream to see the single family restaurant that he'd inherited from his own father grow into a chain. Connie had made sure that dream had come true. It was her distrust of Barbara that caused her to hold her shares. Deep down, she believed that her daughter-in-law didn't have the desire for hard work that running the restaurants required. If she had any real control, she would quickly be pushing the others to sell out for a fast buck. Peter and Angela understood that. When Connie died, her shares would skip a generation and be split between the 7 grandchildren. She had arranged for trust funds for all of them. Each would get their full shares on their 21st birthday. Connie loved all her grandchildren, but it was always Jenny that occupied a special place in her heart. She was more like a daughter than a granddaughter, a reflection of what Connie was like when she was that young. "When I was that young," Connie repeated to herself. "When I was that young, I definitely wasn't sitting around the house feeling sorry for myself." With that, she rose from the chair and went looking for her address book. What she needed was a little companionship. Maybe even a little roll in the sack. Connie had hardly been celibate in the dozen years of her widowhood. She'd been actively pursued by a number of men, even taken a few as lovers. But most lost interest when they finally discovered that if marriage was a possibility, any control of D'Angelo's wasn't. Twice in the last ten years, she'd even had one-night stands with younger men, both times with the summer help that she hired to fill in for her waiters when they went on vacation. The young men never stood long, and no one ever knew. It gave her an ego boost to know she could still satisfy a younger man. In fact, during her first year of widowhood, Connie had even had a brief lesbian fling with Maria Fortunato, one of her neighbors. It was Maria who had initiated the affair, and Connie had been curious enough to let it develop. Most people thought it was so nice for Maria, a widow in her own right, to spend so much time with Connie during that difficult first year. No one ever suspected what was really going on. When the traditional mourning period finally ended, the men began to call once again, and the affair faded of its own accord. It had been an interesting experience, to say the least, and had helped fill a temporary void in her life. Connie made a few calls, but had no luck. It was already Friday night, and most of the men she knew had already made plans for the weekend. Those that she knew would be available were available for good reason, and she wasn't that desperate. Putting the book back down, Connie picked up the light blue advertisement sitting next to it on her desk. It was the flyer she had been given by Jenny's friend. She remembered that she had called them the other day to hire one of the boys to work on her patio deck this weekend. Bill Ross or something like that, was the boy they had told her would be coming. Just as well she stood home tonight. "Maybe I should have just asked them to send me over a young stud," Connie laughed to herself. Her laugh filled the room for a few seconds, then silence returned. The house once again seemed very empty. "You are definitely getting to be a horny old lady, Connie D'Angelo," Connie thought as she dropped the sheet onto the table. Late that night, long after dinner, Connie found herself unable to sleep. Uneasy with the whole idea of sleeping pills, she instead poured herself a glass of wine. Still, sleep would not come. By the time she was on her second glass, she decided to do a little of that cleaning out of the basement storage she had been doing on and off for the last two months. Connie carried a box of mementos up from the basement. She hadn't looked at this old junk in almost 30 years. Yet lately, she had begun to feel nostalgic.Sipping her drink, she was surprised that most of it was in such good condition. She had Vinnie to thank for that. He figured that these things would mean something to her someday and had been very careful in packing them away. They were the memories of a young girl named Connie Esposito, and of a time and place far away. Shifting through the layers of the past, the dark-haired woman found a stack of old 45s. Removing the plastic wrap around them, she smiled as she read off the labels: Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, Buddy Holly, Little Anthony and the Imperials, The Monotones, Fats Domino, and of course, Elvis. A bright smile on her lips, Connie thought of those long-ago days when she and her girlfriends had visions of passion listening to such hits as "Peggy Sue," "Book of Love," "Blueberry Hill," and "Why Do Fools Fall in Love?" "I haven't heard some of these in years," she said out loud. "I wonder if they are still good?" As she placed one of the small records on the entertainment center's turntable, Connie wondered what her grandchildren and their MTV-oriented friends would think of this music? Placing the needle on the first groove, she concluded that they would no doubt view them in much the same way she had viewed her parents' big band albums - as "old fogey music!" As the sounds of her girlhood drifted across the room, Connie went back to the storage container. Various books were soon piled alongside the case, along with piles of snapshots. Finally, at the bottom of the box, Connie found what she'd been searching for. Remarkably preserved, it was a framed color 11 x 14 photograph. In it were four young men in blue jackets. It was obvious that they were musicians from the instruments they carried. Standing next to and in front of the quartet were three young girls. The dark blue lettering on the drumhead read "Johnny and the Bluecoats." Focusing on each individual band member, Connie finally stopped at the tall, dark-haired lad on the far right. He was obviously the leader; you could tell that just from his bearing in the photo. His name... was Johnny Coravelli. And except for his greased-back hair, he could've almost been his grandson's twin. "Johnny, Johnny," Connie said to herself with a wide smile. "You always were a hunk." Dropping back into her heavily cushioned chair, Connie reverently ran her fingers across the bottom of the wooden frame. One by one, the names of the other band members filtered through her mind: Vito Rossini, Dominic Laruso, and Danny Giordano. They were on the way up in those days, the early days of Rock 'n' Roll. All they had needed was one lucky break. And for a while, it looked like they might just get it. Along with the guys were her two best girlfriends in the whole world: Tina Marie Cerani and Jill Barusso. The third girl in the photo, the one hanging on to Johnny, was of course as familiar as the closest mirror. Free of the lines of age and full of youthful exuberance, the face was her own. Connie chuckled as she looked at her younger self. Hair pulled back into a ponytail, a tight blue sweater, and a poodle skirt. That outfit used to cause her mother to cross herself every time she saw her in it. Preoccupied with the photo, Connie didn't notice the record had finished. Her thoughts were no longer here in this room. Closing her eyes, Connie could hear the magical music of the Bluecoats. She could see the crowds and feel the excitement of being there on the verge of success. Most of all, she remembered how wonderful it felt to have everyone know she was Johnny's girl. Her mind began to drift further and further away as her need for sleep and the wine took her back to days long gone. To one special night in particular. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "Oh, Johnny," the young 16-year-old moaned as she felt the boy's hand slip under her blouse and cup her naked breast. "Oh, baby," Johnny replied as he ran his fingers across Connie's nipples. "You feel so nice." With practiced skill, the dark-haired 19-year-old undid the buttons of the young girl's blouse. She could feel the excitement in his voice. She knew tonight would be the night. Tonight she would become a woman. "Oh God, Connie!" Johnny exclaimed as he undid the last button and her blouse fell away. Seconds later, her bright white bra had followed the blouse to the floor. Much to the envy of most of the girls in her class, Connie had begun developing early and had continued to develop after most of them had stopped. The result was an impressive 36C bust. She had let Johnny feel it before, but this was the first time he had been able to fully appreciate it au natural. Johnny had been planning this night for weeks. His parents were away for the night, having gone into the city to see that new play "My Fair Lady." They had decided to stay overnight in a hotel, and he had the house to himself. It had taken a lot of sweet talk, but tonight Connie was going to let him go all the way. "Mmmm," Johnny moaned as he kissed Connie's soft breasts. Running his tongue across her nipples, Johnny reached down and eased his free hand under the folds of her skirt and between her legs. Finding her panties wet brought an increased hardness to his cock, already straining against his pants. Pushing aside the moist material, Johnny slid his fingers inside her. "Ow!" Connie cried out at the sudden painful intrusion. "Easy!" "Relax, I know what I'm doing," Johnny said as he rubbed hard against her clit. Connie bit down until the initial pain passed and finally began to feel good. Not as good as when she did it herself, though. A fact which confused the girl. She had always heard that it was supposed to be better when a boy did it. Yet no sooner had it begun to really feel good when Johnny abruptly stopped. Johnny took Connie's hand and placed it on the bulge in his pants. She giggled as she felt his hardness. She rubbed it a little, bringing a soft moan from Johnny. It was her way of giving her assent without actually having to say it. It was a silly thing really, but that was the code girls lived by. Smiling, the dark-haired boy broke their embrace for a moment and undid his zipper, pulling his cock out of his pants. Then he pulled off the pants and let them drop to the floor next to the couch. Connie looked in fascination at the now fully freed cock. It was erect and pointed up and outward as if it had a life of its own. She had seen it before, of course, but that had always been in the dim back seat of Johnny's old '52 Ford. This was the first chance she had to see one up close and in the light. It was a lot different than the ones she and her girlfriends had looked at during a sleepover at Betty Anderson's house. Betty's father was a doctor, and she had borrowed some of his medical texts. Of course, none of them had been so erect! Sitting back down next to her, Johnny put her hand back on his cock. As she had done on so many nights, she closed her slim fingers around it and began to pump it up and down. The result on Johnny was immediate and pronounced. A look of pure satisfaction filled his face, both from the effect of Connie's pumping motion and the thought of the prize still to come. "Ooooh, baby, that feels so nice," the singer said in his special musical voice. "You make me feel so special." The words of encouragement caused the girl to melt and spurred her on. Doubling the speed of her hand job, she sent new sparks shooting through her boyfriend. This felt so good to Johnny that he temporarily lost sight of the night's objective. Finally, the familiar sensation that usually accompanied the climax of his own jerk-off sessions brought him back to reality. He had to force himself to ask her to slow down. If she kept going like that, he would have shot his load in another minute or two. Reluctantly, he guided her hand away from his still eager cock. He had to give it a few minutes to let his body settle down. "Let's catch our breath for a minute," he said as he took the time to unbutton the rest of his own shirt and dump it on top of his pants. He never wore undershirts and was now totally nude. Connie figured she should get naked as well and began to undo the clasp of her skirt. "No, let me do that," Johnny interrupted as he replaced her hands with his own. As he leaned over to slide off her skirt, Connie saw for the first time the small blue shark tattooed on his upper biceps. "Johnny, you're a Shark?" she asked in excitement. Johnny turned and looked at the emblem on his skin as if suddenly remembering that he had it. He looked a little worried for a moment and then, seeing her reaction, smiled once again. "Well, it was a while ago," he grinned. "But as they used to say, once you're a member, you're one to the grave." Up until a year and a half before, The Sharks had been one of the roughest street gangs in this part of the city. It wasn't that unusual for members to either graduate to the big time, the state pen, or the city morgue. There had been a shooting involving a cop, and even the other local hoods had turned a blind eye as most of the gang members were hunted down. Knowing that Johnny had been part of that seemed to make Connie even more excited. Feeling very flushed, Connie pulled up next to Johnny once again and cupped his balls in her hand. The fire in her eyes was plainly visible. Johnny knew this was his chance to put the stakes even higher. "Connie, baby," he asked in his most seductive tone, "do you really love me?" "Of course I do," she said as she leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. "What kind of silly question is that? Would I be here like this if I didn't?" "Well, I was just wondering...." He said hesitantly. "Seeing as we're gonna, ... well, you know..." Connie nodded her assent, but looked a little confused.She had already decided that tonight was going to be the night and had told him so. So what in the world was he talking about? "What I mean is... well, I was wondering if maybe you'd want to try that other thing we talked about," he continued. "You know, the thing with the mouth...." The words had hardly come out of Johnny's mouth when Connie jumped up off the sofa and away from him. She was clearly angry and grabbed her pile of clothes on the floor. "Johnny Coravelli, how could you even ask me to do such a thing!" she yelled as she stepped away with her clothes now bundled up in her arms. "If that's the kind of thing you really want, then you can go looking for one of those whores down by the docks!" Both Connie and her girlfriends had agreed that putting a man's cock in their mouth was the most disgusting thing that they had ever heard of. Something that only the nastiest prostitutes did. They'd no more consider doing it than their boyfriends would think of putting their mouth between a girl's legs.

Part One

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11484.txt

HotScribe

Dice Erotica

"Hi, Georgia!" I say to you as my female friend and I enter your apartment. "This is my friend, Pamela." You glance quickly over her as she smiles at you. She's attractive, fairly well-built and as tall as you, with long brown hair and hazel eyes. We remove our coats, sit down with you and enjoy the drinks you serve, then make small talk for a while until we feel comfortable with each other. Then I finally mention we might as well start the game. "Exactly how do we play?" you ask, not at all familiar with "Dice Erotica." "It's a very simplified, but erotic form of strip poker," I reply. "But, instead of using cards, we use dice. We each roll a dice; if we roll a 2, 3, 4 or 5, we do nothing. If we roll a 1, we must remove an article of clothing; if we roll a 6, we must take one of these 'Performance' cards"--I show a small pack of cards to you--"and do what it says. We have one minute to do the required act." That said, I produce a dice, put the Performance cards face down on the coffee table. Pamela, you and I sit facing each other on cushions on the floor. "You go first," you say to me as you settle yourself to my left. Pamela sits to my right, but your left. I roll the dice. Me: 3 You: 1 You undo your blouse and take it off. I'm surprised that you aren't wearing a bra, but it doesn't matter; sooner or later it would come off, anyway. Pamela: 5 Me: 6 I draw a Performance Card. It reads, "Perform oral sex on the person to your left." I look at you. You lift up your skirt and I see you aren't wearing any panties. A grin crosses your face as you lean back, pull up your skirt and open your legs. I head in, my tongue licking at your cunt, stabbing into your hole and thrusting around your clitoris. Pamela calls time after one minute. You're almost breathless. You pick up the dice: 4 Pamela: 2 Me: 5 You: 3 Pamela: 1 Pamela removes her skirt. She's not wearing any panties either. Me: 4 You: 2 Pamela: 3 Me: 5 You: 6 You take a Performance Card and read it. Then you crawl over to me and pull down the zipper of my pants. You reach inside, grab my cock and pull it out. Slowly, you begin to move the skin back and forth, then as my cock begins to harden, you squeeze it and rub it faster. I moan with the good feelings I'm starting to get, but before you can bring me to a climax, Pamela calls time. You release me, playful pouts on both our faces as we look at Pamela. Pamela rolls the dice: 2 Me: 1 I take off my pants. Oddly enough, I'm not wearing underpants, either! You: 4 Pamela: 6 She takes a card and reads it. Then she opens her legs and begins to rub her clitoris, which is already wet and shiny. She slides her finger back and forth over her labia slowly and we watch it disappear occasionally into her dark cunt. Then, any further desire to play the game disappears as you draw your skirt up to reveal your own wet pussy. You begin to masturbate yourself and, not being one to be left out, I wrap my fingers around my cock and begin to pump it slowly, watching both of you finger yourselves. Then you suddenly stop, twist onto your hands and knees and bury your face between Pamela's thighs. She gasps aloud as your tongue finds her clit and swirls slowly around it. She grabs your head, pulls you closer into her mound. The sight of you eating Pamela excites me more and my cock swells and hardens in my grasp. I tell you to lie on your back. As you do so, I motion for Pamela to get on her hands and knees. I pull her buttocks gently over your head so that you can raise your mouth to her cunt and continue your tonguing of her clit. Then I position myself over your breasts and behind Pamela. I guide my pulsing probe into her cunt and thrust deep inside her again and again. I feel your hot breath on my cock as it slides in and out, then the wetness of your tongue as it flicks from Pamela's clit to my balls and back again. I lubricate my finger with her juices, then insert it into her bum. I begin alternating the in-and-out movement of my cock and my finger. Pamela groans loudly as the triple stimulation of my cock and finger and your tongue causes her to explode. She cries out in ecstasy. Then I feel myself cumming, too. I pull myself from her cunt just as my cock begins to squirt its load, the hot white cream jetting onto her bum and cunt lips, your mouth and chin and neck. When I finish my spasms, Pamela rolls sideways. I stand astride you, the last drops of my cum dribbling down to your breasts. I look down at you. "Now," I say with a smile, "Now, it's your turn...."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17579.txt

Scamp(UK)

My Mom's a Babe

"NOT A WORD, JUST GO TO YOUR ROOM AND PACK!" Mom was in a foul mood. Mom and Dad had been planning this holiday for ages, and the day we were due to go, bang! Dad's office called - an important client wanted some work done like yesterday, and Dad was who they wanted. I guess it was kind of flattering they chose him, and it made his promotion all the more certain, but was Mom interested? No! Dad just managed to get out of the house in one piece, leaving me to face the music. I didn't want to go to the coast; I would have rather stayed at home with the guys from school and surfed the net. I was about to say so too, when I saw that look on Mom's face. You know the one, the one that says, "Just you dare step out of line, mister!" "Yes, Mom!" I ran to my room and packed everything I needed in about 10 minutes flat. The drive was long and boring. I sat staring out of the window and wondered if I could survive two weeks away from my PC. It was late evening when we arrived, the sun was just going down; a few people walked the beach. It was that in-between time when people were busy preparing for the night ahead after an exhausting day relaxing on the beach. Mom had calmed down by now and was beginning to regret what she had called Dad. She knew it wasn't his fault, and he was as disappointed as she was. Why did this always have to happen? As we were on holiday, Mom let me have a few beers while we watched the TV. We were both surprisingly tired. I fell asleep on the couch, well, that's where I was when I woke up the next morning. The sun poured in through the wide beach house windows, and the delicious smell of eggs and bacon wafted from the kitchen. I swung my legs off the couch and stood up. SHIT! The whole room jumped 3 feet to the left; I sat back down again as my head began to spin. Mom walked in with a beaming smile. "Well, mister, I thought you could handle your drink?" "Get a doctor, Mom! I think I'm dying!" Mom handed me a glass full of white fizzy water. "Ugh!" it was awful. "You'll survive, have some breakfast, you'll feel a lot better." After wolfing my breakfast down and drinking several mugs of black coffee, well, that's what they do in the movies, my head felt lots better, my stomach felt worse. Eventually, my body decided I was too young to die just yet, and I felt okay by about lunchtime. I decided to see what the outside world looked like; I went out onto the front porch. My jaw hit the floor, my eyes bulged out so much they hurt - wall-to-wall female flesh, everywhere! "So you found the door at last!" I turned to face Mom, "Oh, man." Mom was walking towards me, almost wearing a white bikini. Two tiny white triangles covered her nipples, leaving nearly all of her large white breasts uncovered. My eyes moved down her body; her bottom half was equally exposed. A thin strip of material covered her pussy, held in place by thin ties on each side. Mom was about as naked as you could get with your clothes on. "Don't be such a prude, Terry!" I closed my mouth and smiled. "Wow! Mom, I bet you're the best-looking woman on the beach." "Why, thank you; this was supposed to be a surprise for your father. I guess he'll just have to wait until next year now." "Oh! Mom, you're a real babe. I bet all the guys on the beach will go blind looking at you." Mom smiled at me. "Well, they're out of luck - you can tell them from me, this babe is private property, the property of the Carlson family." "You bet, Mom!" As Mom walked indoors, I just couldn't help looking at her ass; the bikini disappeared between her firm cheeks. Oh, fuck, was I hard. Mom reappeared 5 minutes later with a tube of sun cream, her tits jiggled as she rubbed the cream into her skin. She slid her hands over her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze as she smoothed in the thick white sun block. I limped to my room, trying to hide my hard-on, and jerked off over a mental picture of my mother! I was still in my room an hour later, trying to think up ways of seeing Mom naked. I had never thought of Mom as a woman before; Mom was, well, just Mom. In the short time of 60 minutes, I has discovered a new obsession. Mom was calling my name, wearing just swimming trunks, I went to see what she wanted. "There you are," Mom rolled onto her belly, much to my disappointment. "Do my back, will you." My hand trembled as I picked up the tube of sun cream; my prick started to harden. I squeezed the cream onto Mom's back and began massaging it in. My prick was already hard. "Mmmmmmm! That's nice." After finishing her back, I took a chance and squeezed two big blobs of cream onto her ass. I was expecting her to object as soon as the cool cream touched her cheeks. Mom said nothing. I slid my hands over Mom's ass, exploring her cheeks as I rubbed in the cream. Mom parted her legs slightly; I could see the outline of her pussy through the thin white material. I let out a gasp as I suddenly realized that Mom must have shaved her pussy. My Mom, she shaves her cunt just like in the magazines, wow! "If you don't stop rubbing my ass pretty soon, you'll wear it out!" "Sorry, Mom! I just didn't want you getting burnt." "I bet!" I went back inside and decided to explore the house for a good vantage point for peeping on Mom. Nothing! Short of drilling holes through the wall, I was stuck; but then again, why not drill a few holes? I spent the rest of the day searching for a non-existent drill. I went to bed frustrated and horny. The next morning, Mom was out sunbathing as expected. "Hi, Mom." "Morning, Terry." "D-Do you need your b-back rubbed today?" "Mmmm, why not, you did a real good job yesterday." Mom rolled over, her legs were open wide, and her arms were raised over her head rather than at her sides. Her breasts bulged out, looking smooth and creamy. I rubbed her back, then moved onto her ass like yesterday, but didn't spend too much time on her ass this time. I let some cream miss her back and run down onto her left breast; Mom said nothing. My hands continued their circular motion as they moved from her shoulders down her back; I kept smoothing in the cream level with Mom's breasts. I slowly moved my hands down her sides, my fingertips touched her soft, warm tit flesh; Mom didn't object. I gave the sides of her tits a gentle squeeze; I heard her gasp and returned to rubbing her back. She still hadn't said anything, her eyes were closed. I looked at her pussy and dripped some cream onto Mom's inner thigh, just below her crotch. My hands slid over her legs, slowly moving upwards. I knew I couldn't just touch her there, I had to content myself with running my fingers along the edge of her bikini bottoms. "What are you doing, young man?" "Nothing, Mom!" "Well, I think it's time you did nothing somewhere else." "Okay, Mom." I decided to investigate the attic and stumbled across some magazines on naturists; they were only a few months old and did a good job selling a healthy, natural image. How to get in touch with your natural self, be at one with nature and the environment, get closer to your family without the guilt, free yourself from the prison of social taboo, your clothes are like dead skin, reveal the real you. I knew Mom was a real sucker for the hard sell; Mom is one of those people who believes what she reads. My next course of action was clear - make sure these magazines were mixed in with the others on the rack. That evening, after Mom had just finished her shower, she sat down in just her bathrobe and started to flick through the magazine rack; I made some excuse to go to my room. Once upstairs, I made all the right noises to make it sound as if I was in my room for the night, I turned on the TV just loud enough to cover any noise I made as I crept out, but low enough not to annoy Mom. I watched as she opened the first magazine; she began to read. As Mom turned the pages, her legs gradually crept open. She placed the magazine next to her on the couch, her free hand slid under her robe, and Mom began to moan. I watched, fascinated, as Mom masturbated. I held my breath as her robe opened; I could just see her cleavage. Mom let the robe fall from her shoulders, both her tits were in full view, her hand reached up and pulled at her nipples. Her large, dark brown nipples stood out against the white of her skin, as she twisted her teats, they became erect, Mom's whole nipple puffed out as her groans became more urgent.Her robe fell open completely now, as one hand turned the pages, her other hand buried three fingers into her smooth pussy. I was disappointed that I couldn't see much of her pussy, as her hand was in the way. "Ooooooooh!" Mom's chest was thrust out, as her breathing became heavier, her hand worked on her pussy faster and harder. "Nnnnnnnnghgh!" Mom's whole body went stiff, then seemed to judder as she came. Silently, I crept back to my room, wondering what new opportunities tomorrow would bring. The following day, mom asked if I was going out anywhere. I told her I was going to wander into town and would probably be gone for 3 to 4 hours. This was a lie, as it was just so obvious that mom didn't want me around. We said our goodbyes, and I walked until I was out of sight of the house, then turned around and crept back in. I watched as mom hung some towels along the front of the porch, making sure that no one on the beach could see her. She sat on her beach towel and took off the top of her bikini, quickly followed by the bottoms. She smoothed the sun cream over her body, paying special attention to her nipples and pussy. Mom lay on her back, legs open wide, fingering herself. By now, my prick was as hard as iron. I went to my room and loaded my auto-focus pocket camera. On the fourth attempt, I managed to get the film in, and I crept downstairs. Mom had finished playing with herself, and disappointed, I had to think of what to do. Mom had dozed off; her slow, rhythmic breathing caused her still-excited breasts to move up and down. I walked out onto the porch and took the first of 36 pictures. How I was going to get them developed was something I would have to figure out later. I let mom doze for an hour; I changed into my trunks, re-loaded my camera, and walked onto the porch. "Hi, mom!" Mom looked up at me, still half-asleep. "Wow! You look really great!" I raised the camera and fired off 3 shots. "Nooooooo!" Mom suddenly remembered she was naked, as she sat up and tried to cover herself, I fired off several more pictures. "W, What are you doing here?" "The town's dead, so I came back early." Mom had her right hand over her pussy and her left hand covered her right breast. Her left breast bulged over her arm, fully exposed. I fired off some more shots. Mom was flustered; she didn't know what to do. "Stop that! NOW!" "What's wrong, mom? You look beautiful." "That's not the point!" "Who's the prude now! Anyway, these will show dad what he's missed." Mom thought for a moment, then smiled, "He'll be really pissed, won't he?" "Sure! And I bet he doesn't miss another holiday, that's what you want, isn't it?" Mom grinned, "Okay, mister; how do you want me?" This was amazing; it has got to be a dream! I got mom to kneel with her knees about a foot apart and cupping her breasts with her hands. I slowly made the poses more daring, holding just her nipples, she pulled her heavy breasts upwards. She knelt on all fours, pulling her ass cheeks apart, displaying her tight asshole. Legs spread as wide as she could get them, mom held her pussy open. I moved closer as she tweaked her clit. Mom's moans became louder as she pushed her fingers deeper into her wet pussy. I let mom get on with the show as I took more pictures. "O Terry! I'm cumming, your mom's cumming!" "Unnnnnghgh!" Mom's whole body shook, then went limp; she lay there, fingers still inside herself, smiling at me. I took the two last pictures on the roll. "If you're going to lay in the sun, I'd better put some cream on you!" "You do whatever you want, Terry." I stood over mom and pulled my trunks to one side, releasing my hard cock. Mom's eyes widened; she was about to stop me. "It's only fair, mom! I watched you, you should get to watch me!" She relaxed as I started pumping my prick with my hand. She watched every movement, and mom licked her lips in anticipation. As I wanked, I knelt down; I was now straddled over mom's belly. My right hand pumped harder, and my left reached out and began teasing mom's right nipple. She made a small cooing sound but made no move to stop me. "Here it comes, mom, here it is!" My first jet of cum landed on mom's tits; I managed to move forwards slightly. The second and third squirts hit her face, at least half going into her open mouth. She licked her lips and swallowed. I reached down and pushed all the cum still on mom's face into her mouth. She sucked my finger as it slid between her lips, then using both hands, I massaged the white, sticky blobs of cum that were on her tits into her skin until it had all been absorbed by her body. "O boy! That was really great, mom!" "Glad to have been of service, sir!" she said sarcastically. "Now, how about a proper rub-down before I burn out here!" I picked up a bottle of sun oil; mom had used up all the cream. I poured some onto her belly and began rubbing it in. With slow, deliberate motions, I covered her body with a layer of shimmering oil. Saving the best for last, I had only mom's tits and pussy to do. Mom gasped as I poured the cool oil over each of her nipples. As I massaged her breasts, her nipples returned to their previous state of excitement. I loved it as they puffed up; her whole areola formed a perfect brown dome that stood an inch high, tipped with mom's erect teats. Mom opened her legs; I poured oil directly onto her pussy. Mom groaned and wiggled her hips. I slowly massaged her lips, my fingers brushing against her clit as they found mom's hole. My fingers slid into mom's pussy with ease, lubricated by sun oil and pussy juice; her pussy was ready and willing. "Not just yet, baby! Do your mommy's back first." Mom rolled over, and I started again. By now, my prick was hard and ready for action, but I didn't mind. I was sure I was going to fuck mom, and I knew that she was worth the wait. Her ass looked at me, inviting me to touch it; the oil ran over her cheeks as I poured it on. I placed the bottle between her cheeks and watched mom wriggle as the oil ran between, over her asshole, and onto her already wet pussy. As I rubbed her ass, I let my hand slide between her ass cheeks and started to massage her anus; I felt it open slightly and grip the tip of my finger. Mom raised her ass, I pushed; mom groaned as my finger went inside her. As I finger-fucked mom's ass, I pushed in two fingers, and mom began frigging herself. It wasn't long before mom climaxed, as her body jerked, her ass seemed to suck my fingers as deep as they could go. "O Terry, you've been real good to your mom today, let me rest now, okay, baby?" Mom must have seen the look of pure lust written all over my face turn to frustration and disappointment. "Don't worry, baby! Mommy will give you a real treat tonight!" I winked at her and went inside to jack off yet again. It was mid-evening, and I was getting the idea that this treat was never going to arrive. Mom had gone upstairs about 10 minutes ago, and I waited. Eventually, mom re-appeared; she had her bathrobe on, a towel over her arm, and a bottle in her hand. "Time for your treat." Mom spread the towel on the floor. "Come on, get your clothes off; I'm going to give you a massage." I took off my clothes, not really knowing what to expect. Mom made me lie face down; she stood behind me, so I couldn't see what she was doing. The next thing I know, Mom's straddled my back and is rubbing some sort of oil into my shoulders. As I enjoyed the soothing massage, it struck me that I couldn't feel any of mom's clothing against my skin, and my back felt slightly wet just where her pussy was. My prick jumped to attention; mom was naked. Oh boy, this was going to be good. Mom worked her way around my body; she was massaging my butt when I felt more oil running down my butt crack and over my balls. "Oh, mom, Oh, mom!" I jerked as her fingernails brushed against my balls and started to tickle me between my balls and anus. Oh man, that was good. Mom's finger slid between the cheeks of my butt. No, she wouldn't; her finger forced its way into my well-oiled anus. It hurt a bit, but wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I felt mom kissing the cheeks of my butt as she pushed two fingers into my virgin ass. Mom's voice was deep and sexy, "Turn over, you little shit." I lay on my back, looking up at mom's tits. Did they look big from down here! She poured oil all over her tits and used them to massage my chest; I was in heaven. Mom worked her way down my body, soon my hard prick was being smothered in breast flesh, and every now and then one of mom's hard nipples would rub against the head of my cock. "Oh, mom! I can't take any more! Ooooooooo!" I was getting near to cumming, and mom knew it; she started wanking my prick. "Come on, Terry, cum for mommy, cum for mommy." My prick started to throb; my balls were ready to release their load. Oh god; mom's warm mouth closed around the head of my prick. I came straight into her mouth, mom sucked as I came, she wanted every drop and she got it. As my cock started to soften, I watched mom lick it clean. "That was the best, mom! What a babe." "I'm not finished with you yet." Mom sucked my prick, making it hard in double-quick time; what a turn-on. She moved around into a sixty-nine, her juicy pussy was just inches from my face. I opened her pussy lips and looked at the little fleshy button that was her clit; her hole was moist and pink. Without really thinking, I thrust my tongue into her, I just wanted to taste her juices, I heard a muffled groan. I licked her clit, and then I sucked it into my mouth and massaged it with my tongue. Mom's sucking went up a notch. Her juices began to flow into my mouth. "You taste so good, mom, you taste real good!" Without warning, mom rolled off me and straddled my legs, her tits looked enormous, her nipples rock hard. She positioned my cock at the entrance to her pussy. "Is this what you want, Terry?" "Yes!" "Are you sure? There's no going back!""I want to fuck your juicy cunt, mom!" I couldn't believe what I had just said; mom's pussy gripped the head of my cock, and I watched as her soft, sexy pussy slowly ate my shaft. I grabbed a tit in each hand and squeezed them hard as mom bounced up and down; I matched mom's rhythm and thrust up as she came down. We rolled over so I was now on top, with mom's legs over my shoulders, and I fucked her well and hard. "Nnnnnnghgh! Fuck me, Terry, fuck your mom!" Mom was moaning like it was going out of fashion, my prick plunging in and out of her cunt, covered in her juices. "I'm gonna cum! Mommy's gonna cum, baby!" Mom's pussy gripped my prick as she came, and my balls shot their load right on cue. I felt so good, filling my own mom with a belly full of cum. We lay next to each other, exhausted, and mom leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. We kissed for about five minutes, exploring each other's mouth with our tongues. "Oh, baby! That was good." "I love you, mom." We both cleaned up and went to bed. A dream had come true; I couldn't wait for tomorrow. The next morning, mom was sitting on the couch wearing just a white blouse knotted around her waist and her bikini bottoms. She was reading one of the naturist magazines I had left out. "Hi, mom." She looked up as I walked towards her. "Terry; I think we should talk." I kissed her, pushing my tongue into her mouth. Mom didn't pull away. "I don't think this is right!" she gasped as I pulled away. I sat beside her and slid my hand inside her blouse. I felt her nipple respond as I rolled it between my fingers. "Of course it's right, mom. We've never been closer, and I really enjoy giving you pleasure and making you cum. You do enjoy cumming, don't you?" "Mmmmm! Of course I do. Ooooooooo! It's just that you're my son and. Nnnnnnnngh! Fuck me! Oh, Terry, I want to feel you cum inside me!" Who was I to disobey my loving mom? Her clothes fell to the floor as I sucked greedily on her nipples. Both now naked, I told mom I wanted her doggie style, and she got onto all fours and wiggled her ass at me. "Please fuck me! Please!" Without any thought of foreplay or discomfort to mom, I grabbed her hips and thrust forward. "Aaaaaaaaghnn!" I drove my prick right into her pussy as far as it would go. At that moment in time, she was just a cunt begging to be fucked, and I fucked her. Harder she panted as I pounded my prick into her. Gradually, her juices made her pussy nice and slick. I smeared her asshole with her juice and pushed my thumb into her ass. "Nnnnnnnnnngh! That's it, baby, fuck me like a slut! Oooooooooo!" I pulled my prick out of her pussy and placed it on her lubricated anus. "No, Terry! Not there! Please! Nooooooo!" I pushed hard, and mom resisted at first, but I managed to get the head of my cock in her ass. She tried to crawl away, but I kept hold of her hips and lunged forwards. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaghggh!" My prick forced its whole length into her bowels; I fucked her ass just as hard as I fucked her pussy. As mom became used to the sensation of a prick fucking her ass, she started to enjoy the wanton feeling it gave her. "Oh, Terry, treat me like a whore! Nnnnnnnnngh!" Mom was near to cumming, so was I. "Oh, baby! Let me be your cunt, Ooooooooo! I'll do anything, just keep fucking me!" My prick bulged inside her as my hot cum hit the insides of her belly, and mom couldn't hold back any longer. "Mmmmmmmgh! Nnnnnnnghgh!" We collapsed in a heap on the floor, cum dripping out of her ass onto the carpet. "Lick it clean, mom!" Mom licked my prick clean, running her tongue all around its head, sucking my balls. I was in charge now; this is where the holiday fun really begins... BACK HOME The holiday was over before we realized it, and mom and I had discovered a new and exciting side to our relationship that we were both loath to let go. During the second week, mom had taken down the towels she'd hung around the porch and sunbathed nude for all to see. I found out that she was really turned on by the idea of people watching her, looking at her defenseless naked body. I wasn't complaining, as mom was fucking me stupid every night to get it out of her system. To make sure our little secret was safe from dad, we even went as far as taking roll after roll of boring holiday snaps - mom by the car, beach in the background, me by the car, mom and me by the car. I think you get the idea. With dad around the house, we had to let things cool off. I always managed to squeeze mom's ass behind dad's back or have a quick grope of her tits when the opportunity presented itself. Much to our relief, dad was given his much-deserved promotion. It meant more travelling, and he would be away from home at least two nights a week. To dad's surprise, mom said it was a wonderful opportunity for him to show the company what he really could do. Dad spent the next two weeks in a somewhat stunned state; he was waiting for the argument and the tears, but they didn't appear. He never did figure out what he'd done right. Dad's first night away coincided with our weekly shop, so I had to go with mom to help carry the shopping. Once at the store, I left mom pushing the trolley, getting all the usual bits and bobs for the following week. I finally caught up with her about 40 minutes later and added my own selection to her trolley. "What on earth have you got there!" mom started rummaging through my shopping. "Well, I thought I would pick up a few bits for tonight, seeing as dad's not home." "I see, so what exactly have you got in here?" I had to come clean. "A bottle of wine, some of that spray-on cream, a cucumber, a really big carrot, some film for my camera, a tub of margarine, oh, and I found some seamed stockings for you to wear." Mom went bright red as she realized that apart from the stockings and film, every item on my list would find its way inside her body at some point in the evening. "I guess we'd better get going, if I'm to get ready for your little party." We didn't say much on the way home; what was there to say? I knew what turned mom on, and as long as I pushed the right buttons, she would do whatever I asked. There was a downside, of course - to stay in her good books, I had to dress a bit smarter, clean my room, and do odd jobs around the house. The rewards for these small sacrifices were enormous, and well worth the effort. After our evening meal, mom went upstairs to shower and change, and I went into the garden and moved some of the plastic chairs closer to the house. Mom came down sometime later, looking amazing. She was wearing her 4-inch heels, the black seamed stockings, her red panties with a matching suspender belt and bra, and a smile, of course. I gave mom a glass of wine and loaded my camera. Mom went over to the couch and posed on one of the arms. I shook my head and led mom to the back garden. "I can't go out here dressed like this!" "Of course you can; you know everyone's watching TV this time of night." "But what if they're not?" "Then they're in for a very pleasant surprise!" I knew I was winning the argument; this was just what mom wanted, plus her pussy was giving her away - a small damp patch was visible on her panties. I gave mom another glass of wine. She went over to the chair and stood with one knee on the seat and began posing. Tame stuff at first, but a bottle of wine later, mom was ready to give the neighbors a show. I pulled the garden table into the center of the lawn; the neighbors should get a good eyeful if they could be bothered to get off their backsides. Mom was down to her suspender belt, stockings, and shoes. I gave mom the tub of margarine; she ripped off the top and sank her fingers into the yellow grease. She smeared it all over her tits and pussy, and I snapped away, hoping the flash would attract some attention. As she turned around, her fingers disappeared into her ass, stretching her tight little asshole. Mom was groaning as I handed her the cucumber. She held it in her hands, just looking at its rough skin and wide girth. She raised it to her mouth and began licking and sucking the tip. Slowly, she lay across the table, knees raised, and placed the cucumber at the entrance to her pussy. It sank into her pussy, her clit rubbing against its rough skin, and mom began to fuck herself. At first, she was only using the first 6 inches, but mom gradually drove it deeper into her pussy. A mixture of margarine, sweat, and pussy juice formed a pool between her legs. The cucumber made a loud schlurping sound as it slid in and out of her body. "Mmmmmmmm!" A full 10 inches was going in now; these pictures were hot. "Nnnnnnnnnngh!" Mom's pace was getting faster; her head was thrown back, her tits heaving up and down. "I'm cumming! Rrrrrrrrrghgh! Oh, god! Nnnnnnnnnnghghgh!" Mom arched her back; her body shook as her climax burst through her. As she got her head together, I handed her the carrot. She just looked at me blankly. "We can't have your ass feeling left out, can we!" Mom greased the giant carrot and began working it into her ass. Like the cucumber, mom started with small thrusts, but very soon, it was almost disappearing from sight as her ass swallowed it. Her free hand rubbed her clit; she looked at me as I walked around her, shooting every detail from every angle. "Oooooooo! Shit!" Mom shook the whole table as she came for a second time. Totally exhausted, she just lay on the tabletop, not caring if the whole world was watching. I walked over to her and pushed the cucumber back into her pussy. I lay mom on her side and took several shots of both her holes bulging with nature's goodness. I then took out my prick and pushed it into her open mouth; she started to suck without even thinking about it. I looked down and finished the roll with pictures of my prick fucking mom's face. After shooting my load down her throat, I took her indoors - I really did fancy some cream on my tart tonight.I let Mom lounge on the couch, legs apart displaying her ample charms. I went to the kitchen and took the can of cream out of the fridge. I sprayed a little on each of her hard nipples, she moaned, then moaned again as I licked it off and sucked her tits. I pushed the nozzle into her pussy; Mom gasped as the cool cream filled her hole. I pushed my finger between her pussy lips, it re-emerged covered in a white creamy slime, and I pushed it into Mom's mouth and watched her suck it clean. "Eat my cunt, Terry! Be a good boy and eat Mommy's cunt!" Holding her pussy open, I began lapping at the cream, gently at first, then I thought, "What the fuck!" and buried my face in Mom's pussy, sucking the delicious mix of cream and pussy juice into my mouth. "Oooooh, baby! You're gonna make me cum!" I pulled Mom's clit into my mouth and tried to suck it clean off her cunt. "Nnnnnnnnngh!" I sucked harder as Mom's legs wrapped around my head. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming! Unnnngh! Nnnnnnnnnngh!" As she came, a thick squirt of her juice filled my mouth; I drank it, greedy for more. We then sat with our arms around each other, just enjoying the moment. "Did you enjoy being in the garden, Mom?" "You know I did." "Good, that's what I wanted to hear." "And what exactly does that mean?" "Wait and see, Mom, wait and see." I went to sleep that night trying to think of ways Mom could be displayed around the town. I reasoned that if she would flash in public places, I could get her to go naked in public as well. We started the following week when we went shopping. Mom wore 4-inch heels, a short denim mini skirt that buttoned down the front, and a white blouse. As we walked around the store, the men and quite a few women openly admired Mom's tits, a dark shadow made by her brown nipples could clearly be seen through the fabric of her blouse. Mom unbuttoned a few more buttons, as she leaned forward over the chiller cabinets, her large breasts swung down, barely contained. As she looked around, about twenty men suffered whiplash as they tried to look away and pretend they weren't ogling Mom's tits. Mom looked at me and winked. As we wandered around the store, Mom started taking an interest in almost anything on the bottom shelf. She would squat down, letting her legs part, and her skirt ride up, giving anyone looking a flash of her smooth shaven pussy. Mom was the cause of at least six trolley crashes, one of which demolished a display of fresh fruit. Carefully picking our way through the oranges, peaches, and mangoes that were rolling around the floor, we decided it was time to leave. When we got in the car, Mom sat behind the wheel, head thrown back, fingering herself for all she was worth. "Oh god! That was good, did you see their faces, Terry?" I reached over and pulled open Mom's blouse. Her nipples stood out nice and hard as her tits jiggled in time with her thrusting fingers. Never without my camera, I fired off a few shots, in the background, you could see husbands being pulled away by disapproving wives, guys my age comparing my Mom to theirs, and licking their lips. Mom let out a deep guttural grunt as she came; her skin glistened with sweat. As we drove home, I looked forward to a really good fuck! We were hardly through the front door when I sank my hard cock into Mom's slopping wet pussy; her juices were running down the insides of her legs, making her thighs slick and shiny. "Fuck me! Hurry up and fucking fuck me!" "Mmmmmmmmghgh!" Without ceremony, I drove my whole length into her hot pussy. Mom wrapped her legs around me and tried to push me deeper inside her. We fucked like animals, rolling around on the floor. Our mouths locked together as my prick sank into her soft, willing flesh. Her hard nipples pressed into my chest, I managed to grab hold of a nipple as we rolled over. I pinched it hard! "Ooooooooooo! I'm cumming, Terry!" As I felt my balls throb, I pinched Mom's nipple again, harder this time. "I'm cumming, baby! Mommy's cumming!" Mom's pussy grabbed my prick as I filled her with hot cum, I couldn't stop; I thought she was sucking my balls out through my prick. "Oh, baby! That was good, real good." "Mom, you're the best! The best piece of ass any son could want." We kissed, and looked forward to next week's shop. The following week, I persuaded Mom that she needed some new clothes, the first shop on our list was the shoe store. I had decided Mom needed some new 5-inch stilettos, and Mom agreed with a wicked grin. I went in the store first and waited for the show to begin. Wearing a short black leather mini skirt with her black stockings and a tight-fitting black jumper and a pair of 3-inch heels, Mom walked into the store. She browsed the shelves, waiting for one of the young male assistants to become free. Mom spotted a sweet-looking 17-year-old and casually asked for his help. "Certainly, madam, how can I be of assistance?" "Do you stock 5-inch stilettos?" "Err, yes, madam, what style would you like?" "Mmmm, I don't really know, something sexy, I want a pair of shoes that say, 'Fuck me!'" He suddenly went a bright shade of red; Mom was enjoying herself. "Why don't you choose?" Mom said, "Pick something that turns you on!" Five minutes later, he appeared with a pair of sandal-style shoes that showed off Mom's feet to perfection. Mom sat down and slipped off her shoes, the sales assistant held out the right shoe for Mom to try on. Instead of taking it, Mom just raised her right foot and offered it to him. He couldn't believe his luck; he knelt down and slid his hand down Mom's calf to her ankle, then carefully placed the shoe on her foot. With one shoe on, Mom offered her left foot, after fitting the shoe, he stroked the back of Mom's leg. "I'm not really sure about them!" A footstool was in front of the chair next to Mom's, with the assistant still on his knees in front of her, she placed her right foot on the stool. This simple act opened her legs, displaying her juicy pussy; her pussy lips opened before him like the petals of a flower. Mom smiled at the assistant and licked her lips as she admired the bulge in his trousers. "Do you really think they say 'Fuck me?'" "O, o, o, yes!" "Would you like to fuck me?" "M, M, M, Madam! I, I, I!" That was as far as he got, a large wet patch blossomed on the front of his trousers. He went redder than I thought possible and fled into the back of the shop. Mom decided she liked the shoes and would keep them on, once she had settled the bill, we headed for the lingerie section of the town's department store. Once there, we quickly found the sexy undies, as usual, there were several men looking suitably embarrassed as their wives forced them to help choose their underwear. Mom picked up a pair of see-through panties, very aware that the few men present were watching her. Mom then picked up a matching half-cup bra and held it up against her tits. "Terry! Do you think this one makes my tits look too big?" Mom was now cupping her tits through her clothes, filling the cups of the bra. "No, Mom! It looks real neat, why don't you try it on?" With the panties and bra, Mom headed for the changing room, I pointed her towards one that was in full view of our audience. Once inside, Mom left the curtain open about two inches, just enough for me to see what she was doing. Mom slipped off her clothes and pulled on the panties, the thin gossamer material clung to her pussy like a second skin; she turned around to show me the thin panties disappearing into her ass crack, leaving her cheeks naked. The bra was next, the half-cup lifted her breasts, leaving her hard nipples exposed, Mom tweaked them, her teats stood to attention as the rest of her nipple puffed outwards. Mom then stood right in the doorway behind the curtain. That was my cue, I pulled open the curtain and in a loud voice. "Hurry up, Mom! Please!" Mom pretended I wasn't there as, in full view of the store, she squeezed her tits together and pulled her panties higher, making them seem to cut into her wet pussy lips. Mom posed and pouted into the mirror, waiting for me to close the curtain. But instead, I said, "Mom! There's a better mirror out here!" She looked at where I was pointing, the mirror was about fifteen feet from the changing room, and she would have to walk past at least three men. Looking every inch a supermodel, Mom stepped out and slowly walked to the mirror, making sure everyone had a good look at her exposed body. Mom's hard nipples jutted out; a trickle of pussy juice ran down her thigh and soaked into her stocking top. Everyone just looked and stared as Mom stood in front of the mirror and played with her tits, squeezing them, lifting them up, and licking her own nipples. The security guard reached for something; it wasn't his gun. I went to the changing room and took Mom's purse. We then walked over to the pay desk and paid for the undies. The cashier looked at Mom, then down at her own tits. "If I had tits like yours, I'd be out there with ya! That's one horny body you've got there!" To my surprise, Mom kissed the cashier on the lips, and then walked back to collect her clothes. I think you know what happened when I got Mom home! End.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12771.txt

Chili Peeler

HypnoWho

"Now, tell me Jasmine, how were you during my absence?" Thornton said as he pulled his chair near the psychiatric couch. Jasmine Takagi smiled up at him with her hands crossed on her stomach. She was the daughter of one of the city's leading industrialists. Her family had come from Japan years ago to make their fortune. The Takagi family still lived by the strict Japanese societal laws of their homeland. "Very well, Dr. Thornton," she said softly. "I had to see Dr. Richelli a couple of times and he was very helpful." "Good, I'm happy to see there has been no relapse. How are things with your family?" Their daughter, Jasmine, had embarrassed the family by becoming embroiled in a sex scandal. A videotape of her and two older gentlemen had found its way into general circulation, and soon a news station sensationalized it. The Takagi family was, of course, furious that their daughter would shame their family. Her father sought professional help for their daughter to save face, and she had become his patient. "Things are still strained, but I am hopeful for a reconciliation," she said. He had diagnosed her with nymphomania and told the family that this was an uncontrollable illness. For the last year, Dr. Thornton had been trying to talk her out of her urges by going back over her life to try to unlock the reasons behind her behavior. And for a year, he'd wanted to jump on top of her and ravish her. She was an incredible beauty. A flawless Oriental face with the almond eyes, straight diminutive nose and an almost round pair of lips. She wore her crimped jet-black hair to mid-back and used some kind of gel that made it look damp. Her body was lithe and graceful with the legs of a dancer. She was tall for a Japanese woman; he guessed she was 5' 6". "Well, I think I have a new technique that will be most helpful in your treatment," Dr. Thornton began.She immediately began eating his cock again. His hands gripped her oily hair, and he began thrusting into her mouth. He enjoyed this more active involvement. "Finger yourself... use both hands! Rub your pussy, baby!" Thornton ordered. Jasmine's other hand let go of his shaft and disappeared into her panties, and she moaned around his pistoning dong. She whimpered more and more as her hands whipped her pussy into a frenzy. After repressing her sexual urges for so long, she was longing for release. She pulled her mouth off him and whimpered as her hips gyrated against her fingers. "Cum, Jasmine, cum all over your fingers!" Alec ordered, and she moaned as her loins melted into her orgasm. Her red lips formed a perfect "O" as her body undulated on her knees. Her silk blouse could not hide the impression of her hard nipples. Thornton saw his new geisha lose it and knew he had to join her. He rammed his dick in her "O" ring lips and began stroking it in her sweet mouth. His balls began to boil, and he could feel his own climax fast approaching. He felt Jasmine's hands slide up the back of his thighs and grab his humping ass. Feeling his climax roaring toward him, Thornton looked down at the kneeling girl. Her eyes were now open and looking up at him as he used her mouth like a cunt. Her erotic slanted eyes and stuffed red lips sent Thornton over the edge. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna CUMMMM!" he shouted as his prick began spewing thick ropes of jism against Jasmine's tonsils. Thornton's hands jerked her head forward, and his cock filled her throat again as his salty load continued to stream out against the smooth inner walls of her neck. "OH, FUCK!... AH!... AH!... AH!" Thornton groaned as the sexy Asian nympho guzzled his creamy seed. Finally, Thornton was still in her mouth as she sucked the last drop from his dickhole. Thornton released her head and fell backward against his desk on shaky knees. Jasmine remained on her knees, her eyes now closed, as her hands came up to rub the tiny amount of his cum that had run onto her chin when he withdrew. "Jasmine, I think we've made an important breakthrough today," he quipped as he pulled his pants back up, buttoning them. Jasmine rose from her position on the floor and came into his arms. "Dr. Thornton, please take those pants back off," she pouted sexily. "I'm sure I could find a way to get you hard again." "Very tempting, my dear. But your time is almost up. I promise to call you soon, and we will be together. I want you to go home and wait by the phone. Will you do that?" "Oh, yes," she promised. Thornton arrived home that night around 7 PM. Stephana met him in the foyer, all excited, practically bubbling over. "Oh, Alec. I've got a surprise for you. Close your eyes!" "What?" "Close your eyes! Come on." Stephana took his hand and led him into the living room. "OK, you can open them now." Alec opened his eyes. Before him, nervously shifting from foot to foot, was Lisa. But it was a totally different Lisa than the beatnik grunge child they'd lived with. This Lisa had been completely remade. First, she was wearing a dress. A strapless white evening gown down to mid-thigh, sheer white pantyhose, and matching high-heeled shoes. The white fabric showed off her natural olive skin. Second, she had had her hair redone. It was now short, just off the shoulders, and done in large curls. Her face was framed by long straight ribbons of hair that had been lightened to a pale brown, almost blonde. Third, someone had introduced her to makeup. Her skin looked perfect, her eyebrows had been reshaped to be narrower and straighter, and lipstick made her lips look fuller. She looked like some European princess. "I'm pleased to meet you, young lady. Are you a friend of Lisa's?" Lisa laughed and blushed, not used to being the center of attention. "Well, I hope you like it, Alec," Lisa finally said. "Mom sure spent enough money on me today. I've been washed and cut and manicured and God knows what else." "Oh, we just did a little maintenance work," Stevie laughed as she went to stand by her daughter and gave her a hug. "Well, whatever you call it, I think it's great. I think we should go out to dinner and celebrate. I want everyone to see the two beautiful women in my life. How about dinner at Lucini's?" Alec suggested. "Perfect!" Stevie agreed. Lucini's was one of Boston's finest restaurants. People went there to be seen, and the food was five-star fare. Live music and a small dance floor made it a romantic nightspot. "Lisa, come help me pick out a dress." Stevie and Lisa headed up the stairs arm in arm. Alec found himself watching Lisa's bottom instead of his wife's. The unexpected blossoming of Lisa stirred more than parental feelings in him. And Lisa had already been conditioned. All he needed to do was speak her keyword and implant further instructions. The thought of completing a mother-daughter conquest was very appealing. Very appealing. At Lucini's, they were well known and able to get a table overlooking the dance floor even on a busy Friday night. They had dinner. Lisa and Stevie had salad entrees while Alec had a magnificent veal Parmesan. They were having coffee when Thornton asked Lisa to dance. "Really, Alec? I think I'd step all over your feet. I never learned," Lisa said nervously. "Well, you're going to have to learn sometime. Better with me than some poor suitor." "Oh, go ahead, Lisa," Stevie encouraged. "All right," Lisa said as Alec pulled out her chair and offered his arm to her. Blushing, Lisa took it and let herself be led to the dance floor. As they arrived, the band struck up one of another long line of slow dance numbers. Alec grasped her right hand in his and swung his left arm around her waist and proceeded to show her how to slow dance. She was clumsy at first, but soon she had the motions down. Alec maneuvered them toward the opposite side of the dance floor after Lisa waved to her mother. "Lisa, there's something I wanted to speak with you about. It's about the belltower." At the mention of her keyword, Lisa went stiff and glassy-eyed. She stopped dancing as the trance took control. Thornton quickly began giving her instructions. "Lisa, this is Alec. Hear what I am saying and obey. Dance like you just were. Move your legs, that's it, that's much better." Her dancing skills were much deteriorated, but it was enough to not draw undue attention from any of the other dancers. He quickly ran through his other prepared instructions. "Lisa, you are incredibly attracted to me. You don't care that I am married to your mother. You want to make love with me. You will try to seduce me. You will not fear rejection or that I might tell your mother. You will do whatever I ask of you, both in your day-to-day life and sexually. Do you understand?" "Yesss." "Good. Now you are coming up out of the trance. You are nearing full consciousness. When I say your keyword, you will become totally awake. Belltower." Lisa raised her head from his chest and took a deep breath like she was awakening from a nap. "You OK, Lisa?" Thornton said, giving her waist a little squeeze. "Oh, yeah. This is great. You're a good teacher, Alec." Lisa moved closer to him, looking up at her stepfather. "I like slow dancing. Especially with someone I love." Alec knew she'd thrown that line out on purpose. It could be taken both ways. Love like a member of her family or the love between a man and a woman. "Mother's so lucky to have a man like you," Lisa continued. "I hope I can find someone just like you. You're everything I want in a man." Her young body was molded to his now, and he felt his penis begin to fill with blood. She was trying to get him excited, and he thrilled at her young body as it pressed against his. "Seeing you this way, Lisa, I've got to say that any man would love to be with you. You're a beautiful young woman," Thornton offered, bringing her hand to his mouth and lightly kissing it as the music ended. Lisa held him while other couples began heading for their seats. Her eyes conveyed the attraction she now felt for her stepfather. She could see the same thing in his eyes. "Don't I get a kiss after a dance?" Lisa asked hopefully. Alec smiled and lowered his head to give her a quick peck on her lips, but Lisa hooked her hand around his neck, and he felt her lips open and her tongue dart against his lips before he pulled himself away, conscious that Stevie was probably watching. "We better get back to the table, Lisa. Your mother might think you are trying to steal her man." Thornton led his stepdaughter back toward their table, his mind racing ahead on his plans for later that evening. "Darling, thank you for a wonderful evening." Stevie said as they entered the front door an hour later. "I can not remember when I had such a good evening out. I hope you enjoyed it, Lisa?" "Yes, it was most enjoyable," she said, looking at her stepfather. "Well, I think I was with the two most beautiful women in the place tonight," Alec complimented them. He gave his wife a hug, and she headed to the kitchen. "I'm going to make some coffee. Would you like some?" "Yes, thank you, dear," Alec called after her. He drifted into the living room with Lisa walking ahead of him. She was walking very femininely, moving her hips in that dress for his benefit. She looked back and caught him staring at her derriere. "You better not let mom see you ogling me like that?" she said and then laughed.Her laugh said that it was all right to mentally undress her. She liked his attention. Gone was the blushing girl from earlier in the evening. Instead, Lisa was now a confident seductress. "Lisa, we both know you were grinding your bottom so that I would look at it. Am I right?" Lisa stole a glance at the kitchen before answering. "Yes, I guess we both do know that... the question is whether you want to see more." She was becoming totally blatant in her seduction. She turned toward him and sat on the arm of the couch. She was waiting for his response. "I would," Alec answered. "I would very much. Does that shock you?" "Not in the least. I was hoping you would say that. I'm not a little girl, Alec. I want you. And I know you want me now. So what are we going to do about it?" "Your mother has had a busy day. I'm sure she will be asleep by 11 o'clock. I'm very certain that I will still be wide awake. Maybe restless. I might get up and take a look around the house to be sure the alarms are on. I might look in on you to see that you are OK." His stepdaughter smiled as her mom came into the room with coffee for her husband. "Alec, I just can't get over the turnaround in Lisa," Stevie said as she brushed out her hair in the mirror at her makeup table. "She's like a whole new person." Alec finished his nightly 100 sit-ups and lay back on the carpet. He liked the way his nightly workout regimen made his body feel right after. His muscles were hardened, the blood was circulating. He rolled over and began his 50 push-ups as Stevie finished her hair and walked to the bed, clothed in a purple satin Victoria's Secret bra and panties. "Don't wear yourself out, loverboy," she said as she lay across the bed on her side and watched him workout. Alec knew she wanted sex. He was going to have to disappoint her that night. Still, he could let her pleasure herself. "Start without me, baby," Alec said as he stopped his push-ups. "Really?" Stevie said. "Yeah, pull those panties to the side and give me a peek." His wife smiled wickedly as her fingers reached between her legs and pulled the purple fabric to one side. "Hmmm, that looks good, baby. Now play with yourself." His wife had to obey, and her other hand followed the first down into her crotch. He watched as her fingers delved into her labia, spreading them so he could see the button of her clit before her fingers began to swirl over it. "Oh, Alec, I'm really ready tonight. Come to bed," Stevie invited. Alec rose to his feet and looked down on his wife. His rising prick formed a tent in the boxer shorts he wore when working out. God, she was a beauty. "Roll over on your back. Spread your legs, no, keep playing with yourself. I want to watch." Stevie was now on her back, her head raised up to look down her body and up at her husband. Her knees were bent and her thighs were splayed wide. One of her long fingers traveled up and down her slit and then slipped up her pussy. "That's it, baby. Fuck yourself for me. You look fucking hot." Thornton watched as his wife continued her masturbation scene. Stevie was really getting into it. She'd lowered her head back onto the bedspread and her eyes were closed as she frigged herself. "Mmmmmm, mmmmmmmm, ahhhhhhhhhhh." Stephana gasped as she began humping her hips up into her finger. Alec shucked his boxers with some difficulty and stood watching his wife while he stroked his ready cock. "That's it, Stevie, I want you to cum on your finger. That's it, stroke it in there. Play with your clit. That feels good, doesn't it? Yeah, fuck your pussy, baby!" Stevie was getting close to cumming. Her husband's orders for some reason made her hotter and hotter. She wanted to cum so bad. Her finger began stabbing into her womanhood like a jackhammer. It felt so good, so good. "AAAAHHHHH, OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!" Stevie groaned as she got off around her whipping digit. Alec watched her pant and roll around on the bed until her body relaxed. She had put on some kinda show. His prick was hard as a rock. "Stevie, that was great. Now, I want you to get under the sheets and go to sleep." "But, honey, I haven't taken care of you yet," Stevie offered as she gazed at his erection but began getting under the sheets as he ordered. "That's OK, baby. Don't worry about me. I want you to go to sleep now." Alec sat by her side and leaned down to kiss her, letting his hand travel over her round breasts. "Now close your eyes, that's it, I want you to sleep. A peaceful sleep that you will not awaken from until I awaken you. That's it." His wife went totally under. She wouldn't awaken until he let her. Alec got up, grabbed his robe, turned off the bedside lamp and left his bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him. Down the hall he could see light underneath Lisa's door. His cute stepdaughter was in there waiting for him. He couldn't stop now. Not with the control he had. Any other man would do the same thing, he justified in his mind as he moved down the hallway and opened her door.

Part 3

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11101.txt

Mary Jorsay Gandmar

The Bint From Bombay

"OHHHHHHHHHHH SHANKAR... UHHHHH... OHH uhhhh *hanh* uhh ohh uhhhh oh ma uhhh ohhhh uhhhh ahhhhh uhhhh Shankar! OH MA UHH Shankar! UHH *hanh* UHHH *hanh* UHH AHH OHHH... fuck me! Fuck me, Shankar! *Lele* ... *lele* *mujhe* ... *hanh*!" Shirlyn gasped, writhing ecstatically. "C'mon... c'mon, whore... c'mon... take it... take my cock, bitch... *chul* *rundi* *chul* ... *lele* ... *le* *mere* *lund* *ko* ... *hanh* uhhh ohhhh uhhh *hanh* uhhh ahh-uhh-ahh-uhh-ahh-uhh-ahhh-uhhh *hanh* uhhhh *chul* *saali* *rahnd* *CHUL*!... *lele* ... *le* *mere* *lavde* *ko* *aur* *bol* - *accha* *lagta* *hai* *na* *rundi*? Don't it feel good, whore! *Bol* *saali* *rahnd* *BOL*! Tell me! Tell me it feels good, whore! Say it!" "Yes, Shankar, yes... *hanh* ... uhhhh *hanh* uhh... *bahut* *accha* *lagta* *hai* ... *hanh* uhh... oh yes... oh god yes... it feels so good, Shankar! Ohh uhh ohma uhh yes... c'mon... fuck me! Fuck me harder, baby! Fuck my cunt! *Hanh* uhh ahhhh uhh ohma uhhh *hanh* uhh OHHHHH!" she cried in reply. Above her, ramming and reaming his cock in and out of her juicy, dripping cunt, Shankar, Shirlyn's lover and manservant, grunted his pleasure. He plunged his penis deeper into her flesh and chuckled as she cried out in shock and delight. She gasped and panted loudly, her pretty face turned hard to one side, tendons standing out in her lovely neck. Her lips were parted, her eyes were shut and her breath was ragged. Shankar unflexed his buttocks, drew his slowly cock out of her, then drove in again with a savage, spiralling thrust, grinding his hips round and round, churning her cunt-flesh with his heavy pestle-cock, mashing her clitoris, probing the innermost recesses of her cram. Shirlyn's back cambered violently and she screamed, her mouth tearing open in yet another ululating love call. Her perfect teeth glistened as her luscious lips, shining with the stickiness of his gunk, drew back in a rictus of unbridled lust. Shankar chuckled and drew out and rammed in yet again, even harder. It was a hot midsummer day and the rickety ceiling fan of her bedroom refused to go any faster. Their bodies streamed with sweat. This was Shirlyn's most erotic fantasy realised. Just she and the servant, alone at home, fucking furiously, no one to bother them. It was wonderful, absolutely heavenly, being fucked like this by her servant, with no one to disturb them and more than enough time so that he could take her again and again and again. She never seemed to tire of it, no matter how hard he took her, or how often. She lay on her back on her bed, her legs spread wide, her knees bent. Now Shankar slowed his pace, drawing it out to heighten her pleasure and she whimpered, her body arching and twisting and writhing ecstatically beneath him. Her feet were drawn up high, her ankles locked behind his small, taut buttocks and she dug her fingers into the bulge of his biceps as he moved his cock with measured strokes in and out of her body. He was bent over her on his hands and knees, the muscles in his deep chest cording and standing out with the strain. His buttocks bobbed and rocked up and down steadily between her splayed thighs. As his penis slid in and out of her cunt, her hips bucked rhythmically beneath him in a union of ecstasy. Her cunt was sodden with lust-juice and his cock squelched audibly as it stroked in and out, the sound drowned only by the loudness of their love-cries. His cock was large, over eight inches long and correspondingly thick, rock-hard and burning hot. It throbbed powerfully in her spasming cunt. His balls were big and heavy and low. He smelled dank and sexy. He took a deep breath, slid deep into her, swung his hips in a gentle circle, mashing her cunt-flesh and making her gasp in joy as his penis probed the deepest recesses of her cunt. Abruptly, he pulled up and hammered down hard into her, hitting a savage, driving rhythm, ramming and reaming furiously into her. Shirlyn cried out loudly, her body jerking onto the small of her back with his punishing thrusts, her feet rising up his slippery back. Faster and faster he went, hammering in and out, ram-fucking her cunt, his buttocks flexing and unflexing powerfully, his cock pistoning savagely into her. "Yes yes Ohhhh yes Ohhh uhhh *hanh* uhhh uhh *hanh* uh Shankar *hanh*... *chodh mujhe* ... *jorse chodh* ... fuck me hard UHHHH OHH uhhh ohhhh uhh OHHhh uhhh OH uhh Ohma uhh Ohma uhh Oh uhh OHH uhh OH uhhh OHmaOHmaOHmaOHmaUHHHHHOHHHHHH!" "*Le *...* le rundi le *...* le mere lund ko* ... take my cock, whore... take it! UNNGHHHHHHHH *hanh* uhhhhhhhh UHH OHHHhhhh UNHHHhh OHHHHhhhh unhhhhhh *Hanh*-*hanh-hanh-hanh *uhh aHHH uhh yeh ... take it... take it, whore! Take it all!" he responded. Her body was flushed, fiery with lust. Her breasts were swollen turgid, the nipples nut-hard as rivers of molten lust-heat rippled through her. She rolled her breasts hard under the heels of her palms and groaned, her slender, tall neck craned back, her mouth parted in a wide 'O' of unbridled blisson. The effulgence of bliss on her lovely face was intensely erotic. He was her first lover and, as she often said, special for that reason, and because his fucking was so exceptionally good. As he gasped and groaned and cried out, he mouthed obscenities, calling her whore and bitch and cunt and the memory of that first fuck together spurred him. She cried out thinly, her body twisting and contorting in a paroxysm of delight beneath him as he reamed his cock deep into her. She loved this kind of fucking, with him treating her as he might a gutter whore, calling her names, and she responded eagerly, bucking and heaving under him, crying out her ecstasy. She was seventeen when he first fucked her, and already she was a sexy woman in the bloom of youth. She had a lovely oval face with a pointed chin, a slim, straight nose and slightly flared nostrils, small, cutely stuck-out ears. Her face was narrow so that, from some angles, it looked like her cheeks were plump, but even that was really cute. Her cheekbones were high. Her eyes were lovely, large, brown, full of magic. Her lips were light and full and her teeth were white and strong and even, the left incisor slightly chipped, an attractive irregularity. She had a dazzling laugh that sparkled in her eyes. She was vivacious and full of bounce and drew people to her naturally. She could have charmed the pants off the devil himself. Her skin was like gold, smooth and clear, firm as a grape, without a trace of the body hair he so disliked in the women he fucked. Her hair was dark and tumbled about her shoulders or flounced in a sexy pony tail or was coiled up neatly high on the back of her head. Her neck was superb, an exceptionally long, slender, graceful column under her firm, pointed chin. Her arms and legs were nicely turned and slim, with attractive ankles and wrists and slim fingers and toes, beautifully shaped and arched. Her breasts jutted out, full and ripe and high, like succulent fruit. Her belly was firm and flat. He only really noticed her recently, and it was obvious that she fancied him and wanted him to notice her. She tormented and teased him, giving him fleeting glimpses of her bare, firm belly, her legs up to the thigh, her deep cleavage, the swell of her breasts. Whatever she wore, a *sari* with a blouse, a dress, a *churidar* and *kurta*, the neck was always cut low, so close, so near, he could see the beginning of her cleavage, drawing his eyes down, down where the sexy gold chain around her neck disappeared. And those glasses she wore, with the black thread, the rims a delicate burgundy gold that made her eyes look richer and livelier and sexier, especially with the *kajal* augmenting their inner fire. She wore T-shirts that clung to her curves and *kurtas* with low necks and open-necked blouses with just one button too many left open, *saris* slung provocatively with deep scoop-necked blouses from which her breasts swelled.What he wanted, what he wanted was to pull the clothes off her, to squeeze her breasts, get her to open her legs, to shove his dick into her cunt, to fuck her and fuck her and fuck her. She exuded a raw sexuality that was impossible to ignore. Her face, her body, her walk, her speech, her look - all seemed an open invitation for men - and him in particular - to take their pleasure with her body. But he hesitated. He was banging her elder sister, Sheila, and didn't know how she might respond to the knowledge that he was also humping the younger sibling. But Shirlyn didn't let up. She teased him without respite, eyeing him openly, bending too low when he was in front of her so that her blouse or shirt dropped open and gave him an unimpeded view of her breasts. He was a randy twenty-three, good-looking, hard-bodied and thick-cocked, with a fair amount of sexual experience, and his hunger got the better of him. For Shirlyn, the waiting was torture, too. Now that she had Sheila's blessings, she knew she could have him whenever she wanted. But she took her elder and more experienced sister's advice seriously and played the game for all it was worth. The effects were visible: she saw the hot lust in Shankar's eyes, the way he raked her body, stripping her in his mind, fucking her, and she stifled the hot lust in her loins, but only just. To have such a sexy man so close by was almost more than she could bear. She wanted to fling herself at him, feel his cock in her fingers, kiss it, lick it, suck it, have him thrust it into her cunt, her anus, squeeze it between her breasts, wanted to feel the sticky warmth of it on her face and in her mouth and cunt and ass. She watched him constantly, drinking in the sexy beauty of his body, the thrilling rippling of his muscles as he went about his chores. She loved the sight of his dark, hard body, the cleaved chest, the small, hard nipples, the belly like a slab of rock, the bulging biceps. Her gaze lingered longingly on the bulge between his thighs, and she often wondered what his cock would be like, and when she would give herself the chance to see it, suck it, have it thrust inside her. He filled her thoughts, and she tried to fulfill her desire for him by masturbating even more. When she could, she watched her sister fucking the men in the house, including Shankar, and these times were the worst, for she wanted it to be her with them, taking their cocks in her mouth and cunt and between her breasts and in her anus, taking them all, one by one and even two or three together. Still she waited and the tension grew and grew. When, passing in the corridor, their hands brushed, she thrilled with electric excitement. She tried to get as close to him as possible at every opportunity. She would wait until he was in a helpless position, his arms full of some heavy object, stranded in a narrow corridor. Then she would move forward, they would both hesitate, try and make room for each other to pass. Finally, she would squeeze past him. When her breasts and thighs were against his sides or arms or buttocks, she pressed closer and waited for a fraction of a second more than was necessary, her body tingling with arousal, feeling the instantaneous hardening in his crotch, the throbbing of his cock against her flesh. She bit her lower lip prettily, denying herself the chance of thrusting her hands into his shorts. The first time this happened, Shankar was too stunned to react. He knew she had pressed too close, and held herself there for too long for it to be a mere accident. He waited for her to do it again, but for several days, nothing happened although she had the chance. Then one day, she did it again quite unexpectedly, and, a few days later, yet again and he knew then that it was only a question of time. He throbbed with excitement. He knew she would be a fantastic piece of ass. It happened sooner than he had hoped. It was a hot summer afternoon. Shankar was alone at home. Shankar was about his chores, when he heard the door slam, and knew that Shirlyn was home. Her school started early now with exams round the corner, at half past seven in the morning, and she returned in the early afternoon. He knew her routine well by now. She would go into her bedroom and fling her school bag on her desk. Then she'd go into the bathroom, slamming the door, come out after a bit, go to the kitchen for a drink of water and lunch. Shankar had his hands full when she came out of the toilet. He was standing in the corridor, packing a huge mound of linen into a cupboard on the wall. The shelves were high and he was on his toes, with his feet braced against the opposite wall, his hands stretched up and across the narrow corridor to push the last of the sheets into the cupboard. He had been working for some time, and it was hot. He was stripped down to his shorts and his body glistened with sweat. She stepped out of her bedroom and into the narrow passage. He looked at her over his shoulder. She seemed to be breathing hard, her lips were parted, her nostrils flared. Her eyes caught him, and he saw the sudden intake of her breath, a glitter in her eyes. She smiled quickly, hesitated and moved forward. He was between her and the kitchen. She had to pass by him. She hadn't changed out of her school tunic. It was a grey and white cotton ensemble, with a sash which she had taken off and six buttons down the front. She had opened three of the six. It was one of the old ones and was a shade too short and showed just a tad too much leg. "Shall I go past?" she asked in a soft, sibilant and utterly sexy voice. "Go," he replied, tilting his head toward the kitchen. She smiled and bent under his outstretched arms. As she ducked, her tunic lapels drooped and fell open and he bent his head and looked down into her garment and lovely cleavage. She had taken off her brassiere. She wore a gold necklace and he could see one entire breast and its nipple, and her belly below. He stifled a gasp. She was in an equally exciting position. As she bent, her face was on level with his naked belly, his hard torso arched over her. The bulge between his thighs was tantalizingly close, scarce inches from her arm and hand. She looked at it sidelong and bit her lower lip in excitement. So near, so very near, and no one else around, and the waiting had gone on long enough. It had to be now. She froze in place. So did he. He stared at her breasts, transfixed. She felt his eyes on them and grew aroused. He could see them swell, saw one nipple harden. His cock began to thicken and she sensed it, saw it, and her pulse raced. If he hadn't made his move, she would probably have flung herself at him and raped him. There was no need to. She was unable to contain herself. She stopped, turned and straightened between his outstretched arms. She was very close to him, her body almost touching his. Her vision was filled with the sight of his sprawling, deep chest, his hard belly, shining with sweat. She thought it incredibly sexy. Her hands rose and slid slowly up his belly to his chest, and she tilted her face up to his. "Shankar," she murmured softly. It was all that he needed to hear. He settled on his feet, dropped his arms and held her waist. His eyes locked with hers. Her lovely lips fluttered, parted, her breath was warm and sweet on his face. Her perfect teeth shone. Her hands slid up over his chest to his shoulders. He bent his head toward hers. The first touch was electrifying for both of them. His lips were warm and dry and firm, hers soft and moist, yielding. They met, parted, met again, parted, and met yet again, and there was no question of moving apart now. His tongue probed between her lips and she let it into her mouth, sucking on it. He drew her close and her body pressed to his. He could feel the warm prickle of her cuntfuzz through her tunic and knew that she had taken off her panties as well. His hands slid up and cupped her breasts. She stiffened in his arms and he could feel her nipples judder taut. *Oh god*, she thought to herself, her mind in a whirl. *It's happening at last*! Her hands tightened about his head, and their kiss deepened and now her tongue met his, communicating her hunger and eagerness. He squeezed her breasts gently, and marveled at their size and weight and fullness and firmness. Her thigh pressed between his legs and she could feel the weight of his erection. No words were needed. Her hands flew to the remaining buttons of her tunic, pulling it open. He slid his hands into it and cupped her breasts. They were warm and lovely and turgid to his touch. He squeezed them yet again, fondling them, rolling the nipples in the hard heels of his palms. She shuddered and the kiss broke and she arched her head, her lips parting as she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut. He pulled the tunic off her shoulders and it slid to the floor with a soft susurrus. She was naked in his arms, and he thought he had never seen a lovelier woman. Her superb breasts sloped toward long nipples set in dark aureoles. Her belly was flat and firm, the waist nipped in like a wasp's, and her hips flared to form a perfect cushion for a man's thrusting loins, and then tapered to long, slender lovely legs. She wore her gold necklace, matching earrings, a small diamond finger-ring. On her, thus, in his arms, it was incredibly erotic. He bent his head and when his tongue touched her nipple, she gasped, arching, twining her fingers in his thick hair. "Ohhhhh!" she moaned. Her body was irresistible. He squeezed the luscious mound in his hand and drew it into his mouth. She cried out, her body spasming with joy as she felt the electric warmth and heat of his mouth and tongue and teeth on her breasts. Flames of lust licked at her loins. "Yes ... UHhhhh ... OHHHH!" she went. He flicked her nipple under his tongue, scraped it across his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Shirlyn's head swam with delight.She had never imagined it would feel anything like this. He nibbled on it, rolled it between his teeth, sucked on it slowly at first and then with increasing pressure, and then slowly let it go. Shirlyn whimpered. He moved to the other breast. "Shankar!" she gasped, her hands feverish on his head. "Ohhhhhh Shankar!" Her voice, her tone, her fingers in his hair, all excited him beyond measure. He took her hand in his and slid it into the waistband of his shorts. He wore nothing beneath. Her fingertips brushed his pubic hair, touched the hilt of his shaft. Her natural lust overcame all hesitation, and he groaned deep in his throat as her fingers gently encircled his cock, slid down to fondle his balls, slid up and down its length, exploring it with awe. "My first cock!" she thought to herself. "I'm touching my first cock... God, it's so big... so hard... so hot... so thick... how will it ever fit? I've got to see it... I want to see it... suck it... taste it... I want it... oh god, I want it so much..." Her hands slid around to his buttocks and hips, jerking his shorts down and his heart leaped with excitement. "Fuck, the bint was better than he had hoped! This one was born for this... meant for this!" His shorts puddled to his feet and he rose from her breasts and she bent her head, looking down in awe and wonder at the penis in her hand. It was huge, eight inches long, two inches thick, springing erect and throbbing electrically in her hand from its forest of dark pubic hair. His balls were heavy and low. She knew what she had to do. She had seen enough movies, watched her sister do it countless times. She slid to her knees and he watched, his astonishment mounting. She was too good to be true, a dream come true. She moaned in excitement and deep lust, her eyes glassy, her nostrils flared, her lips parted as she held his cock before her face. She could smell it, sharp and tangy, utterly sexy. She closed her eyes and caressed her face with it, stroking her cheeks with it. She rose slightly and pressed it to her breasts, running it over her rigid nipples. Instinctively, her fist curled over its shaft and she jerked it to and fro inexpertly. He grunted, flexing his buttocks and guided her hand, showing her how to do it to suit his pleasure. That aroused her further. "Oh god, it's wonderful, she thought, my first cock..." "Suck it!" he gasped. "C'mon, baby... take my cock in your mouth... and suck it hard, bitch! Do it!" His words, the vernacular, the obscene language he used turned her on even more. "Lavda," she thought. "I will say that to him... and use words like *lund* and *chuth* and *chodh*... he will like that..." He showed her how to flip back his foreskin. She gazed mesmerized as his bulging cock-head appeared. It was an enormous knob. A jewel of a drop of pre-cum gunk oozed from the slit in its head. Shirlyn stared at it, hypnotized. With a soft moan, she opened her mouth and slid her tongue out, pointing it, and catching the bead of spoot delicately on the tip of it. She drew her tongue in and swallowed the jizz. His head bent, watching her, Shankar gasped in amazement. Shirlyn savored the musky-tangy taste of his seed. It was delicious and made her throb with excitement. Jerking his cock as he had showed her, she slid her tongue out again and wound it round his cock-head for more of his seed. Shankar gasped and his hands flew to her head, and he thrust his hips forward. "Suck it!" he gasped. "Suck my cock! Suck hard!" She obeyed, her body fiery with lust, and delicately slid her lips about his cock-head and part of his shaft. Her face distended with the size of it and her cheeks hollowed as she began to suck on it. Shankar gasped, his eyes hooding, throwing his head back. His hips bucked at her face. He began to move her head to and fro with his hands and she understood how it was to be done. It was wonderful in her mouth, hot and hard and throbbing and it grew slippery as it oozed and trickled more and more gunk. She swallowed it greedily. His loins smelled musky and sexy, his cock-seed was heady. She sucked and jerked him with increasing confidence, her fingers becoming sticky with his gunk. She smeared it on her breasts and began to caress herself. His cock raked in between her lips and she let her teeth scrape delicately along the shaft, flicking her tongue at the cock-head the while, winding it round and round. She cupped his balls, caressing them tenderly with her slender fingers. His hips pumped and he held her head and rocked it gently to and fro as he fucked her mouth. Shirlyn felt giddy with excitement. It was better than she had dared hope. "Oh fuck yes! Suck it! Suck hard, slut! Suck! C'mon! Suck!" he gasped in joy. She thrilled at his words, and now, guided by instinct, she knew what to do. She stopped her cock-sucking for a minute to run her tongue down the underside of his cock to his balls. She roved her tongue over them and sucked on them gently, one by one, her head tilted up like a suckling calf. He groaned, his hips writhing in joy, and pulled her head up again, thrusting his cock at her face once more. She sucked it hungrily again and already she was more adept. He groaned. Her mouth was a wonderful, warm, wet grotto and she was sucking him so well, using her tongue and her teeth. He wondered if she should come in her mouth. He bent his head and watched her, deeply aroused by the sight of her head rolling this way and that as she sucked his cock, kneeling before him, fondling her breasts, her own body squirming with pleasure, one elegant hand curled about his cock, jerking it to and fro. He knew she would swallow his spoot, but she would be disappointed. She wanted the real thing, up her cunt and by god, he was going to give it her. He pulled away from her; she let go with visible reluctance. He went down with her, easing her onto her back. They kissed again and he tasted his seed on her lips and tongue and it excited him. Her breasts were smeared with the stuff. He squeezed them in his hands. She stroked his shoulders and back without shame or fear, fondling his face. Her legs were already splayed, the dark thatch inviting him. Her hands slid between his legs, stroking and jerking his penis. He squirmed, fighting for control. Her very touch was electrifying. "Shirlyn," he whispered, slowly tonguing her ear, making her murmur in pleasure. "This is your first time, isn't it?" She nodded and tongued his ear in turn. She learned fast. He nodded at her response. He knew what he had to do. He was going to give her the fuck of her dreams, blow her mind out. He slid down, drawing his tongue down the lovely long column of her throat to her breasts. She arched her back in eager anticipation, thrusting her breasts up for his tongue. He grinned to himself at her enthusiasm and gently dragged his tongue slowly and heavily across one nipple, pinching and twirling the other in forefinger and thumb. Shirlyn gasped and her back cambered, her head arching back. "OHHHHHHHHH!" she cried, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her hips spasming beneath him. "Oh ma UHhhh OHHhhhhh Shankar... UHHhhhh OHH!" Gently, he took the nipple between his teeth and began to nibble on it. She gasped and panted and moaned. Slowly, he drew the mound in and began to suck on it, scraping her long, rigid nipple across his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. She gasped and clenched his head, pinning it to her breast. "Yes... yes... Ohhhh ma Shankar uhhhh *hanh* uhh uhhhh OHH!" she went. He sucked sharply, let go, sucked again, let go, bit the nipple, hit it several times with his tongue, sucked hard, let go suddenly. She whimpered. He drew his tongue into her lovely deep cleavage and up the swell of the other breast. He began to work it as he had the first. Shirlyn's head rolled from side to side. His body was half across hers as he sucked and licked her breast. He slid his hand down her belly and she shivered as his fingers brushed her cunt fuzz. Her hips arched and her thighs split open. She clenched his head fiercely. Slowly, he slid his fingers down to her crack, splaying open her cunt-lips. They were sodden and parted readily. He rapped his fingers at her clitoris and she gasped, her hips bucking. Her hand flew down to his and she tugged it to her cunt, fumbling for his finger. "Shove it in!" she gasped. "Shove your finger in, Shankar!" He arched his middle finger and slid it into her cunt. She gasped and her hips lurched heavily. Her cunt spasmed and contracted in excitement on his finger. He held it still inside her and then, abruptly, began to finger-fuck her rapidly with sharp, jabbing thrusts of his finger. She cried out, twisting and writhing beneath him, her hand gripping his wrist, her hips pumping. Instantly, he stopped. She whimpered in frustration. Slowly, he slid a second finger into her, forcing her cunt wider open. She moaned huskily. He held his fingers still inside the sodden warmth of her cunt and then began to move them alternately inside her, tormenting her. Shirlyn went wild. His mouth moved from breast to breast and his fingers clawed at her cunt-lips. He slid his fingers out and jammed his thick thumb into her and, at the same time, turned his wrist and opened his palm to hook his middle finger between her buttocks. She felt it at her anus and gasped, tensing. He pressed it deeper to the dank orifice. It spasmed wildly under the pressure. Her hips bucked and writhed feverishly. "OHhhhhh!" she moaned. "UNHhhhh Ohhhhhh... Yes... OHhhhh uhhhh OHH UNHHHHhh Oh Shankar... uhh ohma uhh *hanh* uhh *hanh*!" Once again he began to ram-finger-fuck her and she responded with a gasp of joy, her hips bucking eagerly at his hand. He drove her up the crest once more, and yet again left her teetering on the brink. She was half mad with lust when he drew his hand away from her cunt.She grappled with it, trying to force his fingers back in, but he tore away with a growl. "Slowly, whore," he rasped. "I'll fuck you, don't worry. I'll fuck your brains out... but slowly... till you beg and beg and beg... gonna show you how good it gets, bitch... trust me, cunt, trust me... I'll show you the stars!" The guttural tone, the foul words he used, the way he called her whore, all sent a deep thrill through her. She whimpered and stretched her arms up and drew his face to hers in another hungry kiss. He caressed her breasts and her face, gently pulling away from her, and she tasted her heady cunt-juice as she sucked his fingertips. Smiling at her, he straddled her chest and placed his tumescent cock between her breasts. Instinctively, she squeezed them over his shaft. It felt wonderful on her chest, in her cleavage, hot and hard and throbbing with excitement. He fucked her breasts slowly, his hips grinding back and forth, her rigid nipples raking his shaft. The cock-head prodded her chin and her head craned, her lips parting, seeking it again. He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, and moved up over her face. This time, he turned around and her face tilted back and her mouth was wide open. She lifted her hand and guided his cock to her mouth, taking it in and sucking on it hungrily. He groaned. Her tongue swirled over his cock-head. He flung his head back and, squeezing and fondling her swollen breasts, fucked her mouth again for a while, his hips gently gyrating, his buttocks flexing and unflexing. Her thighs were forked and wide and her open cunt tempted him. He bent over her and she gasped deep in her throat as he dragged his tongue down her belly and over her pubic fuzz. Her mons quivered and lurched upward as she realized his intention, and her mind soared with joy. *He's going to lick my slit... just like the guys in the magazines and movies! Just like they do to Sheila! He's going to tongue-fuck me!* He thrust his head between her legs and prised her cunt-lips wide open with his fingers. Her cunt-flesh glistened with love juice, dewdrops of it winking on her pubic hair. It seemed to quiver and throb in eager anticipation. He drank in the sight of her moist, soft pink cunt-flesh and then, unable to resist it any more, thrust his tongue into it. Shirlyn gasped, choked, sputtered, gasped again. Her hips lurched and bucked heavily at his face. He found her clitoris and began to suck on it, darting his tongue this way and that in her cunt. She whimpered and moaned, writhing beneath him, her thighs trembling, her hips bucking and jerking. He tasted her juice and began to lap it tenderly. Her head swam and she sucked feverishly on his huge cock in her mouth, feeling it throb and trickle jizz down her throat. Her body was hot and flushed and she broke into a sweat. Fires leaped from her loins as he rolled his heavy tongue inside her. He stopped in time, pushing her to the brink once again. She groaned, trembling and scrabbling for him as he moved away from her. She tried to push his head back to her thighs. "Shankar," she moaned, "please... lick me... lick my cunt... don't stop!" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Enough for now, whore... not too much the first time. Now I'll fuck you, babe... nice and hard!" Shirlyn moaned in excitement. She had already sucked his cock, sixty-nined, had her cunt licked, and now he was going to fuck her! At last, at long last, she was getting what she had craved so long! He knelt between her spread thighs, holding them apart in his hands and drank in the loveliness of her naked body. There were flecks of his gunk on her breasts and in her cleavage where he had fucked her breasts. As he watched, she whimpered and scooped a driblet of jizz from her cheek and chin and licked her finger clean. Her hands were on her breasts, fondling them, and then they slid down to his cock. "Yes... fuck me!" she muttered in a husky, sibilant, erotic tone. "Shankar... fuck me! Fuck me hard!" He leaned over her on his knees and one forearm, guiding his cock to her hole with the other hand. She gasped as she felt the fierce heat of the cock-head at the portals of her cunt. In position, his buttocks high and unflexed, he paused on both forearms and knees and bent his head to kiss her. Her groin jerked unevenly beneath his and he felt her hands tug his cock downward. "Ready?" he said. She nodded eagerly. He flexed his buttocks and slowly inched his penis forward and down into her. She gasped and winced and her head jerked back and her mouth flew open in a soundless O as the breath hissed from her throat. Her cunt was hot and tight and it convulsed frantically on his invading penis. He shuddered and groaned, his own head snapping back. Flexing his buttocks, he drove in deeper still, grinding inexorably forward. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhh uhhhh Ohhhh SHUNHHKUHHHHR UH OHMA UHH AHH UHH OHHH!" Shirlyn cried, her voice ringing in his ears. His penis was wonderful, hot and thick and hard, and as it seared into her, rasping across her inflamed clitoris, Shirlyn moaned loudly, her body arching ecstatically beneath him. Deeper and deeper it went, and every inch of it was magnificent. It probed deep, filling her cunt till she thought it would rip her asunder, come out of her throat. She felt like one gigantic cunt from head to toe. It was incredible, better than she had ever dreamed it would be. "OHHHHHHHHhh... Shankar! Yes! Oh god yes!" she gasped. He ground into her and held still, embedded to the hilt. She dug her fingers into his hard hips, her loins thrust up to his, her body bowed, pinning him to her. Her cunt spasmed frenetically on his penis. "Oh fuck yes!" he gasped, overcome with delight. Her cunt was magnificent, hot and wet and tight as a glove. His balls roiled with steaming spoot and his cock throbbed furiously. He fought for control, taking several deep breaths to steady himself. He began to fuck her slowly, rising up on outstretched arms. His hips rose, his buttocks unflexing and his cock slid slowly out of her, making her gasp and whimper. He paused with just his cock-head inside her and then, crying out, his muscles quivering and cording with the tension, flexed his buttocks and sank his spear into her again. She cried out sharply, the breath driven from her throat yet again and arched beneath him. Her head jerked violently to one side and she dug her fingers into his thick biceps. Her hips bucked unevenly under him. "OH! Shankar... UNHHHh... OHHHHHHHH!" she moaned. Again he slid out and in, and yet again, setting up a smooth tempo. She chunnered ecstatically, her body writhing and squirming, her hips bucking and lurching at first, then gradually finding the rhythm. Up and down his buttocks went, his cock in and out, in and out. Now she moved in unison with him, each thrust sending her arching onto the small of her back and drawing a gasping moan of delight from her and a corresponding groan of pleasure from him. He built up speed steadily, and soon his buttocks were bobbing rapidly up and down, up and down, his hips swinging smoothly to and fro between her splayed thighs. His cock pistoned faster and faster in and out of her, emerging and disappearing from her cunt, glistening with their comingled juices. Her body jerked and snapped under his thrusts, her swollen breasts jiggling and bouncing. Her cries grew sharper and shriller, short, piercing cries alternating with shuddering moans and rattling gasps. "Ohh Ohhh Ohhh uhhh OHhh uhh OHhh uhh Ahhhh UNHhh oH Shankar-Shankar-Shankar Uhhhhh Ohhmauhh Ohma uhh Ohma oh uhh ohma uhh ohmaOHHHHHuhhhh OHHHH!" she called. Faster and faster he went, relentlessly building up speed till he hit a furious ram-fucking rhythm. She thrashed wildly under him and soared uncontrollably toward her climax. Her cunt spasmed and convulsed helplessly on his penis and her head flipped from side to side in frenzied passion. She looked lovely, her face suffused with lust, her nostrils dilated, her eyes closed, her mouth open, calling to him, and now her words were obscene and erotic. Her legs rose and wound taut about his hips. "Yes... OHHHhh yes yes yes... Unhhhhhh... OHHhhh... OH OH OH OHHHH uhhhhh OHHHHHHHH yes *hanh* uhhhh Ahhhhh uhh *hanh* uhhhh uhhhhhh Shankar-Shankar-Shankar-Uh Ohhh ma uhhhh *hanh* uhh Shankar *hanh* uhh... yes... fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" Shirlyn cried. Her voice rang in his ears and excited him even further. His balls ached for release. But he was far from done with her. He knew it was her first time and, if he wanted her to return for more, it was important that her satisfaction be intense. Abruptly, he stopped, buried deep in her. Shirlyn gasped in shock. Her body, bouncing in unison with his till then, lurched and spasmed beneath his. "Shankar!" she gasped. "Please... don't stop! Not now! Please!" He grinned, took a deep breath and instantly hit a rapid, ram-fucking stroke again. Shirlyn's mouth tore open in shock, her neck arched, her back bowed and twisted and her lips drew back in a rictus of lust. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH uhhh AHHHHHHHHHH!" she cried loudly. Again he stopped, this time at the top of his stroke. She went wild, her loins lurching beneath his, begging for it. "Shankar... Shankar ohhhh god Shankar... please!" she whimpered. Again he hit a furious rhythm. This time she was waiting for it and she twisted yet again, crying out and writhing, but with relief now. She moved with him, hard and fast, lurching and bucking heavily. Their bodies streamed with sex-sweat now and his belly slapped against hers as he pumped and pistoned vigorously, moving rapidly in and out of her. He sensed her on the brink of her orgasm and he slowed gently, grinding his hips in slow, skewering, spiralling thrusts. Shirlyn moaned in ecstasy and squeezed her breasts hard. "Mmmm... yes... Ohhhhh yes... ohhhhh... Shankar... *hanh* uhhh... Uhhh OHhhh... *hanh* uhhhh..." she murmured.She was teetering on the brink of her climax when he stopped and reared onto his haunches. He opened her legs and held them high and kept spiral-fucking her slowly. She whimpered, her head spinning from shoulder to shoulder. She came in a searing series of back-to-back orgasms of exquisite intensity as he stroked in and out of her, mashing her cunt-flesh and taking her from all angles. Her body arched and bowed, and she gasped, groaning in pleasure as her body flooded with heat and her cunt cramped violently on his thrusting penis. Instantly, he shifted position again, and now he bent her legs back over her torso and, angling himself forward with his hands on the insides of her thighs, began to ram-fuck her furiously again. Without warning, his hips swung like a trip-hammer at full speed, his cock pistoning in and out. Her head jerked back, and her mouth tore open in a soundless scream. Her body snapped under his thrusts, and she dug her fingers into his thick biceps in a frenzy. Faster and faster he went, and orgasm intensified as his penis plunged and pistoned into her convulsing cunt. Her breasts jerked and jiggled, tossing back and forth and to and fro under his thrusts. She came hard, the breath shooting out of her, stars exploding in her head, and now he could hold back no more. He drilled into her again and again, thrusting in hard and deep and fast, prolonging her pleasure, going on and on till, finally, her orgasm ebbed. Her body sank to the floor, shuddering and trembling, her chest heaving, her breath coming in huge, wracked sobs. He slowed his movements but continued fucking her, with long, gentle strokes. Shirlyn moaned, and then, as the realization dawned that he intended to fuck her again, her mind soared in exultation and joy. Shankar smiled down at her and, bending his head, kissed her gently. His cock was still hard and throbbing in her cunt, sliding slowly in and out of her flesh. "You're good, cunt, very good," he murmured. "But I want more. You understand, slut? I'm not done yet - gonna fuck you again. You ready for it?" For an answer, she gripped his head and pulled it down to hers, kissing him with a fierce hunger, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, lifting her crotch eagerly to his. "Yes," she gasped. "I want it, Shankar ... fuck me again! Keep fucking me, Shankar ... fuck me hard ... fuck me like a whore!" "That's the spirit!" Shankar chuckled. "I like that in the sluts I fuck. I like 'em hot and hungry!" He slid out of her body, making her gasp softly at the release in pressure, and roughly turned her on her front and jerked her buttocks up so that she was on her hands and knees. "C'mon ... on your front ... I'm gonna fuck you from behind, whore ... like a bitch ... like a fucking bitch!" he cried. Shirlyn moaned softly, in deep lust, her body trembling and quivering with excitement. The shattering orgasm had, strangely, left her thirsting for more. She longed to feel the heat and hardness of his cock in her cunt. Shankar knelt behind her and pressed his cock-head to her buttocks. She felt it at her anus and tensed, and he sensed her anxiety. He debated whether to do it, then decided that with a bint like this, he would have enough opportunity later, there was no rush. "Another time," he chuckled softly. "Yeah, I'm gonna take me that nice tight ass of yours, too, bitch ... another time ... now take this!" And, pressing his cock-head to her cunt-lips, gripping her buttocks, he slid his hips forward and sank his cock deep into her teenage cunt. It drove the breath from her throat in a loud gasp, and her head snapped up, her long neck craned and her face contorted in a rictus of joy. "OHHHHHHHHH uhh Ohma uhhhh OHHH Shankar uhhhh OHHHHH!" she cried as the fierce heat of his throbbing, rock-hard penis surged into her slit. "OHHH uh OH uh OH uh OHHHH Uh oh god yes!" His crotch pressed to her buttocks, and she felt his balls at her cunt-lips. He ran his hands up her slender, golden-skinned body and cupped her pendulous breasts, squeezing them, pinching her long, stiff nipples. "C'mon baby ... take it ... tell me you like it, bitch ... talk dirty to me, whore ... c'mon ... take it!" "Oh god oh god oh god," Shirlyn moaned. "Fuck me Shankar ... yes ... oh uhhh yes ... fuck my cunt ... fuck me, baby ... fuck me hard ... shove your cock up my slit, baby ... do it ... do it to me!" "Yeh ... that's it, slut ... that's the way ... c'mon now ... take it!" He began fucking her with long, deep, skewering thrusts, and Shirlyn whimpered and gasped, her mind spinning with lust and excitement and the knowledge that she was still being fucked, and fucked like a bitch, doggie-style, from behind, just like she had seen him do with her sister, like the others had done with her sister, like Kenny did with Susan, like all those movies. His cock was hard and hot and thick, and it filled her cunt, rasping over her inflamed clitoris, piercing deep into her flesh. The servant held her hips and jerked her back and forth under him, rocking his buttocks to and fro, driving his cock in and out of her wonderful cunt. It was tight and hot and felt incredibly good on his cunt. Her lovely breasts jiggled with his thrusts as he fucked her faster and harder and deeper; her gold necklace jumped, slithering up the nape of her long neck, its front bouncing against her chin and off her breasts. The teenager whimpered and moaned softly, her body rippling with lust. Her back was superb, the spine a delicate hollow, her waist narrow, her hips flared. "Oh yeh ... c'mon ... take it ... oh fuck yes ... take it, whore ... take my cock ... c'mon, bitch ... Shirlyn bitch-whore ... take it uhhh yeh ... oh fuck yes ... *hanh* uhh *hanh* uhh *chul* *rundi* *chul* ... *lele* ... *le* *mere* *lund* *ko*!" he gasped. "OHHH uhh Ohma uhh Ohma uhh ohma uhhh ahhh uhh oh yes oh god yes ... fuck me! Fuck me, Shankar! Fuck me!" she moaned deliriously. He bent his head, rivetted by the sight of his swollen cock emerging and disappearing between the sweetly curved lobes of her buttocks, glistening with their juices. He bent over and squeezed her breasts and began to move faster and faster, his balls thumping against her buttocks, his cock skewering her deep. She moaned her delight, turning her face over her shoulder, her mouth open, and Shankar leaned over and jammed his lips to hers, thrusting his tongue into her open, inviting mouth, his hands crushing her breasts. Faster and faster he went, hammering his thighs at her buttocks with loud slaps, each thrust drawing a choking, cracked, sobbing gasp of pleasure as his cock burst into her flesh again and again. She began to orgasm, and he flung his head back, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, his muscles tensing and cording, his belly sucked inward with strain as her tight, hot, wet cunt convulsed and spasmed frantically on his cock. Her orgasm intensified, and he cried out, his face twisting into a grimace of pleasure as he rammed greedily deep into her, reaming into her once, twice, three, four ... half a dozen times ... and then, with a shuddering groan, he sank deep into her, his buttocks quivering and twitching at her buttocks, and let himself go. Shirlyn's eyes flew wide in shock and delight, and she gasped, arching her hips higher to his, greedily sucking his cock in with her cunt, as she felt the searing shards of his spoot spume from his throbbing shaft into her sodden slit. For a second, Shankar was stabbed with anxiety that she might get pregnant - but it was too late. What he didn't know, but she did, was that Sheila had put her on a pill, not the usual kind, but one specially formulated by Hedon & Venery for teenagers, one that didn't bother body growth and development. She was safe, protected, and she was overjoyed that he had lost control and let her feel the exquisite pleasure of hot jizz spurting into her flesh. He released her, and they sank trembling to the floor. Quickly, he slid out of her, making her gasp in surprise. He flipped her over on her back. His cock was dribbling spunk still, and he shook it over her belly and breasts, scooting up to spatter her face. Her lips parted lasciviously, and she took his penis in her mouth again, swallowing the trickling jizz. Shankar murmured in pleasure. He slid out of her mouth and got between her thighs, quickly squeezing his cock into her again. Her cunt was ready and eager, and he went in smoothly to the hilt. With his cock deep inside her, Shankar bent and kissed her gently. She moaned beneath him, her cunt still twitching and jerking. Her hands wound around his shoulders, and she caressed his powerful, slippery back gently. He kissed her eyes and nose, and then their lips met, and he could taste his seed on her tongue and lips. Her breasts crushed against his hard chest. He lifted his head, his eyes smiling, and cupped her face in his hands. Her eyes fluttered open, and he saw the joy glistening in them. She caressed his face, her face radiant, her eyes dancing. "Shankar," she whispered. He smiled and kissed her. "Good?" She nodded. "Very good, Shankar. Was it good for you? Was I a good fuck for you?" "Fantastic," he said with transparent honesty. "I want to fuck you again." She nodded. "Yes. I want it, too. Will you? Now?" He grinned. "You're one hell of a whore!" he said delightedly. But he shook his head. "But not now. No time. The others will be here soon." She wanted to tell him but decided it wasn't right. She turned her face away. "Shirlyn," he murmured, kissing the nape of her neck. "Don't worry. I will fuck you, I promise. But not now. Tonight." "Tonight?" "Yes. Up, on the terrace. After dinner, meet me there. I'll wait for you, and I'll fuck you then. You will come?" She nodded. She often went up to the terrace after dinner to be on her own. Everyone knew about it. She would spend an hour there enjoying the night, watching the stars dreamily as she spun out her fantasies.She invariably wound up masturbating there under a dark canopy. His cock was still hard inside her, and she writhed happily under him, stirring him yet again. He smiled at her eagerness. "Later, whore, later," he growled. "Wait till tonight, then see how I fuck you, hard and deep and long! Like a whore!" He slid out of her, and she pouted, feigning disappointment. They laughed together, and she felt delirious with joy. It had been mind-blowing, and there was the promise of more, much more. He flipped onto his back beside her in the narrow, stuffy corridor, and she turned around, leaning over him, her face over his, her hair over her shoulder caressing his cheek. She held his penis affectionately, jerking it gently, and lowered her lips to his. Her breasts pressed to his chest, and her nipples were still rigid and aroused. He cupped one breast and fondled it gently. She slid up and let it drop into his mouth like succulent fruit. He relented and sucked tenderly on it, toying her nipple with his tongue. She murmured in pleasure. He let her go, and she snaked her tongue down his body to his groin and kissed his cock. It was beautiful, rock-hard and stiff in her fingers and against her lips and tongue. She sucked the cock-head gently and caressed her face with the shaft. She rose to her knees and smiled down at him. He sat up, and they kissed, his hand between her breasts, hers on his cock. He leaned back and looked at her. He was overcome by her beauty and sexiness. He thought she was the loveliest creature he had ever seen, and, like this, her body glistening in a sheen of sex-sweat, beads of sweat dotted her upper lip, and strands of silken hair clung damp to the nape of her superb neck, she was bewitching. Her cunt twinkled with their juices, and for a moment, he was tempted to fuck her again. He forced himself away, and they got to their feet and kissed yet again, their bodies grinding close, reluctant to part. "Go," he said softly. "Go, whore... go bathe... the others will be here any minute. Gonna fuck you again tonight!" Later that night, as he knelt behind her, fucking her on forearms and knees from behind, doggie style, Shankar marveled at his fortune. She was an incredible piece of ass, quite the best he had ever had - eager, unafraid, sexy, beautiful - and quite insatiable. No matter what he did to her, she loved it and wanted more, and yet more. And she was his for the taking, whenever he chose. She was waiting for him on the terrace when he finally got through his never-ending part-time chores in different households. She led him silently to a secluded area in deep shadow between two huge concrete water storage tanks. Without further ado, she slipped out of her clothes and virtually tore his off his body. Her hunger was naked and obvious, and she went at him like a tigress, as if she wanted to devour all of him. She knelt and sucked his cock, and already she was astonishingly good at it. When he pushed her away, she begged him to tongue-fuck her, and there was no way he could refuse. She sat on his face, her head flung back, her face turned to the silver moon, moaning and gasping deliriously as he probed her cunt deep. When they were ready, she turned on her hands and knees and presented her delectable buttocks to him again, spreading her legs wide, begging him to fuck her from behind. They fucked for nearly an hour. She wanted to try every position, and he was hard put to slow her down. She seemed to be unusually knowledgeable about them. He was awed by her skill and the intensity of her driving lust. She came as he fucked her on all fours, and then she turned him on his back and mounted him, astride his hips, impaling herself on his cock. She had come half a dozen times already, and this had to be the last - till the next day. She sank lower, biting her lower lip, her face contorting in a rictus of lust, a soft gasp hissing from clenched teeth as he held her hips and jerked her down onto his penis. "Ohhhhh Shankar... yes... OHHhhhh god yes yes OHhhh uhhh *hanh*!" she moaned, jerking on his penis. Their bodies glistened with silver beads of sweat that sparkled off them as they rocked and swung together in mounting frenzy. Her breasts swung and bounced, and she squeezed them in delight as he fingered her anus, making her writhe on his cock. When she exploded, he timed his own orgasm to perfection and, thudding up into her, spilled his seed yet again into her craven cunt. In the days that followed, they fucked like randy honeymooners at every opportunity, and Shirlyn's skills quickly grew. She had a natural aptitude for it and, with practice, she learned how to prolong her orgasm to achieve mind-blowing intensity, how to torment him with her lips and tongue and breasts and fingertips and cunt till he surrendered. Shirlyn could think of little else. She longed for it and waited impatiently till they could be alone. Saturdays were the best, for they had the entire morning free - she had no school, and the rest of the family was out. But, equally, Sundays were miserable, crawling with maddening slowness to the night when at last they could meet on the terrace. They took to fucking all over the house when they were alone: in her bed, on the floor, in the kitchen, on the dining table, in the bathroom, and even in the open balcony, screened from the prying eyes of the inquisitive neighbors only by the creepers on the trellis. She loved that especially, the danger of being found out adding an erotic thrill to the sex. He was really good with her: knowledgeable, skilled, blessed with a good, taut body and a satisfyingly large penis, he could torment her till she was moaning and keening like a rutting bitch, begging him to fuck her. He would alternate between great tenderness and masterful roughness in his handling of her, and the combination was like sugar and spice and drove her wild. Shirlyn introduced him to Kenny's videos. Shankar thought they were fantastic, an immense turn-on. They watched them in the living room, just the two of them, naked, filled with lust, hot and hungry. Shankar sat on a couch, his legs spread wide, Shirlyn on the floor between them. Ordinarily, he was not permitted to use the furniture; but they had found that reversing their daily roles excited both of them. She enjoyed having him dominate her, treat her as a sex-slave. She looked up at him and reached back for his hardening penis. She tilted her head back and reached up for his cock. She took his cock-head between her lips. He grinned and slid his hands down the craned column of her throat and cupped and fondled her breasts. Her nipples were rigid. Her legs split open, and her knees forked. He could see dewdrops of her cunt-juice glistening on her pubic fuzz. She slid a finger into her crack and began to masturbate. The sight aroused him. His cock grew hard and slippery in her fist. She turned over and buried her face in his lap. He gasped and flung his head back as she took his cock deep in her mouth. On the screen, the sex-vixen was getting herself laid by a dark, hugely endowed man. He had an impossibly large cock. "Look, whore," he muttered and pulled her away. Shirlyn turned around and gasped. The man's cock was incredible: over ten inches long, correspondingly thick, with huge balls. He had the woman on all fours, and he was ram-fucking her relentlessly from behind. The girl's face was contorted in a rictus of unbridled, unfaked lust, and she was moaning and whimpering in joy. Shirlyn's cunt tingled with excitement. She rose and turned around to sit on Shankar's lap, her back to him. She took his cock in her hand and guided it to her cunthole. She eased herself down onto the cock-head. She fondled his balls, gripped his cock, and slowly, unflexing her buttocks, slid lower. The rough shaft rasped against her inflamed clitoris, and she gasped, tossing her head back, arching her back. He squeezed her breasts. Her cunt spasmed on his cock. It was incredible, as always. "Take it!" he cried. "C'mon, whore! Sit on my prick! Take it all!" "Oh ma... uhhhh... OHHHHH!" she gasped and slid lower still, impaling herself deeply on his cock. It was wonderful and seemed to fill her to the brim. Gasping and panting, she began to rock and buck up and down on his cock. He grunted and bucked his hips beneath her. They gaped at the screen. The woman was now being fucked by another man, who was as heavily endowed as his predecessor in her orifice. She was on her back, and the man was thumping away, his cock glistening as it stroked and pistoned in and out of her cunt. Her legs were drawn up high and locked behind his back, and the camera showed, in mind-blowing close-up, his cock and her cunt and anus as their loins crashed together. Their voices were loud, and their cries obscene and guttural. Shirlyn went wild. She bucked up and down on Shankar's penis like a woman possessed, gasping and crying out, arching back to kiss him and thrust her tongue into his mouth, bouncing up and down on his lap, her breasts tossing wildly. She squeezed them in her hands and moaned. Faster and faster she went, and soon lost control, tumbling head over heels in the throes of a tidal orgasm. "OH OH OH OH OHHHHHHHHhh Shankar yes yes yes ohhhhhh god yes OHhhhhh uhhh *hanh* uhhhhh uhhhhhh Ohmauhhh *hanh* uhhh uhhhhh Ohma uhh ohmaohma uhhhh OHHHHHHH!" she cried. Shankar crushed her swollen breasts in his hands. "Take it! C'mon whore, take my cock! *Le... le rundi le... le mere* *lund* ko UNHhh *hanh*!" he grunted. Shankar pushed her off his lap and on all fours on the floor and mounted her from the rear, a position she had grown to dearly love. She moaned as he slid his cock into her again and began to fuck her quickly. She turned her face up, rocking gently to and fro beneath him, watching the screen as she ran her cunt back and forth along the length of his shaft.Her breasts swung to and fro, and he leaned forward to squeeze them, pinching her rigid nipples. "Yes... ohhhh uhh yes... fuck me... *chodh mujhe*... fuck me, Shankar... fuck me hard! *jorse chodh*!" she gasped like a whore. "Take it! Take my cock, whore... *Lele rundi*... *le* *mere* *lavde* *ko*... *hanh* uhhhhh aHHHhhhhh... OHhhhh uh OHHHH uhhhhh *hanh* uhh OHH!" His buttocks flexed and unflexed powerfully, and his hips swung rapidly to and fro, back and forth. He gasped and flung his head back. Shirlyn whimpered and dug a hand under her body to cup his balls. He groaned as she squeezed them and rammed into her hard, slamming his balls against her buttocks. "YES!" she cried. "Ohhhh yes yes ohhh god yes!" He hammered violently at her, stopped, started again, stopped again. He pulled out of her and flipped her over onto her back. She spread her legs and lifted them, drawing him between. He bent over her, and she groped for his cock, guiding it to her hole. He thrust into her smoothly, and she arched under him, gasping, winding her legs taut about his lean hips. He moaned and began to fuck her heavily and deeply. She murmured in pleasure and bucked under him. Their bodies streamed with sweat. Slowly, he took her to the edge and held her there, quivering and moaning and whimpering, while he stroked gently in and out of her. His enormous cock was incredible inside her. Her body flamed with lust. "Come on come on come on," she rasped, gritting her teeth in tension. But he would not be hurried. He forced her over the edge first, and as she arched and gasped, clinging fiercely to him, her cunt biting down sharply on his cock, he stroked swiftly in and out of her till she was thrashing wildly in her orgasm. Then he drove deep into her again and again and came hard, shooting thick wads of jizz deep into her cunt. She arched to him, loving the familiar feel of his spoot warm and sticky inside her, knowing that he would then pull out of her cunt and give her his cock to suck, his seed to swallow. It was a routine she loved, and he never disappointed her. They had time that afternoon, and when they were done, they lay together for a while, her body flung half across his, and drifted into a light sleep. The tape hissed to an end just as Shirlyn woke. She thumbed the remote and rewound it and began to watch it again. It was incredibly sexy. She watched a pretty young girl being butt-fucked by a man with an enormous penis. Soon, he was joined by another, and then by a third. Her every orifice was plugged. Shirlyn throbbed with excitement. If only she could have three men, thus... Shankar groaned as he felt her lips on his nipple, slowly trickling down to his loins again. The girl was a nymphomaniac... no matter what he did to her, she never seemed to get enough of it... He sighed and relented. He was strong enough to come again. As her warm mouth engulfed his penis, he crossed his arms behind his head, his eyes closed. Let her work a bit for it. His cock rose slowly, thickening and swelling between her lips till it was rock-hard again. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Haven't you had enough, slut?" She giggled and shook her head. "I can't ever have enough, lover." He chuckled. "C'mon... sit on my dick... backwards..." She knew why he liked her to mount him thus. It enabled him to finger-fuck her ass. She loved having his finger in her butt. It was only a question of time before he put his cock into her ass - and she was waiting for it, wanting it. She turned, her back to his face, and, straddling his hips, impaled herself slowly on his cock again. Her buttocks split open, and Shankar pressed his fingertip to her anus. Her sphincter spasmed and yielded, and he slid it in. Shirlyn chewed her lower lip in excitement. It felt so good, so very good... She began to rock to and fro and up and down on his cock. His finger slid gently in and out of her anus as she bucked on his crotch. Her breasts bounced and jiggled heavily. Her mind filled with visions of several men fucking her together, taking her in the ass and cunt and mouth together, flooding her body with their thick, warm jizz. Now Shirlyn was going wild beneath him, sweating and tossing and heaving frenetically, her lovely face flipping from side to side and contorting in paroxysms of ecstasy. Her silky hair was awry, strands clinging damply to the nape of her neck and her brow. She crushed her breasts in her hands, and her hips bucked and heaved up and down under him, devouring his penis greedily. Her gold necklace tossed and slapped on her honey skin. He groaned and flexed his buttocks, driving down harder and deeper, skewering her with a wicked roll of his hips that made her gasp and arch and cry out. Faster and faster they went, the servant and the daughter of the household, their hips crashing together in a frenzy of naked lust. Her voice rang in his ears. She pulled his head down and thrust her tongue up into his mouth. Her hips bucked and lurched beneath him, and, as his immensely swollen, throbbing, searing cock pistoned in and out of her torpid flesh, rasping against her inflamed clitoris, Shirlyn spun over the edge and orgasmed hard. Her back cambered, the breath rushed out of her throat in a shuddering gasp, her mouth tearing open. He changed his tempo, thrusting into her hard, holding fast, then slowly withdrawing to plunge in again and again till the tidal wave of her orgasm ebbed. She was ravenous, insatiable, incredible. Shuddering and trembling, she unwrapped her legs slowly from about his waist. His cock was still rock-hard and throbbing inside her. She caressed his sweaty back dreamily, slowly drawing her finger down his spine to his buttocks. She teased his anus with her fingertip, and he grunted and squirmed, rolling his cock inside her cunt. She murmured her pleasure. She kissed him again and began to writhe her hips sensuously beneath him, grinding round and round, her cunt muscles expertly spasming on his cock and goading him on to take her again. She arched a slippery breast to his lips and sighed in pleasure as he sucked gently on it. "I win, whore," he grinned. She smiled and tongued his ear lasciviously. "Don't you want your reward?" By now, they had reached a stage where their copulation was a daily contest, to see who could hold out longest. It was a game in which there were only victors. He chuckled and slid smoothly out of her and waited, kneeling on the floor, his proud penis thrust out, his thighs spread. She turned around and bent over before him, taking his cock in her mouth, sucking it slowly. He tossed his head back and groaned in delight. His hard belly rippled with excitement. His hips pumped, and he bent his head to watch her head rocking to and fro between his thighs. He began to move her head back and forth to suit his pleasure, aroused by the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her face. "Mm... yeh... suck it... suck my cock, bitch... yeh... c'mon... suck harder... oh fuck yes... that's it... *choos*, *rundi*, *choos*! *Jor* *se* *choos*!" Her tempting buttocks were thrust up ahead of him, and he bent over and pressed his finger into the cleft between them. She grunted, and her hips writhed, her thighs splitting open. He slid his finger into her sodden crack. He finger-fucked her gently for several minutes, her body shaking and juddering as his palm rocked to and fro at her buttocks. Her eyes glittering with renewed excitement, she rose and turned around on all fours, with her back to him. One hand groping between their legs for his cock, the other on the floor, she backed herself onto his lap, her thighs outside his, maneuvering his cock under her cunt-lips. Her succulent breasts dangled pendulous. Shankar waited with his legs folded beneath him, on his knees. Holding his rigid, throbbing cock delicately by the cock-head, she guided it to her hole. She paused, trembling, with his burning cock-head at the portals of her wet-haired cunt. Tensing, her head arching, she squeezed his cock-head into her slit. It was huge, distending her cunt-lips painfully wide open, hot and throbbing, pulsating powerfully inside her. "AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she moaned in a low, lust-laden tone. "Mm... yeh... c'mon... take it... *chul*... Shirlyn *chul*..." he murmured softly. "*Chul*, *rundi*, *chul*... c'mon, whore... take it!" Her cunt was like a furnace, hot and wet, clamping and sucking, spasming almost uncontrollably on his penis. She released his cock and leaned forward on both hands now. They both paused for a long moment, savoring the exquisite delicacy of the sensations in their loins. Her head was arched, her back and lovely spine arched deeply inward, her buttocks flexed and taut as her cunt spasmed and clamped and sucked hard on his cock. He caressed her gently, his hands sliding up and down her flanks and back and torso, making her shudder in delight. He reached around her and tweaked her rigid, throbbing nipples. His lips pressed hot at the nape of her neck, and her face turned to one side, her lips questing for his. He kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She sucked on it. They broke apart, and again his hands were venturing all over her superbly contoured body, exploring her flesh, now at her cunt-lips, fingering her clitoris, now between her buttocks, lobing them open and teasing her puckered anus. She moaned thickly, overcome with lust. "Mm... yes... ohh uhh *hanh* uhhh... yes... ohhh yes," she mumbled. Her hips began to writhe, undulating and rolling in heavy, slow circles, churning her cunt-flesh with his massive penis. He gasped and leaned back on his buttocks, his hands prising her buttocks open, his eyes riveted by the sight of her expanding cunt-lips gyrating and slowly descending on the monstrous enormity of his penis.Her breath came in short, rasping gasps as her cunt sank and sank and sank, slowly descending down the length of his cock, his penis dark and hard and thick and long disappearing inch by glorious inch into her incredible love grotto. Again she paused, and now only a third of his cock still protruded from her impaled cunt. Her shoulders hunched, her head sagged, and she gasped, her body heaving and shaking with tension, her belly and loins on fire, her breasts hurting delightfully. Gasping, she began to move before him, rocking back and forth on her hands and knees. Her buttocks rose and fell, her spine dipped and arched, her gold necklace tossed and swung. His cock emerged and disappeared between the lobes of her buttocks, her cunt rising up its length, then slithering down again. His hands on her hips, he guided her motions, keeping her rhythm steady. With each downward thrust, her cunt slid down deeper and deeper on his cock. He himself did not move, letting her do the work. Her buttocks flexed and unflexed, her belly drew in with the strain, and now she was moving rapidly, jerking faster and faster up and down, back and forth, to and fro, faster and faster and faster. "OH... OHh... uhh OHhhh... Uhhhh... OHhh... uhh OHma uhhh Ohma uhh OHhhhmauhh ahhhh uhh ahhhh uhhhh ohhhh... Shankar ohhh uhhh Ohhh... OH... Oh-OH-OH... uhhh ahhh... uhh... ahhhh... uhhh... ahhhhh... uhhh... OHHh... uhh... OHHH uhh OHHHHHHH!" she went. She was gasping and panting, her head now arching, now sagging, now arching again, her voice ragged already. He fondled her expertly, his own belly sucked in, his hips utterly still, his head bent, watching her buttocks come down deeper and deeper onto his dick. He pursed his lips, his nostrils flared, heat and jizz surging in his loins, his cock hard and hot and throbbing, the thick veins standing out angrily along its length rasping against her inflamed clitoris. She reached down again with one hand, her long finger coiling around the bulge of his shaft and the lower rim of his cock-head as her cunt glided up and down on his penis. She held it with elegance even then, at first with her fingers and thumb curled beneath the cock-head, then with the forefinger along the underside of the shaft, the other three fingers on the other side. She fondled his cock, jerking and squeezing it with increasing fervor, moving it round and round inside her juicy, dripping cunt. At last, she thrust down hard with a long, low cry, and her cunt sank down deep, swallowing his sword smoothly to the very hilt. Instantly, he held her pinned, and the breath hissed from her fiercely clenched teeth. Again he fondled her breasts and kissed her. She teetered on the brink of an orgasm. Shirlyn reared up, her head flung back, her hands on her bent knees, her shoulders stooped, hollows deepening above her collarbone, her body bucking and jerking rapidly up and down, up and down, her gasps and moans rising and ululating. Finally, he released her, and she immediately resumed her rocking and jerking motion, riding him hard and rapidly, her cunt rising and falling, sliding up and down the length of his penis, which glistened as it emerged and disappeared between her buttocks. "Yeh... oh fuck yes... take it, whore... take my cock!" he gasped thickly. He pushed her forward onto her forearms and knees and rose on his own knees behind her. She waited, gasping and whimpering excitedly. He began to fuck her slowly, rocking his hips to and fro, his buttocks flexing and unflexing as he pistoned his cock in and out of her cunt. Her cries rose in pitch and volume, and she rocked back and forth under his thrusts, her head craned up. Faster and faster he went, building up speed and depth till he was hammering furiously to and fro without a care any longer, his head tossed back, his belly sucked in. Faster and faster he went, thrusting and pistoning and pounding like a demon, making her cry out sharply, her voice loud with lusty abandon. Shirlyn zoomed up the curve again and was teetering on the verge of a cataclysmic orgasm when he stopped and eased his cock out of her. She whimpered in despair and frustration. "Shankar... oh god... please... don't stop!" she begged. He laughed. "Wait, baby... now I'm gonna fuck your ass!" He pressed her forward into a *namaz* position, her chest and face on the counterpane, her buttocks raised high, and salved his cock with Vaseline from a jar on the bedside table. He prised open her buttocks, and she tensed slightly as he smeared her anus with it. Slowly, he inveigled his Vaseline-coated finger into her asshole, and she gasped, her face contorting, fingers clawing at the sheets, her mind spinning with excitement that it was happening finally, he was fucking her butt, he was buggering her, sodomizing her, raiding her ass! "C'mon Shankar... quickly! Fuck my ass! *Chodh* *mere* *gaand* *ko*!" she groaned. He was deeply aroused by the sight of her lovely buttocks spread open for his pleasure, her puckered anus inviting him. He held his cock and pressed it to her asshole. She gasped, her sphincter spasmed, then yielded, and he flexed his buttocks and thrust forward slowly with a loud, shuddering gasp, his head snapping back. His cock-head popped into her rear channel, and her anus convulsed frantically on it. Her head jerked back, her mouth tore open, and she cried out aloud, her face twisted in a rictus. Her fingers rucked at the sheets. "Yes... OHMA UHH AHH UHHHHHHHH OH SHUHNNKUHHHR UHHHH OH Shankar... *hanh* uhhhhh OHHHHHHHHH!" she gasped, her back bowing inward as he drove in deeper and deeper. Shankar tossed his head back and gasped, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into her ass. Her breath came in heaving, wracked sobs as his cock surged inexorably inward. Her chest heaved, and her cries were broken, choking sobs of pure pleasure now. He began to fuck her ass heavily, rocking her back and forth under him in time to the to-and-fro swinging thrusts of his hips. His taut, strong buttocks flexed and unflexed as he drove his cock in and out of her anus. She writhed and squirmed beneath him, crying out with each thrust, her body jerking and twisting in ecstatic agony under him. Holding her buttocks, he began to move faster, hitting a smooth, even tempo, thudding his hips at hers with soft slapping sounds. His cock glistened and shone as it stroked powerfully, thick and dark and hard in and out of her anus. He reached under her body for her breasts and then her clitoris and began to strum it with his thumb and fingertip. Shirlyn orgasmed hard, pinwheels exploding in her head, and he gasped as he felt the hard spasm of her fiery anus on his penis. She tensed, arching her head, her body rigid with tension, her buttocks flexed taut, squeezing painfully on his penis as the orgasm thundered through her, leaving her panting and moaning and shuddering. Shankar gasped and slammed his cock into her rear channel once, twice, three, four, five times, making her cry out and moan, her face contorting in a rictus of lust; till at last he sank into her ass with a shuddering gasp and let himself go, crushing her breasts in delight. She moaned, and stiffened and whimpered in bliss as she felt the familiar heat of his jizz sizzle into her asshole. He gasped, coming and coming, and then, slowly sliding out of her ass, squeezed his cock into her cunt and fucked her tenderly from behind. Shirlyn moaned, her body trembling and shuddering. Finally, he slid out of her, making her gasp softly. She lay on her front on the bed, her face turned to one side, pillowed in her forearms. Her body was flecked with sweat. Her eyes were closed. She looked lovely, and he lay down on his back beside her and studied her with pleasure. She was still breathing hard, her nostrils flared, her lips slightly parted. She snuggled closer and flung her arm across his chest, her leg across his hips. She cupped his penis and balls and kissed his nipple. They lay in a comfortable silence for a while, deeply contented. "Time for one more?" she murmured softly, swirling her tongue in his ear. He groaned. "Oh god. All right. But quickly." She snaked down his body, and he gasped as he felt her warm mouth envelope his penis again. He sighed and closed his eyes and leaned back. The bint was incredible. His cock began to stiffen, and he gasped. She slid up astride him and took his cock and impaled her cunt deep on it. He moaned and bucked under her, forcing a gasp, and she began to rock back and forth and up and down. Her head arched back, and she gasped, squeezing her breasts in her hands. He was transfixed by the suffusion of lust on her lovely face. She leaned over him, her breasts jiggling and bouncing as she bucked faster over him. He squeezed her breasts and sucked on one ripe mound, and she gasped in joy and hit an orgasm. He groaned beneath her, and thrusting up hard into her, came violently, emptying his spoot-tanks into her sodden cunt.

Chapter 2: Hard Times

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11859.txt

Lostgirl

Ornery

"Dubois here," Meg heard over the pay phone. "It's me, Meg. I'm at the airport. You still working?" "Yeah, shit, I didn't realize it was so late. We're installing the upgrade on the network this weekend so that we don't disrupt the faculty too much." "If you're busy, I can take a cab." "No, no, no, I'll be there. O.T. can finish up. We were almost done anyway. Let me finish a few things and I'll be over there," Meg could hear the smile in Tommy's voice, "I've missed you." "I've missed you, too. See you then." Meg sat outside the small terminal and pulled a book from her bag. It would be difficult to guess when Tommy would arrive. She had read at least one chapter when Tommy pulled up in his Saturn. Meg considered the curiosity that Tommy was the first man she had dated for any length that could afford a new car. It was also the first new car Tommy could afford to buy. They were becoming adults, imagine that. Meg rolled her bag to the curb while her big man unfolded himself out of the driver's seat. His gut was getting more pronounced, and she herself was feeling more than a little overfed after a week with family. They both needed exercise, and Meg knew what Tommy's solution would be. "What are you grinning about?" "Oh, nothing. Just imagining you trying to climb out of that old Civic you told me about." "It was a good car! It served me well." "Oh really? That must have been the first ten years." Tommy shut the trunk after loading the suitcase. Meg placed a new soft-sided briefcase in the back seat and stepped into the passenger side. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked. "Yep, it's a laptop. Dad gave it to me. I had made a random comment about wanting one..." "Geez... He just gave you a laptop?" "Well, it's a 'belated graduation/help Meg get a real job' gift," Meg chuckled quietly. "I had really wanted a trip to Europe, but I had to start the postdoc right away... Anyway, that's just how Dad shows he cares, to not accept his gifts would be a slap in the face..." "So how was dear old Dad, how does he feel about us living together? Did he give you a hard time?" "He doesn't know, I mean about the relationship part. I've had male roommates before, so unless you told him... He didn't comment," Meg looked at Tommy as he drove. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Meg's postdoc position would last another nine months, and then she would have to find a faculty appointment somewhere. Whether Tommy would come with her was still uncertain, it was clear he was satisfied with the status quo. She hadn't told her father because she didn't have anything to tell. "Besides, I like to pick my battles. He was concerned about the job situation." Tommy was silent for a moment, "So you haven't said anything about the vacation. Did you have fun?" "Oh, I guess it was all right, if you like emotional minefields..." "Surely you're exaggerating," Tommy's eyebrows furrowed as Meg watched him drive. It was rush hour in the college town, complicated by the presence of moving vans. The kids were back. Those in academia will tell you that college towns would be perfect, if it weren't for the students. "Well, not that much. We just had to get used to each other again. If it had just been me and my dad, or me and my brother and his family... You put that many strong-willed people in one room and... and don't call me Shirley." "Ha! I was wondering if you'd catch that. So what did you do?" "Well, things ran a lot smoother when I kept my mouth shut and stayed in the kitchen." Tommy laughed, "As it should be, woman!" Meg didn't answer right away. "Yeah, I suppose." "What's the matter? You sound depressed or something." "I'm just tired, it's ragweed season back home, and I got a headache on the flight. I just need to rest." They were sitting at a long light and Meg became lost in her thoughts. Visiting her family was a strain, walking on eggshells like that. The idea of a minefield wasn't far off. Like the lush, green countries of Southeast Asia, they appeared a peaceful family with no trace of the open hostilities of the past, but a careless word during a stressful moment could detonate the buried animosities. In the midst of this, Meg had felt the ground give way beneath her as she dropped into a forgotten cave. She had seen at her feet that once familiar subterranean pool of rage. Meg had gazed into its still depths, she knew the taste of it, pure, dark, and bitter. She felt shame, for mixing her metaphors, and for knowing the pool still existed, that forgiveness and understanding had not caused the pool to fade away, or at least diluted its potency. She wanted desperately to be free of it; Meg did not want such a terrible resource from which to draw the power to hurt others. She knew she would ultimately hurt herself and end up alone. Gratefully, the now latent anger felt as distant as a dream, Meg could not get close enough to see her reflection on the jet surface. Tommy was watching her, "I missed you." He smiled down at her and squeezed her knee gently. "I missed you, too." Meg tried to look relaxed as she smiled up at him. "I'm going to have to call O.T. when we get home." "I could have gotten a cab if you needed to work." "No way! I plan on making you squeal tonight," he grinned. "What's your pleasure?" "It's up to you. I've gotten out of the habit of making the decisions this week. You can make the call." "Be careful what you wish for... With that kind of attitude, I might request something very special. Hehehehe..." "Such as?" "Such as... a little sub/dom?" "Gee, I should have known." "I should have known, SIR." "Well, considering I've been practicing all week, now is as good a time as any." Meg blew her nose vigorously. "Damn allergies." "Do you want to wait until you're feeling better?" "Nah, you're lucky to get me while my resistance is down. Just let me take something for the headache and get cleaned up. That should give you enough time to think stuff up." "My dear, I've been thinking stuff up since the seventh grade!" They pulled up into the driveway, and Tommy carried in Meg's bags as they walked into the house. Meg walked up the stairs and grabbed her bathrobe before heading to the shower. She could hear Tommy talking with O.T., his assistant, while she pulled out the pain reliever from the medicine cabinet. Meg sat on the edge of the bathtub, unable to decide whether she wanted a shower or a bath. She ached from sitting in the cramped plane, but there was also the issue of time. Besides, she'd probably fall asleep in a bath. This night was going to be for Tommy, so she set the water to cool, and took off her robe. As Meg was stepping into the tub, she heard a quick rap on the door and turned to see Tommy's head poke in. "Meg, guess who called, while I was talking to O.T.? Brian Lefevre... I invited him over... Remember how you once said you could imagine a threesome with him? This is going to be great!" Meg looked stunned for a moment, trying to decide how to react. She wanted to know if Tommy had already told Brian about their speculations, how long he had known, how he had reacted. Meg paused. "As you wish, Master." Meg lowered her eyes and held still, making no attempt to cover herself as Tommy stared at her. Meg couldn't see the slow, wide grin appear on Tommy's face, but she could hear it in his voice. "Oh, this is going to be good." The man continued to look at the naked woman in front of him. Meg did not move. "Sir?" "Huh? Oh yeah. Yes, Margaret?" "May I be allowed to finish my shower, Sir?" "Oh, of course. Please continue, Margaret." "And, Sir?" "Yes, Margaret?" "Does Master have any special requests as to what his humble slave shall wear?" Tommy paused. "I know, that thing we bought last month. And those shoes you have... uh... you know the ones... Damn, I wish I had a leash!" Meg's eyes flickered for a moment before she said, "If it pleases you, Master, I do have a velvet choker that may give the impression of a collar." "Oh, it pleases me very much... but I'll let you get ready." Meg stepped into the shower in a lighter mood. She was a performer at heart, especially when costumes were involved. Whether or not the actress was ready for this little improvisation, they all would have to wait and see.Meg was hardly submissive ordinarily, but she was a trouper and knew when to back off for the sake of the ensemble. But how far would Tommy take this? Meg felt a tug in her gut and told herself to treat it like a game, that if it didn't work out, so what? One night, give him what he wants. Refreshed, Meg stepped out of the shower and toweled off quickly before scurrying into the bedroom. She brushed out her hair and saw that the summer sun had brought out the red highlights in her otherwise mousy locks. Meg had let it grow, and the months-old, but expensive perm gave her a relaxed cascade of warm, soft, wavy hair. Sometimes you get lucky. Meg dug into her lingerie drawer and pulled out the 'thing.' At first, it looked like a baby-doll nightie, with sheer black fabric swinging below the bra portion. But the cups were merely crescent moons, stiff with padding and underwire. It would support Meg's ample breasts while exposing all of the nipple and most of the pale, round flesh. Meg liked the jet beading that dangled from the not-even-demi cups, giving a Victorian look... yearite. Meg had hoped that they could have found one whose skirt was more opaque, to obscure her 30+ year old hips and belly, but hey, you do the best with what you've got. Meg slipped on the matching thong and searched for the velvet choker. She then pulled out a clutch purse with a removable chain strap. Slipping the choker through a wide ring at the end of the chain, Meg was now leashed. Since the velvet strip was held closed with velcro, it was a collar in appearance only. Any real resistance on her part would destroy the illusion. Small comfort once Brian showed up, since Tommy and he were both over a foot taller than Meg. The woman's hand trembled a little as she applied her makeup. After a few dabs of perfume, Meg stepped into the high black suede pumps. She turned to examine the saucy slave in the mirror, so different from the bespectacled scientist Meg knew herself to be. It was funny how the color black worked for her, it set off her ivory skin. She never looked sickly, even in her artsy malcontent days. Meg decided she had stalled enough. She opened the door to the upstairs hallway. "Are you almost done up there?" Meg took a deep breath. "I am ready for you, Sir." "Lord, I do like the way you say that. Come on, let me have a look." As Meg walked to the head of the stairs, the light from the living room below caught her. Tommy was looking up at her as he blinked in disbelief. Meg could just see the camera in Tommy's head panning up from the stilettos to the thong, pausing to zoom in her now stiff, exposed nipples and then to the collar. Tommy's smile told it all, he approved. "My, but you are a saucy wench, Margaret." Meg quickly dropped her eyes at the sound of her full name. "Thank you, Master." Meg stepped down the stairs slowly, unsure of her footing as the trembling returned. At the foot of the stairs, Tommy waited silently. Meg handed him the free end of the chain. "My leash, Master." "Ah yes, Margaret. Come over here, Margaret. Let me look at you." "Yes, Master." Tommy led Meg to the sofa facing the television. Anticipating, Meg picked up a pillow. "Margaret, did I tell you to pick up a pillow?" Meg's eyes flickered, but she kept them lowered. "No, Master." "Why do you want the pillow, Margaret?" "To kneel on, Master." "Did I tell you would be kneeling?" "No, Master." "And do you trust your master so little to assume that I would not think of your comfort?" "I trust you, Master." "Then give me the pillow, Margaret." Tommy took the pillow and tossed it on the floor, "Bend over, Margaret." Meg felt her face flush with anger as she bent over. "You understand I'm doing this for your own good, you need to understand the rules," Tommy reached out to caress Meg's exposed ass. Meg felt a jolt of pleasure from the touch of skin on skin. She felt his hand leave and then a quick rush of air before the sting of a slap. Meg hadn't been aware she was holding her breath until she cried out. "It's really for your own good," Tommy said. "Th-thank you, Master," Meg's body shook as she felt her control of the situation slip away. She tried to remind herself that she could stop this at any time. Meg took a few deep breaths to calm down. Tommy sat down on the sofa. "Margaret, now you may take the pillow and kneel before me. I'd like to look at you for a while." "Yes, Master," Meg replied. She stooped over to pick up the pillow, and her breasts dangled beneath her. Meg placed the pillow on the carpet in front of Tommy and began to kneel down. She stopped. "Master?" "Yes, Margaret?" "May I take off my shoes, Sir? The heels will dig into my thighs." "Yes, Margaret, go ahead. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Meg felt the heat rush to her face, but said nothing but a soft "No, sir." That boy better be enjoying this and be damn grateful, she thought. Meg stepped out of her shoes and kneeled on the pillow, she tried to will the muscles in her neck and shoulders to relax. Meg could feel the weight of the chain pull on the velvet choker. She kept her eyes focused on Tommy's shoes and her hands in her lap. Tommy moved his feet apart and Meg heard him unzip his pants. Meg tried in vain to look through her lashes at Tommy's lap. "Do you want to watch me stroke my cock, Margaret?" "I only want to do what pleases my master." "You look so sexy like that, Meg. You've got me so hot right now." "It pleases me to know I arouse you, Master." It was true, Meg could hear Tommy's voice thicken with excitement and his breathing become shallow and raspy. Therein lied her power, and Meg felt herself relax. She didn't have to see him stroke himself, Meg could picture it in her head. She felt her pussy tighten in response. Meg waited for the next command. The doorbell rang. "Stay, Meg!" Tommy stuck his hand out as if Meg were a pet. "It's Brian, oh fuck, I wish he had waited about five minutes and then he would have seen a beautiful sight... Not that you don't look fabulous right now, Margaret." Tommy tucked his erection into his pants and zipped up, hopping to the door. Meg brought her hand up to adjust the bra and thought better of it, men had this thing about disheveled women, and Tommy would take another whack at her for moving. Meg had no intention of being 'disciplined' in front of Brian. Oh god, Brian, Meg thought. She just decided not to think about it, what ever will be, will be. Meg would have killed to see the expression on Brian's face as he walked into the room. Actually, she could only see that his long legs stop just short of the hallway. "Uh... Is this some kind of a joke?" Meg heard him say. Meg risked it, she had to see. She slowly raised her head, keeping her lids low... really going for effect. Her heart stopped a moment as she gazed fully into the handsome man's face. Oh god, Brian was beautiful. "Good Evening, Master Brian." Meg felt herself ooze between her legs as Brian seemed to drink her in. Brian was currently single because yet another beautiful, charming, intelligent woman got tired of waiting for him to commit. Brian was young, it was understandable. Once Tommy introduced Meg to his friends, they always talked and flirted. Brian made girls feel like they were the only woman in the world, let alone the room. Brian cracked a grin, and Meg was released from his spell. Tommy didn't comment on her impertinence as Meg lowered her gaze. "All right, where's the video camera, you guys can't be serious!" "Video camera! I knew I forgetting something! Shit, too late now really..." Brian slowly walked around the couch to take a closer look at Meg. "Can I touch her?" Meg laughed in spite of herself, this getting a little silly now. However, she could feel her legs begin to cramp. She tried to work them out somehow without moving. "I think she's getting stiff, maybe we should let her walk around or something," Brian said. Meg flinched a little again, chafing at being spoken of in the third person or more correctly, third pet. She kept quiet. "Okay, Margaret, you can stand up. Turn around so Brian can get a good look at you." "Yes, Master." Brian looked from head to toe as Meg displayed herself to him, still keeping her eyes lowered. The young man's erection was evident. "I'm serious, can I touch her?" "Sure, but right now I need her lips around my cock. Have I told you that Meg gives incredible blow jobs?" "No shit?" "Margaret, bring your pillow close to the sofa. Are you ready to please your master?" "Yes, Sir." Meg really did like the feel of a cock in her mouth. She was good at it and was proud of that. Meg bent over to give Brian a clear view of her ass as she moved the pillow forward. She smiled when she heard a guttural "Oh!" behind her. Meg knelt between Tommy's now bare legs. He had scooted himself to the edge of the sofa, giving her easy access to him. Meg reached one arm around his thigh and hip for support as she bent over. Her behind stuck out like an invitation. Meg began. She lightly grasped the shaft to hold Tommy's cock steady as she ran the tip of her tongue lightly over the cockhead, licking up the precum. Meg ran her tongue in circles at the crown where the head met the shaft. Tommy's cock throbbed in her hand and Meg took the cockhead into her mouth and sucked it lightly as she rubbed her tongue against it inside her mouth. Meg took another chance and smiled up at Tommy, she was in familiar territory. "Oh god, baby, take it all now. I can't hold out much longer!" As Meg tilted her head, she could see Brian standing over her, watching her suck Tommy. Meg heard the insistent soft slap-slap as he stroked himself. Meg tilted her head and relaxed her throat as she sucked Tommy's cock deep into her mouth.She kept her tongue rubbing against the shaft as Tommy began thrusting. Meg felt the head pop back into her throat. Now she had to stay focused, to remember to breathe carefully. Meg just heard Brian's slap-slap. "I want to fuck her, Tommy. I'm going to take that wet pussy of hers hard," Brian was breathing heavily. "Not yet, Bri... Oh god, baby... shit... She might... might tense up... oh fuck!" Meg felt the bitter taste swirl a little up to the back of her mouth, but for the most part, Tommy came deep in her throat. He shuddered beneath her. Meg continued sucking on Tommy's familiar cock until his hand came to rest on her head. She pulled herself up, and Meg smiled up at Tommy. "Does that please my Master?" "Oh yeah... let me catch my breath... Bri, what's your pleasure?" "Brace yourself, woman. I'm coming in." Brian grabbed Meg's hips roughly, and she felt his cock press between her lips. She was pretty slick, and Meg reached between her legs to guide him in. Brian was not quite as thick as Tommy, and Meg gripped his cock with the walls of her pussy to compensate. "Oh god, you're loving this, aren't you, Meg? This is what you *really* want, isn't it?" Brian fucked her fast and hard as Meg braced herself against the sofa. She was still positioned between Tommy's legs, and she looked up at him. He smiled at her and brushed the hair from her face. Meg was so focused on squeezing Brian's cock that her orgasm startled her. Her hands slipped, and her legs trembled. Brian pulled her up, and Meg bounced like a ragdoll until the young man came into her shuddering cunt. Meg came to rest kneeling with one arm on Tommy's thigh, and Brian slumped over her. "Shit, Tommy, she's like a fucking milking machine or something!" "That's my Meg!" Meg felt spent. On other nights, she could outlast Tommy, although she wouldn't speculate about the well-conditioned Brian. Meg let her head and arms drop to the floor. She stayed there, feeling the sweat cool and her throbbing heartbeat slow. "Meg, get up," Brian commanded. She stayed put. "Bri, leave her alone, she's tired." "She hasn't wrapped those hot lips around my cock yet. Meg's loving this, can't you see that?" "Okay, okay, Bri... if you want it that badly," Meg started pulling herself up onto her shaky legs, wetness dripping down. Tommy stood up, "Meg, sit down! Meg is done when I say she's done, Bri!" Meg's voice sounded deep and angry, "Meg is done when *I* say she's done!" The men were stunned into silence. Meg glared at them and then exhaustion took over, she sank down into the sofa with a grunt. "Unhhh... and I'm done." Brian had the look of angry embarrassment, "Yeah, well, sorry... I guess I'd better go... and .. um..." His expression softened, "You were great Meg, really." "Thanks, Bri, maybe I can suck your cock another time, eh?" Brian laughed a little, "Yeah, maybe. Good night you guys." Meg had already begun drifting off to sleep when Tommy lifted her off the sofa. She could hear him grunt as he carried her up the stairs. "You don't have to do this... I can walk." "It's okay, I'm sorry about Brian." "I'm sorry that I didn't let you 'defend' me, I guess I don't do submissive well." Tommy gave a soft chuckle, "Heh, you were fighting it every minute... except when you ate my cock like an ice cream cone." "Does it bother you? That I'm not submissive and I get angry like that?" Tommy had laid Meg in bed, and as she unhooked her garment, he slid into bed beside her. "No! I'm amazed you went as far as you did tonight. Thanks a lot, Meg, for trusting me. Now go to sleep." "Yes, Master."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14603.txt

Charles Thain

My Weekend in Portland (combined)

"That was fun," Denise said, grinning back, then she turned to Ruth. "You should have seen the expression on your face when you were cumming. That was so beautiful!" "I got incredibly turned on, knowing it was you playing with me down there," Ruth said, blushing prettily. "You're sweet!" "Once I got started, it was... not like I thought," Denise smiled. "I got jazzed up when you started to get hot. I just wanted you to cum." "Now I want to do something for you," Ruth replied, leaning over to nuzzle Denise's ear. "I'm willing," Denise smiled, and they both paused and looked at me. "What am I, the quarterback of this team?" I laughed. "Nooo," Ruth said, "but you're the one with the dirty mind." She turned to Denise, "You wouldn't believe some of the things he's done to me in the last 24 hours." Denise looked at me thoughtfully. "I DO have some ideas you two might find... interesting," I said. "Mmmm," Ruth hummed with anticipation. "His interesting ideas usually end with me cumming until I'm limp." "Okay," Denise said, looking from Ruth to me. "What's next?" I took their hands and helped them to their feet. Heading down the short hallway, I found Denise's bedroom, with a queen-sized bed, dresser, television and a couple of comfortable chairs. "Denise, I think it's time you got undressed," I said, "and Ruth should do the honors." Ruth grinned as she turned toward Denise. Denise hesitated. "Can't we at least turn off the lights," she blushed, "I really don't have a very good body." "Nope, lights on," I said. "Ruth has been naked with the lights on for the last hour. Besides, WE think you have a beautiful body." "She's better than beautiful," Ruth said, staring longingly at the suddenly bashful Denise. "She's perfect! I'll bet she looks just as good naked as she does in all those wonderful clothes." "Huh!" Denise said mournfully. "I have to wear clothes that keep people from noticing my stringy body." "Oh, baby," Ruth soothed, pulling the smaller woman into her arms. "You are NOT stringy, you are BEAUTIFUL!" She put a finger under Denise's chin and tilted her face up, softly, "You are SO beautiful!" She leaned down and kissed Denise briefly on the lips, withdrew for a moment, then kissed her again... lingering much longer. Surprisingly, Denise did not resist or react in any visible way. She passively allowed herself to be kissed. A few moments later Ruth's restraint failed. She lost control, moaning and forcing her open mouth harshly against Denise's lips. I knew her tongue was driving into Denise's mouth -- exploring, tasting. Denise's eyes were closed and she continued to allow Ruth's assault without protest. Their strained breathing was the only sound in the room. Ruth's hands began working eagerly at Denise's clothes, pulling up her top to reveal her small, firm breasts, pushing down her harem pants to expose tiny, bright green panties. Then Ruth broke the kiss and dropped to her knees, pulling Denise's panties and loose pants to her ankles in one motion. Denise's sparse, black bush was visible for an instant before Ruth grabbed her buttocks with both hands and pressed her face urgently into the smaller woman's crotch. It was clear from Ruth's panting and the twisting of her head that she was trying desperately to get her mouth on Denise's pussy, but without much success. I stepped forward, scooped up Denise and laid her on the bed. While I was helping take off her top, Ruth was pulling Denise's pants and panties over her feet. As soon as they fell to the floor, Ruth pushed Denise's slender, muscled legs apart and descended open-mouthed on her pussy. Denise's first sharp cry of pleasure came only seconds later. Watching Ruth make love to Denise made my heart pound, but that was nothing compared with Denise's reactions. The smaller woman was soon thrusting her hips steadily upward while she gripped the bedspread with both hands, gasping and grimacing with pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut. Ruth was equally enticing, her swelling breasts almost flat against the bed and her full buttocks raised and bobbing slightly as she changed positions. I took off my clothes, preparing to take Ruth from behind, but decided to watch for a while. It took surprisingly long. Ruth alternated several times between penetrating Denise's vagina with her tongue, and licking the top of her slit. Whatever inhibitions Denise felt were driven away by the hungry mouth on her sex, the eager tongue teasing her clit. Her sighs and gasps eventually changed to deep moans of pleasure. Finally, Denise caught her breath, threw back her head and began to arch her whole body, lifting her hips off the bed. "NooooooOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she cried, then taking a deep breath. "Ohmygod! ohmygod! ohmygod! OHMYGOD! FUCK YES! OH FUCK! OH FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKK!!!" Now her hips dropped back to the bed and Denise's hands were buried in Ruth's hair, pulling her lover's face tightly into her 'V,' her head thrust back and her arms straining. Ruth's tongue was still at work in Denise's cleft, her arms wrapped tightly around her thighs. "GggggaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhHHHHHHHHH!" Denise forced between her gritted teeth. "Oh, GOD! EAT ME! EAT MY... Oh GOD! FUCK! YES! YES! Yes! Yes! Yes!" After several minutes her cries faded to whispers and Denise lay limp on the bed with Ruth still lying between her splayed thighs, gently licking her lover's swollen pussy. Once or twice Ruth prompted a fresh moan by pressing her tongue deep into the girl's opening, though she avoided the stiff little clitoris. I laid down beside to them and stroked Denise's tousled hair. Ruth looked up, grinning, from Denise's crotch, her face wet from nose to chin. "You don't know how long I've dreamed about doing that," she said. "Since freshman year?" I teased. "Maybe," she mused. "I've had fantasies for a long time, but they were just fantasies. I never thought I would actually DO anything." I leaned over and kissed Ruth, tasting Denise's tart juices on her lips and tongue. I pushed my tongue into her mouth, collecting all I could, wrestling languidly with Ruth's tongue. Then Ruth put her mouth to my ear and whispered eagerly, "Do me now. I'm sooo ready! I want Denise to see us fuck." "NOW who has the dirty mind?" I chuckled, making no objection. Denise still laid motionless on the bed, eyes closed, legs wide, hands limply covering her breasts. Ruth quickly laid down next to her, touching, and beckoned to me. She threw wide her legs and leaned forward, taking my dick in her hand. She fitted the head of my dick between her legs as I leaned over. I slipped inside her with two quick thrusts. "I keep forgetting how good that feels!" Ruth gasped, panting rhythmically as I began thrusting. "Unh-unh-unh-unh-unh." I pulled her legs up and put them over my shoulders, careful that my pubic bone was in position to rub the top of her slit. Denise opened her eyes languidly and turned to look at Ruth, lying inches away. Now it was Ruth who had her eyes closed, breathing quickly and deeply. Denise propped herself up on an elbow to watch more closely. After a while she reached out to hold Ruth's breast, her thumb stroking slowly over the thick nipple. Ruth opened her eyes, turned to Denise and smiled. The smaller woman smiled back, then leaned over and took Ruth's nipple in her mouth. Ruth gave a low "Mmmm" of pleasure and arched her back, pressing her breast up against Denise's mouth. "Suck me baby," she whispered. "That feels sooo good!" I saw Denise's eyes open to watch my glistening, wet dick sliding in and out of Ruth's pussy a few inches away. Ruth's arousal was building quickly and her breathing was becoming ragged. A deep flush spread down from her face to her neck and chest, and I began to thrust faster, my hips slapping against the backs of her upraised thighs. Then she gave a deep moan and began cumming. "OoooooOOOOHHHGOD, ohmygod, ohmygod, DON'T! STOP! DON'T! STOP! GaaaaAAAAGGGHHH!"She began thrusting her hips up to meet my plunging dick, and both hands went to Denise's head, pulling her mouth down hard against her breast. Ruth was thrashing now, breathless, out of control, still cumming hard, her pussy gripping my dick in spasms. "AAAAH! AAAAH! AAAAH! AAAAH! OOOOooooooHHHHH SHIT!" And then she pulled Denise up and they were kissing deeply, tongues dueling, as Ruth's climax crested and finally began to subside. Ruth had cum so quickly that I was nowhere near cumming myself, though incredibly aroused by her climax and the sight of two beautiful, naked women lying entwined below me. With a groan, Ruth pulled her legs off my shoulders and let them drop limply to the bed. "My god that happened fast," Ruth said, smiling tiredly up at me. "I guess you were right about practice." Denise was looking up at me, too, but there was nothing tired about HER fiery glance. Her arousal was obvious. "My turn," she declared, rolling onto her back and pulling her knees up to her chest.

Chapter 11 of 15 (MF FF MFF)

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8847.txt

Rameses and Death

Freshman Week Fun

"Ohhhhhhh, FUCK!!" cried Sarah, looking first at Hank, then at Alison, then quickly at Hank again, and even more quickly at Sandy. Scrambling wildly, she slid out from underneath her lesbian lick-sister like a teenager about to shoot off without a rubber. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She was naked as a jaybird; her panties were somewhere in a corner of the room now, and she felt guiltily exposed to the entire world. Her fucking ex-boyfriend was naked, she was naked, Sandy was naked, everybody was just fucking naked, and it was all so fucking wrong! Her head was still spinning from that sour crap that Sandy had made her drink out of her canteen at the freshman mixer. "Sarah, wait!" called Alison, still standing in the bathroom doorway. She held a toothbrush clamped between the thumb and forefinger of her waving hand, and the toothpaste coated the sides of her mouth and made her voice funny and garbled. She dropped the toothbrush suddenly when the bathtowel she was wearing promptly fell off. Her breasts fell out and bobbed noticeably as she quickly stooped to catch the towel around herself again. The incredible blush, having started on her nose and slightly freckled cheeks, spread like wildfire to the tops of those incredible boobs, Hank noticed. His dick got even harder when she covered up again. Suddenly, he remembered where he was and clumsily tried to obscure his rager with both hands. Sarah was at the hallway door in a flash, having snatched her raincoat off the floor near the couch and flung it over her body. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her eyes turned almost as red as Alison's blush. What the hell was all this? She was getting a blow from HER ROOMMATE, and her fucking ex-boyfriend was naked IN HER ROOM for no apparent reason besides fucking her OTHER roommate! "God, what the hell am I doing?!" she groaned, to no one but herself. She could have been referring to her hasty egress as well as to the recent escapades; she poked both arms through the coat, tits bouncing against her upper arms and juices streaming down her legs faster than the tears coated her cheeks, pushed open the door, and was gone down the hall. All three of them heard the entryway door being shoved open and the hurried but muffled footfalls (she hadn't bothered to grab any shoes) leading off into the night. "Oh, shit!" said Alison, a worried frown clouding her countenance. She looked at Hank, who had this incredibly sheepish look on his face, which sort of detracted from the total package. She felt a pulling sensation inside her again, looking at his shoulders, his legs, his hips, and his cupped hands and the halo of pubic hair around them. But the face he had on definitely cooled her off. He knew. And he didn't feel too great about it either right now. Alison looked back at Sandy, who had sat up on the sofa and held the knuckles of her right hand to her forehead, resting her elbow on the arm of the couch. She was still brazenly naked, and although she had plainly wiped Sarah's juices off her mouth, there was a faint sheen of sweat across her breasts and neck, and her breathing was irregular. She looked up and wrinkled her brow at Alison, who tied the towel more tightly around her body. "Shit is right, sister," said Sandy. A stupid, shit-eating grin came across her face, and she laughed lightly. "Aw, shit," she muttered, smiling. Snapping out of it, Hank grabbed his plaid boxers off the floor in Sarah's room and whipped them on, almost falling over when his heel caught on the crotch. He almost thought he heard threads tearing. He had to grab his dick and try to squeeze the blood out of it a little before burying it in the shorts; he had been so rock-hard that it would have flopped right out for all to see, otherwise. He darted back into the main room. "I'll go get her," he said, looking at Alison intently. He felt this incredible pang of guilt, this post-orgasmic "you-did-it-and-you-weren't-supposed-to" pang of guilt, which overwhelmed at least temporarily his arousal. "No," replied Alison, walking quickly toward him. She passed him and retreated into Sarah's room. "I'd better do it. God only knows what she'd do to you. God only knows what she thinks of you right now." Alison picked up a few articles of her own clothing off the floor and hastily threw them on Sarah's bed. The towel came off, and she bent over to grab her jeans. Hank stole a look at her firm, ripe ass and the sides of her breasts, which were the only parts showing. He looked away, back into the main room, and Sandy rose from the couch and looked toward him. "Look, don't worry about it. It's probably my fault anyway," said Sandy, a wry smile on her face. She wrinkled her brow and smoothed back her hair, completely oblivious, apparently, to the fact that she was completely nude. As her arms moved up and back, Hank saw her breasts, 34-B's definitely, slowly stretch from slightly sagging, to round, then pulled up at the sides, and then sort of squared off in front of the armpits as both arms leaned into a stretch behind her. Sandy shut her eyes and crunched her eyebrows, and then she quickly opened her eyes widely and looked straight at Hank. The effect was mesmerizing. Her dark brown nipples, hard and erect in the coolness of the main room, were unlike any Hank had ever seen before, and it wasn't just the color. She kept her gorgeous eyes fixated on him as she bent and picked up her shirt. Her breasts almost stayed completely still, they were so firm and tight. In a simple, graceful move, Sandy slipped the T-shirt over her head and pulled it down just past her cunt. "Yeah, what's up with that?" asked Alison, returning from Sarah's bedroom with the "Girl" shirt scrunched up in both hands over her head. Hank caught one last glimpse of her bouncing breasts as she moved quickly into the room again before "Girl" covered them up defiantly once again. Her blush had faded, and now her eyes were tightened slightly in slits as she looked at Sandy, as if trying to comprehend. "Look, I just gave her a little booze at the mixer, we started dancing in a big group, and she kissed me," said Sandy, closing her eyes tightly while she said the words. When she opened them again, they were staring straight at Alison. "It's weird, but she got all kooked-up on me, and she just leaned in and planted a pretty good one right on my lips." Alison looked at Hank."Heck, it's been a while since we went out," he offered, shrugging. "Anything can happen in time. She never told me about anything . . . like that." He shot a glance back toward Sandy and grinned quickly, stupidly. "Hmm." "Well, whichever one it is --- pissed at you, pissed at me and him," sighed Alison, "I guess I'll find out soon enough." She grabbed a torn jean jacket off a chair just inside her own bedroom and walked toward the hallway. "Just tell the cops it's me if they find somebody at the bottom of the lake with her eyes clawed out." With a crooked smile toward Hank first and then Sandy, she left. "Be good, Henry!" she cried from the stairwell, just before the door to the hallway swung shut. Her voice carried with it a note of distinct sarcasm, and Hank wondered how to take it, suddenly completely befuddled at the whole situation. He left his position at the entrance to Sarah's bedroom and slumped into the couch, deep in thought. He wrinkled his nose and ran a hand through his hair, staring out the window into the night. In front of him, Sandy gracefully fished her pants off the floor and slipped them on, buckling only the bottom of two belts on her slacks and leaving the fly open. "So who the hell are you, besides 'Henry'?" sniped Sandy in a tone that seemed to him to be neither playful nor fully sarcastic. She brushed her hair back with both hands again in the same manner as before, except this time Hank wasn't watching. Just before she finished the motion, he suddenly remembered the image of her bountiful breasts stretching and moving, and he looked at her quickly with a sad, pleading, hopeful feeling. Suddenly he felt isolated and alone and decidedly horny in a self-pitying sort of way. He caught just the tail part of her motion, but he could still see the outline of her right breast pushed tightly against the slightly damp T-shirt, he could still see the outline of one divinely engorged nipple. "Yo. Romeo. Is there anything I should know about you, I said." Sandy looked at him intently, bending over and holding her knees in front of him. "Sarah know you, or something? You dated?" "Yeah. Shit," replied Hank. He stared at his kneecaps and sank back further into the couch. "We were pretty hot and heavy for-" A moment of silence intervened. "We . . ." He frowned. "Well, we went out for a while. I guess neither one of us really knew what we were doing. We kinda fooled around a little bit, and we kinda fucked things up pretty good, I guess." "Did you get her drunk and did she kiss you and then- . . .?" Sandy was grinning again. Her teeth were perfect. Hank felt the backs of his own teeth with his tongue almost involuntarily, just after seeing hers. They looked so smooth. Sandy pushed the hair out of her eyes again, but this time only with one hand and while bending over. Her breasts hung against the shirt, but Hank couldn't see down the neck. Her hair, done in an assortment of narrow braids, clicked together at the ends where little yellow clasps kept the thin braids from falling out. The sound was soothing somehow. "I think we were both each other's firsts," replied Hank. "But no, I don't think I got her drunk that time." He smiled. "That came later, when I was debating whether or not to try and get her back. I don't think she holds alcohol too well. She just got really silly after a while." "So she was in love with you?" Sandy straightened herself out and sat down at the other end of the couch, reclining against the arm and looking right at him. "I don't know. Maybe." Hank scratched himself through his boxers. He had sank deep enough into the sofa that his bare skin didn't feel too cold in the now-chilly room. "You said it was her first time," said Sandy in a low voice. "Doesn't everyone love the first one?" "I guess," replied Hank. He was starting to feel a little more relaxed now. Out of the back of his active memory he pulled out a few fleeting glimpses of naked Sarah, lounging on top of a letter jacket in that back seat of the Taurus. Damn, that was a good car. And Sarah was great fun, even if it was difficult and weird the first time. He remembered the look on her face. It was like utter exhaustion combined with flaming intensity. He remembered the depth of her breathing, how she filled her lungs and emptied them like they were only good for a little while longer and she wanted to get her money's worth out of them. Hank remembered her flattened breasts, his fingers sliding over the chilled flesh as he knelt on the floorboard and planted slow kisses all over her face and neck and chest. "Didn't YOU love your first one?" Sandy slid nearer to him. "Yes," said Hank in a whisper after a long pause. Sarah was moaning underneath him, pulling his face closer to kiss his lips. "Remember how it felt?" Her right hand was on his knee. Suddenly the spell was broken and Hank turned his head suddenly toward Sandy. "Yeah," he said. "I remember all of it." He gazed quizzically at her; his penis had started a slight climb with the memories, but he was feeling very ill-at-ease. There was something about Sandy that really put him on edge. "Memories are the best things, you know," whispered Sandy. "You have them forever. That's why you have to make them GOOD memories. And that's why you have to really have to WORK to make them good memories." She glanced all around his face, her eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth, and then to his hair, and then back to his eyes, shifting between them rapidly. Suddenly Hank felt his stomach turn inside out, and the blood rushed out of his thighs. He could feel his penis swell uncontrollably, and it poked the front of his boxers. With one quick motion he shoved it back down between his legs before it burst out through the fly. "Baby," sighed Sandy, furrowing her brow teasingly, "have you got yourself all hot and bothered?" She smiled warmly and looked down at his crotch, then back up at his face. "Don't make fun," grumbled Hank, crossing his arms in front of him and turning away. His penis wanted to jump out and proclaim its ardent lust for Sandy and her tight breasts, beautiful teeth, and enchanting eyes, but he knew she was just playing around with him. "Hey now," cried Sandy, giving his leg a little shove and withdrawing her hand. "What, do you think I'm a lesbian? You think I don't like guys?" Hank paused, his mouth open. She didn't let him interject. "Look," she scolded, rising. "Just 'cause I like girls too doesn't mean I don't like dicks, asshole!" She glared at him reprovingly, then straightened her back and looked down at him with a closed-lip smile. "I think you need convincing." Things began to move in the same kind of slow-motion that occurs whenever adrenaline rushes to your brain before an argument or a fight, or in the midst of a nasty accident that you see happening just before you can't possibly stop it. Hank's brow began to tremble as he looked up toward Sandy. She pulled her hair back from her head just as she had done twice before, and his eyes fell to her chest. Minutes passed, it seemed. Her breasts rose and stretched through the fabric, and Hank looked back at her face, which maintained the closed-lip smile, but he saw a sparkle in her eyes. She held her arms above her head for an infinity and took a deep breath, letting it sigh out of her lungs. She pursed her lips, and their fullness, already shocking, was enhanced even more. He wanted to kiss those lips so badly, wanted to feel them kissing him, lingering over his face, his neck, his chest, his belly, his penis. "Take it off. I want to see how much you want this," said Sandy, still stretching her arms back behind her head, as she glanced toward his crotch and then back up to his face. She shook her head and her hair clacked together entrancingly. Hank swallowed incredibly hard and grabbed his shorts, working them quickly off his hips and down to the ground. His mouth dry, he looked down at his groin and saw his penis beating slowly to the rhythm of his heart, rising quickly into the air. He looked back at her and felt like he had lost his power of speech, the muscles in his face still quivering in heightened arousal. He hadn't even felt this turned on with Alison! Sandy winked at him, smiled a wide, toothy smile, and pulled the T-shirt up and over her head. As the fabric left her body, it clung to her breasts and pulled them quickly up, and they snapped back into place like rubber chew-toys and jiggled slightly. Hank felt saliva reenter his mouth and control return to his face, and he breathed deeply and let it out in pants. Somehow having seen them confined beneath the shirt, Hank appreciated her breasts a great deal more now, as Sandy grinned and stretched her arms for him again. They were perfectly shaped for her body, not too big or too small, and the graceful lines describing the slopes of the undersides of her breasts back to her armpits were exquisitely formed. While stretching, she suddenly leaned forward and almost hit him right in the face with her chest, bringing her arms back around and taking his head in both hands. She growled in his left ear and bit it almost too hard, and he sat up away from the back of the couch, pushing her up with him. Her knees came around on either side of his hips, and his hands encircled her body and rubbed the flesh on her back.His fingers fanned out and stroked her warm, supple skin, feeling the ridges of her spine and following the upside-down ledges of her shoulder blades down and around to the spaces just behind and to the side of her breasts. Her tongue splashed all over his ear, and her hot breath lit him up. Hank slid his hands, thumbs first, to her chest and enclosed both breasts in his fingers. His thumbs and second fingers squeezed and pinched her nipples, floating over the tight, hard flesh and then retreating to the skin around the areolae. Her pants-covered crotch rubbed back and forth against his dick, which had by now filled up completely and stood at attention. She crushed and mashed his lusty tool, first pushing it back against his belly, then forward and down to his thighs. Sandy's lips found his, and she bit his lower lip and pulled it slightly away from his jaw. Hank's hand left her breasts and slid down to her butt, where he felt the pocket ridges and seams catch at his fingernails. He slammed her ass harder onto his crotch with each rocking motion she made, intensifying the brutal treatment his willing member was receiving. It was getting beat up, and he fucking loved it. Sandy slipped down to his neck and sucked and bit until Hank felt the blood rush in hot, itching torrents to the spot where she labored. Her hot breath smoked over his skin, and he felt delirious with lust. Sandy slipped her knees back and down to the floor, and she grabbed his penis in both hands, stroking it between her palms. Hank groaned and Sandy bent forward, slipping his dick between her breasts and pressing it into her modest cleavage, angled up so that the sensitive underside was rubbing against her skin the most. She paused and held his penis motionless, staring at him with her mouth slightly open and her breathing deep but regular. "Ahh," cried Hank, shivering in delight and at the sudden coolness he was experiencing in her absence. He felt his penis throb, and a small stream of semen pushed out the end and ran down. "Got a condom?" asked Sandy. She began to rub his dick with one hand while keeping it flat against her chest with the other. He looked down at her and swore that her breasts had swollen by a little amount; when she rubbed him, they swayed back and forth as if they were heavier, filled with blood. He was mesmerized by their motion and had to concentrate when he suddenly felt an internal pulling in his dick. With relief, he headed off the ejaculation and sighed. Suddenly he remembered the question. "Fuck!" he said, blowing air in exasperation. "I don't carry one with me." He felt the blood stagnate and begin slowly to leave his penis. "Damn it. Of course YOU'RE not on the pill." "Nope," she replied. She looked down and felt the rigidity of his shaft lessen slightly; it bent further back as she hugged it to her chest. "Hey hey hey, baby," she sang, pulling her eyebrows up and together. "Don't you go anywhere on me. I thought for sure Ali'd have given you an extra." "Huh?" "She's got some fucking condoms, Hank! Didn't you use one before?" "Oh." Suddenly his mind was racing. "Wait, she TOLD me she was on the pill!" "Maybe. I don't know anything about it." Sandy let Hank's penis fall and got up, breasts swaying ever so slightly. "All's I know is that she had a whole box of 'em right in her closet, and she told me about 'em, in case I ever needed one or something. I kinda thought she was bragging. I guess not." Hank heard her rummaging through Alison's closet. His dick, while still thick, had dwindled in size a little. His thought made it shrink up even more. "What the hell am I doing?" he muttered to himself. "Christ." He stood up and stared at the floor in front of Sarah's room, standing in front of the couch. "God, this is ridiculous." Returning from the room with a foil square in one hand, Sandy saw the look on his face. She decided to ignore it, instead circling around behind him and insinuating both arms under his. She traced circles on his chest with one edge of the condom and slowly rubbed her breasts against his back. "I got one. We're OK," she mewed in his ear. Shaking her head back, her locks clacked together again. Hank was filled with conflicting thoughts. He had suddenly felt so base, so completely filthy. What if Alison really WASN'T on the fucking pill, anyway? Jesus, he just fucked her. Just fucked her. And then Sarah walked in, and then it all went straight to hell. And now, Sandy. And- "What do I have to do, beg?" whispered Sandy, sensing some indecision. Hank felt the points of her nipples pressing into his back. He felt the exact spots of the contact, and she began to run her fingernails up and down his chest, down all the way to his crotch and back up again. He closed his eyes and tried to control his thoughts. His hands slowly met hers and covered them on their circulating paths around his body. Her right hand stole down to his balls and cupped them, and the tingling spread from his groin all the way up his spine and burst into his head, eliciting a shiver. Sandy's left hand joined her right and curled around his expanding penis, slowly jacking up and down on the hot rod. The condom must have gone into a pants pocket or something. Hank's hands left the backs of hers and traveled back behind his head, where he grasped hers and bent around to find her lips. He opened his mouth and met hers in an engaging kiss that soon evolved into some major frenching. Sandy smacked her lips against his and continued to pull on his dick until he completely lost control and spun around in place, grabbing both breasts and savagely fondling them. She groaned loudly but was almost completely muffled by his mouth. Her hands ran up and down her back as he continued stroking her breasts and palming the nipples, pushing her tits apart, then together, then both up. When he lowered his head to her chest and tried to suck in her left nipple, she pushed him away and backed toward the couch. She stood smirking, biting her lower lip. She ran her hands through her hair AGAIN, and Hank almost passed out. His dick swelled even higher as he watched her breasts get pulled up and then out again. "Get in that fucking bedroom, asshole," growled Sandy in mid-stroke, her arms still extended above her head. Hank's knees were about to buckle beneath him, so he slowly turned around and looked into the dark bedroom that was Sandy's and Alison's. He started to shuffle inside, looking over his shoulder at Sandy, who kept her arms raised while following him, and then dropped them quickly. Hank stepped through and into the darkness, and Sandy switched on the light and quickly closed the bedroom door. "Get on the bed," she commanded, pointing to the bed just to the left of the door. The other one must be Alison's. Hank lied down obediently, his raging hard-on pointing straight up into the air. Sandy slipped the condom packet out of her back pocket, threw it on his chest, and then fumbled with the fastened belt buckle on her pants. Hank picked up the foil and looked at it, almost completely missing the show in front of him. Sandy had undone her pants, and she pulled them off her hips and let them slump to the floor. Naked, she was breathtaking in the clear light of the bedroom, and he gasped, but she didn't let him have a good look. The vision of her smooth, brown body with its beautiful curves, dark hair on her mound, and hair in braids reaching past her shoulders imprinted itself in his brain. He swallowed hard again. She quickly kneeled over him, grabbed his dick and held it right in front of her cunt, which was already dribbling juices down one thigh. "Gimme that thing," she said, nodding at the foil wrapper. Hank fumbled with the package and finally tore it open, handing the rolled-up rubber to her. She jacked him quickly, running her fingers up and down his tube, and her breasts heaved. When she placed the roll on the head of his dick, Hank thought he'd come right then and there, and he had to gulp air for control. She rolled the condom down his dick and pulled the tip out a little when she was done, just like you're supposed to. He was about to say something, having fought off another orgasm, when she suddenly reared up and slipped his condom-clad dick right into her cunt. He watched it disappear into her depths, and his breath caught. He heard the wrinkle of the latex as his penis slid inside. She was so hot, he thought he wouldn't be able to last more than a minute. Sandy bent forward in a quick motion and hit the pillow on either sides of his head with her elbows. Her face hovered slightly above his. Her dark brown eyes swallowed him up, and he stared deeply into them. "Relax," she sighed, shaking her head. "Let me do the work." She smiled and began a long, slow grind. The pleasure of the motion boiled up in her tunnel, and as she reached the base of his dick, her clitoris was forced back into her pubic bone and rubbed between it and his soft flesh. "Mmmmmmm," moaned Sandy, closing her eyes and mashing her breasts against his chest. Hank moved his hands up to her ass, and he stroked and fondled both cheeks lovingly. When she pulled herself back off his penis, he let up on the pressure, and when she thrust forward again, he pushed her further down onto his dick. The feeling was sensational; his penis was buried in the tightest, warmest, smoothest place he thought he'd ever felt, and the condom was actually helping him from shooting off. "Uhhhhh," grunted Sandy, sliding her pelvis up and then back down again more quickly than before. "Mmmmh!""She bit her lip and hovered about a foot from his face. "Damn," she moaned, increasing the speed with which she sheathed and unsheathed his penis in her vagina. Her clitoris felt like it was the size of a plum, it was so engorged now. When she started to pick up speed, Hank shifted his hands from her butt to her breasts. They swayed up and down ever so slightly with the fucking, and he lazily stroked them in and out of reach as they went up and away from him and then back down again with her movements. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and opened them again, staring right into hers. He grabbed her nipples and pinched them. She closed her eyes for a second but opened them again, still not looking at him. He pinched again, harder, and she moaned and closed her eyes, but still kept her gaze fixated on some object to his left and over his shoulder. He used his fingernails, and he literally gouged her nipples, starting softly and then building the pressure until her moan grew into a low wail. She shoved her pelvis onto him, and he felt the tightness increase and his penis throb in response. She was looking straight into his eyes now, and her motions slowed but picked up tremendously in intensity. It was like she was taking him in all the way up to his butt or something. He felt like his whole body was a giant piston inside her cunt, and he suddenly had to concentrate on something else to keep from spraying. Hank scrunched up his lower body, trying to slide his head down to her chest, and she obliged him, riding higher up and bending his dick flatter against his belly. His mouth found her nipple, and he bit her harder than he intended to. The pulling sensation was reaching a critical level, and he lost himself in passion. Sandy cried out in ecstasy and unexpectedly shifted into double-time on his dick. Pumping like a mad dog, she heaved her pelvis up and down on him in such a fashion that his breath was crushed out of him, and he wheezed on her breasts while he continued to chew and lick her right nipple. She quickly forced his other hand over to her left nipple, and he began to twist and pull it as well. They were drenched in sweat, and Sandy was near exploding. The perspiration dribbled off her forehead and onto the pillow directly below her. Her pubic bone dug into the soft flesh above his dick, and he almost cried out in pain as her thrusts became more and more powerful. Yet the pain somehow turned him on so much that his dick swelled and pulsed inside her tight cunt. "Uhhhhhhh, OhhhhHHHHH!!!!!" cried Sandy, intensifying her efforts to an incredible degree. The whole bed was shaking and creaking, and Hank could barely manage a breath in between being squished by her pistoning body. Her breasts jiggled back and forth, her nipples almost felt as hard as his teeth, and her clit had sunk back away from her hole. "OHHHH!" she bawled after a deep breath, and her thrusts gradually lost their strength. Hank felt his entire body was wet; his crotch felt like it was underwater, and her cunt felt entirely new. It was suddenly looser, and his dick continued to sway in and out and around inside. He backed off from her nipples with his teeth and merely sucked them between lip and tongue and made little circles. She had come, and come buckets, and his penis felt like it was going to explode. "Need . . . something . . . else?" gasped Sandy, riding out the last of her orgasm atop his thrusting penis. Her face was limp, like the rest of her body, but she suddenly came back to life and began to rub her crotch against his again, but with less vigor. "Ah," groaned Hank. "Uh." He buried his face in her cleavage, and she reached down and clamped her breasts around his face. Sandy pushed herself onto him exceptionally hard, and his dick suddenly clenched up and began its lightning-fast climb to orgasm. His eyes shot open, and he started moaning. Deep inside her, Sandy could feel his dick begin its spasming, releasing his spunk inside the rubber. He had held it for as long as he could. The feeling was incredible, and his pumping seemed like it lasted for a whole minute. When he was finally done, his ears filled up with blood and he crumpled back into the blanket. Sandy slipped his dick out of her dripping cunt, holding onto the open end of the rubber, and rolled off him. She pulled him up so that he could rest his head on the pillow, and she lay her head back into the depression between his shoulder and neck. "Whew," was all that Hank could manage to mutter. His eyes were closed.

4

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11475.txt

Andrew Roller

Fevered Fall

"Why are we wearing swimming suits?" I asked. My voice was high-pitched. I felt tense. "Because we're going to get wet," Rebecca told me. Her voice was cool, icy, like the air outside. Autumn was here. Brad was gone, back in college. There was just my auntie and me, staring ahead into a long weekend, by ourselves, bored. Until, that is, she told me at 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning to put my bikini on. "But I want to watch Scooby Doo!" I told her, sitting in front of the TV, eating a big plate of cheese crackers. "Chloe, put on your bikini!" my aunt told me. Her voice sounded tense now too, high-strung. "But she doesn't even have a pool," I said. My aunt came into the den. She looked stunning in a bikini so small it barely covered her pubis below, while her lustrous bosoms jiggled in a brassiere that seemed made from two postage stamps, and a string. She tossed her brown hair. It was a long, thick mane of hair, tumbling over her shoulders and covering her far better than her swimsuit did! She reached down and pried the remote control out of my hand. "It looks like trouble, Scooby!" Shaggy was declaring on the TV. CLICK. "Auntie, I like that episode!" I complained. "I want to go see Helene," Rebecca said. "And I'm afraid to go alone." Her eyes grew larger. "I'm afraid... of what she might do to me if I'm all by myself." I looked up at my aunt. She fidgeted with the remote control. She looked as if she was fighting a desire to turn the TV back on, and sit down with me and watch it. "I don't want my bottom to hurt again, like it did the last time we visited her, auntie," I said in a hushed voice. Instinctively my aunt put a hand behind her, and touched her own fanny. I stared up at her, her hips thrust forward, her bottom on her ass, clutching my remote like a talisman, a key to my innocent childhood if she flicked it on, or not, if she didn't. "Oh, Chloe!" my auntie said, looking down at me. "What shall I do? I met this really cool guy, in Helene's shop yesterday, and I'm utterly infatuated with him! Yet he lives with Helene, and to see him, I've got to see her." "What happened to Johnnie?" I asked. "I-I don't know," my aunt answered, hearing me, but not really listening. "He moved on. They parted. Now she has a new guy, named David. And he's reputed to have... to have..." "Yes?" I asked. "Well, they've nicknamed him the fire hose," my aunt told me. "The fire hose?" I asked. "Because he's so long," my aunt said. "Hot diggety!" I said. I leapt up. I wiped the back of my hand across my face to get all the crumbs off it. We arrived at Helene's dressed demurely, wearing the latest fall fashions. I had on a plaid skirt and a modest, lace-trimmed blouse. I was wearing my beaded flower jewelry that I'd gotten the previous day out of a gumball machine. It wasn't the most fashionable way to purchase jewelry, but I thought the little beads were pretty cool, and I liked the small flowers. I had a necklace, a wristlet, and, over one of my white socks, an anklet of beads. My aunt was dressed in a tunic with a fluttered hemline. It had long sleeves that had cuffs, she'd buttoned both cuffs, giving her a very prim look. Over her light tunic she'd pulled a thick pebble-colored turtleneck sweater. She wore a matching peaked cap on her head, oversized, that gave her small, delicate features an even more pampered and adorable look. With her tunic she wore pinstriped pants, as if dressed for a fashionable but conservative day at the office. Fingerless mittens completed her ensemble, keeping the brisk air from chapping her hands. I had on big, thick, winter mittens, plus earmuffs. Of course nobody who saw us get out of the taxi, let alone the cab's driver, knew we wore not underwear but the smallest of swimsuits under our autumn clothes. Helene met us at the door. She smiled, her eyes sharp as a cat's as she gazed out at us from behind a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses. Her hair was pinned up, neatly. She looked like a librarian. The sight of her sent a thrill of wonder through me because I knew, behind that peaceful facade, lay one of the wildest, most decadent women I'd ever met. She took my mittened hand, drew me inside. She offered to remove the jacket I wore. I turned, she slipped it off me. I felt a thrill as her hands passed over my small, 13-year-old shoulders. She handled me like a mother, and yet she was so utterly depraved, so cruel! "We only came to see the fireman," I told Helene, hoping to dissuade any thoughts she had of taking us downstairs to her basement. "He is here?" my aunt asked, a touch of nervousness in her voice. Helene looked at her. "Of course," Helene answered. "Such a lovely turtleneck you've got on, dear. Please take it off." Oh, how her words sent a chill through me! She could be so direct, so blunt, so in control! She knew we'd been here before and I realized she wasn't going to beat around the bush this time. There was nothing to hide, we'd tasted her 'hospitality' before and yet chosen to come again! "Can we see the fireman?" I blurted, feeling fright rise up within me and yet somehow drawn to the feelings she sent washing through me. My knees trembled. She hung up my jacket in a closet by the door and then turned me to face her and began unbuttoning my blouse. "Oh, good. You've come prepared in your bikini," Helene said, gazing within my blouse as she undid the buttons. "Must we get out of our things so soon?" my aunt asked. Her voice was high, quavering. She sounded like a child wishing to avoid a spanking. (Which, when you think about it, wasn't so far off from the truth!) "Yes, we'll party in the living room. Just your bikinis will be needed," Helene said. "My aunt wore a really small bikini," I told Helene. "I'm sure David will be impressed," Helene replied. Our hostess did not disrobe herself. Instead, she concentrated on my aunt and me, stripping us down until only our bikinis remained. I was allowed to keep on my frilled, ankle high socks, as well as my open-toed heels. She let me wear my beaded flower jewelry. My aunt was permitted to wear her peaked cap, but nothing else, save her swimsuit, and the black knee-length boots she'd arrived in. Helene smiled at us. She escorted us into a sitting room along the side of her house. I could see the neighbor's yard through the window. Helene closed the curtains, blocking out the view. Then she lit the room's lamps and seated us. The doorbell sounded, just as my aunt and I sat down. I sat on a richly patterned cloth sofa. My aunt sat across from me in a thickly upholstered chair. "Please make yourselves comfortable. I'll be back in a minute," Helene smiled at myself and my aunt. The room had a placid, conservative appearance to it. I felt myself relax as I gazed around. We might have been in the sitting room of a middle-aged lady, a widower even, the room was so pleasantly ordinary. Some knick-knacks rested on a shelf. A mantle held twin candles, unlit, for it was only noon. A fireplace glowed with almost extinguished coals, a remnant of a fire the previous evening or, perhaps, a half-hearted attempt to ward off the slight chill in the room. The light from the sun outside, filtered by the overhead clouds, seeped in past the edges of the room's curtains. The lamps glowed, softly, sedately. There was an air of complete and utter safety within the four walls of that room. Oh, how deceptive Helene could be! A brunette stepped into the room. She was, I learned later, only 17, but she looked like a young, professional woman. She had short hair. It bobbed with enthusiasm as she walked. It hung to her shoulders. Her eyes were big and round and open with a sense of delighted wonder. She smiled at Rebecca. She smiled at me.She was nude, save for her bikini, and a pair of expensive lime green sneakers. She had small ankle-high socks on her feet. Her bikini was red. She had just a tinge of a summer tan. Her cheeks were bright and rosy. Her mouth looked like rose petals. She regarded both my aunt and myself with the eagerness of a hiker joining two more experienced climbers. "Hi!" the brunette said. "Hello," my aunt replied. The brunette sat down in a brocaded love seat. Immediately afterward, a man entered the room. He was dressed in a Speedo swimsuit. He was, I guessed, the husband or lover of the brunette. He headed toward her, grinning at Rebecca and myself as he passed us. "No, Alan. Over here," Helene said, coming into the sitting room after him. She pointed to a chair on the other side of the room from his girlfriend. "But I want to sit with Audrey," Alan said. "I know what you want to do. And I know what you'll want to do in a few minutes too," Helene told him with a smile. "Over here, please." The man obeyed. He was young, perhaps half a decade older than Audrey, but no more. There was a vigorousness to his walk which I much admired. He was tall and strong and yet quite willing to let Helene put him wherever she wished. He sat down in a chair facing us. We all faced each other, all four of us sitting in a separate chair. We all wore swimsuits, except Helene. She wore a side-buttoned tunic, all black, with slim, efficient sleeves. She had a pair of booties on her feet with four buckles each, none of them merely for show. She picked up a pair of leather gloves off a small deal table and slipped them on. She had placed on her head a prim, mohair crusher hat. With her glasses, her hat, her gloves, her boots and her long, ankle-length dress, she offered us no glimpse of herself, though I knew it wasn't from any embarrassment about her figure. I'd seen her undressed before; she had a spectacular bosom and a waist that was very slim, with hips that rolled when she walked in a highly sexy manner. Even within her dress, the roll of her hips and the swell of her bosoms was intoxicating. I watched as Alan stared at her, visibly impressed. He might have wished that he was less taken by her for his interest in her showed immediately to us all by a swelling of his loins in his swimsuit. Helene rubbed her gloved hands together. Her eyes passed over us. She nodded appreciatively at the growth in the front of Alan's swimsuit. Yet she smiled as well at Audrey, and my aunt. She gazed at my aunt in her miniscule bikini, drinking in the sight of her bosoms in their little postage stamp cups. Lastly, her eyes fell on me, and I was eager when they did, for I wished her to admire me as much as the others. I squirmed under her eyes. I thrust forward my tits and blushed when Helene regarded them with frank admiration. How strange it is to want someone who you know has wicked plans for you! "I am so glad you four could come and be with me today," Helene said. "Rebecca, you are so brave to come back, what a delight it is to see you again. And you've spared nothing in showing us your beauty." We looked at her. My aunt blushed. She looked so tempting, so incongruous, seated in the big upholstered chair in a teensy bikini. "And Chloe, how courageous you are! Only 13, and such an adventurer!" "I'm only here to see the fireman," I told her. "Yes, dear. Of course," Helene said. She turned her gaze, and ours, upon Audrey. "How bold it is for you to wish to experience French sexuality!" she said to Audrey. The girl flushed. She was dressed in a small bikini, not one as skimpy as my aunt's but still one that would cause a commotion if it were worn at a public pool. Perhaps in an attempt at modesty, she had her legs crossed.There was no way I could have dragged myself out of Helene's after seeing David and his big packet. Slut! I wanted to cry to myself. But I buried that self-deprecation deep down in my tummy and enjoyed the warm feeling I felt there whenever my eyes fell upon David's loins. He served us. Oh, how gentle and thoughtful he was! How his muscles rippled in the soft light of the room! How his penis bulged in his racing-style swimsuit! I felt utterly thrilled when I watched David serve Alan. Both men were equally bare, both of them clad in just Speedo swimsuits. One poured tea for the other as if he were a diplomat, yet in truth, I think, neither guy had anything going for him except for the fact that they were both totally handsome. Helene watched over us, pleased at our acquiescence in her game. "And now you must remove your swimsuits," Helene said. She glanced at Audrey, knowing the new girl would be the most recalcitrant. "Don't worry, my dear. Just the bottom is all you need remove right now. Keep your bra on, if you wish. This is, after all, a pee party. It's the loins we must see to enjoy the full depravity of our celebration. "Oh, I shall want to pee soon!" Audrey said, taking another sip from her teacup. "Yes, and you'll do it right here," Helene said. "In the living room?" I blurted. "Yes. Do it right on the chair," Helene said. "Isn't that rather expensive?" my aunt asked. I remembered us playing Monopoly, and how she'd insisted we play on a mat, to protect her carpet. "Some people spend $2,000 on a bottle of wine," Helene said. "I serve quality tea, which is far cheaper than wine, and prefer to spend my money reupholstering my furniture. And besides," she said. "Have you not noticed the cameras in the four corners of the room? You're all being filmed. For posterity, for yourselves to have something to keep, after we're finished, and, with your permission, for me to share with others, perhaps for a fee." "No!" Audrey cried. "Honey, you'll do just as she says," Alan told the girl across the room from him. She gaped at him. He let David take the half-finished cup of tea from his hand and, with the man holding his steaming cup and waiting, Alan thrust his hands into his swimsuit. He liberated his cock. It jutted forth, wiggling in the air like a charmed snake, standing upright from the flatness of his lower belly. "You're well endowed, sir," David told Alan. I felt myself flush all over. Imagine, David with his obviously huge endowment complimenting Alan! In truth, Alan had one of the finest cocks I'd ever seen, yet I knew David must surely be even bigger. I was glad, suddenly, that Brad had gone back to college. I liked him, but I feared that here, at Helene's, with these two men, I might be inspired to do things I wouldn't want even my love Brad to know about. "Thanks. Why don't you show me yours?" Alan asked. He was blushing slightly. He looked up at David.When it's quite impossible to hold it any longer, tell us, and then pee right here, with your boyfriend and David staring at your open legs as you flood my expensive chair with pee. "Oh, this is horrible!" Audrey said. She looked at me, at my aunt. Rebecca's eyes were half-lidded. Her lips sparkled with the lip gloss. She ran her fingers across her tummy, and I knew what she wished to do. The same thing I yearned to; to diddle my slit and beg big David to thrust himself up me! "I feel like a slut," I confessed. "A slut?" Helene said. "Why, because you are obeying me? Do you want to feel my crop on your bottom, Chloe?" "No!" I said. "Then you'll do just as I tell you, and you'll not feel like a slut, because you have no choice in the matter," Helene said. No choice! The thought made me gasp. What if Helene made me Do It with David, would I be a slut then? Surely I could not be. No matter how he fucked me, no matter how wild and depraved we were, it would all be okay, because Helene had commanded it! "But-- but I shouldn't have come," I said meekly. "And why did you?" Helene asked me. "To-- to see the fireman," I said. "You mean David?" Helene asked. "Yes," I said. "It is quite healthy for a girl to want to see a man, especially a man as fine as David," Helene assured me. "Spread your legs wider, Chloe. I insist. And have more tea. David, please serve her." I admit, after that, I didn't think anymore about being a slut. I was in Helene's house, under her authority. I was like a puppy who, yearning for a master, had found one. I opened my legs wider and let my eyes frankly admire David as he poured my tea. I blushed, but it was involuntary, I refused to feel shy about my desires anymore. I sipped my tea, and watched David's cock bob as he walked around the room. I imagined it peeing. Would it look like the discharge of a fire hose when he peed? "I have another treat for you, my fair guests," Helene said. She was still standing, watching over us as a mother hen does her chicks. She took down a bottle of L'Oreal hair scent from the mantle. It had been hidden behind a small, sedate doll poised in her Sunday best on the mantelpiece, dressed for church. She handed me the bottle. "You first, Chloe," Helene said. "What am I supposed to do?" I said. I took the plastic cap off the bottle. Slightly confused, I lifted the bottle to my head. My mane of hair was well-brushed and neatly arranged, but if she wanted me to scent it for her, I had no objection. "Not the hair on your head, Chloe," Helene said. "Spritz your pubic hair with it." "You want me to perfume my bush?" I asked. My eyes were wide. I was wearing cologne, just a little; it seemed rather an insult to tell me I needed more, especially on my bush! "It is only for the eroticism of it, Chloe," Helene told me. "A game; while we're waiting for our bladders to fill." I wondered at that. She, after all, had barely touched the cup of tea David had poured for her. Nonetheless, I aimed the hair scent at my bush and spritzed some on. How delicious it felt! How decadent! Everyone watched me as I sprayed my dell. Helene took the hair scent from me. She gave it to David! "You next," she said. "But this is girl's perfume!" David said. "Spray it on your cock anyway," Helene told him. "God, imagine, the future Arnold Schwarzenegger, spraying his dick with girl's perfume," David groused. Nonetheless he squirted it into his bush, and up and down the length of his long cock. He stiffened as he did it. He was already erect, but he became thicker and even longer as he put the perfume on his manhood. "Now give it to Alan," Helene ordered. "This is ridiculous," Alan said, taking the perfume from David. "I know you men just want to fuck, but today we're going to do small, delicate things first," Helene said. "Tiny acts, carefully performed, and devoted to the parts of ourselves we usually keep hidden." "Oh, can't I just slip out and pee and then come back?" Audrey asked. "I do have to go quite badly!" "I'm starting to have to go pretty bad too," I confessed. I squirmed in my seat. How lovely the rich, brocaded cushion of the couch felt against my bare bottom! I glanced up at Helene, holding her crop. She smiled and said, "The first one to pee will be punished when we go downstairs, as well as the rest of you, all except for the winner." "What about you? You're hardly drinking anything!" I told her. Helene looked at me. "Yes, Chloe. That's because I intend for you to pee for me, not vice versa," Helene said. Oh, how wicked it was! We all perfumed our genitals, waiting all the while for them to sprout with pee! I sucked in my tummy and tried not to think about my growing need to go to the bathroom. Imagine-- using a sedate sitting room to pee in! And doing it right on the furniture! All the while cameras recorded our every squirm, our every pee-induced movement. How could Rebecca put herself and me in such a predicament? And yet, like her, I yearned to see David pee with his big fire hose penis. I sat in my chair with increasing agitation. "Next I've got some Raspberry Fantasy body lotion for us," Helene, still completely clothed in her side-buttoned tunic, informed us. She took the bottle down from behind another doll on the mantle. She handed it to Alan. "You first, honey," she said, with an intimacy that made Alan's girlfriend, Audrey, bite her lip and frown. "What am I supposed to do with this? This is for girls too!" Alan protested. I savored the sight of his cock, sticking up firm and hard from his belly. How sweet it smelled from across the room, now that he'd been forced to douse it with perfume! "I want you to make your penis all slick and oily by squirting this body lotion all over it," Helene told Alan. "Raspberry Fantasy body lotion?" Alan asked. "I'll smell like a fucking fruit!" "Don't go by a gay bar on your way home," David laughed. "You have to put it on too, darling," Helene said, turning to David. "Why don't you gentlemen do each other? I'm sure we girls would love seeing it. Here, David, you take the bottle. Squirt the lotion all over Alan's penis. Then Alan, you do the same for David." What a delight that was! Seeing two big men, forced by Helen to oil up each other's dicks. I glanced at Rebecca. She watched, wide-eyed, as did I. I felt a wave of affection for her. She didn't make the best choices when it came to safe partying, but she sure knew how to find erotic places for us to go! "And now," Helene said, when the men were oiled, and all of us had perfumed our sex. "There remains one part of ourselves that has yet to be dealt with." She grinned. "The nipples." "What?" Rebecca gasped. "You thought because I let you keep your bra on, that it would stay on forever? No, no," Helene said. "Girls, I want your bras now. And yes, they'll be burned in the fire, just like your panties. David, go around and collect the girls' bras. No resisting, girls, or I'll let you feel my crop on your fannies a lot sooner than you'd prefer!" We took off our tops. We were naked now, except for our shoes. How silly I felt, sitting on the couch in my beaded flower jewelry, white socks on my feet, and open-toed heels, my slit perfumed, my sex moistening the chair I sat on! I showed my breasts. My nipples were hard, excited. David remarked on their condition as he took my top from me. I blushed. Audrey begged to be allowed to pee again, only to be told by Helene that she could pee whenever she wished. "Oh, but not here! Not in front of everyone! And the cameras!" Audrey said. "Be good!" Alan barked, from across the room. "Oh, Alan, dear, I don't want to--" SWICK! The sharp crack of Helene's crop sounded in the room. "Yeeeeek!" Audrey said. We all stared at her. A red line formed on her right thigh, where Helene had slapped her. "Shall I do the other?" Helene asked, holding her crop aloft over Audrey's other leg. The girl squirmed, tried closing her legs, then immediately opened them again, lest she incur Helen's wrath. "N-No," Audrey said. She sat with her mount well-displayed, well-disciplined now, offering us a perfect view of her slit and moving her hips just a little. "But, oh, I do SO have to go!" Audrey said. "Then pee," Helene answered her. "Oh, but I mustn't, not on the--" Suddenly, to our great surprise, Audrey began pissing! Her pee sprouted from between her lovelips and wet the chair she was sitting in. She tried rising; Helene clapped a hand on her shoulder. The girl stood in a half-risen pose for a moment, peeing down into the chair. Then she plopped down onto the love seat again. She continued relieving herself. A low moan escaped from her throat. She looked down at her dell and watched in horror as her pee flooded over the seat cushion. "Very good," Helene said. "You lose, and will have to be spanked, but you did a nice job peeing." "Oh, I don't want to be spanked!" Audrey said. But she sat in her pee, not moving, and I realized then that she did, in fact, wish to taste the crop, just a little. Helene stood over her and smiled down at her. "You've done well, Audrey," Helene said. "Soon we'll see how well your boyfriend does. Have some more tea." "Yes, ma'am," Audrey said. And she picked up her tea cup off the arm of the sofa and drank from it just as before, despite the fact that she was sitting in a big puddle of her own pee!"None of you will be seeing a bathroom before tomorrow morning, so you'd better get used to the idea of not having a toilet around," Helene told us. "Chloe, don't you have to go?" she asked me. "Yes!" I said. "Then go, dear. Let's see you pee on the sofa." "Oh, but it's so pretty and--" I said. "Whenever you're ready. Right there where you're sitting," Helene told me. "It's not so bad," Audrey told me, over the rim of her teacup. "It just feels a little... wet." Suddenly David erupted. He was pouring tea for my aunt, his hips barely moving, barely betraying his need, when suddenly his penis squirted pee all over her thighs. Rebecca screamed. She held her teacup for David, receiving the tea from the silver tea kettle, while watching simultaneously the pee spring from his penis. David tried moving, the result was his pee went right into her cup! "Oh! Oh!" my aunt shouted. "I'm sorry, I--" David stammered. I watched as he squeezed his ass cheeks and tried cutting off the flow of his pee. No use! He kept peeing and peeing, drenching the tea cup. My aunt moved; the cup overflowed and she barely avoided having hot tea splash down into her lap. David moved again, his stream of pee cascaded directly onto my aunt's bare legs. "Oh, God!" my aunt cried. She lost all her reserve and began peeing too. David's pee showered her thighs as she offered her own golden tribute. I watched, fascinated. Only myself and Alan still managed to retain our urine. "Oh, I don't want to lose!" I said to Alan. "Please, go to the bathroom!" "I want to see you spanked," he grinned at me. "I can't hold it much longer," I said. My eyes pleaded with him. He smirked at me. "A guy can always hold himself longer than a girl," Alan told me. "You can forget about winning." "Pee! Please pee!" I begged. "Pee like David did." "Not a chance," Alan said. We sat staring at each other for several minutes. David got a napkin off the tea tray and wiped his pee from Rebecca's thighs. Audrey asked for a napkin but Helene told her 'no,' she only had her own pee wetting her legs, so she must learn to endure it. "I'm wet," Audrey said. She looked at me. "I don't want to be wet!" I said. "You're going to be," Alan said. "You too!" I told him. "Ladies first," Alan said. "Now, for your nipples, a very special treat," Helene said. She picked up a small black bag that had been sitting, unbeknownst to us, behind the couch I was seated on. She opened it. We stared at several pairs of scissors that she drew from the bag. "These are surgical scissors," Helene said. "As you can see, they have flattened blades at the end. They're meant to hold parts of the body open, for surgery. They work like tweezers. In our case, we're going to put one on each of our nipples, to clamp them." "Oh, why?" my aunt, sitting in pee, her cunt well-displayed, her nipples too hard, asked. Her eyes looked both shocked and excited by the proposal. "Because, like I said, we're going to do small, exquisite things first, to our private parts," Helene told her. "To tease. Then, later, we'll do rougher things." "I don't want my boobies clamped!" Audrey said. I looked at her. She had bright eyes. She bit her lower lip. She thrust forward her breasts. She was bashful, but not as much as she wished us to believe. I trembled. I was still trying to hold back my pee as Helene began her game with the scissors. She started with me. "Ouch!" I said, as the first of the scissors was applied to my breasts. Helene clamped my left breast with a pair of scissors, then my right. Two pairs of scissors were fastened onto me. How lewd I looked, with surgical scissors dangling from the tips of my breasts. I squirmed in my seat. The scissors hurt! Not impossibly, but enough that I would have torn them off myself, if only I could figure out how Helene had managed to get the handles of each scissors to fasten together. I gaped at my breasts. The scissors weighed down my breasts. They made them hang lower. "Oh, I'll have saggy tits!" I cried. "Nonsense, dear. You're only going to wear them a little while," Helene told me. I didn't want the scissors but I wasn't a doctor, so I didn't feel skilled enough to remove them. Helene wasn't a doctor either, but she obviously knew what she was doing. "Please, Helene, take them off!" I begged. "No," Helene said. "I have scissors on my tits," I said, bouncing in my chair, gaping at Rebecca. "I know," Rebecca said softly. "They hurt," I told her. Helene went over to my aunt. Rebecca watched as the first of the scissors was applied to her own breasts. "Ouch!" Rebecca said. "Yes, I'm nipping your nipples," Helene laughed. "Sit still, dear." "I can't!" my aunt said. Yet she stayed reasonably still as the other pair of scissors was pinched onto her other breast. Audrey watched, waiting, sipping her tea, looking disconsolate. Tingling and burning to pee, with my bottom seated comfortably if tight-cheeked on the couch, I waited for the inevitable to happen. There was not much time left. My bladder was bulging and I squirmed salaciously, drawing Alan's eyes to me and causing him to laugh that there was no way a girl could beat a boy in a peeing contest. "Everyone knows girls have bladders the size of peanuts," Alan told me. "I'm going to win!" I promised him. But I couldn't possibly imagine how. My tummy felt like it was going to burst! I squeezed my eyes shut. I tried not to think about the scissors clamped to my breasts. Oh, if only I had a pair of those scissors up inside me, to hold back my pee! I ran my fingers over my thighs. I clapped a hand to my vulva. "She's cheating," Alan said. "What? Squeezing your muffin?" Helene asked me. Through shut eyes I said, "I must GO!" "Let her squeeze her muffin if she thinks it can help her," Helene told Alan. "Can I rub my penis if it will help me?" Alan asked. "Of course not," Helene said. "I may not have a penis, but I know about jacking off. You men always spurt when you do that." "So, I'll jack and pee at the same time," Alan said. "My balls are full too." "And they'll stay full, young man," Helene said. "No jacking off in my sitting room." "Oh, GOD!" I cried. Suddenly I felt a significant wetness between my legs. My eyes flew open and I looked down at myself. "Oh, no! AM I DOING IT?!" I shouted. Alan laughed. I couldn't believe I was losing! I had tried so hard to win! As I watched, the lips of my vulva squirted pee all over the seat cushion I was sitting on. My dry seat became a wet seat. I was undone. "Ahhhhhh," Alan announced. Seeing that he had won, he released his pee with abandon. It sprouted from the tip of his penis and arced out across the room. It struck the coffee table. Some of his pee splattered onto the tea service sitting on the coffee table. David cleared his throat, meant to speak, then shrugged his shoulders. "Alan, you're peeing all over my tea kettle!" Helene scolded. She hurried over to the coffee table and slid the tray farther away from Alan. He laughed. He arched his hips. His pee shot in a longer arc and hit the tea kettle again. "Alan!" Helene shrieked. "I guess you'll have to whip my ass for that," Alan said. "Yes, I certainly will!" Helene assured him. "Oh, God. French sex!" Alan said. I saw that he'd come to Helene's to do more than just show himself. Like his girlfriend, he had a longing to find out what a sharply-applied crop felt like on his behind. I looked at the pee stained kettle and guessed he wouldn't have long to wait.

Part 4 of 4

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10554.txt

Ann Douglas

The Love Boat

"Rise and shine, sleepy-head!" Dawn McIntyre called out as she pulled open the small window drape and flooded the tiny cabin with early morning sunlight. "It's another beautiful day out in the middle of nowhere." "Screw you!" called out a female voice as an arm emerged from beneath the sheets just long enough to throw a pillow at Dawn. "Come on, Kari, you can't still be tired," the 22-year-old said as she effortlessly avoided the pillow. "It's too beautiful a day to spend it in bed." "That's easy for you to say," Kari said as the blonde emerged from under the sheet, her long hair half covering her face. "You weren't kept up half the night by the couple next door. They were still going at it hot and heavy at 3 A.M.," she added as she pointed to the wall behind the bed's headboard. "I don't know how you managed to sleep through it all." "Really? You should've woke me up," Dawn said as she crossed the room. "I'd have loved to listen to that." "Pervert!" Kari called out before again disappearing under the sheet. "Look who's talking," Dawn laughed as she again gave the end of the sheet a playful tug. "Go away!" Kari repeated. "Are you going to be this grumpy the rest of the week?" Dawn asked. "Yes, and it's all your fault!" said the voice once again under the sheet. "My fault?" "Well, I'm not the one who booked us on this cruise," Kari said as she again emerged from seclusion. "What was it you said again... 'How can we lose? Four days on a cruise to nowhere. Fun, sun and all that goes with it.' You just happened to leave out one little detail...." "You know I'm really getting tired of hearing this," Dawn said in mock protest, cutting Kari off, knowing if she didn't, she'd be hearing her long litany of complaint one more time. At first, it'd seemed like such a great deal. Dawn had gone to see David Morgan, her old boyfriend, to collect some money he owed her. As usual, David pleaded poverty. When Dawn began to make a scene in the travel agency where David worked, he quickly offered to pay her in another way. He had a few extra tickets for a 4-day cruise to nowhere that was leaving Saturday morning. The tickets were part of a charter that had been returned by two girls who now couldn't go. Non-refundable, so they couldn't get their money back, the tickets were worth a lot more than what David owed her. So he proposed a deal. He'd sell her the tickets for less than half price, and they'd call it even. Dawn had resisted her first impulse to snatch up the deal. She had learned from hard experience that it was too easy to succumb to David's charms. The slight fluttering in her chest and the tingle between her legs as she looked into the handsome face of the 25-year-old reminded her that whatever other problems they'd had in their relationship, David Morgan was one first-class fuck. It was exactly that memory that caused her to think very carefully about his offer. "Let me get this straight," she had said. "These tickets are already paid for, and you want me to pay for them a second time." "Well, I am giving you them for half price," David smiled -- that damnable killer smile that she remembered so well. With that, every warning light in Dawn's head went off. David only smiled like that when he thought he was getting over on someone. "Well, I'll tell you what, David dear," Dawn had smiled back. "I'll be more than willing to take those tickets off your hands -- only as a fair exchange for what you owe me." David appeared to be thinking it over for a few moments. From past experience, Dawn knew he was weighing the odds of getting anything more out of the deal. "All right, you win," David said somewhat unexpectedly as he tossed the folder with the tickets over to her side of the small desk. "I guess you got me over a barrel." Grabbing the tickets and quickly walking out of the travel agency, Dawn had been pretty pleased with herself. She'd figured she would never see that money again anyway, so she might as well get something out of the deal. She and Kari were planning a little vacation anyway, and now they were going on a trip they could never have otherwise afforded. The one little thing that David had failed to mention was that the charter was for an all-girl cruise. Not just an all-girl - a lesbian cruise. Since Kari had insisted on still going out Friday night, they hadn't gotten to the cruise ship until the last possible moment. They were just starting to pull in the gangway when their cab pulled up on the dock. It took a mad dash to make it just in time. "So I make one little mistake," Dawn grinned as she held her thumb and index finger a few inches apart. "What your problem is that you can't make the best of a situation. Try having a little fun for a change. We're on a cruise ship with discos, great food, almost anything you could ask for. But you'd rather stay in bed and complain about it. You won't find me sulking in my room." "No kidding," Kari said as she finally sat up in bed. "You must've been out on that dance floor until 2 AM. I was surprised that blonde you were dancing with settled for a kiss on the cheek when she said goodnight." "So would that have been so horrible?" Dawn smiled. "It's not like we've never danced with other girls before or even kissed them." "That was different!" Kari shot back. "...and who knows, maybe we're missing out on something," Dawn continued. "That's gross!" Kari hissed. Dawn laughed at her friend's expression. "That's what you said back in high school when I showed you how to blow a guy and let him cum in your mouth without gagging," Dawn retorted. "I seem to recall you've since changed your mind about that." "I can't believe you'd even consider such a thing," Kari said as she slid out of bed and walked naked to the bathroom. Kari D'Antonio stood 5'6" and weighed 120 lbs. She had long light blonde hair that stretched down the length of her back, ending just above the crack of her ass. Blessed with a slim athletic figure, her pride was a set of small, round breasts that stood firm without the aid of a bra. In fact, she had long since stopped wearing one back in her senior year of high school. A decision that had brought appreciative smiles to the male population and disapproving looks from most of the female half. "Hey, I'm not saying that I'm going to go up on deck, spread my legs and take on all comers," Dawn continued. "I just mean that maybe we should look at things with a more open mind." "You're crazy, you know that!" Kari called out from within the small bathroom. "One more comment like that and I won't tell you about the surprise." "What surprise?" Kari asked as she stuck her head back into the main room. "The ship has to make some sort of repair, so they're pulling into San Cerino. It's going to take at least a day to make the repair, so we can go sightseeing and shopping." "In some little third-world dump? No thanks," the 23-year-old said, disappearing back into the bathroom. "Are you sure?" Dawn asked. "It's supposed to have some really great beaches." "No thanks, I'd rather just stay here and relax," Kari concluded. "Maybe you'll find some cute island boy to fuck your brains out," Dawn teased. "I said I'm not interested." "OK, suit yourself," Dawn finally said in desperation as she headed for the door. She paused for a moment to check her appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Dawn was an inch shorter than Kari and a little heavier. She wore her curly red hair very short, the edge of it hanging an inch above the collar of her blue shirt. Not as athletically built as her friend, Dawn had a slightly bigger bust which she felt more than made up for it. "I think the lady doth protest too much," she thought as she closed the door behind her. Locking the door behind her, Dawn paused as she heard the door to the cabin next door open. Curiosity made her wait long enough to see the couple who had kept Kari awake half the night. She smiled at the tall brunette in a white shirt and red shorts who stepped out the door. The brunette smiled back.Right behind her came a taller blonde dressed in a similar outfit. She also smiled at Dawn and wished her a good morning before taking her lover's hand in her own and heading down the corridor. Watching them until they disappeared around the corner, Dawn again asked herself the question that she hadn't been able to get out of her mind since they'd come aboard two days ago. "What was it like making love to another woman?" Back in their cabin, Kari glanced at the small alarm clock on the dresser. It read 09:30. "Shit, I'd better get my act together or else I'm really going to sleep the day away," she thought to herself. Not that she had any idea what she was going to do today, but there had to be something to interest her on this boat. Grabbing a set of underwear from her side of the dresser, she stepped back into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Kari took a moment to admire herself in the mirror as she reached back and tied up her long blonde hair. Sometimes she envied Dawn's short dark locks, as tying up her hair all the time was sometimes a pain. The warm touch of the gentle sprinkle felt good against her flesh as she stepped into the tight shower stall. She filled her hands with liquid soap from the wall dispenser and began to soap up her body. Kari stroked her breasts, bringing her pert nipples to a familiar hardness. As always, her own touch felt so good. Soapy hands glided down across her slim stomach, finding their way to the tightly trimmed blonde bush below. She continued down between her legs and then around to the cheeks of her ass, leaving a soapy trail of bubbles in her wake. Kari let out a soft sigh as her fingers again rubbed against her mound, reminding her that it had been three weeks since she'd been with anyone. For her, that was a very long time. Six months had passed since she'd broken up with her last boyfriend. Roger had been a great fuck, but outside of the bedroom, or any of the other numerous places they'd done it, he'd quickly become a first-class bore. Running her long outstretched fingers across her firm mounds once again, giving them a playful squeeze, the lithe woman was reminded of how horny she'd felt lately. At this moment, she deeply regretted breaking up with Roger. Not that she missed him personally, but she'd broken up with him without having someone else warming up in the bullpen. The sudden intrusion of a series of never-ending winter storms had prevented her from meeting anyone new. At the rate she was going, pretty soon she was going to jump the first guy she met. "God, I need a good fuck," she said to herself as she again glided her fingers down across her stomach and across the thin layer of blonde fuzz. With a practiced skill, she parted her vaginal lips, quickly finding the small stubby clit hidden within. Closing her eyes as she leaned back against the tiled wall, she pressed a slippery finger against it. "Oh yes," she purred as a familiar tingle spread out from her cunt. "That feels so nice." She slid a soapy finger up within herself, followed by a second and a third. It was a poor substitute for a hard cock, but it would have to do. It wasn't long before she was furiously pumping her fingers in and out, sparking the tiny flame between her legs into a conflagration. The warm water had turned to hot, filling the tiny room with steam. The heat of which paled next to that which radiated across her quaking body as her fingers caressed her love canal in an orgasmic frenzy. Water running down her face, her lips formed a silent O. Kari felt her legs and arms go weak as repeated waves of delight rippled up and down her naked form. Long silent moments, broken only by the splatter of the shower drops, passed as the blonde rested against the now warm tile. The water washing away the traces of her climax. She had wanted to masturbate for the last two days but had felt funny doing it while Dawn was around. Shutting off the water, Kari chuckled. Imagine her being embarrassed about anything sexual. Her, a girl who'd lost her virginity when she was 16 and would've needed much more than a scorecard to keep track of the men she'd been with since. It didn't used to be that way. Dawn and her had been friends since grammar school. They'd double dated more than a few times, with all the closeness you can get when one couple is going at it in the front seat and the other is just as active in the back. She didn't know why, but lately she was beginning to feel awkward around Dawn, at least where sex was concerned. It was silly really, and she promised to put it out of her mind. Tossing her towel into the laundry basket, Kari quickly put on her bra and panties. Breakfast was served until 11:00. If she couldn't get laid on this trip, then at least she could enjoy some really great food. The sweet sea air brought a sense of tranquility to Dawn as the small cruiser neared the dock. So far the vacation had been a lot of fun, but she was beginning to wonder if maybe she should've left Kari back in Brooklyn. She couldn't believe what a stick in the mud her friend had become. So what if Dawn danced the night away with a bunch of lesbians -- who cared. Normally, next to Kari, Dawn was Mother Theresa. Kari had always been the wild one, the one who pushed it to the edge and then just a little beyond. Sometimes to the point where even Dawn was embarrassed. That night they went into Manhattan last January, just before the first winter storm, was a prime example. All of their friends were talking about Dante's Inferno, the hottest new club in the city. It was already appeared in both the Post and People as the newest in spot for all the beautiful people. Dawn had protested that they'd be wasting their time, that they'd make that long two-hour bus and subway trip and then get turned away at the door. But Kari had insisted, so away they went. Dressed in their Friday night best, they'd taken the long ride to the upper East Side of Manhattan. There they'd waited on line in the cold for over an hour, only to reach the door and be found wanting by the tall muscular bouncer. "Come on Kari, let's go," Dawn said as she pulled her jacket tighter against the cold. "No, we're going dancing," Kari insisted. Kari again stepped up to the tall gatekeeper and smiled at him. At the same time, she let her jacket fall open, giving him a fine view of her barely covered breasts. The sudden exposure to the frigid air caused her nipples to instantly harden and become even more visible through the thin material. "No big deal," he laughed. "I've seen much better." Kari felt insulted, it was the first time any guy had turned down a free look at her breasts. It had always worked in the clubs back home. "What do you have to do to get in this place?" Kari thought out loud. The burly bouncer took a second look at Kari's boobs and then ran his eyes up and down her body, taking in the whole package. He leaned forward and said in a voice low enough for only Kari and Dawn to hear. "Well, you could always blow me," he whispered. Dawn was sure that her friend was going to immediately tell him to fuck off. Instead, she took a moment to look him over. He was tall, 6 feet, and around 220 lbs. The muscles that bulged from under his tight black T-shirt told of long hours in the gym. He was clean-shaven with dark brown hair, short and curly. "Wait here a minute," she said to Dawn as she handed her purse to her and then peeled off her leather jacket. "Let's go," she said to the bouncer. He didn't even bat an eye in surprise. Instead, he just turned to one of the other workers by the door and said to watch the gate. "Go get her, Billy," his friend said. Before Dawn could say a word in protest, Kari had grabbed the bouncer's thick arm and pulled him into the small alcove just off the doorway. Hidden from sight of everyone but her girlfriend and the new man at the door, Kari dropped to her knees and unzipped his black Levi's. Reaching inside his now open pants, she pulled down his briefs and exposed his hard cock to the frosty night air. Kari didn't waste a second, taking his full 6 inches between her bright red lips. Both observers watched as her blonde head bobbed up and down for what seemed like only a minute or so. She became a blur of motion as his saliva-covered cock kept sliding in and out of her mouth. The expression on Billy's face told it all. The girl had an oral technique that would make an 8th Ave. hooker proud. He tried to hold back, but he was fighting a losing battle against an expert. A second later, a loud gasp escaped his lips, accompanied by a burst of whiteness inside Kari's mouth. She buried her head deep between his legs, swallowing all that he gushed out. Another brief spurt and it was all over. The blonde let his now semi-flaccid cock slip from her mouth and stood up, straightening her skirt as she rose. Kari didn't say a word, she just ran her tongue across her now smeared lipstick, cleaning off the last remnant of her efforts. Sprouting a wide grin from ear to ear, Kari took Dawn's hand and led her startled friend past the now open doorway and into Dante's Inferno. "And she called me a pervert," Dawn laughed to herself, her smile reflecting her good mood. "That's my Kari. She could screw the football team and not care who knew, but let another woman look at her with a little desire." Looking out at the pristine beach growing ever larger, Dawn thought it lucky that Kari hadn't been with her that first night onboard. Still worn out from club hopping the night before, Kari was out like a light before midnight. Dawn, on the other hand, had taken a nap in the afternoon, knowing they were going out, and was still wide awake at midnight. She'd decided a walk in the night air would help her sleep.The cabin they occupied was one of the more inexpensive rooms on board, made more so by the fact that part of their deck was under renovation. Walking along the railing, enjoying the cool sea breeze, Dawn saw barely a soul. The disco was on the other side of the ship, and most anyone who was up and about was there. Still, she had seen three women walking up ahead of her a few minutes before, so she figured that while this section of the ship might be unoccupied, it was still open for a late night stroll. "This is so beautiful," Dawn thought as she looked out at the full moon reflected in the endless ocean around her. "I never imagined anything could be both so empty and pretty at the same time." Leaning on the railing, Dawn spent at least ten minutes just gazing up at the stars. They were so clear, and there were so many of them. Back home, with all the city lights to cloud the skies, they looked so much dimmer. Now she understood how people could fall in love on cruises. Continuing her walk, Dawn heard giggling from just around the corner. Ever curious, she slowed to a quiet step and carefully peeked around the corner. Later, she doubted the three women who had passed her earlier would've heard her approach if she'd been wearing work boots. Dawn's attention was immediately drawn to the woman in the center of the trio. In her mid-forties, she had noticed her earlier that evening at dinner, sitting at a nearby table. A short, heavy-set woman, Dawn had pointed her out to Kari and remarked that the older woman bore a striking resemblance to Miss Laufer, their 5th grade social studies teacher. Kari had agreed that there was some similarity, but there was no way that it could be her. After all, Miss Laufer had to be at least in her sixties by now. Still, her image had stayed with Dawn well enough for her to be still remembered. Of course, the similarity with their former teacher ended there because there was no way the red-haired young woman could ever envision Alice Laufer in the scene before her. The brunette's royal blue dress was down around her waist, exposing the largest set of breasts Dawn had ever seen. They had to be at least a 44DD. Even her nipples were immense, the areolas stretching over three inches across. Of course, at the moment, she could only see one of them. The other was hidden by the back of a blonde head as one of her companions traced wet circles around it with her tongue. Dawn had given only the briefest of glances to the woman's two companions when they passed her before. Still, she noted that they had to be closer to her own age than "Miss Laufer's". The third girl looked slightly Hispanic in the lowered shipboard lighting and was busily playing with the free breast with both hands. "Oh shit!" Dawn exclaimed in a hushed breath. "This is fucking outrageous." As quietly as she could, Dawn stood by the corner and watched the three women go at it. She'd seen a few girl/girl scenes in the porn flicks one of her old boyfriend's liked to watch, but never imagined she'd get to see one for real. It was so quiet that Dawn could hear the beating of her own heart, a thunderous noise drowned out only by the rise and fall of her breasts as she took each new breath. It wasn't long before the action grew more intimate. "Miss Laufer" stretched down on a deck chair as the blonde pushed the rest of that blue dress up so that it also rested around her waist. Then, spreading Laufer's legs and pushing aside her panties, "Blondie" proceeded to perform an oral ballet on her womanhood. Dawn couldn't help but note she showed more enthusiasm for the action than any guy she had ever slept with. Continuing to lash out with her tongue, the blonde pulled out her own not unimpressive breasts and began to play with them with her free hand. While this was all going on, the darker-skinned woman had completely stripped off her light beige dress and what little underwear she'd worn beneath it. Then, straddling the reclining woman, she lowered herself until her own cunt was pressed tightly against "Miss Laufer's" mouth. An action which seemed to greatly meet her approval as the older woman reached up and spread her hands against the young woman's ass cheeks. Pulling her hands and the soft flesh they contained toward her, "Miss Laufer's" applied her tongue in the opposite direction with a devotion that even exceeded that which she was receiving between her own legs. Transfixed, Dawn really wasn't sure how long she stood there watching. Eventually, her fear of discovery overwhelmed her sense of erotic excitement. All she remembered was that it was almost three in the morning when she quietly tip-toed past a still sleeping Kari. As the small motor launch was being fastened to the dock, Dawn again wondered what Kari's reaction to that little scene would have been. Or how she would've acted if she knew that when Dawn had been dancing with Crystal last night, her ears had been constantly filled with whispered encouragements. Encouragements so graphic that if they'd come from a guy she'd just met, he'd be leaving the dance floor holding his cock and balls in agony. Thankfully, her friend also failed to notice just how many times Crystal's hand strayed to parts of Dawn's anatomy that would've again brought a physical assault to a guy. Finally, when Crystal had given her that relatively chaste kiss on the cheek goodnight, it had come with an invitation to come back to her cabin and make their own music together. Dawn was still undecided as to if she might had accepted the offer had Kari not been there with her. Still, the memory of the offer put a wide smile on her face. So lost was the red-haired woman in her brief recollections, she didn't notice that her smile was being returned by a tall, very pretty Chinese woman sitting across from her. Breakfast had been excellent, Kari had to admit. It'd been a long time since she'd eaten that good. A few more days of meals like that and she'd really have to pay for them at the gym when she got home. She'd spent the next few hours exploring the ship, getting lost more than once in the seemingly endless corridors. After a while, she didn't even seem to notice the absence of men, save for the occasional crew member. In fact, it was a pleasant change from the wolf whistles and "hey babys" she normally got when she walked down a street in her native Bensonhurst.

Part One

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/6851.txt

Victor Bruno

Under Control

"Halt!" Delia's voice rang out. The two slave girls dragging Paul stopped at once, and Paul's relief was almost overwhelming. Could it be over? He had sensed there was still time to go yet. Near to tears, he looked at the naked flesh of the two girls before him, the wire now slack between them. He saw the sweat that glistened on their flesh, saw the muscles that twitched with fatigue and pain, and realized that their sufferings could scarcely be less than his. Delia came into view, blonde and beautifully nude, smiling slightly in that smugly arrogant way of hers. How he hated that. No! No... he must not hate! He must submit and accept everything from her. She was his mistress. "For the last half hour," she said, "we'll try it a little differently..." Paul's heart sank. God, he had been right! His ordeal was by no means over. And what did this smiling she-devil with the lushly inviting body have in mind now? He was soon to know. For Delia came swinging up onto the steel-framed trolley on which Paul was secured kneeling. He was riven by the sight, scent, and sexual closeness of her. Tormented! The smell of sexual arousal was intense as her blonde triangle of hair thrust into his face. Then she knelt, and her lush breasts were close to his face. She was unloosing the wire which was around both the root of his penis and his scrotum. Paul gave a little low moan of relief, head drooping. Grinning, Delia took hold of his organ and toyed with it casually. "A little uncomfy, eh?" she said. "How long since you had a piece?" "Months... Miss..." replied Paul hoarsely. "M-Months..."

Part eleven of twenty eight

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/15138.txt

Victor Ramierez

The Analyst

"Send her in, nurse," said Dr. Hampton. John Hampton then returned to his seat behind his large desk in his wood-paneled, bookshelf-lined office. The doctor was a forty-year-old, brown-haired (but graying) kindly man. John prided himself on being in very good shape, and his muscle tone evened out his five-foot stature to make him into a somewhat handsome man. He had been the resident psycho-analyst at the Institute for Educational Learning for five years now, and he had seen just about everything, becoming a little bit restless. Perhaps this new patient would be a bit more interesting. The door opened, and his next patient strode confidently into his office, and John rose to shake her hand. "Good afternoon, Miss Johnson. I'm Dr. Hampton. Please have a seat," he said, pointing to the empty seat on the other side of his desk. John gave the woman a good looking-over as she was taking off her handbag and lowering herself into the chair. She was in her early thirties and not bad-looking behind the strict-looking glasses she was wearing. She had her long black hair tied up in a bun and was wearing a blue skirt and jacket with a white silk blouse on underneath. She was all business but still liked to look good. John liked that. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Doctor. I really need to talk to someone." "That's fine. Please tell me a bit about yourself first." "Well, I'm the headmistress at the nearby girls-only high school, Drummoyne. Do you know it?" "Yes, I've passed it a couple of times." "Okay, then. I've worked there for five years now, and I feel I'm doing a really good job. The school runs well, the students are happy, and so are their parents." "Are you happy with your job?" asked John, looking up from the notes he was making. "Well, I would have to say yes. Yes, I am," she said, looking at the doctor as he looked back down to the notes he was making. She thought he was a quite handsome man, just the type of guy she would like to go out with, or at least would one day when her job became a little less hectic. "May I call you Sarah?" "Please do, Doctor." "Well, Sarah, what is your problem exactly?" "Over the last couple of nights, I've been having a bit of trouble sleeping. I wake up at odd hours as if I've been having a bad dream, but I can't remember a thing." "So is it violent enough to wake up your husband?" "I'm single, I sleep alone. It's only me that I'm bothering." "All right, then, there must be something bothering you that is plaguing your sleeping mind. I think we'd better have a bit of a chat," he said. "Whatever you think it needs, Doctor." John stood up and walked around the desk to the other side of the room and closed the curtains, cutting off the daylight streaming in from the town outside. This left only the green-shaded lamps to provide the light, and this gave the room a warm, cozy feeling. John then walked over to a long leather therapist's couch which was up against the wall behind the chair Sarah was sitting in. "Come and lie down on the couch over here. Leave your jacket so you won't crush it." "Okay," said Sarah, standing up and draping her jacket over the back of the chair. She walked over to the couch and lay down on the soft leather. "Are you comfortable?" "Yes, thank you, Doctor." John sat down in a chair placed next to the couch and pulled his notepad out again. "I think I would recommend a short period of hypnosis. I really need to find out what is bothering you. Do you agree?" "Yes, Doctor, please do whatever is necessary to let me sleep properly." "All right, then, look into my eyes for a moment," he said and turned towards her. Sarah looked up at him and stared deeply into his brown eyes. Concentrating intently, John thought back to his training and a little trick he'd picked up while on extended study in an Asian community. He could hypnotize a person without an external point of focus like a watch or something, just by looking into their eyes. John stared at Sarah's green eyes and then blinked once. Suddenly, Sarah's head slid down, coming to rest against her shoulder. "Sarah, can you hear me?" "Uh huh." "All right, then, let's try a few simple things to get you used to listening to me. Raise your right arm," and in response, Sarah's right arm rose up. "Now the other one," and then her left arm rose up to join it. "Put them down now, Sarah. Sarah, you are worried about something, aren't you?" "Yes, Doctor, I am." "What is worrying you, Sarah?" asked John in anticipation of something interesting. Perhaps a little scandal or something strange and unusual. Anything but the ordinary complaints about how their parents didn't pay them enough attention as a child or how they are unable to function in society as adults because the other children teased them. Something with a little pizzazz. "I have an upcoming review. I worry that I'm not doing enough for the girls. Is there something I'm not providing for them?" John shook his head in disbelief. Her reason was so uninteresting and so dull. It could be fixed immediately. "Sarah, you are a fantastic teacher and a great headmistress. There is nothing the review board can say you aren't doing. Your worries are unnecessary, discard them." "Yes, Doctor...." "Now lie there a moment and think about all the good things you've done for the school," said John, moving back to his desk. He finished off the file and put it away, and then sat down behind the desk. This was the final straw, and he'd had enough. There must be something interesting he could do. He leaned back in the chair and began to consider what he should do. Looking around the office, his eyes glanced across Sarah still lying on the couch. Where he was sitting, he could see her perfectly. He could see the way the nipples on her medium-sized breasts were pushing the silk up. He could see up her skirt to where her white satin panties were nestled snugly into the cleft at the top of her legs. Ideas began to whirl in John's mind. John leaned over and pressed the intercom button, "Alice, is there anyone else for today?" "No, that's the last one for today, John," crackled the response. "All right, then, I'll need some extra time with Sarah Johnson. See that I'm not disturbed," and with a flick, he switched the intercom off. Then he walked over, locked the door, and then sat down in the chair next to the couch. When a patient was like this, he could do anything to them, and he could get them to do anything. John decided it was time to make this job a little bit more interesting. "Sarah, this is your master speaking. You will do anything I say, immediately and without hesitation. Do you understand?" "Yes, I will do anything," she mumbled. He reached over and took her left breast in his hand and began to give it a soft squeeze. He could feel her nipple pushing up into the palm of his hand, and as he squeezed, the nipple began to harden. He then reached over and gave the other breast equal attention. He then reached down to the hem of her skirt and slid it up to give him a good view of her pantie-covered pussy. Sliding in a finger from the side of her panties, he began to rub his finger back and forth across her hairy slit, and then he turned his hand a little and slid the finger in between the lips."This is going to be great," thought John. "I think I'll get her clothes off now." "Sarah, stand up and walk to the middle of the room," and she responded immediately. "Now unbutton your blouse and take it off." Her blouse quickly fell in a heap on the floor, exposing her white bra which matched her panties. "That's good, now take the skirt off too." With a quick unzip, the skirt slid down, and she kicked it over with the blouse. "Now take the bra off, and then I want you to press your breasts together and play with your nipples." Sarah responded quickly. The bra was in the pile, and then she raised her hands up and took a handful of each breast, and then pressed them both together. "That's it, baby, squeeze them together hard, yes, that's the way. Now do the nipples." She let go of her breasts and grabbed each nipple between thumb and forefinger and began to pinch them. "Uhhhn, ow, ow, ow," moaned Sarah as she repeatedly pinched her nipples, making them grow harder and harder. "That's enough, now take those panties off and let's see what you've got down there." She slid the panties down and then stood up. She moved her legs apart and thrust her pubic mound forward, making her little fuckhole pout out from between her legs. "Oh yeah, that's really nice, now grab the lips and pull them apart," so she reached down and grabbed her cuntlips, one in each hand, and spread her pussy wide open. John could see her pink inner folds, he could see her little clit peeking out above her lips, and he could see her wonderful hole. "That's it, baby, now slide a finger in deep." And she immediately slid in a finger, penetrating herself as far as it would reach. "Turn around, bend over and spread your asscheeks." She removed her finger from her cunt, turned away from him, and bent over so her face was down near the carpet. Reaching up behind her, she grabbed a cheek in each hand and spread them as far apart as she could, exposing her little asshole and the lips of her pussy. "Oh yeah, great. Come and lie down over here again," said John as he was now really started to get worked up. Sarah came and lay back down on the couch, she was still wearing her blue high heels and her white stockings. John reached down and unzipped his trousers and hauled out his now rock hard cock. "Sarah, take my cock in your hand and play with it, massage it," and she reached over to him and took hold of his dick. She began to slide her hand up and down its hard length, she caressed the tip and fondled the balls when she reached the bottom. She continued this for several minutes until John stopped her. "Stop, now I want you to suck it, suck it off and swallow the come," and so she moved over and lowered her head to his crotch. He felt her moist warmth as she slid his member into the cavern of her mouth. He felt the pressure of her lips firmly pressed around the shaft and the suction as her cheeks came in each time it slid into her mouth. Faster and faster he went as he began to fuck her mouth. He grabbed her by the back of the head and began moving her head back and forth as she continued to suck. As his cock began to disappear and reappear from her throat, John was building quickly to release, and with a sudden grunt, he let a load go into her mouth, and as instructed, she swallowed it all down. "That was great. Get back on the couch and spread your legs as wide as they'll go, I want to taste your juice," and he followed her back over to the couch. Sarah lay down and spread her legs wide, exposing her gaping pussy to his greedy eyes. John instantly sank to the couch and buried his face into the steamy depths of her pussy. He began to lick his way around the outside of her lips and up to her clit. Running his tongue back down through her black pubic hair, he reached the skin between her cunt and asshole and then quickly pushed his tongue into her pussy opening. He slid his tongue in and out while playing with her clitty with his fingers. He then swapped them around and began to slide a finger in and out. "All right, bitch, here I come," and then slid up the length of her body. His positioned his raging cock at the lips and then thrust forward into her dewy envelope. The tongue job he'd done had made her suitably wet, and he slid in and out with no resistance at all. As he was pounding her ass into the couch, he grabbed a breast and began to happily suck on it. "Why didn't I think of this before," he thought. "I can do this whenever I want, and I have a great idea," and as this revelation came, so did he. With a sudden thrust, he jammed his cock all the way in and blasted her interior walls with wave after wave of hot jism. As his cock became limp and slid out, he stood up and began to wipe the come off with some tissues. He looked down at Sarah still lying with her legs open and his come now starting to ooze out of her crack. He told her to clean herself up and get dressed, and handed her the box of tissues. Once she was finished, he sat her back down on the couch. "From now on, you will do anything I ask of you. You will help me with anything I request, and you will not think anything I do or say strange or unusual. Now wake up and sit up," commanded John. Suddenly, Sarah snapped awake and sat up. "I feel strangely different, Doctor, almost..." she hesitated to say "horny" in front of the Doctor. "No, don't worry about it." "Well, I think your dreams are cured. You did mention one problem, though." "What was it, Doctor?" "Well, you said you were worried you weren't doing enough for your students. I think I have just the thing for you. I'll give you a call once I have an answer for you." "All right, Doctor, thank you for seeing me. Goodbye," and she stood up and walked out. John stood up and went back to his desk. "Alice, tell the institute I'll be on extended study and exploration and won't be back in the office for a few months. Oh, and get me that gynecological supplies warehouse over on the other side of town." Chapter 2 "All right, students, settle down," said Sarah Johnson as she stood before an assembly of all the teachers and students at Drummoyne. Once the students sat down and quiet descended, she was ready to begin. "I am here to introduce everyone to a new addition here at Drummoyne. Please welcome Dr. Hampton. Dr. Hampton is here as a temporary special medical officer, and he will be attending to each and every one of you as he goes through the student body checking for illness and other such things. The teachers will also need to see Dr. Hampton as he will be performing your reviews for your health insurance," and she gestured at John, who was sitting over to one side from the other staff. He stood and gave a brief nod to the students and the staff and then sat down again. Sarah turned back to the students. "Dr. Hampton is located next to my office, and students will be called up to see him. The staff will be seen to before the student appointments begin. That will be all. Dismissed," and the students all as one girlish mass stood up and flowed out the doors. Sarah walked back to where the Staff were chatting and separated a lithe, blonde, 23-year-old gym teacher away from the other staff members. "Sandra, your appointment is first, so follow us back to the office." "Okay," said Sandra Gee. John was standing watching this from the edge of the stage with great glee, then he turned and proceeded back to his room. Sandra walked up to the new special medical room and knocked on the door. "Who is it?" "It's Sandra Gee, the gym teacher. I'm here for my examination." "Come right in," and with an electronic buzz and then click, the door popped open. Sandra walked into a white tiled room, with bright stark fluorescent lighting. To one side was a bench with assorted instruments and other items, in the middle was a standard Doctor's exam table, behind it was a changing curtain and some other cupboards. John was standing next to the table wearing a welcoming smile. He was dressed in a white lab coat and was holding a chart. "Hello, Sandra, please go behind the curtain and put on this gown," he said, handing her a hospital gown. She took the gown and went behind the curtain. The wall behind her was some sort of opaque glass, and she couldn't see through it, so she definitely couldn't see the camera behind it next to Sarah who was sitting rapt in the entire proceedings. She didn't notice the other hidden cameras around the room either. "Once you've changed, lie on the table, I'll be back in a moment," and then John ducked next door into Sarah's office with his passkey. He went to the closet in the back and slipped inside. He was now in the alcove behind his office, and he could quite clearly see Sandra starting to remove her top. This stuff was great, it looks like black perspex, but it's like a two-way mirror. Sarah was watching intently, and John snapped back to reality in time to see Sandra slip her shirt off and hang it up. Next, she removed her sports bra and then her little pleated skirt. The bloomers and panties followed, leaving her stark naked until she slipped her robe on. "This will be good, babe, stay here and watch the fun," he said as he slipped back to his room. Sandra was laying on the table waiting for him as he came back in and locked the door. "Well, let's get started then," and John picked up his stethoscope and walked over to her. He reached down the front of her gown with the stethoscope and pressed the cold metal against her right nipple. With a shocked little intake of breath, she remembered her years of being doctored to and began the requisite breath in and breath out. Then John repeated this with the left breast. As he removed his hand, he brushed his fingertips across her nipple and felt how hard the cold metal had made it. He quickly took her blood pressure and then pulled out a thermometer. "Have you ever had one of these examinations before?" "No, I haven't.""Well, I'm afraid we have to do your temperature rectally. Do you understand?" "You want to stick it up my arse?" "Yes, spot on. Now roll over and get up on all fours, please," said John, trying to contain his lust. He could see Sandra was hesitant to allow this to go ahead, and he was really going to enjoy cracking this one. "I understand your reluctance, but I'm afraid it's the necessary procedure, and I can't sign your form without it." That seemed to do the trick as she slowly rolled over and then slid up onto all fours. John walked around behind her and snapped on some latex gloves. She flinched as she heard the latex snap back, but then tried to force herself to relax. John spread some lube onto his finger and then applied it to her arse. She flinched back from each touch, but she stayed in position. "Are we all ready?" asked John with a wink at Sarah behind the glass. He then slid the thermometer into Sandra's arse in one smooth movement. "Arrgh!" grunted Sandra, as she gritted her teeth and held her position. John was admiring her toned arse and thighs. He looked her up and down. He could see her little arsehole trying to eject the invader. He could see her pussy lips covered in little blonde hairs, peeking out from the top of her thighs. He could see her leg muscles quivering, as tight as bowstrings as she braced herself against the indignity she was being forced to endure. He decided that was enough and slowly pulled the thermometer out. John decided it was time to begin the festivities. "Roll over and lie back down on the table," said John, and as soon as she did this, he reached down and snapped on the wristlocks hidden at the sides of the table. "What the hell are you doing?!" demanded Sandra. "I need to perform another exam, and I can't have you squirming around on the table," said John, as though it was perfectly natural. "What else are you doing then?" she asked. "Just a little gynaecological exam. Nothing to worry about." "What! You're kidding, let me up," she demanded and began to struggle with the locks. John walked back to the table with the optional stirrup attachments for the table and locked them into place. He then grabbed one of her writhing, kicking legs and strapped it into place, and then he did the same with the other. She was now locked into place with only the hospital gown covering her modesty. She thrashed her head from side to side until John slid a large knife out of his jacket and waved it in front of her. "Will you please stop that stupidity. You'll only hurt yourself, you can't go anywhere until I release you, and I'm not going to release you until you've been properly examined." And with that, he reached down with the knife and split the hospital gown right down the centre. "No, please don't," she pleaded. He reached down and folded back the halves of the gown to expose her shapely breasts, some of her long blonde hair had fallen down over her face, and it gave John an idea. He reached up and forced her mouth open and stuffed as much of her long hair into it as he could to gag her. Now she couldn't talk or see him properly, she began to whimper quietly. John then moved down and opened the gown up over her cunt. There presented before him, spread wide open and raised for inspection, was her little blonde pussy, and below that was her puckered little arsehole. He reached down and gave them both a bit of a rub. He bent down to give her pussy a quick lick to get the taste of her on his tongue, and then he pulled his cock out and rammed it all the way up her cunt, accompanied by a muffled cry from Sandra. John then began to pound her cunt hard and fast until he spurted into her velvety depths. He then slid his cock out and positioned it at her arsehole. Sandra realised what he was about to do and began to yell through her gag. With another wink at Sarah through the glass, he slammed his cock up to the hilt into her arse. She screamed and slumped resignedly back down to the table. John pounded her arse and left another deposit in her body. Then he waved Sarah into the office. Sarah came around, and motioning her to be quiet, John slid a strap-on dildo on over the top of her suit trousers. Then he pointed her at Sandra's pussy and indicated that she couldn't see through her own hair. Sarah happily stepped up to the table and lubed up the dildo by rubbing it up, down and around Sandra's snatch. Then she fed the long dildo into her and began to pump while fondling Sandra's clit. After a few long moments, Sandra came to orgasm against her will, and Sarah pulled out and stepped back with her dildo still slick and dripping from Sandra's cunt juice. John stepped up and moved Sandra's hair out of her mouth, and away from her face. "You bastard, you've ripped my arse open, and my cunt is so sore. You're dead." John simply grabbed her by the top of the head and looked into her eyes and blinked once. Sandra's head suddenly went limp and rolled over. "Sandra, I am your master, and you will do whatever I say from now on, without question or hesitation. Do you understand?" "Yes, master." "You only remember coming and having a normal examination from me, and then you will return to your duties. Notify me of anything that happens in your classes, especially anything which requires disciplinary measures." "Yes, master." John then untied her and removed the stirrups and hid them in the closet again. John led her back to her clothes and told her to get dressed. As an afterthought, he made her leave her panties and bloomers behind, so now if anyone caught a glimpse up her skirt, they'd get a bit of a thrill. "Wake up and go about your business," and she instantly woke up. "Will that be all?" "Yes, for the time being, thank you, Miss Gee. Goodbye." Sandra then turned and walked out of the room. It crossed her mind that her nether region felt a little cold and sore, but it was nothing to worry about for the moment. John turned to Sarah, who was still wearing the Dildo, and took it and put it away. "All right, Sarah, back to work. I'll be watching the tape we just made. I think we might try a schoolgirl next," and John led her back to her office, and he went into the alcove room at the back to view the tapes made from the cameras around the room. Chapter 3 "John, I have a girl here which you may like to do something with," said Sarah over their interoffice intercom. John looked up from where he'd been looking through the student records and made his way out of the secret alcove into Sarah's office. Sarah was sitting behind her desk with a student's file open on it. "What's the story?" asked John, lounging on the long visitor's couch along the wall opposite her desk. "I have a 17-year-old girl here called Amanda, and she's normally a competent student. Not outstanding, but good and certainly not a troublemaker. Today she's been making trouble in class again for the third day in a row. Her 16-year-old, younger sister Michelle is also starting to show early signs of the same behaviour. A couple of weeks ago, their parents separated, and they live with their mother now, her name's Carol Simpson." "Sounds like she's reacting to what's going on at home. I suppose we could talk to her mother and sister as well, though..." said John with an evil leer. "She's waiting outside to be disciplined for her behaviour. What shall I do?" "Call her sister up here as well, and once they're both here, then call them in." Sarah turned to the intercom and arranged to have Michelle sent up from her class. "I think we should sort them out, and then I'll take them home to have a word with their mother. That should do me for the afternoon. I might go home after that," said John. The intercom buzzed, and Sarah pressed the button to be informed that Michelle was now also waiting in the office outside. "I think a bit of spanking, and then how would you like to pop some cherries, Sarah?" "You want me to do it? Well, I suppose it's something that's always tempted me somewhat." "That's the spirit, Sarah. I can see we're going to get on really well," said John, glad that he had removed all of Sarah's inhibitions and allowed her deviant impulses to run wild. She would now quite happily delve into any perversion that took her fancy, and without any coercion from him. "Send them in, my dear." Sarah pressed the door button on the intercom, and the door clicked open, and two young teenagers walked into the office. Amanda was the taller, and her tits were a bit larger than Michelle's. Amanda had light brown hair, and her sister's hair was almost blonde. They both wore their long hair in ponytails, and they had on their correct school uniform, consisting of a knee-length navy blue skirt, a white blouse with a red neck tie, a navy blue school blazer, little white socks and black patent leather shoes. Sarah stood up and took the initiative. "All right, girls, now both of you have started being insubordinate in your classes, and I would like to know why? This sort of behaviour is unacceptable, and you will both, of course, be punished to prevent a repeat performance. What is your reason?" she said, glaring at the two girls who were shifting about uncomfortably, facing her from the other side of her desk. John was still lying on the couch, and as they had not even glanced at him, he didn't think they had noticed him. He looked them up and down from behind, but could only make out the curve of their pert young buttocks. "We don't know, Miss," said Amanda on her sister's behalf. "Well, that's not good enough. I know there are problems at home, but you can't let it interfere with your schoolwork. Don't let it happen again! Now, as for your punishments: you, Amanda, will get ten spanks on your bare bottom, and Michelle will get six. Now, both of you, lean forwards over the desk," said Sarah, standing up and walking to the side of the desk. Reluctantly, both Amanda and Michelle laid themselves over Sarah's desk and closed their eyes in anticipation.John stood up and motioned Sarah to be quiet, and come and stand behind them with him. He then grabbed the hem of Amanda's skirt and raised it up to her waist, revealing her sweet buttocks encased in a pair of navy blue bloomers. John eased his fingers under the elastic at the top and slowly slid them down over her panties and removed them. The panties underneath were a pair of light blue cotton briefs, and John quickly slid these down to her ankles and removed them as well. He reached out and placed one hand on each cheek, and she flinched involuntarily. Slowly, he moved the cheeks apart and drank in the vision of her little pussy and anus peeking out from between her cheeks. Then he turned to Sarah and nodded to her, and moved back. Sarah moved into position and prepared to start spanking the girl. "All right, this is what you deserve. Now hold still and count out the ten." And with that, she swiftly slapped the left cheek of Amanda's rear, and Amanda quickly recoiled in pain, but remembered to count the stroke. Then Sarah slapped the right cheek, leaving a lovely reddening handprint right in the middle. Sarah continued like this for the other eight strokes and then finished off by giving each cheek a little rub with the palm of her hand. "Now stay there and think about your behavior, while I attend to your sister." And then Sarah stepped back, allowing John access to the younger girl. John slid her skirt up to her waist to find a similar pair of navy bloomers. He slid these down to reveal a little pair of white panties covered in little daisies. These turned John on immensely, and he slid them down to her ankles and off, while allowing his fingertips to drag all the way down her buttocks and legs in one sensual move. He was betting she did not know what was going on, but she hadn't been disciplined before, so she wouldn't know this wasn't normal. He lovingly spread her cheeks and gazed at her exposed holes and thought of the fun to come. He stood up and moved into position to spank her himself. Sarah got the message and walked over behind him. "All right, Michelle, it's your turn now. Count out your six strokes and don't move." John then brought his hand down with a resounding slap, which brought a cry out of the young girl. She too remembered to count her strokes, and then John was finished, and he left his hand on her cheeks and fondled them a bit before stepping away. Amanda heard that Michelle's punishment was over, and she began moving off the desk. She looked up and saw John standing behind her. "What's going on, Miss? Why's he here?" said a horrified Amanda. "Amanda, lie back down on that desk! I did not tell you to move yet. You are in more trouble now. As for Dr. Hampton, he is here to make sure that you are both all right after your punishment. He will need to examine you briefly, so do as he says," commanded Sarah."Yeah, do it. Then, if she gets pregnant, we can discipline her for that!" said Sarah with an evil grin on her face. John nodded in agreement and began to thrust in and out of her slippery passage. His thrusts became quicker, and he let fly with a torrent of come to fill her right up. She began her protest again as she felt the hot jism spraying her insides, but it was all too late. "Ah, that was good. Now, we'd better clean up and go and sort the mother out. Michelle, muffdiver." And with that, her head rolled back, and she was under again. John pulled out of her pussy and grabbed her panties out of her mouth, wiping the blood off his cock on them. He instructed everyone to get cleaned up and get dressed, and then they would be off. Chapter 4 Carol Simpson was an unemployed housewife who had reached the edge of despair after her husband had left. He had said she was too controlling, she had too many stupid rules and conditions on life, but she knew that was the only way she could bring order to the chaos around her. Now that he was gone, she had only her life rules and her God to see her through. She had embraced them both firmly and knew those two no-good daughters of hers would need some strict supervision to see they grew up correctly. There would be no sin, no evil temptations allowed from now on. She had purged the house of all outside distractions; the television, radios, and music had all been removed. The girls now had time to study properly, and they would need to study a lot if they were going to succeed in this world dominated by men. Yes, she would see they were given every opportunity to proceed with her agendas for them. This doctor from the school did not seem very sympathetic, however. He seemed almost suspicious of her. Perhaps she had not explained herself well, but she had been flustered when the doctor had shown up at her doorstep with her two daughters hours earlier than they were supposed to be home from school. He said they were having some difficulties since their father had left. They should have been improving, perhaps they weren't applying themselves as much as they led her to believe. She would sort them out. "You wicked, evil girls! Here I am, slaving away to try and ensure a good future for you, and you don't even have the decency to repay me with some simple dedication to a given task. I would say a severe rethink is in order on your behalf. Perhaps there are still too many distractions here? But of course, that junk food and those candy bars! No more will you be allowed to eat that food of self-destruction." "Mum! What are you talking about? Please don't take more stuff off us. We've been studying hard; there are no distractions at all," pleaded Amanda. "This is our only problem, Doctor," she said, turning to John. "I can see it all now. She only became like this after your father left, and she was always a bit of a prude where it came to the body and sex?" "I would say that is right," said Amanda. "You wicked girl! How dare you say such things, and you have the rudeness to say them in front of me, to a stranger! You will be severely chastised for this when he leaves," yelled her mother, flying into a rage. "All right, that's enough of that, you sick harridan. Come with me," said John as he quickly lifted Carol up over his shoulder. "Which way to her bedroom, girls?" asked John. He then followed the girls up a hallway and into an old-fashioned room. In the middle of the room sat an antique four-poster bed, and around the room, many of the paintings had been taken down and left propped up against the walls on the floor. They had been replaced with assorted religious images and crucifixes. John threw her down onto the bed and jumped on to the bed himself. She quickly grabbed a metal crucifix she had laying on her bedside table and smacked him over the head with it. He responded by slapping it out of her hand and grabbing her by the back of the head to force her face to face with him. Quickly, he blinked once, and she slipped away to lay peacefully on the bed. "Girls, pussylapper, muffdiver." And as he said both of their implanted triggers, they both stopped where they were and were now both gazing off into the distance. John leant down and picked up the crucifix which she had tried to dent his skull with and turned to Carol, "You'll be sorry you did that, you bitch. All right, now stand up at the end of the bed. When I say 'arselicker,' you will be awake; however, you will not be able to control your body, and it will do anything I tell you to do, and you will not be able to do anything but watch. All right, then, arselicker. Stand still." And he watched as she woke and then stood perfectly still. "What is going on here? Why can't I move?" "I'm afraid I have better uses for your body than you seem to. I have decided to revoke your privileges to that body until I've had some fun with you. Oh, and by the way, your daughters won't help you as they are also under my control. So stand there and be quiet until I'm ready for you." And then he turned away from the now silent 40-year-old redhead and back to her daughters. "Girls, when you wake up, your mother is going to do some things for us to watch, and she wants us to play along as well. I know the rules, so do whatever I say, and you will not think anything that happens strange or unusual. Now wake up." As both girls looked around, they saw John on the end of the bed and their mother standing silently facing him. "Come and sit up here on the bed, girls. Your mum wants to give us a show," he said with a wicked grin. The two girls jumped up onto the bed and faced their mother. "All right, Carol, you can start now. We want to see you naked, so take all your clothes off one at a time and throw them all over the room. Go on." And as he said that, she sprung into action. She felt her hands moving, but she couldn't control them. They reached up and unbuttoned her blouse to reveal her bra and her medium breasts therein. She threw the blouse and then her hands went down to the waist of her skirt; they undid the button and zip, and the skirt crumpled to the floor. She kicked it away in another direction. She was now standing in her white cotton bra and panties and her slippers. She kicked the slippers away and reached behind her for the clasp on the bra, and suddenly her breasts sprang free. She slid the bra off and threw it away. Then she reached for the waistband on her panties and slid them down and pulled them off and threw them away as well. She now stood totally naked with her nipples exposed to the cold air, slowly getting harder, and her entire body covered with light goosebumps. Her red-haired pussy's opening hid in its bush nestled between the top of her thighs, and she stood with her hands at her sides, with burning hatred in her eyes. "Now come over here and let us see you closer, slut." And she walked to within arm's reach of the bed. John reached out and grabbed her tits and began to squeeze them and roll them about. Suddenly, his left hand dove down between her legs and began to brush its way through her tuft of pubic hair to her underused slit. "So tell me, bitch, when was the last time you had sex?" "That was two years ago, and I've managed to avoid him since. Now he's gone, I'm safe." "I really don't think that's going to be the case. You see, the girls here want some entertainment, and I've decided you'll give them a little anatomy lesson. How about that? All right, seeing as you don't disagree, I'll start the lesson. Now, as I call out a body part, I want you to show it to us, expose it as much as possible. Rub your fingers all over it and in if possible. Let's get started. Tits." And her hands reached up and grabbed both of her breasts, pushing them together and forwards to present them to her audience. She slowly stroked her hands around and over them and she cupped them and lifted them as John said "Nipples," and she moved her hands around to grab the nipples. She began to pull and rub them, then after that, she rolled them around under her palms until John said "Arse," causing her to turn and bend over. She spread her legs and braced herself with one hand while using the other to stroke her buttocks. She leaned further forwards, pushing her cheeks back and up at her audience. "Arsehole," he commanded, and she got down on her knees and leaned forwards to brace herself with her shoulder on the floor. She reached back with both hands and pulled her arsecheeks apart to expose her crinkly little hole. She moved one hand down and slid her middle finger in to the hilt, as John said "Pussy," so she rolled over onto her back and spread her legs as far as they would go. She slid her hands down and began to rub her lips, she slid her fingers up and down the gash to rest on her clit at the top. She continued to work and slid a finger deep inside and started to pump it in and out. She was horrified that she was doing this; she could not control her own body, and this spawn of Satan was making her do unspeakable things in front of her daughters, who he claims were also under his evil influence, and he hadn't told her to stop yet. She had forgotten how good the feelings could be. "Stop that now, come and lie on the bed and spread your legs." And she slid onto the bed between her daughters, and John sat back down on the bed at her feet. She spread her legs apart as requested, and they all had a closer look at her most private part. John reached up and gave it a bit of a rub and then said, "Your daughters want to see it properly, pull the lips open wide and give us a really good look." And she could not stop her hands from grabbing the lips and spreading them as far apart as possible. This exposed the fleshy pinkness with the slight sheen of moisture and the hidden depths below. "Now, girls, you know that children breastfeed when they are small?" asked John. "Yes, we weren't, though, because mum says that it's a trick of the devil to start corruption from birth."To get people used to exposing private parts and to have minute sexual rituals all day long. "Well, it's good that she wants to show you now, then, isn't it? Grab a breast each and start sucking on it. Suck until some milk comes out. If it doesn't, then suck harder. If it doesn't work, then bite the nipples," he said with glee, knowing full well that no milk would be coming. The two girls happily locked onto their mother's breasts and began to suck. After a minute or two, their suction began to increase, and after a further period of time, Michelle and then Amanda stopped and sunk their teeth into her nipples. They both sat up expectantly then. "Oh, well, I guess there's no milk left. I'd better show you sex then," he said as he unzipped his pants. "Now, this is a dick, and it goes into a pussy. Like this," and he slid it into their mother's pussy. They both looked on intently and happy that they were being entertained in such an interesting way. John gave a couple of thrusts and then pulled his throbbing hard cock out. "Now, I've stopped before I was finished so that you can get a better look at things. I'll show you something a little different now," and he then lay back and dragged her over on top of him. He then slid his cock up into her arsehole. She felt it go in, and it was even worse than in her pussy. But he had something more humiliating in store yet. "Hand me that crucifix, Michelle," and Michelle reached over and passed the metal crucifix to him. He took it and gave it to Carol. "Carol dear, here's a nice big dildo for you, I want you to fuck yourself to orgasm with it," and she moved it down and slid it all the way in and began to pump it in and out. "Well, girls, as you can see, that's what my dick was doing, and now it's in her arse. Wait a minute, and I'll show you the finish," he began to increase the rate of his thrusts and with a grunt pulled his cock out and spurted come up all over her cunt hair and her hand. "Now, that's what happens when a man finishes, and when a woman finishes, this is what happens," said John, noticing that Carol was on the brink of orgasm. She started to moan even more and thrashing her head from side to side led to writhing about on the bed and then release. "If you look down in her cunt now, you'll see that she's very wet. That's what happens to women. Now, Carol, go and stand at the end of the bed. Arselicker," and as she lapsed back into her trance, he continued, "Now, you will only remember this as being a good experience. Lighten up and try and go back to the way you were before all the rules and conditions, ease up on the overzealous religion and go buy yourself a dildo. Give yourself an orgasm at least once a day, but more if you want to. This will help you relax. Girls, Cuntlapper, Muffdiver. Now, you will only remember having a play with your mum, but I was not here, I dropped you off and left. You will help your mum out and meet her needs if she requests you to. You will wait ten minutes and then you will get cleaned up and dressed and then continue on as normal from now," and John zipped his trousers up, walked down the corridor and out of the house.

M/F, NC, MC, GYN, HYP

Chapters 1-4

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8923.txt

Jörgen Karlsson

Jungle Ecstasy

"JUNGLE ECSTASY" CHAPTER 1 Loukee woke up before her husband and their children. It was still way before dawn. The moon shone bright and clear. She went out of the hut and faced the moon, filling her lungs with fresh nightly air. From the jungle surrounding the little village, she could hear screams from small animals, falling prey to some of the night's quiet hunters. The only thing covering Loukee's body was a small piece of soft skin, hanging from her hips. Her full breasts heaved slowly as she breathed. She was still a very beautiful woman, despite the fact that she had given birth to six children, of whom three were now fully grown. The light-brown skin was still smooth, the body mature but at the same time firm and pretty. Some grey hair and a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth didn't stop the boys or men from admiring her at a distance. She knew it, and was proud of it. Her husband, Mannee, still desired her. Every night when she wasn't restrained, he came to her, warm and powerful. He knew how to satisfy a woman, and he took his time. Mannee excited her with his mouth, almost driving her crazy with that rough tongue, then he mounted her, manly and without any mercy. Sometimes the kids heard them, and giggled quietly in the dark, bemused by their mother's panting, that they couldn't understand. Loukee grabbed a knife and went over to one of the bamboo-cages. Without making any sound, she opened the door to the cage and gripped the fattest hen. She held it firmly around the thin neck and closed the door without waking up the others. With softly swinging hips, she went down to the river. At the riverbank, she squatted and severed the terrified bird's head from its body. The blood pumped out of the slit throat and stained the ground by her feet. She hummed while plucking the hen. Afterwards, she washed her hands in the cold river water. Even though she had not heard a single sound, she could feel his presence. Loukee pretended not to notice and continued washing her arms and her face. Excited by the quiet game, she undressed and stepped into the stream. With spread legs, luring and tempting, she started washing her groin. Thoroughly, she cleaned her ass and her sex. She did it without any hurry, just to tease him even more. She caressed herself between the thighs for a short while, then she turned around and faced him. Mannee was standing naked on the bank. His face had a bestial expression. The long, thick cock pointed to the moon, bent like a giant banana, with the swelling and bare head shining in the moonlight. They didn't speak. Loukee approached him, with her eyes resting on his manhood. She knelt and kissed it. He let her lick and kiss it for a while. Her pink tongue ran up and down the thick shaft. She tickled the head with quick movements with the tip of the tongue and squeezed his large balls. He knew from her smile that she enjoyed making him wait. The saliva made his swollen fruit shimmer in the bright moonlight. It ran down the cock in small streams and fell dripping to the ground. Mannee groaned and led himself into her warm and wet mouth. Loukee didn't object. The raw, masculine flavor aroused her. She swallowed him, like a snake swallows a mouse. Inch by inch, the gigantic penis worked its way into her gap. Mannee shivered as he vanished down her throat. Her teeth scraped him lightly and increased the sensual pleasure. When her lips had worked their way all the way in to his groin, he thought to himself that his fruit must be very close to her heart. She sucked with the mouth, with the throat, and Mannee could swear that she sucked with the whole of her body. When he could not hold himself back any longer, he pulled his slippery cock out of her mouth, her throat, out of the inside of her body, slowly... very slowly. He laid her down and pinned her to the ground, to the moisture. Mannee penetrated his woman and started fucking her with slow and strong movements. She welcomed him with a delighted sigh. The thick manhood pierced her moistening red rose continuously. When it was time to pull out, Loukee threw her legs around his hips and whispered: "Let it come, beloved..." And they came together, Loukee panting, Mannee quietly groaning. The warm sperm filled her pulsating cunt, and she spoke his name with a trembling voice. They laid there for a long time, caressing each other, as the sun rose on the sky. They heard the voices and sounds from the drowsy village in a distance. Loukee and Mannee got up. She picked up the dead hen. It was time to cook breakfast. CHAPTER 2 Hee held her breath, placed an arrow in her bow and waited. A flock of pigs, four grown and three babies, closed in on the watercourse. She smiled to herself. "Uncautious pigs", she thought. Like shooting at a tied down prey. "If only my older sisters were here... Then we could kill two of the big, fat pigs, and have food for a long time." On her own, she would only be able to drag one of the babies home. She estimated the distance to twenty-five steps, with a light contrary wind, and released the arrow. It was a careless shot. The arrow hit too high, just below the backbone. The little pig fell screaming and deadly wounded to the ground. Hee rose and started yelling. The other pigs fled in panic into the thick vegetation. She ran down to the stricken prey, that laid on the side with the blood pumping out of the wound, kicking wildly in despair and pain. She untied her small leather clothing, to prevent it from getting bloody, threw it away, and sat down naked on the little pig. With practiced skill, she jerked the arrow out of its flesh and let it fall to the ground. The weight of her body almost choked her prey, that struggled for its life. The sensation of the fighting body, with its rough skin rubbing against her cunt, sent hot and sexy waves through her young and slender body. She sat like that until the giant wave came, and rinsed away the tension that the long hunting trip had built up. After the orgasm had faded, she killed the pig by burying her knife into its heart. For a long, long while, she laid on her back in the grass, watching the sky, satisfied and happy. Then she went down to the water. The dry blood was all over her body. The hair between her legs were fluffy and looked a bit thicker now, she thought. Soon she would be a real woman. During the period since the last monsoon, her body had changed in many ways. Her sex had matured, from a childish-looking pussy to a grown woman's cunt. Her tits had grown into a pair of delicious-looking mango fruits. Her older sisters had stopped teasing her about what they used to call "two mosquito-bites between the shoulders". She let the cold, fresh water clean her skin, and washed herself between the legs. Her mother kept telling her that no man would want to make love to a woman who tastes and smells bad "down there". Hee tried to imagine what it would be like, if a man tasted her sex. Sure, she and her girl friends had played and satisfied each other plenty of times, and she had been tasted before. But it had to be a lot different with a strong, indomitable young man. She was sure about that.

1-2

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10253.txt

Adrian Hunter

A Turn Of The Page

"And as you can see in this chart, our yield requirements exceed industry standards by a significant percentage..." They aren't listening to me, Vivian decided. They're staring at my legs. Christ, I would, too, if I saw someone wearing a skirt this short. No, they're scoping out my tits. That one on the left can't believe he might actually be seeing nipple rings under my shirt. And the fat guy in the back is trying to decide if I'm wearing thigh-highs or a garter belt. Fuck Kit anyway. Well, at least they're going to agree to my lowball offer. Hell, they'll probably throw in a dedicated CSR, 120-day credit terms and same-hour delivery. And then they'll fight like starving sharks to be my account manager. Vivian clicked mechanically through her Powerpoint presentation, numbly reciting her company's supplier demands with all the enthusiasm of a Catholic sixth-grader declining Latin verbs. Watch the arm movements, she reminded herself. This stupid jacket doesn't close all the way, and the last thing you want to do is give them a clear shot at your chest, the details of which were embarrassingly obvious through the ribbed white fabric of this too-tight turtleneck. Just get through it, she kept telling herself. Answer their questions with monosyllables. Stare back. Intimidate with extreme prejudice. Crucify their little fantasies. Make their balls wither away in well-deserved fear. Well deserved. That about sums it up. Especially after what she did to Kit. She really didn't want to go to his high-school reunion, but she certainly wasn't going to let him run free amidst a bonfire of former flames. And she did like the way the bent metal tube of the chastity thingie made his crotch bulge. Especially in those stiff new Levi 501s she bought him for the occasion. They must have felt like sandpaper without underwear. Three days. Oh, he wasn't pleased at all. But it had been her turn. And now, the chickens...no, make that the cocks...had come home to roost. Trust him to find a way to make her crotch bulge, too. Vivian came to a discussion slide, and gratefully plopped down into the nearest chair in what passed for a conference room in this factory time forgot that would make even Dickens cringe. He's way overdue for a message, she thought as the crack/cracker management team did their collective best to roll their tongues back into their Pabst-poisoned mouths. No sooner had this thought crossed her mind when the SkyWriter erupted between her legs. "We require a Unix-based client to run our just-in-time or...oh..." "Are you OK, ma'am?" 7-8-9-10...Vivian waited for the buzzing to subside. Exhale. "Yes, I'm fine, thanks." Less than a minute to go before the next alert. Better get moving... "Gentlemen, will you excuse me for a moment? I need to..." She picked up her purse and stormed out the door before they could respond. What, like they were going to say no? They would give each other blowjobs if she so much as raised an eyebrow at them. Vivian practically trotted down the hall to the ladies room, her heavy bag banging against her black-stockinged thigh. They probably haven't cleaned this pit since Carter lost to Reagan. She jerked open the door to the first toilet, turned and fiddled with the lock until the bar finally passed through the hasp, then sat down on the open seat and hiked up the navy-blue dishrag that was passing for her skirt today. The pager was vibrating its annoying reminder for the third time when she finally pulled it out of the special pocket sewn into the front panel of her trashy new black-lace panties. Yes, yes, you bastard, I'm here, she fumed as she manipulated the cyclops control pad to read the latest message from her so-called lover. "OPEN THE PACKAGE I ASKED YOU TO PUT IN YOUR PURSE. INSERT IN BACK." Oh, lord, no...she reached into her bag and pulled out the gaily gift-wrapped box. She had had a bad feeling about this one all day long. Sure enough, a butt plug, a good four inches long and made of that slimy gel plastic. Translucent green. Charming. At least the prick was kind enough, or perhaps cruel enough, to have included a tiny tube of lubricant. She forced herself to proceed as instructed. Might as well get this over with. After all, it's only going to get worse. She used up the entire contents greasing the sides of the sickly-colored probe, then stood up, positioned its tip, grimaced, and pushed it past her protesting anus into her rectum until its base was flush with her smooth cheeks. A dull gray fog tinged the corners of her vision. God, that's...that's...full. Her breaths were coming ragged, fast and hoarse. Get a grip, Viv. You've got a show to finish. She selected "reply," "OK" and "send" on the pager. Last thing she was going to do was give Kit the satisfaction of a custom response. Better get cleaned up before they send a search party. She hiked up her panties, jammed the pager back into its pocket, tugged down her miniskirt and flushed for effect. I can do this, she told herself again and again and again until she almost believed it. She exited the stall and checked herself in the mirror. Flushed. Hell, she looked like she was in heat. She caught a glimpse of the silhouette of her breasts behind her jacket. Yep, those are nipple rings, alrighty. Probably the first time these slowbots have ever seen 'em. They were the day's second buzzbomb from Kit. He had made her pull off the road en route to the factory to put them on. Right there on the interstate. Luckily, nobody was feeling Samaritan enough to stop to "help" her this morning. The rings weren't the real deal, thank god, but close enough; she had practically needed pliers to pull the ends of the shiny gold hoops apart so she could position them realistically around her tips. The squeezing had been unbearable at first, worse than clamps, but now she barely noticed them, except of course when she did something silly like move her body. Jesus. If she skipped the part about her company's endless quality assurance obsession, she just might get out of here alive. Oh, Kit is going to regret this for many years to come. Then again, that's exactly what he was thinking in California every time he had sit down to pee. She stifled a giggle. They were such a pair. Back in the conference room, she caught her quarry in the midst of what was either a group deathbed confession or the makings of a very serious-stakes betting pool. Guess again, chawbrains. This meat's taken, thank you very much. She began regurgitating her spiel, doing her living best to keep the cutest parts of her body at least partly concealed behind the "business suit" Kit had chosen for her that day. He must have bribed the staff at Euphoria to open so early. When she received that first page with the address of the city's finest gutterflash emporium, she figured it was some kind of snipe hunt. But no, they were waiting for her. "Oh, madamoiselle, we have just the thing for you today." Yeah, right. So what happened to the clothes I was wearing when I came in? Not to mention my flat shoes? And how had Kit known to page her at the exact moment she was planning to erupt in a scene that would make Faye Dunaway in "Mommie Dearest" look like a newborn mouse in the ferocity sweepstakes? "KEEP NOTHING BUT THE PANTIES AND THE PAGER." She'd seen the two-way unit before. Kit had been using a beta model since last summer to send and receive wireless email as well as the usual phone numbers and Esperanto text messages from his office. He could be anywhere...across town, across the country, right behind her...and his notes would arrive seconds after he sent them. The note in the box on her doorstep had said to not touch any of the settings. Obviously, he had programmed the damn thing to vibrate when it received a message, and it had some kind of repeater function that kicked in if she didn't read what he sent right away. The box had also contained smaller packages for the faux nipple rings and the plug. And that was it, until she got to Euphoria. OK, my tits are on fire, my ass feels like it's a duffel bag for a baseball bat, and these five guys are going to have extremely vivid and debasing dreams about me for the rest of their lives, especially because I hear myself giving them my company's business without much of a tussle just so I can haul out of here yesterday. And where might you be going, Vivian? Good question. As she was shaking the hand of the plant's general manager, the pager sang its happy song again in her crotch.Once he established she wasn't wearing a device on her hip, he gave her a look that combined equal parts mental retardation and Larry Flynt. Kit. Must. Die. "HOPE THE MEETING WAS A HUM-DINGER," she read once she got into her car. "HEAD EAST ON THE INTERSTATE." Right away, sir. She left at least a pound of rubber from each tire in the gravel of the parking lot as she peeled away in a manner that would give Shirley Muldowney pause for concern. East. That gives him up to 3,000 miles to mess with her mind. And her mound. Before she knew it, she caught herself doing 85 as she weaved around tractor trailers as if they were pylons. Hey, what's the rush, sister? He knows where you're going, so sit back and try to enjoy the ride. Sure, don't pay that li'l ol' pager in your panties no nevermind t'all. It'll say howdy soon enough. An hour later, Vivian decided she was having an aneurysm blowout in slow motion, every heartbeat paused breathlessly in anticipation of the inevitable. Tori Amos yodeled something about Christ and coming through the car's rear speakers. Funny. She didn't remember having the "Little Earthquakes" tape in the car recently. Oh. Duh. Ha ha. Bzzzzzrrrrrrr. FUCK! Vivian almost swerved into the railing. The second she had stopped thinking about it... She merged right and reached between her legs. Hope moisture doesn't affect this little bugger's performance. "GET OFF AT THE TRUCK STOP AFTER THE NEXT EXIT. I'D EAT A HEARTY LUNCH IF I WERE YOU. BE SURE TO SIT AT THE COUNTER." Vivian's shoulders sagged. Oh well, she was definitely starving. And where better to load up on carbs and animal flesh? The tilt-cab cowboys in the main restaurant didn't bother with even the modicum of restraint the factory droids had mustered in her presence. Did men still really wolf whistle? Apparently, not to mention repeatedly. She tried hard to not inhale her food, but it wasn't easy to properly masticate when more than 100 pairs of Ray Bans were glued to her aching butt. Then the SkyWriter thrummed industriously against her pussy, and she figured she didn't really need a slice of pie for dessert anyway. She wiped her mouth, swiveled and burned a hole through the forehead of some land whale who was getting up from a booth with much snickering encouragement from his buddies. Leaving a twenty on the counter, she blew into the parking lot like a hollowpoint coming out of a Luger. Open car door. Sit. Close door. Extricate pager. Push button once, twice, and... "YOU LOOK LIKE YOU NEED A COLD SHOWER. LUCKY FOR YOU, THIS FINE ESTABLISHMENT HAS PUBLIC FACILITIES. LEAVE THE RINGS AND PLUG IN PLACE." "No fucking way." She stared at the tiny display screen and fumed. If he thinks I'm going to expose myself to a bunch of flabby, dain-bramaged diesel dipshits...no, they've got to have a separate bathroom for women. After all, where else would the hookers clean up? She sighed extravagantly and pressed the necessary sequence to respond. And they probably won't have my kind of shampoo to boot. As it turned out, Vivian was glad to have a clean towel. Thankfully, she was the only patron, and the cashier seemed accustomed to slutty-looking women in need of a quick cleansing in the middle of the day. She couldn't help flashing back to gym class as she stood naked on the grungy white tile as a trickle of lukewarm spit splashed listlessly against her limbs. When she figured she was covered with more water than sweat, she hurriedly put back on her Barbie clothes. As she was pulling up the hateful panties, she felt a short buzz. He must have sent another message while she was still in the shower. He's losing his touch, she smiled as she called it up on the LCD. "FIND LOCKER #244. COMBINATION 13-6-22. K." Speaking of high school...Vivian wandered down the open hallway alongside the shower building until she found the metal door in question. Right, left, right, click. The truck-stop motel key dangled like a noose from the metal hook in the locker's ceiling. She found herself singing "we're off to see the wizard" under her breath as she searched for the room in question. All the way in the back. Figures. Would he be waiting for her inside? No, that would be letting her off much too easily. She turned the lock and opened the door. Pretty standard fleabag furnishings. Nice Formica kitchenette set. What's that ladder doing against the wall though? It took a moment to register the handcuffs tied to the top rung and the leather cuffs attached to the rails near the floor. And then she saw the camcorder mounted on a tripod. Pointed right at the ladder. Running. "Mark my words, Kit. I'm going to..." Hey, that's me on the TV set... Hello, chirped the pager. Vivian purposely strode out of the viewfinder's range to retrieve his latest missive. "REMOVE YOUR SKIRT, JACKET AND TURTLENECK. PUT ON WHAT'S IN THE BEDSIDE TABLE. CUFF YOUR ANKLES, REPLY TO ME, THEN CUFF YOUR WRISTS." At first, she was surprised to see the polished stones gleaming like oversized marbles in the drawer, until she noticed they were topped with bell caps and hooks that were obviously supposed to loop around her nipple rings. And naturally, she also found a no-win ball gag with straps for under her chin, across her cheeks and around her forehead as well as a thick one with a padlocked clasp for behind her head. Bzzzzzrrrrrrr. SHIT! Now what? "HANG THE SIGN ASKING FOR MAID SERVICE ON THE DOORKNOB." Vivian shuddered. First thing he'd see when he got to the room. And she would be spread against the wall in prime condition for disobedience rectification. She hefted the weight rocks and guided them to her pinioned pink knobs. Not awful, she decided. Yet. The gag took a minute to decipher, untangle and position over her hair. She hesitated before snapping the lock shut. No return from here on out. Like there was an escape hatch before? For you, Kit. Click. Vivian immediately regretted not hanging the sign on the door first. She slipped it open just far enough to stick her hand out, relieved to not find the housemaid poised to knock. With luck, Consuela is turning tricks in a sleeper cab. Or that ratfink will show up first. How long is that tape in the camcorder anyway? Two hours? Four? Christ, six? She didn't dare stop it to check. Pretty obvious evidence. Speaking of which, she'd better get into position as instructed. The wooden ladder was leaning against the wall at a slight angle. Vivian lay back against it. Tolerable. She stared at her image on the TV screen. The heels, stockings and garter belt...definitely over the top. She hated to admit that she looked pretty hot in the panties though. And it was very strange to see herself gagged and pseudo-pierced. On with the show... On closer inspection, she realized the ankle cuffs weren't tied to the rails. No, they were bolted. And more padlocks for the hasps. The handcuffs were also permanently to the top rung installed via an eyelet bolt and a lock through the center link. She bent over to secure her feet, then reached up and snapped a cuff around one wrist. Oh shit, I'm supposed to reply. With her free hand, she reached between her legs and worked the pager control pad with her thumb. There you go. Supper's ready, dear. Vivian put the black box back into its pocket, took a deep breath through her nose, and completed her self-imprisonment. She felt her body tense, especially in her still-plugged bottom. Her chest trembled from the combination of a pounding heart and chugging lungs. She strained to listen for the slightest noise in the hallway, her eyes jumping from the door to the TV screen with herself starring in what looked like a halfway-decent bondage vidcap. When the pager went off, she instinctively tried to reach for it, and almost fell over. Oh, that's...that's... Not going to stop until he gets here. The first reminder came a minute later. Then another long blast, followed rapidly by a third. He's sending multiple messages, she realized. He could send dozens...hundreds... She trembled involuntarily and pushed her groin out in a futile effort to dislodge the machine from its frilly holster. Reality dawned on her with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Oh, lord. He's going to use the damn thing to make me come. Slowly. Randomly. Eventually. And he's going to see every minute of it. And so am I.

bd, cons, mdom, wireless

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14087.txt

Ms. Christine

Corporate Backlash - The Corporation - Part Six

"You know what would make it feel really better?" she said and told him without waiting for his response, "If you would kiss it, I know it would feel so much better." As she said this, her other foot moved to his crotch, where she was not at all surprised to find he was rock hard. Jack was lost. She was stimulating him again with her other foot. He had to keep control this time. To have the same thing happen again would be more than embarrassing, it would be humiliating. Perhaps kissing her ankle a couple of times would help him to concentrate. He tried it, and it seemed to work for all of two seconds. For as he kissed, he realized that her hand was moving up her thighs slowly, heading for that little black vee. She slipped her hand under the silk casing and started to moan gently as she stimulated herself. At the same time, she removed her foot from his crotch. He was now so excited that he just held her other foot in one hand and started to undo his flies with the other. He slipped his throbbing prick out and began rubbing it vigorously. Her moans grew louder as she began to reach a climax. He occasionally caught a glimpse of her wet, shiny fingers as she pleasured herself towards orgasm. When she came, she let out a moan of pure pleasure and relaxed back into the sofa. She looked down on him as he pumped his hand up and down, his eyes still fixed in a stare at the view up her skirt. Then he spurted, and spurted. "Oh dear," said Alice, "We seem to have made a mess again, don't we?" Then she got up, straightened her clothes, and walked towards the door, picking up her handbag as she went. "I'll leave you to get straight," she said, "I'll be just outside when you are ready to do some work." "DAMN!" Jack felt like a fool again. There he was kneeling on his office floor with his dick flapping in the wind and worse, this time he had 'come' on the outside of his suit pants where everyone would be able to see it. At the very least, he was going to have a very conspicuous damp patch until it dried. He tried to remember if he had any meetings scheduled for this morning. He didn't think so, and he was not about to ask the siren from hell. He went to his bathroom and cleaned himself up as best he could. When he had regained his composure, he decided Alice would have to go. He would not be able to get away with sacking her so soon after Ellen. The personnel department might start wondering what was going on, and he did not really want them sniffing around his department. One of the other bitches might just open their mouths. No, the best way to handle it was to give her some time off. He buzzed Alice on the intercom and, before she could say anything, he told her to take the rest of the day off. He heard the tinny voice of the oh-so-sexy Alice say, "O.K. Mr. Conrad, if you are sure, thanks." With that done, he worked happily for the rest of the morning to catch up. He wanted a clear slate for the afternoon so that he could regain his self-esteem with one of the other 'sluts' in the office. He would decide who later.

Part Six

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16014.txt

Carol Brazil vs The Rape Gang

"Hello Tommy, I came to give you something." Tommy Davidson was in heaven. His dream girl had actually come to see him. It was worth it that his mother interrupted his morning jackoff session. He had been jacking off to an imaginary Carol anyway. "Hi C..Carol. You really came by here to see me? I mean..." He froze as he took in the sight of the little gymnast. The little honey had her hair done in pigtails that drooped down over her pert breasts that seem to be growing all the time. As per regulation, she wore the school uniform of a white blouse and a plaid skirt that came well above the knee. Below she wore short white socks that came just above the ankle and, strictly against school regulation, shiny black patent leather shoes with a single black strap. His eyes were fixed on her muscular legs. Her skin was now freshly showered and scrubbed, hiding away her previous night's lewd indiscretions. Carol herself felt exhausted, but with the resilience of youth appeared bright, fresh and sexually overpowering to any male within sight. Tommy just stared dully until his mother's voice startled him. "Tommy, tell Carol she can breakfast with you. I have to leave for work now, okay?" His mother ruffled his hair and smiled at Carol. "Carol, here is the money I owe for babysitting Tommy. I know it must be a little awkward, but I just feel better if there is someone here I can trust." The little honey smiled. "That's okay, I was going to drop by to give Tommy some photos for my fan club anyway. It never hurts to start grass roots for an Olympic bid. Politics, you know." Mrs. Davidson nodded and waved as she closed the door. The instant she did, Carol turned to Tommy. "Tommy, are we alone?" Tommy shrugged, "Yeah, Dad's at work already. Can I see the photos?" She handed him the photos, delighting in the way he gushed over each one. She waited a second and making sure her voice was soft as a whisper, she spoke to him. "Tommy, you remember how you jack off to my legs?" He dropped the photos and nodded. "Y...Yeah." She moved closer to him, pressing her ripe young breasts against his arm. "And you'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?" Tommy smiled. "Aw Carol, you know I would." "Good. I need two things from you. One, I'll tell you in a second. The other I need right now." Tommy piped up, "You know it Carol! Whatever you want." The little honey looked up slightly at him. Even though she was six months older, like everyone else he towered over her. She knew now, after a night with Bubba Larren, that the false sense of superiority it gave each guy when they spoke to her would always work to her advantage when dealing with men. "It's kinda...well...it's a huge secret. You promise not to tell?" The young teen couldn't believe his luck. He thought she really just tolerated him and now she was treating him like an equal. "YES!!" "Well, my boyfriend, Bubba..." "MANCHILD!" Carol grinned to herself. "Yes Manchild, has been fucking the living shit out of me..." She glanced down and saw that his pants had a definite lump. She continued. "...And like, he is really really huge down there." "Bigger than me?" Carol bit her lip. "Tommy, he is over twice as long as you." "But not as thick as me. I'm plenty thick!" Carol sighed. "Uhm, well, yeah he's over twice as thick as yours. The shaft part is thicker than my wrist. Thicker than yours." She glanced down again and saw that the lump was so obvious it must be painful. She didn't understand about why it would turn him on, but all the better for her plan. "Tommy, he really worked me over. He made me suck him off, cumming so much I passed out as it came from my nostrils. Can you imagine that? His thick white sperm flowing from my tiny nose?" "Jeezus!" She kept his arm trapped between her breasts, while her hand balled the youthful penile lump in front of his pants. She kept squeezing him, enjoying the feel of his dick in her hand. Suddenly, she jerked her hand away. "Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this. If you tell your buddies..." "NO NO NO! I wouldn't tell! Keep going!" "Well, thanks, I knew I could trust you. Well, first he took these awful photos of him cumming all over my face. But he is my guy, I gotta do whatever he tells me. Next, like I said, he made me suck him off, then he leaned me over a few pillows, propped up my ass and fucked me like a dog. It was so degrading. But he didn't stop there, he made me suck him hard. JEEZ! He was always doing that. Forcing me to suck him hard so he could fuck me again. Then he leaned me over again, greased up my ass, held me down and sodomized me!" "GEEEEEEEZ!" "...And on top of everything else, he videotaped the whole thing! I mean, what if the video gets stolen? I'm supposed to be a good girl, but I have to do what he says, don't I?" Tommy, already overwhelmed, just shook his head so she would keep going. "So now that you know the truth, will you help me? Please?" The boy could feel cum welling up in his balls, ready to burst at any moment. "Sure, Carol, whatever you say. What do you want me to do?" In one moment, he was ready to do her bidding, whatever it might be. In the next, he envisioned her huge football player of a boyfriend grinding him into the dirt like a bad cigarette. For Carol, it had happened again. She had actually meant to work on his adoration and awe of having his own star ask him for a favor. But once Carol got rolling, her lewd confession of teenage nymphomania took control and clouded her mind once more. She resumed feeling his cock through his pants. "Tommy, he is so big, that my pussy will become loose. If I suck you hard, will you please fuck me so that my pussy will stay nice and tight for him?" The young lad was shocked, but not so shocked that he didn't nod his head up and down in affirmation. He couldn't believe it when his teen idol dropped to her knees in front of him and reached for his zipper. The little gymnast yanked on his zipper, stopping for a second. "Gee, Tommy, you're so hard! It's like you are ready to burst right now! You won't cum all over my face like he did to me, will you?" Davidson shook all over. "N..no!" Carol smiled and forced the zipper down. "Good. Bubba cums all over my face and then makes me suck him hard so he can fuck me for a good long, long time." She looked straight ahead at the white cottoned bulge before her gorgeous face. "Geez Tommy, it looks like you've gotten bigger. I hope it hasn't become too big for me." With that, she hooked her thumbs on his white briefs and tugged them down till they were bunched up at his ankles. Her large green eyes caught sight of the stiff prick. "OOoooOOoooH Tommy!" "What Carol? What is it?" The sight of his cock bobbing inches from her face had him ready to blow right then. When his little dream girl let out the audible moan, he could tell he might not be able to keep his word. "I'm sure of it now. Your dick IS bigger than last time. You have the makings of a real monster here. Try not to choke me, okay?" Carol could see the confidence on the boy's face. Her plan was working exactly as expected. By the time she was finished, she was sure the lad would do whatever she asked. She watched him nod his head, and then leaned her own face forward. She jacked his prick a couple of times and tilted her head. 'Hmm, maybe the damned thing had gotten bigger.' Two strokes of her soft hand was all it took. Immediately, the teen yelped once and let loose a stream of white jism that shot across her cheek, staining her smooth tanned skin and pooling on one of her pigtails. She managed to clamp down her small mouth over the boy's knob, catching the rest of his tangy offering. The little wonder-suck handled his load easily, but she had to admit 'the little bastard sure does come a lot!' Tommy watched her head bob a couple of times and smiled a bit as he watched her swallow repeatedly. Carol didn't miss a drop, but didn't wipe off the small streak of sperm across her cheek or the small droplets at the corners of her mouth. Carol could feel the cock subside in her mouth till it became a small wet noodle. She spat it out with disdain, wiping her chin. "TOMMY!""You were supposed to fuck me!" Davidson felt like crying. "I'm...I'm sorry!" "Little bastard, I barely got in a few sucks! This was your one shot, and you blew it! Wimp!" Carol Brazil, always quick to anger, was truly pissed. She really did want the young teen to hump her. Brandi, her resident sex expert, had told her that doing just such a thing would keep her pussy tight. Carol, with no experience, was following her every word. The boy was beside himself. Carol, still on her knees before him, looked as if she would kill with just her looks. "Dammit! I knew I just couldn't count on you! Look at this mess! You even got sperm on my pigtail! I can only count on Bubba." Looking down at the little girl, the teenager noticed something that he hadn't counted on. Carol Brazil, like all beautiful women, was even more enticing, more sexy to him, when she was mad; and right now, the little beauty was furious. Tommy could feel his dick becoming larger again at the sight of his wet dream with her cheek streaked by his white liquid offering. Even while becoming turned on, his own temper was rising the whole time. "Quit yelling at me." He could see Carol getting up, and in own anger, put his hand on her forehead to keep her on her knees. "You little twerp! Let me up! Let go!" Under normal circumstances, Carol knew that even though she was smaller and lighter than the teen, she also knew that she was rock solid muscle and should be able to overpower a slightly larger boy. However, standing in this position, the teen had more leverage than she did and kept her on her knees. "No! Suck me hard like you do with Bubba!" His hand slipped behind the nape of her neck, and with all of his might, he forced her head forward. As he forced her head forward, the little girl felt her crotch start to tingle. She wanted to fight, but the feeling of the stiff prick rubbing against her cheek was making her crazy. She could feel her resolve slipping. 'Oh no!' she thought, just the sight of boy meat was making her horny as hell! If she couldn't fight off the weak attack of one boy just a little bigger than herself, what was she going to do when she confronted with Alphonse Jones and his rape gang? Above her, the high-pitched voice of Tommy Davidson piped down at her as he tangled his hand in her thick black hair. "C'mon, do it! Just suck me a little!" He tugged at her hair, trying to force her forward. The moment he tugged at her hair, Carol's crotch spit more juices, and her mouth automatically opened as she turned her head slightly and captured the boy's hardness into her mouth. Unable to contain herself, she let out a moan and began to slowly bob her head back and forth. "Mmmmph!" Tommy could already feel the blast rushing to explode in her mouth. But just having cum only moments before, he found he was able to fight it back. He kept one hand on her head, pulling her hair slightly to set the rhythm. "Ahhh! That's it! Just keep doing it like that! Damn, you like sucking dick, don't you?" Carol shot him another angry look, but still nodded her head as she moved her small tongue back and forth. The little cocksucker knew he was right; her blood was too hot, and she wished that he was bigger so she could feel that slight choking in her throat as she forced down a really big slab of beef. As it was, when he pulled on her hair again, she relaxed her throat muscles and took his entire length to the hilt, burying her nose in the boy's wiry pubic hairs. The young boy could feel his dick harden at the nasty look she gave him. He decided to press forward. "Right now, I bet you'd like to squeeze my nuts. Do it! Squeeze them gently and make my dick pulse in your mouth." The teen beauty raised her head, taking a couple of breaths. "You little bastard, Bubba is going to beat the shit out of you!" Even though Carol didn't want to do it, she couldn't help herself. Her small hand shot out and squeezed his scrotum gently; she moaned to herself as she could feel the head grow slightly with each squeeze. In spite of herself, she took her hand, wrapped it around his teenage dick, and started working the youth over, sucking and jacking for all she was worth. Tommy twisted his head to and fro, trying not to climax in her mouth again. He tried to lift her head, but she was having none of it. She took one hand and forced him to fuck her little face. Finally, almost smacking the girl with his hand, he pushed her onto her back, watching as her skirt raised itself above her waist. He saw the thin white cotton panties and saw the wet spot poised at her small teenage slit and lunged on top of her, keeping the leverage so she couldn't get up. Carol knew what was about to happen. Even though it was what she wanted when she had come there. She wanted to be in control, not have this kid, this teen she babysat, raping her. But as she felt her panties being pulled, she lifted her hips and allowed the young teen to slip them off. He used both hands to try and force her knees apart, but Carol, with muscles from years of gymnastics, kept them shut. The contest went on for a few moments until Tommy could feel her strength lessening as surely but slowly he spread her legs. Carol felt exhausted. She knew she should be able to fight him off, but she had no rest, and her crotch was betraying her. Giving in, she quit struggling and laid there before him. Thighs spread, knees hiked to her waist, waiting to be fucked. Tommy didn't waste any time. He leaned forward and snapped his hips forward, hitting the mark on his first thrust! "Ahh! Yes, I knew your pussy would be too good." When his cockknob lodged in her opening, she began to lose control, arching her hips until only her head and ass remained on the living room floor. "Uhn! No, Tommy, no! You're raping me! Stop!" The young teen was too lust-crazed to listen. He continued forward, packing his teenage manhood to the hilt inside of the little gymnast. For a second, it was just like she thought it would be. Loose. "Geez! You're so loose, I can't feel you." Carol smirked back up at him, shaking a bit as she felt him pull back. "That's because I was fucked by a man, not a little kid." "You fucking bitch!" Davidson pulled back and got a shock. Her small cunt clamped down on the invading penis and began to milk him of its accord, sending spasms up and down his spine. Carol, born with the easy twat of an easy slut, felt it too. She went from not being able to feel him at all to feeling like she was stuffed. Now, angered by her acid words, he slammed back into her with all of his might. "I can so! I can fuck like him! I'll make you scream, you little bitch!" The shock hit her like a tidal wave. Now her twat back to its normal diminutive size, it felt like he had a ten-incher down there. Carol realized that with her pussy adjusting to the size of the prick nailing her, Little Tommy Davidson would have no trouble fucking the hell out of her. She winced as the boy's jabs and thrusts became more forceful. "Tommy, Tommy, stop! You're hurting me!" Tommy pumped her again. "Hurting you? Why? Is my dick big now?" Carol could feel her ass being rubbed raw as Tommy delivered stroke after stroke. Her voice came out like she was stuttering as the teen continued hammering her. "Y-Yes, it's...it's big!" Tommy felt in complete control now. "Good! Tell me to fuck you now! Tell me to fuck you with my big dick!" It was happening as always. The feelings totally overwhelmed her, and took control of her body. Carol was moaning and whining as the fucking continued. "Uhn uhn uhn, fuck me! Fuck me good with your big dick!" The vicious rape continued as Tommy enjoyed every jerk and twitch of the little gymnast's body. "Again! Tell me it's too big!" The tiny girl whimpered as his forceful words sent thrills through her nubile form. "<whimper> It's...it's too big! It's too big!" Without even thinking about it, Carol lifted her legs so the youth would have better access to her mini-cunt. Feeling the cock work its magic inside of her shrunken cunny, her patent leather shoes danced in the air as she obeyed the young boy, fucking her and fucking her good! Tommy continued the banter while delivering. "Damn, you have a lucky boyfriend. I'll flip you over and come all over your face just like he does." Hearing the boy's graphic, lewd plans and the ruthless thrusting was all it took to send her over the edge. Carol's orgasm ripped through her, making her shake and vibrate. "Uuuuhn! Stop, please! I...I..." She never finished her sentence, babbling incoherently as she wriggled and shook as if she were undergoing electric shock. Tommy had never seen anything like it. His little dream girl was shaking and purring at the same time. Combined with her milking twat and incredible looks, he never had a chance to flip her over. The super-tingle shock of his own climax took over as he rammed his prick to the hilt, emptying his load into Carol. Each time he came, Carol would feel it, and it would make her legs and feet twitch in the air. All too soon, she felt the final weak spurts into her small cunt and felt his prick slip out of her well-fucked cunt. She wanted more. She needed more, but perhaps she could make the whole thing come out to her liking after all. She forced tears to the surface. Her glassy eyes took in the sight of Tommy Davidson arrogantly wiping the last remnants of his dick snot on her inner thigh. She listened to his boastful pride. "See? See? I told you I could fuck just as good as Bubba." Carol tried to catch her breath. The young boy really had screwed the hell out of her.She glanced down at the shrunken noodle and had to stop herself from licking it back to hardness. "No." Tommy was taken aback. "What do you mean, No?" "I told you to stop and you didn't. You raped me." Carol thought, 'it was rape alright, but only for the first thirty seconds'. The lad was feeling apprehensive. He had thought if he screwed well, if he really worked her over, she would come back for more. The idea of screwing his idol's girlfriend had really turned him on. Now, he felt tingles of fear. "But...but you said." Carol let her quick temper take control, remembering to stick to her plan. "I said no and when a girl...any girl says no, you have to stop. You shouldn't have cum inside me because I have all the evidence I need now, you little twerp. I'm gonna go to the police and teach you a lesson." The young boy broke down. "NO! You can't! They won't believe you." Carol found her panties and started to slip them back on. "You should have thought of that before you raped me. Bastard. Asshole! President of my fan club..HAH! How could you?" Tommy was already thinking about his parents more than the police. "I'm sorry...I" The little gymnast put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, Bubba will still beat the shit out of you and you'll go to jail. I hear they like young boys like you in prison." The lad's mind was swimming. He didn't even realize that he would be sent to the Juvenile Authorities, not prison. Even then, the thought of facing an enraged man-child struck him with fear. "PLEASE...I'll do anything..." Carol tried to clean her pigtail, undoing her mane and redoing it into a ponytail. "Well, maybe one thing..." Tommy literally dropped to his knees. "PLEEEEEEZE!" The young girl closed the trap. "There is one thing. You know where the 'gangbang class' is, don't you?" He nodded his head. Every student knew the alleged story of Martha "Goggles" Glug. The girl now known as Martha "Gangbang" Glug who was caught in the wrong hallway, herded into the boys' bathroom, and was repeatedly gangbanged by a group of school toughs. By the time the teens were through, she was a ready sex slave for the gang and was well known for taking on more than one partner at all times. The young girl refused to testify, and with no other evidence, the whole incident was hushed up. No one took the credit, but everyone knew it was Alphonse Jones and his gang. Since that day, that particular restroom, the furthest away from any school administration, came to be known as "Gangbang Class". No "nice" students went in there, and girls, if possible, always took a wide berth. "But...but Alphonse Jones and his gang will be there." "Don't worry about him. He'll be busy when you go there. He always waits to see if I'm running late to class so he can hit on me. Now are you ready to hear the plan or are you ready to go to jail?" Tommy Davidson nodded once as Carol laid out her plan to her now blackmailed thrall. Carol explained it to him and walked out the door. She would follow through with her plans, but now, she had doubts. If the mere sight of Tommy Davidson's little prick got her so hot that she let him rape her, what would she do if she became overwhelmed during her grand scheme? She didn't relish the thought of being Alphonse Jones's sex toy; it made her want to vomit. She had to hope that everything went exactly as she hoped, or she mused, "I had better get used to having a sore ass."

Chapter 15 - Tommy takes his wish!

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9049.txt

Chili Peeler

Sordid Conception - Part 4

"Honey, a watched pot never boils," Sharon said to her pacing son. It was around 11:30 A.M. on Thursday, and they were both in the front room of the house awaiting the arrival of Brenda. "Ha-ha," said her son as he looked out the window. "You would think she'd at least be on time." "She'll be here. I talked to her this morning, and she was coming. Why don't you wait upstairs in your room? You can get ready." Brad looked at her and gave her a smile. 'Getting ready' meant looking at some dirty magazines so he would come to the bed in an aroused state. Sharon had thought it would be less awkward for Brenda. "O.K., Mom," Brad said. He started walking toward the way upstairs but stopped in the doorway to say, "But if Brenda chickens out, you're going to be the one on the receiving end later on." 'I almost wish Brenda does not show up,' Sharon thought after he tromped upstairs. She put the magazine down that she had been thumbing through and walked to the window herself. The last couple of days had been very strange. She had never needed her son like she had since she had suggested her idea to Brenda. It might have awakened some desires of her own to have another child because she had fucked Brad every day since Monday. Yesterday, she had taken him in the morning again, wanting him to have all night to build up for Brenda. Down in the valley, a car made the turn onto their road. Too far away to tell if it was Brenda, but the car was the same color as hers. Sharon walked to the front door and went out onto the front porch. She could hear the phone from the porch if it wasn't Brenda coming up the road. But it was. Brenda pulled her car into the driveway as Sharon gave her a welcoming wave. 'My knees are shaking,' thought Sharon. 'What must Brenda be going through!' "Good morning," Brenda said, getting out of the car and opening the back door to pull out a small travel bag. "Morning, dear. How are you feeling today?" Sharon said, walking down the steps to meet her halfway. They hugged briefly in the sunshine. "A little excited, actually," Brenda said when they unclenched. Sharon hadn't expected her to be so together; she had thought she would have to bolster her courage. But Brenda was all smiles. "Well then, come on in," Sharon said. They went inside, and Sharon asked Brenda to sit at the kitchen table for a moment. "Where's Brad?" Brenda asked, placing her bag on the table and sitting down. "He's upstairs in his room. I thought we'd keep him there until we were ready for him," Sharon said as she poured them some iced tea. "I think there are a few things to cover before we go up." "Sure, what?" Brenda asked as she took the glass of iced tea, and Sharon sat down opposite from her at the table. "Well, we've talked about how best to do this. You'll be wearing the nightshirt and be under the covers. Brad will get under the covers and remove his shorts. Now, he'll have a full erection when he gets into bed." Brenda made a little smile at that, and Sharon stopped. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sharon....just hearing you talk about Brad that way..." "I know. It feels strange, believe me," Sharon said, and they both had a little laugh. "Now, getting back to the subject...uh, Brad has told me that he is....fairly well endowed." 'If she only knew how I really knew!' Sharon thought as she watched Brenda mull over what she had said. For all Sharon knew, Chris might be the same way, but Sharon wanted to warn Brenda right up front so the supposed surprise wouldn't stall things once they were upstairs. "Did he qualify that anymore?" Brenda said. "No, but I've got some lubricant upstairs, if you didn't bring any." "You know, I didn't even think about that.....Sharon, I've got a little confession to make. Sitting here, I feel like it's the first night of my honeymoon. I mean, my body is excited....that way." 'God, she's telling me she's wet for Brad!' Sharon thought. "Brenda, uh....that's understandable, dear. You're just thinking about being with child...that's all it is," Sharon rationalized for her. "Yeah," Brenda agreed. "You know, we're walking a tightrope here, dear," Sharon continued. "It's natural for us to get excited over the sexual act. That's why we do it even when we are not trying to have babies. But here we're trying to stay professional about it, which is really sort of unnatural....so, don't feel bad for feeling the things you usually feel during sex. It's just natural." "Whew! Sharon, I'm so glad you know what I'm going through....the only thing that scared me about all this was, what if....I enjoyed the act with Brad to the extent that I, um, had an orgasm," Brenda confessed. Sharon realized there was another dynamic at work besides Brenda's babymaking desires. She could be mistaken, but she thought Brenda was looking forward to getting fucked by Brad for other reasons. "Brenda, it could happen, and there would be nothing wrong with it if it did. I don't have to tell you how good it can feel. You're not going to be up there shaking hands!" Sharon joked, and Brenda laughed again. "Besides, you could be fantasizing about Chris, right?" "Sharon, you're so cool," Brenda said. "I'm glad I married your son." "You know how much I like having you in the family," Sharon responded, patting her hand. "Ready to go up?" "Sure." Brenda stood up with her bag, and they headed upstairs. Brenda pulled the nightshirt down over her hips and reached up to pull her hair from out of the neck of the sleepshirt. The shorts and blouse she had worn were stacked neatly on the counter in Sharon's bedroom bath. "God, calm down," she whispered to her reflection. Her nipples were more than apparent through the nightshirt's fabric. She wished she had brought a bra. And under the shirt, her womanhood was tingling with moisture. 'This is not going to be like your dreams,' she told herself. She opened the door and walked out into Sharon's bedroom, where her mother-in-law sat on her bed. "That shirt will do nicely," Sharon said. "Brad won't see a stitch of you. Come on and get into bed." Her mother-in-law held the sheets up, and Brenda crawled into bed. "Now, there's some lubricant here," Sharon said, motioning to the bookcase headboard of the bed. She saw a small bottle of oil sitting there. "My suggestion is use a lot....we want things to go right the first time. We should bring Brad in, then I'll take him out afterward so you don't feel uncomfortable." "You'll take him out?" "Yes, I'll be over in that chair." Sharon tilted her head toward a chair on the opposite side of the room beyond the foot of the bed. "So, you'll be in the room during.....?!" Brenda was a little surprised. It wasn't that she was against the idea. Maybe not being alone with Brad was a good idea, really. Having his mother in the room would keep Brad in line, she supposed. But she was surprised that Sharon would want to be...it was sort of weird. "Yes," Sharon answered, "I thought that if I were in the room, I could monitor things. I think Chris, if he ever were to find out, would appreciate me not leaving you two alone. Does that make any sense?" "Yeah, that does make sense," she conceded. "Brad knows about this?" "Yes, I told him, and he didn't seem to have any problem with it. I'll be way over there, and with the covers over you, I won't see anything." "Oh, I know that," she said. "It's fine with me." "Good, I'll go check on Brad and let you have a few moments. I'll come back to see if you're ready and then go back and tell Brad to come in when he's ready....oh, let me get a towel for you." Sharon walked into the bathroom and came back with a towel. "Spread this under you so the oil doesn't get all over..I'll be back in a few minutes." Sharon went out, closing the door behind her. Brenda threw back the covers and arranged the towel perpendicular to her body under her bottom. She pulled the covers back over her and raised her legs so her knees made a tent.She took the bottle of oil, carefully opened it, and poured some on the fingers of her left hand, transporting the oil between her legs that way. She worked her fingers into the soft, neat folds of her sex. She had freshly shaved the area the day before, leaving only a tuft of dark hair near the top. She took Sharon's advice and used a lot of the oil, enjoying having to use her fingers to hold herself open so the oil would slicken everything up. "God, bring Brad on!" she half-joked, setting the bottle back on the headboard. "Look at those fucking titties," Brad said to himself. They defied belief. Big, round jugs with nipples that stuck upward, instead of straight out. He turned the page of the Hustler magazine as the door to his bedroom opened and his mother walked in without knocking. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. "She here?" he asked, laying the magazine down. He saw her looking at his hard cock as it lay on his belly before she answered. "Yes, and in a few minutes, she's going to be ready for you," his mother said, walking over to sit by him on the bed. "I can see you're ready for her." "So, what kind of a mood is she in? She nervous?" he asked. "Hardly!" his mother said with a short chuckle. "What the hell does that mean?" "I think she's looking forward to it," his mother said, lifting her hand to slowly trace her fingers on the bottom of his erection. "She admitted that she was excited and she was looking for excuses if you got her off." "Mother, don't fuck with my mind!" he said, looking at her to see if she was pulling his leg. He couldn't see any deception. "Brad, I'm not kidding about this. I'm only telling you so it doesn't surprise you. If it happens, if you get her off, don't make a big deal out of it in front of her. I want you to be a gentleman...if you screw this up, it's going to be quite some time before we sleep together again." "Mom, don't worry. I know the drill. She's okay with you in the room?" "Yes, she saw the logic in that." "I wonder what she'd say if she knew you just wanted to hear her squeal when I lay the pipe to her!" That had been the thing that he had learned on Monday morning. His mother was turned-on by the whole baby-making thing. She'd finally admitted that watching them would be a real turn on. Brad and she had finally worked out the sitting-in-the-chair-to-protect-Chris plan. She wasn't going to be able to watch but she'd hear most everything - the squeaking bed, her groans, and this loud, finishing grunt that he had auditioned for her so she would know right when he was cumming. "Be nice, baby," his mother mockingly scolded him as she got up. "I'll be right back, so get your shorts on." She went out of his bedroom, leaving the door open. 'Mother's gonna need a fucking herself after this!' he thought gleefully as he pulled on a ratty pair of Bermuda shorts and zipped them up carefully to avoid catching himself in the zipper. The shorts did little to hide the big bulge, but he'd chosen them for that reason. 'Give Brenda a little idea of what she's gonna be getting!' He went to his bedroom door and looked down toward his mother's bedroom. Her door was closed, so he hung out in his doorjamb. Her bedroom door opened, and his mother leaned out to him. She motioned him with a forefinger and a smile, out of Brenda's sight, to come to her room. "He's coming," her mother-in-law said as she turned back to her. "Here goes nothing," she said, and Sharon smiled at her. Then Brad came through the door. He was wearing a pair of old shorts, and Brenda couldn't help but notice the tent in the front. And Brad didn't try to hide it, she thought. He just stood there with his hands on his hips as his mother closed the door behind him. "Hi, Brad," she said, not looking away. "Hey, Brenda," he said nicely as he walked to the other side of the bed and crawled under the sheets. It was a king-size bed, so he was still some way from her. "Ready to make a baby?" "Brad!" his mother said, looking away miffed as she walked to the foot of the bed. "Mom, that's what we're here for, right?" Brad said as she felt him removing his shorts. "Just keep the talking to a minimum," Sharon told him. "This is a stressful situation, especially for Brenda." "I'm sorry if I offended you, Brenda," Brad muttered as he threw his shorts on top of the covers. "It's all right, Brad," she said, "Your mother is trying to watch out for me. But everything's okay, Sharon. Brad and I will just do this, and that'll be that. Right, Brad?" "Nothing to it," Brad agreed. "People been doing it forever." Brenda liked that thought. Brad seemed to be at ease and ready to do his duty for their family. "Well, I'll be over here," Sharon said, and she walked over and sat in her chair. Brad slid closer to her, and Brenda lay down fully, using her hands to pull her hair up so it wouldn't be under her. It was a motion she usually did in her bed with her husband, but now she was doing it for his younger brother. And it excited her. Brad then moved over her. He supported his weight on his hands, holding his chest about six inches above her as his knees found the space between her legs. She made the space wider and raised her knees. She started to inch up the hem of her nightshirt with her hands to expose her womanhood. All of a sudden, Brad leaned back on his knees, his upper body moving up as his hands grabbed the sheets like a cape. He looked down without thinking, and she was looking right at Brad's erection. "Oh," she said in surprise. Brad was hung like a pony! She'd never seen an organ that thick! Then, just as quickly, Brad lowered himself back over her, pulling the covers up around their shoulders. 'Brenda took the bait!' Brad thought, unable to stop a big smile. He'd been thinking about that maneuver since they had set down the rules of the session. 'Dangled Big Chubby in front of her, and she got an eyeful!' His mother, sitting back behind them in her chair, would not have seen anything. As far as she knew, he was just going to get in and get out. But he wanted to test his sister-in-law, especially if she had told his mother she was excited. The next couple of seconds would tell if this was going to be fun for both of them or just a great masturbation for him. Brenda looked up at him again, and her face had lost that detached, all-business look. She looked turned on! Brad decided to press the issue immediately. He lowered himself down on her until his chest was pressing against her shirt-clad bosom, and his erection was digging into her shrouded crotch. "If we whisper, Mom won't hear us," he said very softly. "We shouldn't talk," Brenda whispered back, but it didn't sound fully sincere. "Brenda, I want to be honest with you...I've wanted to fuck you for a long time. I want you to fuck me back...not just lay there." Her eyes widened a little, and her tongue tip wetted her lips. "I don't want to cheat on Chris," she whispered finally. "This is cheating. Don't kid yourself...let's enjoy it, Brenda. It's like a 'One Free Cheating' card in Monopoly." He rubbed his erection against the soft splay of her legs, and she drew in a little shuddering breath. Oh, she wanted him all right. "Brenda, I want you to let yourself go. This is going to be our secret." She remained silent, but her hands came up to softly hold his sides. "Did you see my cock?" he continued softly. "Yes." "You're going to love it in your pussy," he whispered confidently. "Brad, you shouldn't talk like that," Brenda said weakly, closing her eyes. "All right...act like you don't want it," he whispered, "but pull your shirt up just the same." He waited a few beats, wondering if she'd call the whole thing off just to try and prove to him that she wasn't hot for it. But then her hands moved down, and he felt her shirt being dragged upward under his erection. Then, he felt hair and the soft, warm feathery folds of her womanhood touching the bottom of his manhood. He was surprised by the textures; he'd imagined Brenda would be more au natural like his mother. It felt like Brenda had shaved herself bare! 'Man, I wish I could do the whole nine yards on her. I'd love to get a look at that pussy...work her over with my tongue a bit!' Brad wished, but he knew he'd never get the chance. Still, he was going to bang her pussy! He worked his hips back a little and felt the head of his prick slide down out of hair into hot fleshy skin, the inner labia of his sister-in-law. Somewhere in there was her pussy hole, and he prodded her crotch several times looking for that sweet spot. But he was so erect, he couldn't get it down far enough; he kept rubbing into what had to be her clit because he kept feeling hair too. "Lower," Brenda whispered. He had to reach back between them with his right hand and push himself down. He was pressing into her skin, pushing down, and then it found the mark. Most of the head slid into her oiled groove, and then, when he felt the going get a little tough, he stopped. He wanted to be sure he went slowly as always. "I'm gonna take it slow. Ready?" he said in a normal voice. It was okay for his mother to hear that. In fact, he wanted her to. He hadn't forgot she was back there. Brenda didn't say anything, just kept her eyes closed, but her hands gripped his sides a little harder. 'I'll take that as a Go-Ahead.' He pressed forward, and he felt the flared head of his cock pop through the gateway of her pussy. The ring of her pussy portal clamped around his shaft as he inched it in. 'How did he know?...Could he see it on my face?' Brenda wasn't able to answer the questions in her mind. Not with Brad's thick member sliding into her excited body.All she knew was that Brad stirred her up even more the way he had talked to her. "I'm going to cum...I know I am...he's going to start fucking me and I'll cum...he'll feel me cumming!" He was just opening her up, pushing his surprising fullness slowly in. She tried to relax her loins but, instinctively, they cramped up in delicious shivers around the intruding but oh-so-welcomed cock of her husband's brother. "You got it all," Brad whispered above her, and she felt his pubic bone pushing into her and what she knew must be his balls against the lower swells of her flattened asscheeks. "God, you feel good, Brenda." 'So do you!' she wanted to tell him, but she bit her lip. It was going to be hard to be around Brad as it was after all this was over. He left himself all the way in her, and it was all she could focus on. If he'd started moving it in and out, she could have gone on to something else, kept her mind out of things. But he left it in, and it burned a hole in her mind. The dream came back to her, his girth was like that in the dream, his skin was pressing on her exposed clit, his heavy scrotum against her ass, full of baby-syrup, he'd be spurting it in her! Her skin went all prickly all of a sudden. The nightshirt, the thin cotton nightshirt, suddenly felt like a wool blanket, her body was burning up. The heat was mentally generated, not real. 'No...not yet!!' she managed to think right before her pussy started convulsing around Brad's cock. She'd cum and he hadn't even started fucking her! "UUUHHH!" she gasped loudly before she could stop herself. Sharon was wondering what was happening under the covers of her bed. Things seemed to be taking an awfully long time to get started. She hoped it was just Brad being very careful with his sister-in-law's feelings and body. "I'm gonna take it slow. Ready?" she heard her son say from under the covers. Sharon sat back in her chair. She knew what was happening now. Brad was working himself into her body. Sharon crossed her legs, feeling a warmness growing in her own loins. She knew what Brenda was feeling right at that moment, she knew the satisfying feeling of having Brad as a lover. She thought she heard some whispering from under the covers after a moment. She began to lean forward when a loud "UUUHHH!" filled the bedroom. It was definitely Brenda, and Sharon took it for what it was - an expression of sexual stimulation. The covers over their legs began moving, but it wasn't the thrusting motion she had been expecting; it was more of a thrashing motion. It quieted down after a few seconds. 'Is that it?' Sharon thought. 'I would have thought Brad would have lasted longer than that....but it is Brenda and he might have gotten too excited.' She was thinking about speaking out, but then the covers started moving the way she had envisioned. Brad's ass was pumping. 'She is fucking hot!' Brad swore to himself as Brenda's pussy jerked around his skewering prick. 'Cumming all over my cock....oh, I'm gonna take her there again....gonna fuck her good!' She was working her cumming cunt in a circle under him, her sharp fingernails were digging in his sides, her thighs squeezing his hips tightly. Her pretty face was all scrunched, mirroring the sexual turmoil in her now juicy twat. And then...right there....a slight, slight smile on her lips as her face began to slacken and her climactic movements ended. 'Oh yeah! She enjoyed that all right....God, I can't believe Chris gets this whenever he wants!' He let his weight down on her, wanting to feel her curvaceous form all up and down his torso. Her round tits squashed themselves out, and he could feel her hard nipples through the shirt. His face slipped past hers, his cheek rubbing hers. He could smell the fruity variety of shampoo in her hair which was fanned on the pillow under her head. Her hands slipped around his back, holding him to her. And then he felt her face turning to him slightly, pressing itself against his hair. Then he felt the kisses she was making, her lips rooting through his hair, coming upon his ear, kissing his ear! "Yeah," he said softly and began fucking her. Her pussy was stretched by that time and only clung a little as he rolled his hips, withdrawing only about two inches from her hot, rich confines on each slow piston-like pump. Brenda's hot breath blew in his ear every time he pushed in as far as he could. He began to mix up his rhythm, sometimes doing his thrusts quicker, sometimes slower, sometimes with no rhyme or reason. Always, her breath filled his ear when he filled her. Her hands did not stay on his back. They started doing circles, rubbing him, always moving a little lower. They were almost to the swell of his ass when he gave her a really hard thrust. Just like he'd hoped, her hands grabbed his dimpled asscheeks. With Brenda's small hands clutching his naked ass, he began to really fuck her. She started moaning loudly, right into his ear. It sounded deafening to him, but it was certainly loud enough to fill the bedroom. "Uuuuuhhhh...uuuuUUUGGGHH.....Oooohhhh!" Brenda wasn't even aware she was making those noises. All she was aware of was Brad's husky prick pounding her pussy like she hadn't had in years. Oh, Chris got her off, and she was always satisfied, but..... this fucking was torrid. It reminded her of the high school days. She'd been popular back then because she had developed early and because she'd been a "loose" girl. There'd been a line of seniors waiting for her every year, and she'd called a lot of their numbers. All those nights in the back of cars, guys so horny they'd just pull her skirt and panties off and mount her. No finesse back then, they'd stop thrust as fast and as long as they could. Their weight pinning her, hard cock slamming in her...... she'd loved it. The irony was incredible - by some miracle, she'd hadn't gotten knocked up in her backseat ballets and now, here she was, mostly clothed, holding the churning ass of a teenager, hoping that his sperm was going to create a life in her belly! Sharon Larrington sat in her chair, a hand on her throat to represent the shock of hearing Brenda getting so excited by her son's fucking and the other hand under her skirt for the same reason. The front of her panties were damp, her fingers rubbing the material into her own sopping slit. 'Oh Brenda!..I know!...I know!' Sharon said to herself. In front of her, her bed was squeaking away as it always did when she and Brad made love. The covers were lifting and falling in the familiar hurried heaving of her son's ass. Brenda kept moaning and huffing. 'I've got to get a hold of myself,' Sharon realized, pulling her hand from under her skirt. In a few minutes, she'd be shooing Brad out and trying to present an impartial, caring front to Brenda. Under the covers, Brad could feel his balls aching to unload in his brother's wife. Fucking her was better than he'd imagined it could be - she was fucking him back, throwing her cunt up at him and pulling him into her bald box at the same time. And he was taking liberties as well - his left hand was up under her nightshirt now, squeezing and kneading her right breast. His tongue was in her left ear. He was using his erection like a spade, sending it almost straight down into Brenda, the top of his shaft rubbing her clit just like Mom had taught him. Brenda tossed her head away from him, her groans whipping upward, building to a crescendo. "UHHHHH.....Oooh.....oOOOHH....HHHHHUUUUUUU!" Brenda's body torqued under him as her pussy blew up in a second orgasm, this one much bigger than the first. It was just the excuse he was looking for. He shoved into her as deep as he could and let loose. "OOOHYYEAAAAHHH!" he shouted, totally forgetting the grunt he'd told his mother he would make. His cum jetted into Brenda's roiling vagina in shuddering spurts, each feeling better than the first.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11129.txt

Andrew Roller

FUCK DECENCY

"Can't we at least have her ass?" Eeney asked of Cindy, pointing to the girl as she made ready to approach Meeney with her pitcher. "No, dear. She is my special pet. She'll need to be taken outside for her spanking as soon as I'm done eating. Anyway, you haven't paid me enough to have her. Save up your pennies and perhaps her lover will still be keeping her here when you come back again. But she's pregnant, so don't be too long about it!" Marie laughed. Her voice had emphasized the word 'long' and she seemed to be in high spirits. Kate listened behind herself as Cindy, standing over Meeney, who still palmed and patted Kate's bottom as if it were a toy made for distraction, unzipped Meeney's fly. There was a sound of rich fluid being poured forth and Meeney grunted. Kate felt the couch move as Meeney bucked his hips. She glanced at Eeney. He looked a little disconsolate but he had accepted Marie's advice and taken to rubbing his zippered crotch with his hand. He stared at Cindy's bottom. The girl gave Meeney his due and then righted her stance. She moved round Kate and came to Trent. "Yes, you must have cream too," Cindy smiled. She looked down at his cock and saw that it quavered erectly over the blue fabric of the couch. "Oh! Let me get you a little placemat, to catch the spills," Cindy said. She retreated to the chair where the tray sat. She put her pitcher down. She plucked a linen napkin from the tray and returned to Trent with it. She unfolded it and placed it neatly under his quivering cock. Then, getting her pitcher again, she came back and held it over Trent's dick. "Ready?" Cindy asked. Her eyes were bright and she clearly enjoyed servicing Trent best of all. He wasn't gay, and she knew he coveted her almost as much as his lover. Kate watched, wide-eyed, as Cindy poured the rich milky cream over Trent's naked cock. It splattered onto his cockhead and ran down his shaft. It collected in the hair of his balls. It spilled onto the napkin. Cindy upped the pitcher just in time, before there was too much cream and it ran all over the couch. Some did trickle back under Trent's ass, but there was not enough to seriously wet their seat. "Thanks. I needed that," Trent said wryly. Cindy blushed and moved to Miney and unzipped him. She gave him his due and then zipped him back up. "Now, my dear, get down on your knees, for it's time for your cereal," Marie said to Kate. Cindy, to Kate's surprise, set her pitcher on the floor and sat in Miney's lap. The man seemed not the least upset and gladly traded his hand for her bottom's squirmings. Marie made Kate kneel on the floor between her lover's legs. She found herself face to face with his cock and his balls. On either side of her head his hairy legs encompassed her. She placed her chained hands on the floor and knelt with her feet, themselves chained, tucked under her, with her bottom raised up so that she looked like an eager dog waiting for her master to feed her. She felt her bottom sway and knew she must be trying to wag her tail for him. Marie gave Cindy a hot bowl of porridge. It smelled of oatmeal. Kate realized that, as a proper pony, she must have her oats. The thought made her hiney wiggle and she almost wished Marie would give her a good slash with her whip to make her feel even more like a good little pony. As Kate watched with bated breath, knowing something utterly lewd and wonderful must be about to happen, Cindy took her lover's penis in her small hand. Trent was quite large and his thing stuck out both ends of her little fist and Cindy had trouble holding him, Trent was so eager by now to cum. He was drooling gobs of precum and Kate watched as Cindy stuck his cock directly into the oatmeal porridge. "Eat, pony!" Cindy said in a happy, high-pitched voice to Kate. Drawing Trent's big penis out of the bowl, she presented it to Kate's face. Kate saw that her lover's cock was covered in oatmeal. After a moment's surprise, she darted her tongue out and lapped at the porridge covered penis. "Aughghgh!" Trent moaned as his swollen cock was cleaned by Kate's tongue. She was avid in her lickings and, she realized as she bathed him, she was hungry. Kate waggled her bottom eagerly as Cindy redipped her lover's organ in the porridge and presented it again. Once more Kate tongued her lover's organ, and found the porridge delicious. "Yes, that's it! You are a good little horsey," Marie said. She stood over the hungry bride-to-be and her stiffened groom. Trent was in seventh heaven and yet it was obvious that if he was used in this way for very long Kate would get a faceful of cream with her cereal. Every muscle in Trent's chest and stomach and legs strained as he fought to hold back his sperm. Kate felt small and wonderful as she knelt between her lover's legs, forced to clean his cock after every dipping in the cereal bowl. She let her bottom sway salaciously behind her. She knew Eeney was watching her hiney and studying her cheeks with avid attention as she squeezed them and let them go, then squeezed them again, anticipating a fuck by somebody. Surely Marie would let her have her lover in her cunt and not make her accept all his sperm in her face! Trent was hard beyond belief and yet, as she tongued him, he somehow managed to hold in his seed. If she worked quickly, he might last until the porridge bowl was empty, and then she would leap up and mount him, if nothing else, and ride him to victory. As if in anticipation of her plan, Marie reached down and grabbed a handful of Kate's hair. Kate kept licking. Imprisoned between her lover's legs and with Marie now reining her in, she had no choice but to clean her lover's cock after every new dipping into the porridge bowl. Cindy sighed softly. She looked quite proud of herself for having such a big cock in her hand, all stiff and excited. It was obvious, as Trent's eyes darted from her to Kate, that she was quite appealing to him, and he enjoyed her fondling hand. Cindy pushed her breasts out, letting Trent see all she had. She opened her thighs. She gave him an inviting glance and wriggled her bottom. Miney, entertaining her ass on his crotch, groaned and spurted into his pants. "Oh! Did you just cum?" Cindy asked Miney. She looked slightly miffed that the gay man would ejaculate with her bare, unprotected bottom in his lap. Miney blushed and nodded. "Well I hope none of your stuff gets on me!" Cindy snipped. She moved her ass a little forward in his lap in hopes of avoiding his sperm. "Ahhhhhh!" Kate suddenly heard behind her. Meeney, using his hand, had just climaxed. His jism brooded in his pants and he rubbed himself a little glumly now, his pleasure over. Like Superman, Trent fought to maintain control and somehow succeeded. Marie seemed a little disappointed. Kate suspected she wanted to see her messed by a faceful of cum. Yet Kate, with her pretty braids, was still quite clean and rosy-cheeked, with just a little porridge on her nose.The bowl was empty now, and Cindy made Kate lick the inside of it completely clean with her tongue. "Well! You proved to be much more of a stalwart than I expected," Marie said to Trent. She eyed his big penis, still holding Kate by her hair so that she couldn't mount him. "It was tough," Trent gasped. He had to squeeze his eyes shut as another sexual tremor ran down his organ. He clenched his buttocks in the sofa and grimaced as the wave of pleasure passed away. He opened his eyes again. "God, you have some tongue!" He said to Kate. Cindy, not wanting to spoil his success, let go of his cock. Her fingers were a little sticky from the porridge, and she licked them clean, one by one, as if she were a baby just finishing a favorite meal. "Alright, Mr. Hunk, get down on your knees on the floor," Marie said to Trent. "I promised our gay friends here that I'd fuck your ass, and I'm wet and hot for you!" Her eyes were wild, and she yanked Kate backward so that the girl couldn't get to her lover. Trent rose. Eeney stood up and came over to Kate and took her from Marie. Holding her by her hair, he drew her up so that she knelt erectly before him. But he let her face away from her, so that she could watch as Marie fucked her lover. Kate, dizzy with emotions and not knowing what to do, held down by her chains and captive to Eeney's desires, knelt on the rug obediently. She heard Eeney unzip himself behind her. Surreptitiously, Marie too busy to notice, he shoved his erection into the mass of Kate's lovely blonde hair. Kate yelped as she felt his pee hole bump up against the back of her neck. But she could do nothing, and nobody heard her, for they were all entranced by Trent and the impending loss of his anal virginity. "Now, sir, I'm going to give you what you've always wanted but been too afraid to ask for!" Marie crowed. Trent knelt obediently before her, on the carpet, just a few feet away from Kate. His head hung down, and his penis, engorged as ever, hung down between his legs like a big summer sausage in a smokehouse. Kate watched as a drop of precum drooled down from the tip of his penis and landed on the carpet. "Just make it quick," Trent replied to Marie. "I don't like being made to look like a fag." "I'm a woman, dear," Marie answered. And, as if to prove it, she reached back behind herself and unzipped her dress. The garment fell away, and, as Kate had suspected, Marie was ready for action underneath. She wore absolutely nothing. No bra, no panties. Just her long black leather boots and her matching fingerless gloves. Marie strode past Kate to the low table where the flower vase stood and picked up a bell sitting there and rang it. "Bess, bring my dildo!" Marie called. The door to the breakfast room was ajar, and a moment later Bess appeared. On a small silver tray, half the size of the tray that had borne their food, was a big dildo and straps. Marie thanked Bess and took the dildo from the tray. "Cindy, come and help me get this on!" Marie said. Quietly Bess withdrew, leaving them to their game, but not before her eyes met Kate's and she seemed to say, 'I told you so. Poor American girl.' Kate knelt shivering on the rug, too scared to know how to act or respond. Her lover knelt before her with his ass raised to the gay men, waiting for Marie to mount him. Marie struggled into her dildo harness. Cindy buckled it for her and adjusted it so that the big hulking dildo stuck out in front of her as if she were some permanently erect man. "Now I am ready for you, my sweet stallion!" Marie said to Trent's ass when she'd gotten the harness on. Cindy fetched a jar of KY jelly from behind the flower vase, secreted there for the breakfast's conclusion. She took big gobbed handfuls of the stuff onto her fingers and spread it liberally all over Marie's fake cock. When the job was done and Marie was fully lubed, the woman knelt down on the carpet behind Trent. Her long boots protected her knees from rug burns. "Ack!" Trent said through gritted teeth as he felt his buns pulled apart by Marie. "Relax your bottom, boy! I can hardly get it open!" Marie said. "Cindy, take hold of his cock and give him a good yank to make him obedient!" Marie called to her favorite girl. The redhead knelt dutifully beside Trent. She reached under him and, like a maiden milking a cow, she pulled hard on Trent's dick. "Whooaa!" Trent bellowed. Cindy gave him another yank, and Marie pinched his balls. "Ohhh!" Kate cried, herself in distress, for she suddenly felt Eeney ejaculate onto her neck. "Kate! Get my whip! I want you to whip your lover's back or I'll never get his asscheeks apart!" Marie called to the girl. Kate, glad to get away from Eeney, whatever the cost, rose up from the floor. She felt Eeney's hot sperm run down her back and find its way into the crack of her bottom. Managing to ignore it, however, and a little peeved at Trent for putting her in such an embarrassing place, she went and fetched Marie's whip and came striding back, quick as her chains would allow, swinging it vengefully. "Give him a good slash right here on his ass," Marie told Kate, backing up. "The man has buns of steel." Kate toyed for a moment with the idea of slashing at Marie instead. But the woman was tall and powerful. Even in kneeling, she retained her aura of authority. She looked like a cat about to pounce on prey. Kate realized she stood no chance against the woman. So, instead, she took out her fear and anger on her lover. WHACK! Kate brought Marie's whip down upon her lover's ass and watched as he responded. Trent groaned. His head shot up. "Careful of his balls!" Marie cautioned. "He's a wonderful stud. I don't want him hurt. Just obedient." Kate nodded. She was fully in the grip of Marie now, obeying her, pleasing her with her actions as well as her body. Kate brought the cat down carefully, not hitting hard enough, but Marie didn't scold her for she knew the girl was new at such things. Kate lifted the crop again and managed to flog her lover more fully on the next stroke. She watched as the little knotted leather tips of the crop skittered into his furrow and made him wince and buck like a horse. "Legs apart, young man! You mustn't try to hide anything from us girls!" Marie told Trent. His balls stuck rudely out from between his thighs in any event, but now Marie, reaching forward, made him show himself more completely, so that if she bent down she could see his balls swing and his penis hanging down beyond.Story submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> Moderator contact: <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> Archive site: <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/> Newsgroup FAQ: <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq>

Chapter Three

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12094.txt

Ann Douglas

The Girls Of Delta Theta Phi

"Did that turn you on?" Nicole abruptly asked. "Excuse me?" Cynthia asked after pausing a few beats, wondering how the conversation had taken such an abrupt turn. "I asked if that turned you on," Nicole repeated. "All those naked bodies?" "What would make you ask a question like that?" It took even longer for Nicole to answer. It seemed for a few moments that she might be reconsidering her question. Then, with deliberation, she went on. "Last night you seemed to spend a considerable amount of time watching Courtney and me. A lot longer than someone who had just accidentally walked into an embarrassing situation. Most people would've just stepped back out. You stood there and watched for a while." Cynthia's face blushed, she hadn't realized Nicole had seen her. Then a more embarrassing thought replaced that. Had she told Courtney? "Was it the sight of our naked bodies that interested you so much?" Nicole continued. Cynthia was speechless, she didn't have an answer. She really didn't know herself why she had stayed there so long. "Know what I think?" Nicole said, and then continued without waiting for an answer. "I think it was the sex that interested you so much. I think that the fact that it was your daughter that was eating my pussy was secondary to the act itself. I think you got really hot watching two women get it on." Nicole had automatically switched to what she ofttimes referred to as her inquisitor mode. The conviction in her voice grew with each word. "I don't know what you're talking about," Cynthia finally managed to stammer. She wasn't used to being on the defensive. "Oh yes you do," Nicole retorted with the same confidence she had exhibited in front of some of the state's most noted judges. Cynthia sensed that something she would rather not have remembered was about to resurface. She wanted to jump out of the pool and run. Yet, a small voice deep within her called out for attention. It urged her to let matters take their course. "When you mentioned last night that you had pledged mid-year back in 1950, it really didn't sound right to me. I don't know why, maybe just the investigator in me playing out a hunch. It's one of my bad habits, I can't let a feeling like that go by without following up on it. On the positive side, following some of those hunches have gotten me where I am today." Nicole paused for a moment, waiting to see if Cynthia was going to object to her going on any further. "Anyway, a client of mine, is the current recording secretary for the Delta Theta Phi alumni association. She's class of '87 by the way and also a lesbian. You might find that interesting. Anyway, going on the idea that my memory might just be faulty, I called her this morning and asked her to look up and see if there had ever been a mid-term pledging in 1950 or any other year. She said that since all the old records had been computerized a few years back it would be no trouble to find out. She called me back only an hour ago with the information." Cynthia was now totally still as well as silent. "She said that there had never been a mid-term pledge in '50 or any other year. She asked why and I told her I was working on a discrimination case remarkable like the Jennifer Hallis scandal of that year. I just wanted to use it as a little background. I asked if we had any current information on the girls involved in the incident. She said unfortunately no, most of the girls who were kicked out had their records expunged by the college administration. In fact, except for the file on Jennifer herself, there were no other entries on who even was involved. I had thanked her and was about to hang up when she casually mentioned that there was another name in the file - Jennifer's roommate that last year. It was just an entry in the room assignment form, there was nothing else on the girl. The name was Cynthia Donnelley." Cynthia's face turned pale. "I remember Courtney mentioning her grandmother Donnelley," Nicole said excitedly. "That was your maiden name..wasn't it?" The older woman's silence confirmed it. "You were her roommate," Nicole said, making it a statement more than a question. "Yes," Cynthia meekly answered, decades of denial lifting with that single syllable. "...and her lover." "Yes, ... I was," this time it came easier. A level of excitement filled Nicole. The same excitement that filled her when she broke a guilty party on the witness stand. The elation was short-lived as she suddenly realized what she had actually done. This wasn't some courtroom, it was the home of a friend. And this wasn't an adversary but simply a woman who had told a simple lie about her life of almost half a century before. "Oh damn, Cynthia," Nicole recalled in horror at what she'd done. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I can't believe I acted like I did." "It's OK," Cynthia said, knowing that the younger woman was honestly upset at what she'd done. "It's OK, it doesn't matter. I don't know why I still lied about it all these years. It was so long ago." "Does Courtney know?" Nicole asked, partly out of a curiosity that couldn't be suppressed and a desire not to be the one to accidentally tell her. "No, she doesn't know anything about that period of my life or that her mother was once also into women." "Women?" Nicole repeated. "You had other lovers after that?" "What the hell, I might as well tell you the whole story," Cynthia said with a smile. "Someone should know what it was really like back then." "You don't have to," Nicole said, hoping at the same time that she would. "I was way out of line with what I did." "What's done is done," started Cynthia. "Besides, now that I want to get it all out, maybe it'll be easier telling it to a stranger." She paused for a few beats and then added. "Then when I'm done, we wouldn't really be strangers anymore." Now it was Nicole's turn to remain silent and just listen. Cynthia seemed to be looking far away, even though she was looking straight at her. The lawyer knew the older woman was looking past the mist of years past. "Most of what you heard about the Jennifer Hallis story is pretty much true. My father was on the Board of Trustees for Sara Douglas, just as his father was before him. There was no way that they were going to tag the daughter and granddaughter of the Donnellys of Tarrytown with a lesbian label. So my own involvement in the incident was the first one removed. A stern facility monitor put an end to the parties and such, but she couldn't be everywhere and where there was a will there was always a way." Nicole listened intently, her mind carefully absorbing every word. "Right after graduation, my parents married me off to Courtney's father. It was almost an arranged marriage. It wasn't so bad at first. I liked men too and much to my own mother's horror, wasn't a virgin on my wedding night. We had a lot in common back then, and to be honest the prospect of the lesbian lifestyle back in the Eisenhower Era was non-existent. We were as happy as could be expected for the first year or so. Then things began to change." "How so?" Nicole inquired. "It would have been nice to say it was John who strayed first. Given his current predilection for such things, it would be easy to say. But if I'm going to set the lies to rest the truth will have to prevail. So I have to admit that I was the first one to break our vows. And as I'm sure you've discovered on your own, once you've crossed that forbidden line the first time, the second time is a lot easier." "First time?" Nicole asked, a little confused. "I say first time because it was a lot different in college than the real world. Even back then, you could do things that might not exactly be socially acceptable in college and get away with them. So I've always considered my first encounter with another woman outside of that safe and controlled environment as my first time." Nicole saw that there was a certain sense to what she'd said and nodded. "About a year and a half after we'd been married, long before I was pregnant with Courtney, we moved to San Francisco for John to take a graduate program out there. It seemed a good idea at the time."We were starting to have our problems, and a fresh start in a new location might've been just what we needed. As with most quick fixes, this didn't solve anything. We'd brought our problems with us. Anyway, we'd gone out one night to a go-go bar - John's idea. I'm not sure if you really understand what one of those was; there's really no current equivalent. They'd have girls dancing either on stage or on podiums scattered around the club. Understand that these were dancers, not strippers and definitely not hookers. Although I was told there were other clubs that had both. After the show, John had invited one of the dancers over to our table to have a drink. This in itself wasn't that unusual, as we'd been to similar clubs before and John had also invited dancers for a drink. What greatly surprised me this time was that the dancer was a young black woman. John had never shown any interest in black women before. And of course, this was the late 50's, years before interracial affairs were all the rage. Her name, if I recall correctly, was Diane. We chatted a while and had a few more drinks besides. Like he was wont to do, John flirted with the young lady who couldn't have been much more than 20. She seemed so young as I think about it, yet I was only 26 myself back then. I suddenly became aware of a touch against my leg. At first, I chalked it up to John being playful under the small table, then realized it was on the wrong leg for it to be John. I turned to Diane, and with a smile, she acknowledged what was obviously an invitation. To this day, I don't know if she somehow knew I might be receptive or just tried that with any woman she found interesting, trusting that they wouldn't make a scene in front of their husbands. I excused myself to use the ladies' room, and Diane said she'd join me. No sooner had the door closed behind us when she grabbed me and pushed me against the wall and kissed me. She hadn't even made sure that all the stalls were empty, trusting instead that there were few women in attendance that night and that the other dancers would use the restroom backstage. I can still recall the taste of her lips against mine and the fire it sent through me. I was like a woman who'd been denied water for a long time, suddenly tossed into a clear pool of sweet liquid. We pulled at each other's clothes, and I found her lips now on my breasts, then her fingers against my clit. It couldn't have taken me more than a few minutes to reach orgasm, a climax that I still remember as leaving me weak in the knees. Then as quick as it all had been, it was all over. We made ourselves presentable and rejoined my husband. The only indication he ever had that something had changed that night was that he found me somewhat unresponsive later that night. Usually after a visit to one of those bars, I was as horny as could be. As we were leaving, John asked Diane for her phone number, saying that maybe the three of us could get together sometime. With a smile, she wrote it out and then ripped it in half when John wasn't looking. She handed him the top half, and while he concentrated on looking down her blouse, pressed the bottom half of the note into my hand. John's note turned out to contain the number for the public library. Mine was her home number. I was to have an affair with her that lasted until John graduated and we moved back east. "So you like black women?" Nicole asked. "I never really gave the color of her skin much thought," said Cynthia. "It was the person inside, not the wrapping she came in that interested me." After that, I knew it was going to take some strong medicine to put the genie back in the bottle, so to speak. Medicine that John just wasn't able to supply. Still, we made the best of it all. We started our business when we got back home, and a family as well. Courtney's older brother, John Jr., who lives in Florida now, was born in '59. Sue, our other daughter, was born in '62 and lives with her husband and kids in New Jersey. After a while, your life tends to go on a sort of auto-pilot. You watch your kids grow, try to build a better life for them. Sexually speaking, those were pretty dry years. John and I had occasional relations, enough to surprise me with a pregnancy for my 40th birthday. Courtney's birth brought another turning point into my life. In a direct cause-and-effect way, it led to my first real love affair with another woman, as opposed to the primarily sexual encounters I'd had in the past. Nicole had to admit to herself that she found Cynthia's personal history to be fascinating. Our company was undergoing some critical changes at that time, so I felt that it would be a bad idea for me to take a leave of absence like I'd done for John Jr. and Sue. So I hired a nurse/governess to watch after Courtney during the day. Her name was Sonja Brundtland, and she had just moved to the United States from Norway. Although ten years younger than me, Sonja and I became fast friends. As time passed, we discovered to our mutual delight that we shared a certain other taste as well. It was the first time I really felt for another woman on an emotional level. I guess it was that ease that we both felt around each other that caused us to become careless. One snowy winter day, with all the kids off at their grandparents' and John off to the airport on yet another trip, Sonja and I settled down in front of the fireplace with a bottle of wine and each other. It wasn't long before that wine and a smile was all that we were wearing. A rising storm had canceled John's flight, and he had reluctantly returned home. He would've preferred to have returned to his latest assistant's apartment to wait out the storm, but evidently she had a roommate that just wouldn't have understood. Since her roommate was 6'2" and built like a halfback, John decided not to test the point. Evidently she hadn't mentioned to her boyfriend that she was going on more than a business trip. So anyway, there I was, naked as the day I was born and licking the wine off Sonja's breasts when I look up and see John standing over us. Not knowing what else to say, I picked up the empty crystal from the floor and asked if I could pour him a glass. He wasn't amused, to say the least. And to be honest, I really didn't care. Our marriage had been a sham for so long that maybe it would be better to end it. He said that he wasn't going to be made a fool of in an open court, not to mention the effect it might have on the family-owned company. He'd been screwing one bimbo after another for years, and now that I'd finally found someone I cared about, he wasn't going to stand in my way. He said he was willing to maintain a marriage in name only, not that our union had been much more than that for some time, but that Sonja would have to go. Not just out of our house, but out of my life. I told him where he could put that idea, and believe me, it wasn't in a pretty place. Where did he ever get the idea that I would ever go along with such a ridiculous arrangement? That was when he dropped his bombshell. If I pressed for a divorce, he'd seek custody of all the kids. He said no judge, however liberal, was going to let a lesbian raise his kids. You have to remember that was twenty years ago, and reluctantly I had to admit he was right. It was both the hardest and at the same time, easiest decision I ever had to make. As much as I loved Sonja, I loved my children more. She left that night. "Have you ever seen her since?" Nicole asked. "I got a card from her about eight months later; she was going home to Norway. I never heard from her after that," Cynthia said. Nicole didn't really hear what Cynthia said after that. Too many strange thoughts were flashing through her mind. In the twenty years since she had first realized she was attracted to other women, that attraction had never extended to an older woman. That was until this moment. Cynthia, she reminded herself, was old enough to be her mother. In fact, she was the mother of one of her friends. Yet as she looked at the woman, now only inches away from her, her appreciation of her beauty increased immensely, and age became irrelevant. The fire in Nicole's breasts was reflected between her legs. It was obvious that the wetness there was caused by far more than the cool pool water. Never in her life had she wanted any woman as much as she wanted Cynthia at this moment. The haunting question was, did Cynthia feel the same way? Unwilling to ask and risk rejection, equally unwilling to step back from the edge, Nicole let the flames of her desire take over and acted on instinct. She felt her body moving forward of its own accord, followed a brief moment later by the press of Cynthia's lips against her own. Cynthia was taken by surprise by Nicole's kiss. It was a pleasant surprise all the same. It had been so many years since the older woman had felt the touch of another woman, she had almost forgotten how good it could be. In response to a gentle pressure against her lips, she opened her mouth and admitted the dark woman's invading tongue. The touch of Cynthia's tongue against her own was enough to turn the brushfire within her into a raging inferno. She reached up and pulled Cynthia's face against her own, planting kiss after kiss on her willing lips. Each time, the blonde responded in turn, meeting the passion of Nicole's assault with her own. "I wasn't sure how you'd react to that," Nicole said softly as she broke a final kiss. "It was unexpected, but nice," Cynthia replied. "Before anything else happens, maybe I should explain about Courtney and I....." Nicole said as she took a half step backward. "Courtney already explained it all to me."Cynthia interrupted as she took hold of the younger woman's hand and kept her close. "And is this going to go any further?" "Do you want it to?" Nicole asked as she closed her hand around Cynthia's in a reassuring grip. Cynthia smiled. Three days ago, the idea of renewing her interest in lesbian sex would've never entered her mind. It had been so long since she'd entertained such thoughts. Yet, the simple act of unburdening herself to Nicole seemed to take decades off of her. The emotions of that bathroom tryst so long ago found new life. Cynthia reached out and placed her open palms against Nicole's breasts. Wet and soft, they seemed to generate a heat all their own. Brushing her thumbs against the erect dark brown nipples brought a soft sigh from Nicole's mouth. "I may be a little rusty at this," she quipped. "I think you're doing fine," Nicole said as she pressed her body against Cynthia's own. "I want you," Nicole said with conviction. "And I you," was Cynthia's reply. That was all the younger woman needed to hear. She reached up and pulled the straps of Cynthia's suit down over her shoulders, exposing her large plentiful mounds. No sooner were they exposed to the open air when her mouth was on them. With a savage hunger, she took Cynthia's equally large nipples between her teeth and lips. The thought that these were the same breasts that Courtney had once suckled at brought a sinful thrill to her. One which caused her inferno to blaze even hotter. Even as her mouth feasted on Cynthia's bountiful charms, Nicole slid her hand underwater and between Cynthia's legs. Her fingers slid under the thin material of her suit and pressed against the bushy mouth within. Now it was Cynthia's turn to moan as she felt the touch of a lover's hand where only she had touched for so very long. Then it moved to the center of the mound and rubbed against it. As her finger became lubricated by the wetness there, Nicole slowly slid it between the folds. A soft gasp escaped Cynthia's lips as Nicole slid the finger in and out, soon following it with a second. "Oh yes," Cynthia said softly as she leaned back against the edge of the pool and enjoyed Nicole's dual ministrations. The constant friction of Nicole's hand against her clit sent ripples of delight radiating out from Cynthia's pussy. Coupled with the delightful mixture of bites and gentle kisses on her breasts, it was enough to quickly bring her to the edge of ecstasy. As the volume of the moans in Nicole's ears grew in intensity, so did the frequency of her penetrations. A small series of mini-quakes began to rock the older woman's body, heralding the arrival of a long absent rapture. Suddenly, Cynthia's body stiffened as the cascading waves of bliss broke on the shoals of her sexuality. Her pulse raced and her breaths became shallow. Had she not already been immersed in water, her body would've been covered with sweat. "Oh God!" she panted as she collapsed exhausted against the side of the pool. "I can't believe how long it's been since I felt so good." "I can make you feel even better," Nicole purred as she pressed her cheek against Cynthia's. "I'd like that," Cynthia replied. Dripping wet, Nicole climbed out of the pool into the warm afternoon air. Cynthia followed close behind. "I think I need a few minutes to catch my breath," Cynthia said as she sat on the beach chair poolside. "Why don't you relax on this towel," Nicole suggested as she indicated the large oversized beach towel spread out on the ground. "I give a great massage." "Sounds like an excellent suggestion," Cynthia laughed as she moved from the chair to the ground. Now, out in the open, Nicole had a chance to get her first real look at Cynthia's nude form. If she hadn't already known her age, her guess would be at least a decade younger. Of course the first thing any man or woman would've noticed were her prodigious breasts. The dark pink circles in the center of each were over two inches wide, the long stubs in the middle were thick and almost a quarter inch long. The rest of her body reflected the passage of years, most noticeably the gray and white of her pubic mound. Still, she was an attractive woman and could radiate a raw sexuality that Nicole found enticing. Positioning herself in a kneeling position to Cynthia's right, Nicole began to massage her shoulders. Her grip could be both strong and gentle, working magic on the older woman's flesh. Expertly she worked her way down, applying pressure to the small of Cynthia's back before she moved outward to her arms. Laying face down with her eyes closed, Cynthia was enjoying the massage. Nicole was better than the professional masseuse at the health club where she worked out. A broad smile filled her face as she imagined what would be the reaction of her neighbor, Mrs. Carlsen if she were to look out her window right now. The sight of Cynthia naked, laying under an equally naked black woman half her age might be enough to give the snoopy biddy a heart attack. True, the houses were far apart to supposedly afford a large measure of privacy, but there had been a few times Cynthia had spotted Mrs. Carlsen standing on her porch with her telescope pointed at anything but the heavens. "Oooo," Cynthia sighed as she felt Nicole's hands press against her buttocks. "That feels good." Nicole continued down along the older woman's legs, then began working her way upward once more. When she got back to Cynthia's shoulders, she swung her leg over the prone form and straddled her new love. Lowering herself, she pressed her own not unimpressive breasts against the small of Cynthia's back and rubbed them up and down. She continued bottomward retracing the path she had just completed, this time replacing her hands with her generous mounds. "Mmmm, that feels even better," Cynthia commented. This time, Nicole paused at Cynthia's wide bottom and began to cover it with soft kisses. She spread her cheeks and kissed the sensitive area in between. Reaching inward with her tongue, she caressed her anal entry. Cynthia jumped with excitement, no one had ever done that to her. As Nicole continued to probe Cynthia's nether region, she reached down between her legs and again rubbed the swollen clit she had so stimulated a short time before. This again brought a series of pleasing moans to her ears. "Roll over," she said as she lifted herself to give Cynthia room. More than happy to comply, Cynthia shifted onto her back. Nicole quickly lowered herself once more and replaced her finger with her tongue. Already saturated, Cynthia's pussy offered no resistance to the hard tip of Nicole's tongue. It slid effortlessly into its dark recess, bringing with it a whole new series of erotic delights. A small residue of sticky film from her recent orgasm still remained. Nicole quickly licked it clean, savoring the taste. She took a moment to compare the flavor to Courtney's. While different, it was just as pleasing. Not content to just lay back, Cynthia took hold of the back of Nicole's head and pressed her deeper into the crevice between her legs. Right now she couldn't care if the entire town council, of which she was a member, was pulling up the driveway. All that mattered was that Nicole left her tongue exactly where it was. Again, it didn't take long for Nicole's experienced touch to drive Cynthia over the brink. Spreading her legs wide to give Nicole the widest possible access, Cynthia bucked forward with each dart of Nicole's eager tongue. Repeatedly it slid in and out of her moist hole, then up and down the length of her cunt before sliding inward once more. "Oh God, I'm cumming again!" Cynthia shouted. While the explosion that rocked her body wasn't as powerful as the one which had preceded it, still it was more than enough. Her face pressed tightly against Cynthia's mound, Nicole quickly lapped up the results of her efforts. Undiluted by the water which had mixed with her last orgasm, the feminine ambrosia made Nicole hunger for more. Now it was Nicole's turn. She quickly began licking her way up the length of Cynthia's body. She paused at her breasts just long enough to give each a playful kiss. A kiss that was repeated against Cynthia's willing lips. Lifting herself upward, Nicole continued until her breasts were even with those selfsame lips. Balancing herself on one hand, Nicole lifted her right breast and offered it to Cynthia. It was an offering that the blonde woman was eager to take. She lifted herself up until her lips closed on the dark brown nipple, sucking it deep into her mouth. It had been more years than Cynthia cared to remember, but the taste of honey that she always associated with a woman's breasts quickly brought back memories of how to please. Her own tongue tickled the tip of the chocolate nipple, then ran circles around the dark aureole. Then she left a trail of kisses and gentle nibbles down the side of the lighter tan globe and up the side of its twin. Nicole couldn't help but be impressed by the older woman's skill. As much as she wanted to attend to the fire between her legs, a blaze that was crying for attention, Nicole wanted to wait until she was sure Cynthia had her fill. Finally, she sensed Cynthia's desire for her ebony orbs had been satisfied and pulled them from her mouth. Cynthia reluctantly released her hold on the chocolate delight held between her lips, mindful that even greater delights were still to come. She eased herself back against the towel even as Nicole moved even further upward, until her legs were on each side of Cynthia's head - her own dark mound inches from her face. The scent of Nicole's womanhood filled Cynthia's nostrils, moments before the younger woman lowered herself and filled her mouth with the taste to go with the aroma.Like an eager schoolgirl, Cynthia reached out and duplicated the actions Nicole had so aptly demonstrated on her. Her thoughts drifted backward to years gone by, and to lovers long since forgotten. Until this moment, she didn't realize how much she had missed this, or how much she envied her daughter for having had the strength to follow her conviction. The thought of Courtney and the fact that she was in exactly the same position she'd seen her in last night, with the same lover, was a fact that she found highly erotic. She wondered if Nicole felt the same way. If Nicole were willing to share her thoughts, she couldn't find the voice to do so. Every aspect of her being was centered on the tongue within her cunt and the unbelievable feeling of joy that was radiating from it. Over the years, Nicole had more lovers than she could easily recall. Some had been better than others. Through it all, Nicole had considered herself a skillful lover, but she had to admit that she could take lessons from Cynthia. Hands pressed tightly against the soft buns of Nicole's ass, Cynthia pulled her lover as close as she could. Nicole moaned again and again as Cynthia's tongue worked its way deep within her. The more the tangy taste of sweat and cum filled her mouth, the more intense became Cynthia's desire to bring the girl to a new level of euphoria. Finally, Nicole's body tensed and she arched her body, stretching out her arms for support. She trembled with indescribable ecstasy as a rushing wave of girlcum burst across Cynthia's pulsating tongue and open mouth. Pressing her face as far within the girl's open valley as she could, Cynthia swallowed surge upon surge of womanly joy. It was like sweet nectar, bringing with it the memories of youth. She made herself a promise that it wouldn't be anywhere near as long before she tasted it again. So intense had been Nicole's eruption that Cynthia was unable to swallow all of it. Small drippings of the precious fruit of her efforts ran off her chin and down to her breasts. Her mouth and nose were likewise covered with a sweet film of girljuice. "Who says you can't go back again," Cynthia said to herself as Nicole laid down beside her. She pulled the younger woman closer and kissed her again, the taste of female love still on her lips. Later that night, Cynthia and Nicole were laying in bed together, enjoying each other's company. The phone rang and Cynthia reluctantly answered it. "Hi Mom!" said an excited Courtney. "How's everything going?" "Oh everything's fine, sweetheart," Cynthia answered as she tried to keep from laughing as Nicole tickled under her breast. "How are you getting along with Nicole?" Courtney asked. "I'm hope you really didn't mind my telling her it was OK to spend the weekend." "Oh, no problem," Cynthia beamed as she playfully slapped Nicole's hand. "In fact, we've been getting along fabulously." "Really?" "Oh, you know how it is with the girls of Delta Theta Phi..." Cynthia laughed. "It's just a matter of finding a common taste."

Part Two

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10952.txt

Corn53

Marie Clair - PARTY GAMES (new)

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Boys and Girls, ice cream and cake is served. You kids sit over here and watch while we unfasten Marie Clair's arms for a few minutes. She may need to go to the bathroom after drinking all that pop at dinner," announced Mrs. Hardman to the world. While people were changing places and setting up some folding chairs nearby, Mrs. Hardman whispered in Marie Clair's ear to see if indeed she did need to go to the bathroom. "Ummmgh, ummm," which Mrs. Hardman interrupted as "Yes, ma'am." "Inga, bring it in," ordered Mrs. Hardman while two men unfastened her arms and helped her stand up, but they still restrained her hands. They did not unfasten her feet. Marie Clair felt herself being lowered onto a seat right there in the living room. "Hold her knees apart. If you kids want to watch her pee, you can come over in front." Marie Clair heard the five of them come over to sit under the table, very close to her. "OK, Marie Clair, you can go now." "Unnggh. Unnnn," She wiggled as the pressure on her bladder mounted in her upright position. She was thinking how much better she would feel once she had gone. And, "There's no way I could be any more embarrassed than I already have been," she was thinking to herself. So she went ahead and started peeing with her knees held apart on the little portable toilet and two men holding her arms out. Then she farted! How embarrassing! As the pee started again, she farted again. The children were roaring with laughter as she finished and squeezed out the last drops with another fart. When the laughter subsided, Dr. Hardman continued his instruction, "When you put your fingers into her bottom, some air got pushed in. That's why she farted. So don't laugh too much, it's not her fault. Now we'll wipe her off with warm washcloths and dry her." After she was cleaned, they helped her stand again, feet still wide apart, fastened to the table legs. "If any of you kids want to feel her some more while she's standing up, go ahead. Notice how her breasts stick out like lemons while she is standing? She doesn't really need a bra to support them, does she?" The boys laughed in agreement and began to feel her. "Look, her pink nipples are getting stiff again. She must like this," observed Brian. Heather's small fingers felt different to Marie Clair, but there was no way to object, as Heather experimented with one then the other breast - squeezing, lifting and letting it drop, twisting and pinching the nipple. Marie Clair moaned in spite of herself. She heard people bringing in the plates of ice cream and cake and then felt her feet being unfastened from the table and refastened to a bar of some kind which kept her feet about 2 1/2 feet apart - the bar resting behind her ankles and extending about four inches past her ankles on either side. They fastened her wrist cuffs to another bar which kept her arms straight out. They took off her shoes and socks so she could get better footing. They led her back from the table, taking wide steps, unable to get one foot within 2 feet of the other. She was able to take short forward steps by leaning her weight to the side and hopping the other foot forward. The other kids laughed as she practiced. "Maybe she needs some spankings to speed her up," suggested Brian, laughing to the point of coughing. "That might help her learn faster," agreed one of the adults. "But let's have our ice cream and cake first." Two of the men helped Marie Clair sit down. Then they laid her back onto some pillows so the bar would not hurt her back. "OK, kids. Anybody want to eat some icing off the 'Little Marie' table?" and Marie Clair felt someone put a spoonful of icing on each nipple. "We'll wipe her off after each person gets done so you won't get any germs," and then he put a dab of icing into her belly button and another on her thigh. "We'll put icing on different spots and you can lick it off." "Can I do it, too?" asked Heather. "I want to try it. Can I eat her belly button? Please, please. I want to play, too." "Well, of course, Dear," answered Heather's Mom and Mrs. Hardman at the same time, laughing, "Settle down, you'll get plenty of time to play with our birthday girl." For the next five minutes, Marie Clair could feel the kids eating the icing off her. She was quickly wiped off as each spot was licked clean, and another dab was placed somewhere else. Marie Clair was wiggling around as the tongues tickled her tummy, legs, breasts, and neck. She could not tell who was who but hoped she would get to see the video later. The dabs near her lower tummy kept getting placed closer to her mound - then on the top of her slit. She tried to sit up but couldn't get her balance because one of the kids kept wanting to eat icing off her neck, chin and even her lips which were stretched over the rubber ball with the strap through it. All the kids were enjoying themselves and the adults enjoyed watching. One of the boys kept licking lower and lower on her slit. Heather was playing with one of her breasts with her fingers. "OK, kids. Let's stand her up now. Let's watch her practice walking." Marie Clair could take short, hopping steps. She waited several seconds between each step, wondering why she heard the table being rolled away. "Brian, since you had the idea of how to speed her up, take this paddle and we'll all see if your idea works," suggested Mrs. Hardman. With a gleam in his eye, Brian took the paddle and walked over behind her. Marie Clair stood up straighter, trying to tell by sound where he was standing. SMACK! right on her fanny. SMACK! SMACK! two more hard ones in the same spot sent her in a hopping gallop with her feet hardly staying on the ground. The crowd applauded Brian's training methods. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! and she was practically running in a wide circle, unable to get away from Brian who was spurred on by the laughter and clapping of the audience. "Bravo, Brian!" "That's got her going!" "Good job, Lad!" "See how her titties jiggle, Mommy?" "Perfect aim, Brian!" "Harder!" and other comments as he 'trained' her to go faster for several minutes. He stopped spanking and she slowed down, then stopped, trying to guess where he was. Everyone got quiet as she slowly turned around in the center of the floor. Brian was smiling broadly as she unknowingly turned her red bottom right towards him. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! and he followed her around the floor, walking, while she tried to get away again - galloping as fast as she could, and jiggling all the way around the room. The crowd cheered as he spanked her about every five seconds, speeding her up. "Let's let her rest a minute," Mr. Long finally interceded. "Maybe the other children would like to help you 'train' her," said Mrs. Hardman. "You can give her some more 'standing up spankings' - front and back, while she tries to walk around. Now, how does she like them, kids - hard or soft?" "Hard!" answered all the kids at once. They ran to get their favorite paddles, belts, and so forth. Heather grabbed the belt which worried some of the other would-be spankers who admired her enthusiasm but did not trust her aim. Two men led Marie Clair back to the center of the room and moved the remaining chairs and other furniture out of the way. Dr. Hardman pronounced, "Brian will get a prize for the hardest spank so far." Robby got back just as the men let go of her and smacked her mound with the stir stick. As she turned around to hobble away from him, he smacked her harder on the fanny with the wooden paddle. He had a paddle in each hand! As she tried to hobble away, she felt the belt slap the back of her leg just above the knee. "Maybe we'd better just let 2 kids spank at a time," suggested Dr. Hardman - his request an order. Mr. Long became the judge and timer, letting Brian and Heather go first. Mr. Jones was the camera operator. Heather's next swing with the belt hit her on the side of the hip as she turned so that the tip of the belt smacked directly onto her pussy, which bent Marie Clair over. As she bent over, Brian smacked her fanny with the riding crop - standing her quickly back up again. The adults and kids all laughed as Marie Clair hobbled around, making her lemon-shaped titties jiggle and bounce. After 3 minutes of spanking, the referee said to stop and to go kiss and rub the birthday girl. Of course, Heather liked the 'kiss' idea and went right for her titties - just below her mouth level.Brian asked if he could check her wetness while he tenderly rubbed her bottom. The judges looked at each other and then nodded in silent permission. Reaching between her legs from behind, his finger slipped all the way into her pussy - no resistance at all. "She likes this game," he announced sagely, holding up a glistening, wet finger to the crowd awaiting his verdict. Applause and laughter. "Three Cheers for Maire Clair!" said Mr. Long. "And three chairs for the helpful spankers!" said several grown-ups. "See, the kids are learning a lot playing this game," commented one of the parents. "And I'm glad Marie Clair is enjoying her role, too." "The next two spankers are Billy and Nick. Are you ready, boys?" asked Mr. Long. "No, I'm waiting for the belt," said Nick. "Here it is," offered Heather. "But can I test her wetness before I sit down? Please, I want to test her, too." "Sure, Honey," answered Mrs. Hardman. Heather started fingering Marie Clair with gusto - slipping two fingers at once into the stationary Marie Clair. "Bet that feels good, doesn't it Marie Clair?" chided Nick as he tested a short piece of the belt on her fanny. "Don't be mean, Nick," warned his mother. "But she said in the video that she likes it hard," protested Nick with a wicked grin. "And I bet I can spank harder than Brian!" Laughing agreement, "You're right, Honey. Spank her as hard as you want." "Go!" said the referee. SMACK went the belt across the tops of the backs of Marie Clair's legs. And less than a second later, the riding crop smacked her bare pubic mound in an upward blow. Marie Clair began hopping and turning as the boys gleefully spanked her, thinking her noises expressed pleasure. The belt continued to strike the backs, sides, and fronts of her legs from her knees on up, sometimes wrapping to the inside. The stinging blows also hit her fanny and sometimes the tip of the belt stung the front of her pussy. The crowd was laughing as Marie Clair jumped around, hobbled by the two poles attached to ankles and wrists. "Look how her titties jiggle, Mommy," giggled Heather. "She is so funny." "Break!" interrupted the referee after just two minutes. "But that wasn't three minutes," objected Nick's mother. "Start all over." The red lines around her legs and fanny and across her lower tummy showed everyone where the blows had been landing. "OK. They can have another two minutes with different paddles," said the referee, "But first they might want to let her rest while they check her wetness." Mr. Long wanted to give her time to catch her breath. "Marie Clair, try to squat down and open your legs for the boys. That's a good birthday girl," as she spread her knees, hunching her pussy forward for their easy inspection. She wanted them to keep inspecting her for two reasons. Mr. Long had an idea for making it a little easier for the nervous contestant. Her perspiration mingled with her perfume, giving off a sweet aroma. Her whole body glistened with her sweat, and there was also a slippery trail of thicker wetness down the insides of her legs. "Boy, this is fun, Nick. Isn't it?" as they each inserted a finger into her slippery pussy at the same time - for a very tight fit. "Help me kneel her down. Why don't you do some softer front spanks while she puts her head and shoulders down on this pillow with her fanny up in the air?" "Sure," said the boys. "Well, I would rather just feel her titties some more," said Billy. "Let me give the birthday girl her choice," said Mr. Long. "If you want some gentle 'front spanks' and want Billy to feel your titties instead of spanking you, just lean forward and put your head on the pillows. If you want them to see how hard they can spank you for a few more minutes, then stand up." With that, she knelt down immediately. Nick looked at her upturned fanny and changed his mind. "I would rather put my fingers in her holes instead of spanking her." Mr. Long thought this over. "I'll ask the birthday girl again. If you would rather have Nick put his fingers in you instead of giving you a front spanking, then put your knees farther apart." And - her knees slid wider apart on the wood floor as she arched her back, tilting her 'holes' up for easier access. "I want to, too, Mommy. Please. Can I finger her again?" "You already had a turn, but maybe Nick will let you do a few for him." "No," said Nick. "I want to do all fourteen in each hole myself." While the crowd was ordering more drinks from Inga, Heather went over and whispered something into Nick's ear. Billy was happily fondling Marie Clair's firm, young breasts as the crowd refocused on the next round of fun after getting their drinks. "I'm going to show Heather how to put her fingers into the birthday girl, Mom. She hasn't tested Marie's fanny yet. Ahem, Marie Clair, listen up. I want to show Heather how to put a finger in your fanny. Your challenge is to squeeze so tight that I can't put my finger in. But first I'm going to put lots of your juice in, so relax while I do that. Put your knees a little farther apart if you accept my challenge." Marie put her knees even farther apart, arching her back more so that her chest was completely on the floor. Mr. Long put more pillows under her outstretched hands so the bar wouldn't press into her back. Nick dipped out some of her lubricant and began pushing it into her bottom, until his finger slipped easily in and out. "OK, now try to squeeze so hard that I won't be able to get my finger in. Wiggle your ass if you're ready." Marie Clair wiggled her fanny back and forth, then tightened her anus as tight as she could and waited. Nick got his finger wet again, waited a moment, placed his fingertip on her puckered anus, and then pushed slowly in - all the way, while turning his hand back and forth slowly as he pressed. "See Heather, that's how you do it," explained the triumphant Nick. The audience clapped and laughed again as Heather got her fingers wet and tried first with one finger - then two, while Nick probed the front hole. more to come... What's going to happen before all the guests leave? Let me know your suggestions and comments. corn53@aol.com Let me know if you missed any parts - or if you want to see other stories (Most of my stories are posted at www.mrdouble.com and at www.spiralzone.com) Do you have a story to share? Parts of all my stories are based on stories shared by readers.

MMmf/f spnk

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10102.txt

Steve Black

Reunion

"A world turns to the edge of night, the moon and stars so very bright... Your face glows in the candlelight, It's all because tonight's the night..." It was our song, mine and Diane's. It was the song that played when we first met, the song we sang to on our first date, that rang in our ears with that first kiss, that played softly in the background the first time we made love... "Now hold my hand and take this ring As we unite in harmony... We can begin to live the dream, The dream that's made for you and me..." It signified all of our hopes, our dreams, our fantasies all rolled up into one. For a long time, we had planned to make our lives together. Granted, there were her other lovers to consider, but both of us figured that wouldn't stop us from being with each other for a long time to come. And suddenly, one day, she was gone. "To be together... For the first time in our lives it's us together... As married man and wife, we'll be together From now on, until death do us part, and even then I hope that our love lasts forever..." For about a year, Diane and I had one of the more torrid love affairs that any man or woman had ever seen. I took time out of my school schedule to travel across Europe with her; she took time out of her working life to visit me anywhere in the country I happened to be. I loved her more than anything else in the world... something that I think might have contributed to our later problems. Why? Because I became what I despised. I had made a clean, final break with my former girlfriend, Angela, after a Thanksgiving holiday which saw a whole lot more taking from both of us than giving. I professed my love for Angela even as I knew I had to leave her, and the strain was too much for her heart to handle. Unfortunately, the amount of energy I put into my relationship with Diane began to be a drain on her. Even as I was trying not to be a burden on her, I unconsciously was one, as she felt guilty about not being able to respond to the amount of effort and such that I was putting into our relationship. "I promise to be always true Until the very end's in view. In good times, and the bad times, too, I know that we can make it through..." We tried. God, how we tried. But ultimately, it wasn't enough - or maybe it was too much. As we took a ferry past the Statue of Liberty one brisk April day, Diane began to talk about what we had. For her, the burden of our relationship was so great that it was crushing all of her other ones, and she said that day that it was time for her to go. Both of us cried long and hard that day... for a couple of weeks, I lost my composure completely and convinced myself that she had abandoned me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the problem was not her... it was me. Simply put, I had tried desperately to be everything for her, and there was no way she - or anyone else - could have responded in kind. Not with her lifestyle... not with her other lovers... not with her feelings. I had come to love Diane so much that all the reasons she had come to love me had evaporated. And it was only after she told me goodbye that I realized it. "As one united we'll be strong, because together we belong... If I could sing to you a song, I'd sing of love that can't go wrong..." We stayed in touch after that, writing letters, calling each other a lot, and after my initial breaking down, we managed to remain friends... but I never gave up on her, never gave up on thinking that maybe, just maybe, we could have what we once had. Even after two years, I still held out hope for it... but realistically, my hopes for us began to fall apart. I sought, and had other lovers, but none like Diane. It seemed like every day, I had fantasies that I couldn't cast away; while at night, the erotic dreams and thoughts of making love to her were almost terrifying. "If we're together... We can make a brand new life for us together... As married man and wife, we'll stay together From now on, until death do us part... and even then I hope that our love lasts forever..." I sat at the table, listening to the song. "It's no use," I said to myself, with tears in my eyes. "It's time for me to get on with my life... there's no way in the world I'll ever have her in my life again, not the way I want it." I broke down at this admission, sobbing uncontrollably, knowing that all the prayers, all the hoping, and everything I'd done wasn't good enough, that I was destined to live my life without the lovely, sexy, wonderful Diane. And then the doorbell rang. "Now hold my hand and take this ring As we unite in harmony... We can begin to live the dream, the dream that's meant for you and me..." "Are you OK, Andy?" It was as if I was hallucinating. There was Diane, in the doorway, with a dozen roses in her hands... for me. *Me*! "I'm in town for a conference with some regional accountants," Diane said, "and I really need a place to stay... you're the first person I thought of... is everything all right?" I shook my head. "Diane, it's not even close," I said, about to burst into tears again. "I..." "Shhhh." Diane put her finger to my lips. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. Just come over here to the sofa and relax." I did as she asked, with the tears still flowing down my cheeks. For the longest time, neither of us said a word. Diane wrapped her arms around me, and we locked each other in a loving embrace. Part of me loved it, but another part thought of this as some sort of torture, feeling that nothing could happen between Diane and I and that this goddess of a woman was brought back to torment me. After a few minutes, Diane loosened her hold on me, and whispered. "Tell me what you're feeling, Andy," she said. "Tell me what's troubling you so." I hadn't intended to say anything... but as I gazed into her eyes, I found that look of caring, of trust, of *love*. The same one I fell in love with in the first place. "Diane," I said, with a single tear rolling down my cheek, "the more I've been thinking about it, I've come to realize some things. I'm not perfect... our relationship from before is certainly proof of that. "But I've been trying to show you for the last two years that I *have* changed for the better, and can give you the kind of love that you want and need... and that I *want* to give you that. I don't ask any favors; for that matter, I don't ask anything except for you to still care about me. And it doesn't seem to get through. "Diane..." I paused again, not knowing what words to come up with. "Two years ago, I fell in love with you because of the person you were. That person hasn't changed... and neither have my feelings. Diane, I love you... and I don't think I can ever be happy without you." I gestured to the room around me, and took her hand. "Look around you, Diane... I don't have a lot of money, I don't have a lot of material possessions, and I may not be as organized as the lovers you have back home. But what I do have, Diane, is a kind and loyal heart... one that breaks every time I know you're not here." By now, both of us had tears in our eyes. "I need you, Diane. I want to be yours," I said. "Every thought, every dream, every touch, I think of you. I know you must think I'm a hopeless romantic or something, and you'd probably be right." We both giggled at that. "But it's all true," I said. "And I can honestly say that no matter what lovers come into our lives, there's nobody else I can ever love more than you." With that, I kissed her on the cheek. Diane had listened patiently for all of this, eyes moistening even as she was trying desperately to hold back the tears. "I know it's true, Andy," she said. "That's one of the reasons I came out here... I've come to the same conclusions." My heart stopped; was I really hearing this? "I had a fight with a friend last night," Diane said. "She can't understand why I still talk to you like I do... and when I thought about it, two things leapt out in my mind. The first one is that I've been an absolute fool for not keeping my mind open." "And the second?" I whispered."That all this time, I had been missing out on one of the few people who had stuck by me through thick and thin, no matter what," she said. "And I've been trying to turn my back on it and pretend that what we really have between us just isn't there." She looked at me longingly. "I'm not about to have one exclusive lover, you know me better than that... but I've never stopped caring about you, Andy. In fact, I think I can honestly say that..." Her voice faltered. Despite myself, a gentle smile crossed my lips. "Maybe not?" Diane giggled. "I suppose not," she said. "But that doesn't mean I don't need you in my life... and that I don't want you. Because I do want you... now more than ever." No further words were necessary. The first kiss I'd had from her in two years was even more electric than our first one in that hotel room, so long ago... perhaps because I now knew what I had in her. My hands ran down her back so slowly, so gently, but holding her tight as if I never wanted to let her go... which I didn't. I could feel Diane's heart pounding a mile a minute against my chest, and her labored breathing as her hands caressed my shoulders and ran down my arms. It didn't take long for my pulsing cock to grow very tightly against my slacks... or for her to notice it. In response, she brought her legs up and wrapped them around me, settling her crotch right on top of mine. As our kiss continued, harder and with much more passion, she began to move against me, and her face became flushed with an arousal like none I'd ever seen. Remembering our first time together, I didn't want to keep her waiting. After carefully setting her glasses aside, I pulled her shirt off and quickly unfastened her bra, letting that fall to the sofa. Just as quickly, she pulled my shirt off, almost ripping it as she threw it away from me. My hands began to play with Diane's breasts, first cupping them, then massaging each nipple with my fingertips. She responded almost madly, nibbling lightly into my shoulder blades and flickering her tongue against the side of my neck. At this, I eased her back and gently backed away, caressing her already hot cunt through the fabric of her thin jeans. I stood up, took her hand in mine, and led her to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Diane practically began to attack me, backing me up against the bed and pushing her crotch against mine, even as she reached down to unzip my pants. As she did so, I guided my hands to her backside and pulled her to me, caressing each cheek and causing her to whimper in pleasure. All of my remaining clothes were gone in moments, and I helped her step out of her blue jeans. I just stood and looked at her for a moment, marveling in the fact that two years had not only not made her look worse, but had made her look even more like a goddess than ever. I only had a moment, though, because Diane was all over me, taking a nipple into her mouth one minute and caressing my manhood with her hand the next. I turned her around and guided her onto the bed, as gently as I could while still letting her know that I meant business. Almost as quickly, she turned so that she was on top of me. Before I even knew it, she was raising her body, then slowly lowering it onto my upright cock. It was as if it was my first time all over again. Diane began to bounce up and down on my hardness, running her fingers along my spine as her lips kissed me like, frankly, I hadn't ever been kissed before. We maneuvered ourselves so that we were both sitting up and so I was doing most of the work, thrusting into her with her legs wrapped around me and our bodies interlocked so close together. Every movement I made, every action she took, registered in both of our bodies. It didn't take long for her eyes to close and her breathing to get more and more ragged. I ran my fingertips over the sides of her body, not touching her breasts, but just getting close enough so that she knew I was there. As I did so, I felt her hands begin to grip my back tighter and tighter, and I began to feel her body tremble against mine, which was her telltale sign that she was about to lose control completely. I began thrusting into her harder, faster, not caring what happened to me, but rather wanting her to reach *her* peak. And peak she did. From deep in her throat, I heard an almost breathless "Oh, God..." that got increasingly louder and louder until finally her nails were digging into my back and she was shouting, "Oh GOD, Andy! YESSS..." After what seemed like forever, Diane slowed down, and I asked her how she felt. "Oh, please..." she said, "please come..." To this day, she swears that she never saw a look of pure animal lust in my eyes like she did that day... I can safely say I never saw a glazed-over, *needy* look like I saw in her eyes at that moment. I turned her over onto her stomach and hopped off the bed long enough to grab a silk tie from my closet. My bed is one where I don't have a real headboard, but rather have a row of six thin posts where a headboard should be. I came back on the bed and kissed my way down her spine madly, and paused just long enough to tie Diane's wrists in front of her, around the posts. My fingers and tongue probed down her back, tracing little trails along her spine, and I could feel her body shudder in response. My mouth kissed her lower and lower... then I wet a finger and began to play around her anus with it, making her whimper in pleasure and want. In response, she began to thrust her soaked pussy towards me. Who was I to resist? I lowered my face down and tentatively licked around the folds of her labia, trying to make her beg me to make love to her again. The more I licked, however, the more desirous *I* became. My body was trembling... I *needed* Diane. Without warning, I came around so that I was almost riding on top of her, positioning my rigid member so that it was right at the very edge of her sex, and I slowly pushed her forward. Swiftly, she pushed her entire body back so that I was completely enveloped by her wet, intensely aroused pleasure center. My hands came around to her chest and began caressing her breasts with a palpable intensity, as her hips ground back against mine, so that every thrust I made into Diane's body sent shivers up both my spine and hers. I leaned over and kissed her neck, and she did her best to try and kiss me back as my cock continued to pound into her. All at once, she stood still, and her body started trembling again... just as that familiar (and welcome) tingle started spreading from my member throughout my body. As I began to moan, I heard her say, "Oh, please... oh, PLEASE... OH GOD..." as she tightened around me in almost a vice grip as I continued to buck my hips against her. All at once I started going crazy, as my come started pouring out of me and into Diane... I knew I was shouting, but I didn't care... and neither did Diane, as she shouted her pleasure along with me, for what seemed like hours... After a couple of moments of just being spent, I slowly withdrew from her, collapsing onto the bed with an arm wrapped around her tired shoulders. I bent over to kiss her, but I couldn't help but notice her tears. "Diane, are you ok?" I asked. She nodded for a moment. "Yes... I just can't believe that I've passed this up for so long... it's not just the sex, though. It's this closeness, this feeling of admiration, of caring, of... of love. I can't believe I let this go." I kissed her lightly on the lips, and said to her, "We'll never have to have that happen again, darling... I'm here for as long as you want me. But then, you've always known that." Diane smiled. "I know... it's just that words have always failed me..." I smiled, and put in a cassette tape of our song. "Maybe these words will help..." She couldn't help but giggle as the song began, whispering, "You hopeless romantic, you." I looked at her closely, and gave her what I hoped was my best loving look. "We don't need words, Diane..." She smiled, with a tear still in her eye, and turned to kiss me again. And our song played on... THE END...FOR NOW. :>

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14728.txt

Lord Malinov

Skirt

"I'm so tired of winter," Laura said to herself, rubbing a red fleece jacket between thumb and finger. A wry smile tickled her face as she let a warm spring thought pass by. Laura turned slightly and pushed her way between two overstuffed racks of blouses to reach a thick ring of hanging slacks. Pushing hard on the loops of stiff wire, Laura opened a short space and began flipping the thin strips of black, grey, blue, and tan past her hand, continuing her constant hunt for something. She lifted a pair of pants, royal blue cotton size eight, and then held it beside her hips. Laura hooked the hanger over her finger and resumed flipping dexterously through the garments. Another pair made the transition to her finger, and then another. Laura sighed, wondering if she shouldn't have gone to look at furniture instead. "I don't really need pants," she thought. A flip of brown tweed revealed a black skirt, out of place. Laura pulled back the fabric to check the size and then lifted the skirt. "Isn't that cute," she thought and then frowned. "Where could I wear it?" She held it to her waist. "Short," she smiled, "with my blue silk blouse and some dark stockings." Laura's face grew serious, and she looked around. "About five years ago, maybe." She imagined feeling the heat of Tom's glare as he ridiculed her for trying to act younger than she was and started to put the skirt back. "Honestly, Laura," she said to herself, "he's never done that." She hooked the skirt's hanger onto her finger and looked around the clothed walls to find the fitting room. Weaving her way between overstuffed racks, Laura finally reached the back corner of the department and looked around for some guidance. Walking past a large mound of unfolded clothes and a box overflowing with clear plastic hangers, she pulled the knob of a white slatted door. Laura stepped into the empty square space and tossed her purse and shopping bag on an upholstered box bench. Hanging up her goods, she closed the door. A large mirror filled the wall. Laura smiled at her reflection as she took off her coat and hung it beside the pants and black skirt. "I still look good," she thought, turning her hips slightly to study the feminine curves of her body. Watching herself, Laura unbuckled the small brass buckle and unclasped her pants. The beige fabric slid down her thighs and fell into folds at her feet. Lifting up the slacks with her toe, Laura folded and then laid them over her purse. She took another glance at herself in the mirror as she loosened the hug of her cream lace panties. Laura smiled, shyly. "Come here," she heard a younger woman say in a deliberate but hushed voice. Laura looked back at the still closed door. "C'mon," the girl said, slightly exasperated. Laura looked up to realize the walls ended at about eight feet, leaving four more between the cubicle top and the ceiling. Laura reached for the royal blue pants and began to step into them. Another door clicked shut. "Sit down," the girl said. Laura closed the waist of the pants and turned to see her bottom in the mirror. "C'mon," said the voice from behind the glass. Laura stroked the fabric down the back of her thigh. The pants hung shapelessly. "Am I going to get in trouble?" a deeper voice asked. Laura opened her mouth, astonished. "She's got a guy in there," Laura thought, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. "Yes, you are," teased the girl. "Now sit down. I've got to pick out something for Jack's party. This is easier and they don't care." Laura slipped off the royal blues and tossed them toward the corner. Pulling a grey pair from the hanger, she leaned over to step into them. "This is sexy," the man said. Laura grinned as she pulled on the pants. "You look great." "You like?" the girl asked. "Let me put on a dress now." Laura turned to look at the pants in the mirror, grinning. "These look pretty good," she thought. She turned and stood on her toes, pressing the fabric over her bottom. "Nice," she thought. "What do you think?" the girl asked. "That's great," the deeper voice replied. Laura turned again, trying to decide. "The sweater clashes," she thought and pulled the brown wool over her head. She shook slightly with a sudden chill, jiggling the creamy flesh of her full breasts in their lace encasement. "I like that a lot," he said. The girl squealed softly. "Sit down and let me try another one," she ordered. Laura nodded to herself and took off the grey pants. "If you don't sit down, I'm going to scream for help." "I'll tell them you dragged me in here." "Who do you think they'll believe?" she asked gaily. "The big brute or the naked girl?" "Depends on the jury," he said, his voice low, almost threatening. Laura took down the skirt and stepped into it. The fabric squeezed her hips tightly as she shimmied the black cylinder up toward her waist. She wiggled as she worked into the snug hold. "I can't," Laura thought, grinning lewdly. "They're indecent." "Wow," the man said. "You look great." "You like?" she asked. "Wow," he repeated. Laura turned to look at herself from behind. "Naughty," she thought. She bent a little at the waist and caught a glimpse of her panties. "Tom would just die." "Scott," the girl said, the words emphatic and muffled. "What are you...?" Raising a curious eyebrow, Laura paused. She stood still and stared breathlessly at her own smiling reflection, waiting as the sound of restless motion behind the mirror grew serious. Listening attentively, Laura watched as her nipples tightened beneath the cream lace of her bra. "Wait," the girl said. "Let me get..." Her words were interrupted by another jostling and the clang of a hanger. "There," he said. "Now just..." The girl moaned sharply. Laura watched herself as she unconsciously lifted the hem of the black skirt and gently touched the crotch of her panties. "Damn, Scott," the girl said between breaths, "your dick is so fucking big." Laura whimpered and pushed her fingers underneath the cream lace. "You like that, don't you?" he growled. "You like my big dick?" "Yes," the girl said, emphatically. "Give it to me." Laura rubbed herself furiously, watching herself in the mirror, listening as flesh began to slap flesh in a steady rhythm. Laura opened her mouth as the electric shocks of excitement rippled through her, and she felt her knees go weak. "Damn," the girl said, "fuck." Laura pulled the black skirt up to her waist and pushed her panties down her thighs. Turning, she leaned back against the mirror, pushing her bare ass against the glass. The wall shuddered slightly with each fleshy smack from beyond. Feeling their fuck bouncing steadily against her, excitement poured from Laura's pussy, drenching her diddling fingers. "Oh God," the girl moaned, "give me that cock." "Give me that cock," Laura whispered. "Aargh," bellowed the man, and the rhythm of his blows intensified and then broke. Laura breathed deeply, on fire with her excitement. The other room quieted with gentle murmurs and kisses and lightly squealed 'oohs'. Laura closed her eyes and finally pushed herself forward. Hiking up her panties, she smiled to see the half-moon imprint of her bottom on the glass. A shudder coursed her body, leaving Laura smiling wickedly. She watched her reflection as she danced a few provocative turns in the tight, short skirt. "Too naughty," Laura said softly and, peeling off the skirt, she quickly dressed and left, leaving the navy blues and fashionable greys in a heap in the corner of the room. The clerk at the register, a young dark-haired woman, stood behind the counter folding sweaters. Laura plopped the black skirt down with a delighted smile. "I am so tired of winter," the clerk said, pushing aside the pile of thick knitted wool. "I think spring will be here soon," said Laura, dreamily. "Did you find everything you need?" asked the clerk. "Absolutely not," said Laura, almost laughing, "but I have a good start." "We have some new blazers on sale." The clerk folded the black skirt and found the price tag. "Nope," said Laura. "I've got more casual shopping in mind." "Can I put this on your Hechts card?" "Sure," said Laura, suddenly distracted as a couple walked past the register. Her eyes fixed on the bulging crotch of the young man's jeans. "I'll take one of those," Laura said, almost to herself. The clerk smirked."I think we're out, but I can order one for you," the clerk said, her voice low. They laughed. "What I really need is some new lingerie," said Laura. "Ours is upstairs, to the right. If you want something, you know, spicy, go up to Rudolph's on the top floor over by Lechters. They have great stuff." The clerk winked. "Yes," said Laura. "I think spring is on the way." She signed the draft and took her package. "Upstairs?" "By Lechters and The Movie House." "Thanks," said Laura. Walking saucily down the wide aisle, she stopped to feel the fabric of a low-cut black blouse. "Maybe I should try this on," Laura said, laughing to herself.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7894.txt

Mark Ogilvie

Elvira and the Witches Kids

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Elvira said, kicking off her sneakers. She was in the Lab, a converted cellar (dungeons more like it, she thought) in Clarion Mansion. Around her, the regular lab noises continued. Chemicals simmered and boiled, various gears and levers ground their way through eternity. In front of her was a large table, mounted on a universal ball joint. Unbuckling her belt, the babysitter pulled down her pants and handed them to Helga. "To solve a problem, you need data," Jeremy said, sitting at a large computer console. His cherubic face was complexly serious, though his green eyes seemed to crackle as Elvira pulled her sweater over her head. Underneath it, she wore a blue one-piece teddy with lace edging. It showed off a slight figure, with wide hips and small breasts. Handing her clothes to Helga, the young girl jumped onto the table. "That's it?" Helga asked. "That's all this time," Elvira said, lying back. "Why the modesty?" Jeremy asked, starting to work with the computer. "We've seen you naked before. In fact, we've wrestled while you were naked." "So live with the memory." "Very well." There was a slight whirring sound, and a metal ball descended from the shadows. Elvira swore and launched herself from the table. "What's wrong?" Helga asked. "Is the table cold?" "What the hell's that?" "It's a sensor array," Jeremy said. "Oh." Elvira looked at the ball. It was about two feet in diameter, with nearly a thousand (or so it seemed) antennae of various shapes and sizes. "It looks like the thing Darth Vader used to torture Princess Leia." "It's quite harmless," Jeremy said. I've heard that before, Elvira thought. Unconvinced, she got on the table and laid back. "Beginning scan," Jeremy announced. "I'll activate the remote viewer so you can see." A screen in the shadows above the table came to life, and Elvira saw herself. Slowly, it changed, first showing her, then showing her muscles, organs, bones, and finally reversing itself. "Nothing." "Unless you count the pizza she had for lunch," Helga pointed out. "I can't believe you had garlic, mushroom, pepperoni, and anchovies." So sayeth the ghoulish gourmet, Elvira thought. "Let us think this through," Jeremy said, leaning back. "Elvira, can you remember exactly where the first shrinking potion hit?" "Right here," Elvira ran her hand across her chest. The young scientist adjusted a control, and the ball dropped lower. On the screen, Elvira's breast tripled in size, then turned transparent. "Still nothing." "Try cellular resolution," Helga suggested. Jeremy adjusted again, and the view of Elvira's breast zoomed in until the skin seemed to part, and layers of skin, crisscrossed with light hair, could be seen. Then the hair vanished, and the view became one of overlapping layers of round, translucent ovals. The image was fuzzy, slightly out of focus. For a few minutes, they said nothing, as he readjusted the controls. "You'll have to take it off," Jeremy said, finally. "The scanner can't handle the fabric." Sighing with frustration, Elvira reached up and pulled the top of her teddy down. Her breasts broke free, the accentuated nipples stiffening in the cool air of the lab. The change in the scan was immediate, and to the babysitter, meaningless. It was clear, but Elvira had no idea what she was looking at. "Still nothing," Jeremy said. "No," Helga adjusted the scanner, and it moved until it was focused on a small sac. "Check out the spectrum on the sweat gland." "You're right," Jeremy once again adjusted the scan. Soon, the image of a small machine could be seen hanging on the gland. "What the hell is that thing?" Elvira asked, sitting up. "A nanite," Helga said. "A small..." "Yeah, I know, I saw that Star Trek episode. How the hell did it get into me?" "It was in the potion," Jeremy said. "That's how the growth and shrinking effects work. The nanites generate a field that compresses or expands your body structure." "I thought it was magic." "The second potion was magic," Jeremy said. "Unstable if you'll remember. I abandoned it when I was unable to stabilize the side effects." "What side effects?" "Increased sexual appetite, slight weight loss, and a desire to rule the world. You haven't had any of those, have you?" "No," Exasperated, Elvira laid back down. "The first potion was just a carrier for the nanites. I realized that in a liquid carrier, they could go through clothing and soak into the skin. But they should have deactivated after the first few days." "They? How many of these things are in me?" "I'll have to scan to see," Jeremy said. "And I will have to do it without interference." "Oh, hell," Elvira said, pulling the rest of her teddy off, she dropped it on the floor. Completely naked, she closed her eyes and willed them not to say anything. I wonder if centerfolds feel this way, she thought. "Same as before," Jeremy remarked, starting to tap out commands on the keyboard. "No, she's had a trim since then," Helga said. Why didn't I let Aunt Petunia eat me when I had the chance, Elvira wondered. She shuddered as she thought of a thousand little machines inhabiting her body. Suddenly, metal straps erupted from the table. They encircled her ankles, knees, waist, and wrists. "Hey!" Elvira shouted, struggling. For a few moments, she strained every muscle in her body, but remained trapped. "I need you to keep still," Jeremy said. "Besides, it's more fun this way," Helga added. "It lives up to the image." "Perverted twins," Elvira muttered. "Yes," a voice from nowhere said. "Aren't they?" "Huh?" Suddenly, Helga stiffened, and a white cloth suddenly appeared around her face. She struggled, but in a few moments, was unconscious. "Uncle Frank!" Jeremy shouted. Before he could do anything, the white cloth appeared around his face. "Let me out of this thing!" Elvira screeched. But it was too late. Jeremy and Helga were slumped on the floor, completely out. She lay on the table, helpless, looking around desperately for any sign of the Invisible Tickler. There was nothing, not a sound. Something light brushed across the sole of her feet. Elvira laughed, despite her efforts. Nothing happened for a few moments, and she braced herself, tightening every muscle. Something tickled under her arms, at the same time something started to brush lightly across her left nipple. For a minute, Elvira was able to keep control, then she burst out laughing. "Receptive as always," Uncle Frank said, keeping up the stimulation. "But this is hardly the perfect place." The white cloth appeared, and Elvira laughed her way to sleep. Elvira woke up, struggling like a fish in a net. Like coming out of a nightmare, she willed her limbs to move, but they were held in place. Opening her eyes, the babysitter realized she was in her room, lying on her large four-poster bed. Elvira looked around, but saw nothing. "What am I looking for," she muttered, "he's invisible." "Are you awake?" a voice from somewhere near her stomach asked. "Yeah, wide awake." "Good." Suddenly, Elvira started to move. She sat up, her body responding to commands other than her own. Looking at herself, Elvira saw that she was in some sort of leather harness. Straps were around her body at the wrist, elbows, waist, and legs. "I shall alert Uncle Frank." "Okay," was the voice asking her or telling her? Stiffly, she moved across the room to a silken cord that hung next to the door. Elvira's arm reached up, her hand took the cord and pulled. Then the hand released the cord, and suddenly, she could move freely. Quickly, she moved her hands to the buckles, only to have her fingers refuse to move when they got to them. "Sorry, but I can't let you release yourself," the voice said. "But I can allow a small amount of self-commanded movement." "Who are you?" "I am Benny, your bondage suit."The voice was chipper, friendly, almost Disney-like. "Oh." "If you'd like to take a good look, we can go in and look in the bathroom mirror." "Sure." Wonderful thing about shrinking a lot, Elvira pondered as her body walked, through no will of hers, into the bathroom, it makes you hard to rattle. What she saw in the bathroom mirror rattled her anyway. She was still naked, but that she knew. Encircling her arms and legs were small leather straps. Interconnected by a network of thinner strips of leather. The straps formed a cone around each of her breasts, and covering the nipples were two glass eyes. Directly below her breasts was a large leather patch. On the patch was a nose and a mouth. Every strap in the suit met at the patch. Around her throat, a small ball hung loosely. One of the glass eyes winked at her. "Benny," she said, her voice completely numb. "How do you do. I hope to make your captivity as pleasant as possible. In me, you have the ultimate in bondage gear, polite, flexible, and completely escape-proof. You are utterly helpless in my grasp." "Yay!" Elvira gave a mock cheer. Benny was every telephone sales person she had ever talked to. He made it sound so natural, so right, that she be his prisoner. "Benny," Uncle Frank called. Instantly, Elvira found herself walking back into the bedroom. A small push cart was waiting by the bed. Above it, a small feather hung in mid-air. "Just set her down on the bed," Frank said. His voice held a slight tremor, a lilt that nearly broke through every few seconds. Elvira was moved to the bed and forced to lay down. Uncle Frank took hold of her ankles and moved them over the edge. Then a strange contraption was pulled out of the cart. It was a small wooden frame, with two rings in the center that fit over her ankles. From the frame, ten small cords hung, at the end of each was a woven fabric tube. Uncle Frank attached each of the tubes to one of Elvira's toes. It was when he pulled them taut that she realized they were miniature Chinese finger traps. He adjusted a knob on the frame, and her toes were pulled up and away from each other. A small bar with two rings was attached to either of her big toes, holding them apart and rigid. The babysitter swallowed as she realized how vulnerable her feet were. The next thing to come out of the tray confused her. It was a portable tape player. Uncle Frank put it on the floor and then produced a large feather. "Let's warm up a little, shall we?" The feather glided across the sole of her foot, and Elvira started to giggle. He kept this up for a few minutes, then moved on. When he started to tickle the space between her toes, Elvira nearly jumped off the bed, despite Benny. She had never realized how ticklish she was there. It only took a few strokes of the feather for her to laugh so hard that tears came to her eyes. Uncle Frank pulled back and let her laughter play itself out. "I think we're ready," he said. They were both surprised when the doorbell rang. "Who would dare interrupt me now?" Uncle Frank raved. "Are you expecting anyone?" "Are you kidding? I tell all my friends to stay away from this place." "Well, we shall soon see. Benny, a gag if you please." Before Elvira could react, the ball that hung around her throat stuffed itself into her mouth. "Now to deal with the interloper." Please let it be a SWAT team, Elvira prayed.

Part 7 - The Return of Uncle Frank

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7810.txt

HotScribe

"Withering Rod of Eridu" [Part Two]

"You see," said Tara after I finished reading the scroll aloud. "I told you it would be an adventure of sorts." "And, quite possibly, a dangerous one, too," I retorted. "Based on past experience, I always hesitate when an 'unknown evil' is indicated. I never know what I'm getting into, and it's usually worse than what was first imagined. But---it is an adventure, nonetheless." "Then, shouldn't we be on our way?" asked Tara. I chuckled at her. "Looking like that?" She was still in a naked state. She laughed back. "That would certainly draw attention to us, wouldn't it?" "While you dress," I continued, "I shall talk with my sister, let her know where we're going. Then I'll say my good-byes to the rest of my own family, and the members of my newly-related family-in-law. I should be ready to depart by mid-day." Tara nodded in agreement. "Shall I obtain supplies for us?" "Enough rations for two days," I answered as I took some coins from my bag and tossed them to her. She caught them. "Barring any unforeseen circumstances, that's how long it should take us to get to Eridu." Tara bowed her head slightly. "Yes, Mage." I was about to tell her not to be so formal since we'd so recently shared such an intimate moment, but I quickly changed my mind. It is still good for the young to respect their elders in spite of relationships. Precisely as I had said, mid-day found Tara and me on the road to Eridu. I'd never been to the Keep before so I didn't know what to expect other than what I'd been told by my sister---that those who dwelt there were mainly soldiers and mercenaries under the employ of Preet, king of Shallamar. They protected the border between Arpakshad and Elam, patrolling up and down the River Ganga which ran from the Elburz Mountains in the north, east-southeast past the Rajasthan Desert to empty into the Sea of Salacia just off the Coromandel Coast. "Where are you from?" asked Tara as we made our way along the dusty road which led through the Forest of Andhra. "I was born in Javan---part of the Isles of the Gentiles---but spent most of the years of my childhood in Asshur. When an army of black warriors under the command of Chief Mapigano swept up from Kush to invade my adopted country---killing my parents in the process---I escaped east and arrived at Chambal. Here I came under the tutelage of the Council of Wizards, particularly Ramesh Magus, from whom I learned many things of a magical nature." "And the art of lovemaking...?" prodded Tara. "Ah---that's another story entirely," I replied as I attempted to evade her inquiry. She touched my arm gently, squeezed with her fingers. "Tell it to me, I pray you, Mage Solomon. I have heard so many tales of your sexual prowess, and your amazing staff, but none which sound like the Truth." I pursed my lips. It had been so long since the awakening of my Bliss that I wondered if I could remember the details as accurately as I thought I did. "Very well, I shall tell you the Truth, if you wish..."

CHAPTER TWO

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17186.txt

Seurat

The Wedding Present

"Hello?" "Hey, Tony, how's it hanging, buddy?" "Who is this?" "It's me, Bill. You remember, the one that stole away your darling Eileen?" "And married her, too, as I recall." "That's me, man. I just got back from the honeymoon, and I wanted to thank you." "For what? Being stupid enough to let you frame me so I'd lose my job and you could steal Eileen away from me?" "Hey! If she'd really wanted you, she could have stayed. I guess she wanted handsome and rich. But I'm off the subject. I wanted to thank you for the funky gift. Where did you get it?" "At the shop where I work now, The Twilight Zone. Why?" "You're working in a fucking lingerie store? Man, that's harsh. Anyway, I thought you should know that Eileen really loved the video camera and those panties you got her. Opened it up one week after we got married, like your card said, and I thought she was gonna wet the ones she had on. Man, once she got them on, I don't think she took them off until Sunday. She popped the snaps on the crotch and fucked me till I was sore. It was like she was possessed! Always wanted to be on top, too. I guess it was them being black leather and all, but she was like a different woman. Got the whole thing on tape." "Bill, I think you know how I feel about Eileen, and about you. Is there something you wanted, other than to rub my face in shit again?" "I was just wondering what was in the other six boxes. I mean, your note was rather cryptic. Open one each Saturday morning, in order. What's in the other boxes?" "Why don't you open them and find out?" "I can't. After the first, she hid the rest. She said Saturday was a day made special by you, and if you said one and only one every Saturday, that was it." "Has she taken off the panties?" "Yeah. But when she comes home from work each day, the first thing she does is change into them and fuck me good. It's wearing me out." "She'll do that." "What'd you say? Never mind. I was just calling to thank you, and find out where you got them. I know somebody that would like a present like that." "At the Twilight Zone. It was a special package deal, called 'The Seven Saturdays of' something or other. I can find out if you really want." "Thanks buddy. No hard feelings, right?" "Yeah, right." "Hello?" "Tony? It's me, Bill. You are a fucking pervert, aren't you!?" "What do you mean, Bill?" "This week's present. I woke up yesterday to find her in that leather corset with those gloves on; both hands wrapped around my dick and pumping away, but I couldn't come! She'd put me in some metal thing..." "...A cockring harness..." "...Yeah, that's it, a cockring do-dad, and told me I was in for the orgasm of my life. I wanted to fuck her right there, but she wanted no part even though I could see she was wet, what with the crotch open on those leather panties and everything. Positively dripping! All day long she pranced around the house in her little leather get-up, stroking me and fondling me, and sometimes even fucking me! When she let me loose that night it only took a few strokes of her hand and BAM! I came so hard I passed out!" "Bill, what is it that you want?" "Was she always like this?" "Goodbye, Bill." "Hello?" "Oh-my-God, Tony! I can see why you were so hard about Eileen. I thought I could take what was ever in those boxes, but man-o-man, Yesterday's topped them all." "Bill, I really don't want to hear this." "I mean, every day last week she would come home, get into her outfit, strap that harness on me, then tease me until midnight, when she'd jerk me off. No penetration during her period, she said, but she wanted me ready for when it was over. I was jerking off all day just thinking about what she'd be doing to me at night." "Goodbye Bill." "Wait! I got to tell you the best part. Saturday morning she opened the next box, the one with the garter belt, stockings, and those boots, along with the make-up, and she went wild. When she put it all on, all the gifts, she looked like one of those dominatrixes..." "Dominatrix" "Yeah, that. Anyhow, no sooner does she finish with that pink pearl lipstick then she's sucking my dick! Not just the head, either, but she's deep throating it! If I wasn't in that cock thingy, I would have shot right there. Every hour, no matter where we were, she'd put on the lipstick and start sucking away like a little whore. When she jerked me off last night, I must have come a gallon if it was an ounce." "Bill, I'd really wish you'd stop calling me. You got me fired so I'd lose my house and my girlfriend, and now you're calling me to tell me how great sex is with her. You really are an asshole, Bill." "I just wanted to thank you. If there is ever anything I can do for you, let me know." "Leave me alone. Goodbye." "What...Hello? Who is this?" "Tony, you fucking dick, get over here now!" "Bill? It's...six-thirty in the morning, on a Saturday, no less! I thought I told you to leave me alone." "Get me out of this fucking thing!" "What are you talking about?" "This belt thing is what I'm talking about." "Belt thing?" "Big stainless steel thing, won't let me touch my dick, as if I could with these handcuffs chained to my neck." "Those are manacles. Why don't you get Eileen to let you out? She's the one who locked you in there in the first place." "Because I woke up with these things on, and she left a note saying she was spending the day shopping while I cleaned the house." "It should be cleaned, you know, and with her working while you stay at home all day, it's the least you could do." "Fuck you! Now get over here and get this thing off me." "No can do." "Why not?" "It's got two special codes. One locks the belt around your waist, the other locks the cod piece. Access codes are set by the user when it's put on. Only Eileen can take it off." "Fuck! Why'd she put it on me?" "Probably to keep you from masturbating all over her clothes while she was gone. Unless she's wearing them while shopping." "She only wears them when she wants sex." "That's just it, Bill. Maybe she got tired of you jerking off all the time, and being such an asshole. Maybe right now she's all dressed up like a fuck toy looking for a stud to fuck. Is her outfit there?" "Wait...NO! I can't believe this. Married a month and my wife is out fucking some other guy." "You never know Bill. Maybe she's just teasing you. Eileen loves to tease. If I were you, I'd be kissing her feet when she came home to let her know how much she means to me. The last thing I'd do is be angry, so you'd better calm down. If she walks out, you'll be stuck like that for who knows how long." "Maybe...maybe you're right. I'll show her how devoted I can really be." "Don't forget to clean the house." "Wait a minute. You were the one that bought this. You..." "That's right. I bought it, but it was Eileen's decision to use it. You told me before she was jerking you off. Did she jerk you off last week?" "Yeah, every night. She'd tease me all night, then jerk me off at the stroke of midnight." "You know, the more often you come, the smaller the amount. She could probably tell you'd been jerking off from the small amounts she was getting. I can't believe you. Married to a woman like that, and you can't stop jerking off. Wasn't she good enough? If I were you, I'd get cleaning, and hope she's not pissed off when she gets home. You have your work cut out for you with that big mansion and everything." "Yeah, I guess you're right." "Bye Bill."Bye, Tony." "Hello?" "Hi, Bill, this is Tony. How's it going?" "I can't talk right now. I have to go." "What's the big rush? I just wanted to find out how everything went last week and what you thought of this week's present." "I think it sucks." "What? That's an eight hundred dollar latex French maid outfit. It even came with a wig. I'm getting hard just thinking of Eileen dressed in it. What's wrong with it?" "I'll tell you what's wrong. Eileen got back from shopping last week, and I did what you said, kissing her feet and everything, and she unlocked the codpiece part and put on the cockring harness to keep me hard. I thought we were going to make love, but before she'd do that, she wanted to check the house. She wasn't happy with my cleaning, and said I wasn't going to be set free until it was spic and span. Every day when she gets home from work, she changes into her outfit, does her makeup, straps me into my harness under the chastity belt, then checks the house. She always finds some place that I missed! Then she says it means no sex again that night, and she goes out. She says it's just with some friends, but I think she's fucking some other guy, 'cause now she doesn't even want to touch me, except to voice her disapproval and let me out of the harness. I've been stuck with an erection I can't touch." "Didn't she like the French maid's outfit?" "Oh yeah, she liked it all right. Said maybe looking like a maid would get me thinking like a maid. I'm to call her Mistress Eileen, and act the part of a maid." "You mean, you're wearing that outfit? It wasn't exactly made for a guy, you know." "I know. She got some breast forms yesterday to fill it out, along with stockings and high heels. I even have to wear makeup." "You're saying that you..." "Are dressed like a latex French maid whore?" "Yeah...Well, anyway, what about the sex?" "Nothing to talk about." "C'mon, Bill, you used to love telling me about sex with Eileen." "I mean there hasn't been any, for two weeks. At all. Least not for me. She says if I'm good, she'll surprise me on Saturday. Only if I'm good. My balls feel like they're going to explode." "Why don't you just leave?" "First of all, she locked me into this outfit. Bet you forgot about those locks, didn't you?" "Oops. Sorry." "Second, I can't find any of my old clothes. They're all gone. Thirdly, we had a pre-nuptial agreement." "So?" "It said if either found justifiable reason for divorce, the guilty party would forfeit all rights to the other's possessions and half of their own. I wanted to make sure that if she left, I got half of her inheritance." "You're saying she'll take you for half the Bonzer family fortune? How? She's the sex freak." "That fucking video camera of hers. She's taped a lot of the stuff we did. When you play it back, it looks like it was my idea. She'll claim sexual deviancy and rape." "Too bad." "Look, I have to go. I'm not allowed personal phone calls." "Bonzer residence." "Bill? Is that you?" "Master Tony? Would you like to speak with Mistress Eileen?" "Bill, what happened to you?" "I'm not permitted to speak to you, Master Tony. If Mistress Eileen found out, I would be severely punished." "Punished? How? What are you talking about?" "Please, Master Tony, don't call me anymore. Mistress Eileen will whip me if she finds out." "She opened gift number six, eh? Those were only for play acting. Has she enjoyed the dildos?" "Yes...very much." "What's wrong? Is she using them instead of having sex with you?" "Sometimes. She's started having sex with me again, but..." "'But' what?" "Mistress Eileen has informed me that what once was my dick is now her toy, to be used at her discretion. The only time I am to come is...the only time..." "Bill, don't cry. Spit it out." "The only time a worthless slut maid like me is to come is when I am properly filled with a man's dick." "What!?" "Master Tony...She...she straps the dildo on...and..." "Fucks you in the ass?" "Until I come. And then she makes me clean up my own mess, like a good maid. With my tongue." "Why? I mean, why does she fuck you with the dildo?" "Because she told me she doesn't think I'm properly trained yet for the real thing, Master Tony." "Wow. And what's with the 'Master Tony' thing?" "If I am to be a good servant, I am to learn how to address my superiors. Currently, everybody is my superior." "This is really weird, Bill. I can't believe you're doing all this." "It's strange, Master Tony, but I'm getting used to it. Mistress Eileen has been staying home more lately, to see to my training. If I'm bad, she whips me; but when I'm good, she lets me come. It's really added a little structure to my life, in a way." "What about your old life? Have you traded the playboy lifestyle in for one as a latex maid?" "That life seems so long ago. I have to go, Master Tony. She's calling for her tea." "Bill, don't say too much. I know she is probably around you somewhere. I was wondering if she opened the last box this morning." "Yes, Master Tony." "I'm really sorry, Bill. I meant those collars to be a joke. I would guess you're wearing a studded black leather collar that says, 'slave', right?" "Yes, Master Tony." "Bill, has she done anything else to you?" "No, Master Tony." "Is she there now, Bill?" "No, Master Tony." "Then tell me what's going on." "Mistress Eileen has shown me the error of my previous ways, Master Tony. I'm not the man you knew before." "And you accept it?" "Yes, Master Tony. It is the way it should be. Master Tony? I would like to apologize for what I did to you before." "All is forgiven, Bill." "Please, Master Tony, refer to me as slut." "Why?" "Mistress Eileen says I don't deserve a name yet, and I should be called slut because of my desire for sex. I haven't earned a name." "It's a little strange, but I'll do it. Slut. Did Eileen..." "Mistress Eileen." "Okay, Mistress Eileen. Did Mistress Eileen put her collar on?" "Yes, Master Tony." "Did you see what it said?" "No, Master Tony." "Hmm. Is your master bedroom clean, slut?" "Oh yes, Master Tony. I clean it every day." "Good. I'll be over soon to move my stuff in, and I want it perfect." "Master Tony?" "You see, slut, your 'Mistress Eileen' is actually my slave Eileen. It said so on her collar. Now you are my slave also. I've been watching those videos, and I have decided that tonight we'll see how that cock-sucking lipstick looks on you before I check her progress on your ass. Goodbye, slut."

BDSM, oral, anal, femdom

Chapter 0: The Introduction

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10822.txt

Ann Douglas

Summer Vacation

"Michael!" Karyn yelled as she opened her eyes in response to the sound of shattering glass and saw her nephew standing there. "Oh God!" Bernadette McKenzie gasped as she jumped up and turned in the direction of the noise as well. As she stood up, Michael got a good look at Mrs. McKenzie. In her late thirties, she had a pretty good body, he thought. Her breasts were small and well-rounded with bright pink nipples. Had Michael known her as a teenager, he would've noted that she had kept much of her figure, a figure that had drawn the attention of many young men. "Oh my God!" she repeated again. "Oh my dear God!" "Calm down, Bernadette," Karyn said to her reassuringly as she instantly sized up the situation. "Everything's going to be all right." That seemed to calm the excited woman down a little. She sat down on the couch, picking up the blouse she had dropped to the floor earlier and wrapped it around her naked form. "Michael, get something to pick up that glass," Karyn said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Automatically, the eighteen-year-old obeyed, stepping back into the kitchen. His mind, however, was racing. His Aunt was also into women, and with the Minister's wife no less. Glancing down, he saw that his cock was as rock hard as it had ever been. It only took a moment to get a hand broom and dustpan and come back into the living room. As he cleaned up the mess, he couldn't help stealing looks at the two women. Bernadette McKenzie still had the unbuttoned blouse wrapped tightly around her, but his Aunt Karyn surprisingly had made no effort to cover herself. Her large breasts were just hanging there for him to see. As he stood up, he could swear that Mrs. McKenzie was staring right at his hard-on. His imagination, of course, but it made his blush a little as he disappeared back into the kitchen. "Don't worry, Bernadette honey," Karyn said as the older woman put her arm around the blonde's shoulders. "My nephew's not going to tell anyone about what was going on here tonight." "I trust you, Karyn," she said as she snuggled against her lover. "But can I really trust your nephew?" "I trust him," Karyn replied. "And that's enough." "Maybe for you, but I need something stronger," Bernadette added. "I don't understand," Karyn said, a look of confusion on her face. "What I mean is," Bernadette explained. "I'd feel a lot better about trusting your nephew to keep his silence if he had something to lose if he didn't. I'm sure you can keep him in line for now, but what's to keep him from going off to school next week and telling everyone about his dyke Aunt getting her pussy licked by the Minister's wife?" Karyn was taken a little aback by Bernadette's language. In all the years she had known her, she had only heard her use profanity when she was in the heat of passion. "I'm not sure what you mean, Bernadette," Karyn said. "Do you want me to threaten him or something?" "No, not that," she answered quietly, her eyes on the door to the kitchen as she watched for Michael's return. "I was just thinking that if Michael were more involved with what was going on tonight, then he'd be more reluctant to tell anyone about it." "What?" Karyn said in disbelief. "Think about it," Bernadette said. "I don't need to think about it," Karyn quickly replied. "He's my nephew." "But he's not mine," Bernadette said as she smiled. "And technically, he's only yours by marriage -- and you're not married to his Uncle anymore." "This is insane," Karyn insisted. "Well then I could just involve him myself," Bernadette suggested. Then it hit Karyn, that was the point Bernadette had been steering her to from the moment they'd turned around and saw him standing there. Her lover wanted to fuck her nephew. The tall redhead looked into her lover's eyes and saw that she was dead serious. The whole situation was incredible. She didn't feel jealous at the suggestion. After all, she had an ongoing sexual relationship with Angelo Salvatori as well as occasional flings with other men in the community. She hadn't really planned to start an affair with Bernadette a year ago when she had come over looking for support after a devastating fight with her husband. It had just sort of happened. Unknown to their parishioners, the relationship between the Reverend and Mrs. McKenzie had been deteriorating for years now. The source of their problems, then and now, had been their inability to have any children. After almost ten years of trying, Bernadette had become resigned to never getting pregnant. Joshua, on the other hand, had become more obsessive about the subject as the years went on. Several times, Bernadette had suggested that they look into medical help to get pregnant. That idea had gone over with Joshua as badly as her other suggestion that they look into adoption. To seek help would be to admit he was somewhat less of a man in his eyes. It hadn't mattered how many times she told him that he was being ridiculous. It had gotten to the point where Joshua barely touched her anymore. Except, of course, on those days when she was stood the best chance of conceiving. Then he would climb on top of her and pump away for a few minutes until he emptied himself into her. Days later, when it became apparent that it had been a wasted effort, he would go once again into a sullen state -- until the next time. "Bernadette, do you know what you're asking?" Karyn said. "Oh yes, I know," the blonde replied. Karyn looked into her lover's eyes and saw a mixture of lust and desperation. Despite the sexual release she got from her frequent trysts with Karyn, Bernadette really hadn't cut loose sexually in well over a year. A few times, Karyn had offered to set something up for her, an encounter similar to those she enjoyed. Each time the thirty-six-year-old adamantly refused. The fear that someone would find out later or that the man would brag to someone about bedding the minister's wife was greater than her need to be laid. Since Michael was going to be gone in a few days, there was little chance of that. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more her thinking paralleled Bernadette's. She could certainly use the experience, and it wasn't like it was going to hurt Michael. After all, she had invited Bernadette over tonight in the expectation that her nephew would be shacked up with Cindy Stanton most of the night, fucking her brains out. "All right, Bernadette," Karyn said as she reached down and picked up her dress off the coffee table. "I'll leave the two of you alone, and whatever happens, happens." With that, the younger woman's face lit up. It was a sight Karyn had seen much too rarely. She hoped she was making the right decision. Slipping the dress over her body, she stood up and called Michael back into the room. Michael waited a few moments to respond to his Aunt's call. He still couldn't get the image of the two women out of his mind. It didn't take a glance down to his crotch to know his dick was long and hard, and was going to stay that way until he was able to jerk off. When Karyn called him a second time, he headed back into the living room and hoped neither of them noticed. The young man was a little disappointed to find that his Aunt had finally covered herself up. He would've liked one more look at those huge breasts. Mrs. McKenzie was still sitting on the edge of the couch, and Michael was now sure that she was staring at his hard-on. Only this time, however, he didn't feel as embarrassed. In fact, he felt kind of proud. "Michael dear, I'm not going to try and explain what was going on here tonight," his Aunt said in a calm voice. "You're old enough to realize that there are many different kinds of relationships, and I trust you enough to know that you'll never mention this to anyone else." "Of course, Karyn," he quickly replied, surprising himself at how much he meant that. Suffering his Aunt's disapproval would be harder for him than keeping the secret. "Good," Karyn simply answered, a slight smile on the corners of her mouth. "Then that takes care of that." A wave of relief swept over Michael.It was an awkward situation, and he was glad that it was suddenly over. "Can I go up to my room now?" he asked, wanting to run into the bathroom and take care of his now aching member. "In a few minutes," Karyn said. "But first, Mrs. McKenzie would like to talk to you for a few minutes if you don't mind?" "Of course not," Michael answered, wondering what that was all about. If he was Mrs. McKenzie, he'd want to get out of here as fast as he could. "Thank you," Karyn said. "So the two of you have a nice private chat, and I'll be out in the kitchen cleaning up if you need anything." As he watched his Aunt retrace his steps into the kitchen, Michael wondered why she had stressed the word 'private'. Or had that only been his imagination running wild again? "Sit down, Michael," Bernadette McKenzie said as she indicated the empty cushion next to her. It was the first thing he had heard her say since her almost hysterical "Oh my God" a little while before. He sat there for a few silent moments, trying hard not to look at her. It was impossible for him not to be aware that she was still naked underneath the small blouse draped around her shoulders. It hadn't helped matters any that she had loosened her grip on the blouse, letting it open enough to give a fairly decent view of her cleavage. "You must think me a truly horrible woman if you can't even look at me," she said in a soft voice. Michael turned and looked at her, realizing immediately that turning to the right had been a mistake. Bernadette had once again shifted position, her blouse now hanging fully open and her small rounded mounds exposed to the world, or at least one oversexed young man. "I don't think you're horrible," Michael managed to say, his eyes never leaving her breasts. Bernadette smiled now that she had his full attention. He'd spent so much effort trying to see Karyn's breasts when he'd walked in on them, he'd barely noticed hers. Now he had to appreciate the fact that they were beautiful in their own right. "That's good," Bernadette said, continuing her smile. "For reasons you might not understand, that's important to me." Thinking that was that, Michael began to get up. Only to be restrained by the soft touch of Bernadette's hand. "You know you took Karyn and I quite by surprise," she continued, as if sitting here naked with a young man was the most natural thing in the world. "We really expected you to be out most of the evening with Cindy Stanton." "She changed her plans," he said, a sense of sadness in his tone. "Poor baby," Bernadette replied. "What happened?" For a reason he didn't quite know why, Michael told her exactly what happened. "Oh, that must've been Bobby Lee," Bernadette said as Michael described the young man he'd seen in the living room of Cindy's house. "He and Cindy have been going out, on and off, since Junior High School." "Figures," Michael said. "And she was so inconsiderate as to make you go all the way over there, just to tell you that it was over between the two of you?" "Yeah," he muttered. "My word, that girl can be such a cock-teaser!" Bernadette exclaimed. Michael was shocked hearing a statement like that from Mrs. McKenzie. Even after seeing her with his Aunt, it still was hard to imagine her talking like that. "That's what she is, isn't she?" Bernadette asked. Michael nodded in agreement. "Why don't look so shocked," she smiled once again. "It's not like I was born a minister's wife. I'll have you know there was a time when I was well aware of how a pretty young woman could draw young men like flies to honey. And I was even aware how easily it was to get them worked up. Some of my girlfriends used to even brag about how they sent their boyfriends home with a case of 'blueballs,' that's the term isn't it?" Michael again nodded. "That's what Cindy did to you, isn't it?" Bernadette asked as she looked down at the still large bulge in Michael's slacks. "It's not right for a girl to get a young man all excited and then leave him cold, is it?" she further asked. Unsure what to answer, Michael remained silent. Then he almost jumped off the couch in even greater surprise when he felt Bernadette's small hand come to rest on his cloth-covered cock. "And I'm sure walking in here and finding me and your Aunt Karyn on the couch didn't help matters either," she went on as she ran her fingers up and down the length of his cock, taking its measure. "So I guess part of this is my fault." Still dumbstruck, Michael exhaled loudly. "You know, I've often wondered," Bernadette said as she cupped her hand around his young manhood, assessing a thickness to go with her previous measurement. "Does it hurt when your cock gets so hard, stuck as it is in all that tight clothing?" "A little..." Michael said, not being able to really believe he wasn't dreaming all this. "Well then, we should let the poor dear free!" Bernadette exclaimed. In a quick motion, nimble hands pulled down the zipper of his pants and reached in to take hold of his enlarged member. A second movement brought it out in the warm night air. "My, that's a cock to be proud of!" Bernadette said in admiration. Michael knew from the secret comparison that most guys did in the showers back in high school, that his cock was of average size. Still, hearing this older, more experienced woman praise it sent a warm rush through him. "Now that we've freed this neglected baby, we really should do something about relieving the other pressure behind it," Bernadette said as her fingers closed around the base of his cock and began to slowly pump it up and down. "Oh yeah!" Michael softly moaned as her soft touch glided against his skin. "That feels nice." "I knew it would," Bernadette grinned. It was then Michael suddenly realized the reality of the situation and looked to the kitchen door. Behind which sat his Aunt less than twenty feet away. "Oh, don't worry about your Aunt," Bernadette said, seeing his gaze shift to the door. "She did say she was going to give us some privacy, didn't she?" Before Michael could consider the fact that his Aunt had expected this to happen when she'd left them alone, Bernadette let her other hand cradle his balls and began to stroke them as well. He looked down, just as the blonde-haired woman bent over and guided his cock into her mouth. "Oh fuck!" Michael gasped as he felt the soft wetness engulf his cock. Bernadette wasted no time as she let his cock slide in and out of her mouth. Her tongue slid back and forth as she moved, savoring the small discharge of pre-cum that had been oozing out of his manhood. It had been so long since she'd had a cock in her mouth, ever since the day Joshua had decided that it was a waste of his seed. She couldn't wait to have Michael explode into her mouth so she could swallow every drop. Like silk, her tongue covered every inch of his shaft before dropping down to his balls. One at a time they disappeared into her mouth, until she released them and then returned her attention to his now glistening dick. Taking its entirety once more into her mouth, Bernadette applied such pressure that she knew it would only take a little more effort to gain her prize. Bernadette deep-throated him one last time, then released her grip on the base of his cock. His body quaked, and a sudden rush of energy drained from every pore of his body. The recesses of her throat filled with the first burst of his warm and salty whiteness. She quickly swallowed it without hesitation, knowing that there was much more to come. A second wave followed a few moments later. This time, she allowed it to fill her mouth, permitting herself time to savor the taste as she whirled her tongue from one side of her mouth to the other. A third spurt she let slide out of the corners of her mouth and down the base of his cock. Then she ran her tongue up and down the shaft, relishing both the tangy taste and the now intoxicating aroma of his youthful sex. Finally, sensing he was spent, Bernadette took him within her mouth one last time and began to wash away the last remnants of her efforts. By the time his young manhood slipped from her, not a trace remained. "Oh, how I've missed that," Bernadette purred as she slowly ran her fingers along Michael's now semi-erect cock. "I'd almost forgotten how good it could feel." Back in the days before she'd met Joshua McKenzie at college, Bernadette White had been quite the skilled cocksucker. She'd been quite honest when she told her future husband that she'd never had intercourse with any man before him. What she failed to mention was that she'd kept her virginity intact by sucking off every young man she'd dated since she was 16. The memory of many of those young men flashed in her mind. Most of them had been just about Michael's age. A wide smile crossed her face as she laid her head across Michael's lap, continuing to gently caress his still wet cock. Less than ten minutes earlier, Karyn had sat at the kitchen table, sipping the cup of tea she had made for herself. With each passing minute, she was finding it exceedingly difficult to just sit there and try to act normal while her lover tried to seduce her nephew in the next room. It would really be better, she told herself, if she went for a walk and left the house altogether. Yet as much as that idea made sense, she couldn't bring herself to leave. From the many times she'd seen her nephew in shorts or swim trunks over the summer, Karyn had a fairly good mental image of his body -- less of course his more private areas. Now she tried to picture them as well. Long ago, when her husband had been alive, Karyn and Jack used to frequent a nudist colony in southern Florida. On more than a few occasions, they'd been joined on their vacations by Michael's parents.Nothing ever happened between them, of course, but it had only been human nature that caused Karyn to take the time to check out her brother-in-law. At the time, she remembered being suitably impressed. Now she couldn't help but wonder how the son might compare to his father. "A little peek couldn't hurt," Karyn thought to herself as she looked at the closed door to the living room. "Just to satisfy my curiosity." Leaving her cup of tea to grow cold on the table, Karyn quietly opened the swinging door -- just enough to lean in and take a quick look. She had chosen almost the exact moment that Bernadette had slid Michael's cock into her mouth. "Shit!" Karyn said under her breath as she watched his hardness move in and out of her friend's mouth. Having taken a major step in just opening that door, Karyn wasn't about to close it so quickly. After all, she hadn't gotten a good look at Michael's cock yet, hidden as it was in Bernadette's mouth. Karyn was quickly captivated by the sight before her. Despite her own sexual experience, she'd never seen a woman give a blow job before -- at least not in real life. Under her thin dress, she could feel her body growing quite warm. The older woman spread her legs and slid her left hand up beneath her dress, coming to rest against the source of that building fire. With a firm motion, she began to slowly stroke herself. With her right hand, she reached up inside her dress and began to play with her nipples, which had already hardened to her touch. She began to feel a nice warm glow spreading out from her womanhood. It was almost as if she were sharing the act in front of her. Karyn's masturbation effort grew in intensity as she watched Bernadette lick her nephew's balls. This gave her an unobstructed view of her nephew's cock, and she was glad to see that heredity ran true. As for now retreating back into the kitchen, it didn't even enter her mind. A sigh escaped Karyn's lips as she watched Michael's cock explode into Bernadette's mouth. Her hands raced across her breasts and pussy as she imagined herself in Bernadette's place, savoring every drop of his eruption. She wished she had time to bring herself to orgasm, but knew she'd pushed her luck as far as she dared. Finally, reluctantly, she let the door swing closed. She paused on the other side of the closed door, tempted to step back in. Not wanting to give in again to temptation, Karyn decided to take a little walk in the night air. If nothing else, it might help her to cool down a little. If not, she could always give Angelo a call. "Mmmm," Bernadette purred as she climbed back up onto the couch next to Michael and slid her hand up under his shirt, stroking his fine chest hair. "Now that was a wonderful appetizer. But what say we get you a little more ready for the main course," she added as she began to unbutton his shirt with her other hand. Still as horny as he'd ever been in his life, Michael was not about to object as the nude woman next to him removed his clothes. As each article of clothing came off, Bernadette kissed the freshly exposed skin beneath it. In no time at all, the sandy-haired teen was as naked as could be. With lust in her eyes, Bernadette swung over and came to a rest in Michael's lap. Gyrating her hips, she pressed the cheeks of her ass against his young cock. She could feel it growing to a new hardness beneath her. As it grew to its full length, she was able to shift her position and rub her pussy against it as well. "Oooo, that feels nice," Bernadette said as she leaned forward and pressed her breasts against his face. Eager to accept her offering, Michael leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth. Skillfully he swirled his tongue around the small stub, alternating between soft kisses and gentle bites. Bernadette's mounds were much smaller than Cindy's, to which he had so recently become accustomed, but they were no less enjoyable. It brought to mind a little saying he once heard his older sister telling a girlfriend. When it came to a girl's breast size, anything more than a mouthful was wasted. A small breast was just as enjoyable as a large one. At the time, Michael thought it was just something they were saying to make them feel better since neither was exactly well-endowed. Now he was delighted to find it was indeed true. Alternating between her petite globes, Michael covered them with kisses and long, sensual licks. At the same time, she reached down between her legs and took hold of his fully enlarged cock. Playfully she tugged it, causing a similar reaction from the lips wrapped around her equally enlarged nipples. Unable to wait any longer, Bernadette lifted herself upward and guided his cock until it rested against the entrance of her wet pussy. She paused a moment. Her emerald green eyes looked into his baby blues. The fire between her legs flared in intensity as she saw the hunger in those eyes. Dropping an inch, she eased his cockhead inside her. It slid in effortlessly, her excitement having paved the way. Then in a quick motion, she dropped all the way and took him totally within her. Michael gasped at the sudden envelopment of his young manhood. The wet pressure around it brought a smile of satisfaction to his face. As Bernadette began to move up and down on his pole, the sensations grew in intensity. Bracing her hands against the back of the couch, Bernadette began to rise and drop with an ever-increasing frequency. Faster and faster, she pumped, creating a suction that drew his cock further and further inside her. "Oh God....Bernadette!.." Michael called out as he tried to match her motions, totally banishing the image of her as Mrs. Reverend McKenzie from his mind. "Oh yes, fuck me," she cried out in response. "Give me that cock, fuck me harder!" At the rate she was moving, Bernadette knew that he would cum quickly. Few young men his age had any kind of self-control. A few minutes later, she felt his body tensing. Lifting herself higher so that his cock nearly fell out of her, she drove herself down on it with a fury. Up again she raised and then down with the same abandon. Twice more was all it took as she felt the first hot burst erupt inside her. Slamming her body down upon him, Bernadette grabbed his arms and pulled him to her. Her mouth sought out his, and she kissed him passionately while his seed spread within her. Holding him pressed tightly against her, she continued to pump his still firm cock until his balls had been squeezed of every last drop of that beautiful white cream. "Oh yes," she gasped as she collapsed against him and pulled his face between the valley of her mounds. She held him tight against her, their eyes closed tight as they enjoyed the comfort of each other's bodies. The only sound heard in the room was the beating of their hearts and the soft laboring of their breaths. After a time and with great reluctance, Bernadette let go and climbed off of him. She had wanted that moment to go on and on. For one brief instant, all the world had seemed perfect. Realizing that Bernadette was now off him, Michael opened his eyes. The blond woman already had her underwear back on. It also seemed to Michael that she was trying hard not to look at his naked body. A body she had been so taken with such a short time before. "I have to get home," Bernadette said in an almost embarrassed voice as she pulled her dress over her head. Dressed once more in the manner that the people of Eaglestone expected of a minister's wife, Bernadette also underwent a major change in personality. "Michael, I really don't know what to say," she said as she gathered up her belongings. "I don't know how to explain my behavior. You have to believe me that I've never done anything like this before." Michael, who had now covered himself, much to Bernadette's relief, looked into her eyes. Much to his surprise, despite the twin facts that he had walked in on her licking his Aunt's pussy as well as fucked him like a waterfront whore, he believed her. "It's all right, Mrs. McKenzie," he said, unable to think of her as anything else right now. "That wasn't you. That was someone else." Bernadette managed a weak smile, then turned and quickly exited the room. Moments later, Michael could hear her car pulling out of the driveway. By the time Karyn came back from her walk, Michael had showered and gone to bed. She decided not to disturb his rest. Better to wait until the morning before they discussed what had happened tonight. Besides, she wasn't sure she trusted herself to venture into his bedroom right now. The next morning at breakfast, Michael surprised Karyn by announcing that he was going to head home a few days early. Not mentioning the events of the night before, he simply said he wanted to take care of some things before the school year started. The redhead thought about it a bit and decided that it was for the best. She even offered to help him pack. Epilogue In the weeks and months that followed, Michael quickly became caught up in the hustle of college life, and the events of that summer became the stuff of memory. He did a great deal of growing up that year, surprising his parents by making the dean's list and actually becoming serious about a girl at school. Aunt Karyn continued to keep in touch with him but never mentioned Bernadette in any of her letters. That was until he got one that came with a few photographs the following September. The first showed Karyn beaming as she held her new goddaughter. Standing beside her, an even greater joy reflected in their faces were the parents of that bundle of joy, the Reverend and Mrs. McKenzie. In a much closer photograph of the baby, which he read had been named Michelle, he could see that she had the most striking deep blue eyes.The entire Ann Douglas collection, as well as a multitude of other great stories, can be found in the alt.sex.stories.moderated archive. If you are just looking for a part of one of my stories, go to: http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year97/dec.html For the main page with full listings, go to: http://www.qz.to/~eli/erotica/assm/

Part Two

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8128.txt

Mark Aster

Irina

"He seemed even weaker today," Irina said. I followed her into the dark apartment and closed the door behind me. Thunder rumbled outside. "He did," I said. Irina walked to the window and looked out at the night, the wind, the coming storm, facing away from me as she unbuttoned her blouse. We were using, as we had been for weeks, a small apartment only a block from the Palace, kept by the Ministry of Culture, ostensibly for artists visiting the capital. Neutral ground. She turned away from the window, slipped her blouse down her arms, and hung it over a chair. Without meeting my eyes, she reached behind herself and undid her brassiere. Her breasts were full and heavy, with wide brown nipples and dark beauty spots. She slipped off her shoes and pushed them under the chair, side by side. Then she unzipped her skirt. The air was dense with thunder and impending rain; I felt torpid, barely able to move. I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on the hook by the door. Irina had taken off her skirt and panties and put them on the chair. Now she was sitting on the bed, rolling her stockings down her legs. The hair between her thighs was dense and black and tangled; her skin was pale. She looked up at me and frowned. "And what are you waiting for?" I shook myself, quickly removed the rest of my clothing as she lay back on the bed. Naked, I lay down beside her and took her breasts in my hands as I always did. She sighed and closed her eyes. I sucked on her nipples, one after the other, and my hands roamed over her bare body. She spread her legs, and her hip rubbed against my swelling penis. When I cupped my palm between her thighs and pushed my fingers into her flesh, she grunted and bucked against me. Her hand groped down my stomach. "He will be dead soon," she said, her voice husky. She guided me up and onto her, in between her legs. "He will," I agreed, sinking my fingers into the soft flesh of her sides, grinding my pelvis into hers. She moaned. "And then we will be enemies," she said, her hands on my hips. I thrust forward, pushing into her. She made a deep guttural sound and opened herself wider, her heels against my buttocks. A crash of thunder shook the building, and a torrent of rain clattered suddenly against the window. We moved together on the bed, breathing heavily, our hips moving mechanically. "We will," I agreed. She groaned again and put her arms around me, drawing my body heavily down onto her as I thrust between her legs. Our mouths came together awkwardly. I reached one hand down and slid it under her. My palm full of the thick moist flesh of her buttock, I thrust harder and more deeply, and she began to moan rhythmically. At the end, she arched her body and shouted, her fingernails raking my back. Afterward, we lay on the sticky sheets, her head on my chest, like lovers. The rain came down steadily outside. "We've been comfortable for so long," she said. I ran my hand down her back. "There are better things than comfort." Her lips closed over my right nipple, and I felt her teeth. "You are right," she said. "Of course you are right." He died, in fact, two days later. The next three weeks were calm, at least on the surface. Publicly, the Government and the Party united in a show of mourning and respect for our late leader. Speeches were made, foreign diplomats received, some selected prisoners released. In private, all principals moved slowly, retesting the borders of their influence, finding themselves evenly matched, as expected, almost everywhere. Caution prevailed. That Thursday afternoon, we learned that the Ministry of Justice had reserved a time slot for an evening television broadcast. Inexplicably, I was unable to determine its content beforehand. It seemed that Irina had decided to make the opening move, and that I would know its nature at the same time as the sweeper in the street, the whore by her lightpost. I sat before the idiot eye of the television in the Party's capital mansion, a handful of political officers smoking in the darkness behind me, a fresh Japanese woman in a red dress on the sofa beside me. As the broadcast came on, I stroked her stockinged knee, pushed open the high slit in her dress. The head on the screen was not Irina herself, but one of her senior ministers. The words it spoke were not entirely surprising. The Government announced that, to its regret, it was forced to decertify and prosecute a certain branch of the Party in Oxala Province, because of disturbing incidents that had been discovered by the police. The Government was certain that the Party would cooperate fully in the investigation. No details were given, but the head talked for some time. Sucking my lower lip, I stroked the smooth skin of the woman beside me, drawing her leg into my lap. The weight of her limb felt good against me. The Party would, I decided, cooperate fully. It had been clever of Irina to begin in Oxala. It presented us certain difficulties. But these difficulties had not been entirely unanticipated. I called a few instructions to those in the dark behind me, my fingers pressing the delicate skin behind the knee I held in my lap. Then I dismissed the men and put my hand behind her head, releasing her leg. Anticipating me, she bent her head down to my waist and unzipped my pants. Her fingers on my penis were gentle and delicate, her mouth warm. I sighed and lay back. When Irina began to widen the scandal, as she would, she would discover some of the price of our cooperation. I imagined her frown when a key magistrate suddenly resigned, when one of her close assistants made certain revelations to the media. I felt her nipple again in my mouth, my body pushing in between her legs, her flesh hot beneath me. The Japanese woman's head bobbed faster in my lap, and I thrust up against her. She grunted, swallowing with practiced ease. I sent her away and reached for the telephone. Long after midnight, the situation well in control, I logged onto a personal account, one not in my own name. There was one piece of mail. It was from Irina, encrypted and signed with a keypair that only she and I had known. I opened it. There was no text, only an image. I sat in the dark room, looking at the glowing screen, for a long minute. The image was of Irina herself, naked, sitting on the edge of a bed with her feet on the floor splayed wide apart, her legs spread. Her hands were between her thighs, her fingers opening her labia, her body bent toward the camera, her breasts hanging down in front of her stomach, her hair over her face. Even in the grainy image on the screen, I could see the soft glistening structures within her vulva. It was an astoundingly wanton image, and it held my eyes. I wondered who had taken it, if he had been allowed in her bed afterwards. Irina never hesitated to use her body for political ends, and in the Government, and I feared even the Party, there were many men whose judgement could be clouded by the thought of her sex. I considered for a moment whether the image could be useful to me politically. But it was too obvious, too blunt. I could never prove it was not a forgery. It might BE a forgery, for that matter, although I was sure it was not. I printed a copy of the image, and filed it, still encrypted, on the computer. I propped the printout on the table beside the bed, and lay down, thinking of the weight of Irina's flesh in my hands. I had wondered for a moment if I should reply, how I should reply; but now I realized that with this image she had said everything that needed to be said between us. That night, I dreamed of her, naked and open and hot, her hands touching herself, separated from me by a screen of cold glass.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9072.txt

Lysander

Caitlin's Tale

"Now, Master, now! Fuck me in the ass!" Robert did not kneel behind her as she expected. Instead, he lifted her off the floor and laid her lengthwise on her stomach on the table. "Heather," he called. Caitlin turned her head and saw Heather a few feet away on a bench with her fingers buried in her pussy. Immediately, she stood and walked over to their master. Robert continued, "You did such a good job getting her ass wet before, you can do it again." This time, Heather eagerly buried her face between Caitlin's buttocks. She attacked the prostrate girl's asshole with her tongue. Her tongue circled Caitlin's anus a few times, getting it slick with saliva. Then she stiffened her tongue and forced it into the hole. Caitlin's asshole sucked the muscle in, and Heather was actually able to wriggle her tongue around inside her. Caitlin bucked her ass up at Heather's face, trying to get even more of her tongue inside her. Heather moved lower, licking her cunt, sucking out the sperm of the two soldiers who had already fucked her there. She heard Robert laughing as he pulled the girl away from her pussy. Then she felt his cock enter her pussy in one long stroke. He fucked her slowly for a few seconds, then withdrew from her body. Slick with the cum of two warriors and one slave, his prickhead poked at her anus. Hands pried her asscheeks apart, forcing her asshole to open wider. Slowly, painfully, Robert forced his cock into her. It seemed to take hours for the head to fully breach her entrance. And Caitlin loved every second of agony. Almost anticlimactically, the ring of her asshole clamped down behind the head of her master's cock. The rest was easier to take, as the bulbous head stretched open her back passage to allow the rest of his cock to move into her. "Fill me, Master!" Caitlin pleaded. "Fill my ass with your cock! Fuck your slut's ass!" Robert laid down along her back, pressing her breasts into the tabletop. He held onto the edges and used the leverage to push down even harder. He was heavy, but Caitlin barely noticed. Almost all her attention was focused on the fullness in her ass. Robert fucked with shallow, slow strokes. Caitlin bounced her hips against him. She was his slave. If he was going to take her, it was only right that he take her fully. Robert must have understood her message, for he began to lengthen his strokes and quicken his pace. Soon, he was giving her his entire length on every stroke. She wanted him to fuck her forever. Suddenly, Heather's blonde pussy was before her face. "Lick it," Robert said. "She deserves pleasure from something besides her fingers. And you are the only one we will fuck tonight." That's a shame, thought Caitlin, for she would have loved to suck the sperm from her pussy, or from her ass. But this is nice, too, she reflected as Heather lifted her pussy to her mouth. All too soon, Robert flooded her ass, and Heather flooded her mouth, and she flooded the table. After that, the men took her three at a time. Actually, she climbed atop one man, and rode his cock. A second entered her slick ass, and a third presented his cock to her mouth. The ones in her mouth and ass came quickly, and were replaced by two more. These two also spent while the first man remained hard within her. One more man entered her ass. The cock in her pussy finally came, but the man it was attached to could not get out from under her. By the time his prick softened and fell out of her cunt, the other climaxed deep in her rectum. She had not been fucked by the same cock twice, and she had taken them all except... "Etienne? Where is my master's brother? I want his cock inside me!" "You may fuck my brother when I say so. Right now, there are only two cocks you are allowed to touch." Caitlin looked over to her master. Robert stood there, stout ropes in either hand. At his feet sat the two wolfhounds. Long tongues hung out of their mouths, dripping saliva on the floor. Long thick cocks, pink and swollen, jutted from the sheaths under their bellies. Her mind told her that she should be revolted, that her stomach should be turning at the thought of what her master expected of her. Her mind told her she should leave and never return, rather than degrade herself in such a way. But it was her body that was in control. And her body was filled with lust. Her body demanded cock, any cock. And the dogs were huge, as big as most men, with large cocks, almost as big as Robert's. Her mind began to listen to her body. If she took on the dogs, the other men would fuck her. She would be allowed to fuck Etienne. She glanced over at her master's brother. If anything, his cock was bigger than before. Her eyes went back to the dogs. Look at them! her body said. They'll feel so good inside me, pounding away at me. You've seen how they fuck bitches, imagine them fucking me like that, fast and hard and powerfully. Think of it! Robert saw her staring transfixed at the dogs, at their pricks. "Is there something you want to ask of me, slave?" "Please, Master. May I fuck them?" "You want to fuck these *dogs* slave?" "Yes, Master." She was pleading now. She knelt on the floor a few feet from the men, and from those dogs. "Please will you let me?" "I may. Is there anything else you want to do?" "Oh, Master! Yes! I want to suck their cocks too. I want to swallow their seed! But I want, more than anything else, for them to fuck me. Please let me fuck them, let me suck them! Please?" "Very well. Turn around." She spun on her knees, presenting her backside to the group. She felt cum trickling down her thighs, cooling on her flesh. She looked over her shoulder at what was happening. Robert handed one leash to his brother. He let the other dog advance on her. The dog fought to get away from her master. Robert was actually leaning backwards as the dog strained toward her.Robert let the dog get close enough that his snout made contact with her ass, then he stopped. The dog's tongue snaked out and licked up her pussy furrow and the crack of her ass. She heard him snuffle and felt his warm breath as he tried to clear the juices that had gotten into his nose. His tongue was wide and rough and wet. While it was not as agile as a human tongue, and unable to penetrate her, it was very powerful. Every time it lapped at her crotch, it battered her clit or asshole, and it moved like the dog was drinking water after three days without. "Please, Master, let him fuck me!" Robert let the dog go, and immediately he was mounting her ass. He was tall enough that he could stand on all fours above her. His powerful chest and narrow waist merged perfectly with her arched back and upthrust ass. His cock banged against her pussy, unable to enter her. Desperately, she reached between her legs and grasped it. It was incredibly hot, hotter by far than the human cocks she had held. And it was wet, leaking a copious amount of fluid. It coated her hand as she guided the cock to her entrance. The dog did not enter her slowly and smoothly. He cared nothing about her comfort. As soon as the head was in her pussy, he fucked the rest of his cock into her in a single lightning-fast stroke. Caitlin was driven forward by the thrust, and she half-whimpered in pain, half-squealed in excitement. She rested her head on her arms and let the dog fuck her as hard and as fast as he wanted. His furry balls rubbed against her clit on each instroke. The knot at the base of his cock stretched her pussy open. She spread her knees wide apart and felt his hot belly rub along her asshole, the hairs tickling her anus and exciting her further. She noticed she was whimpering. That and the dogs' heavy breathing were the only sounds in the hall. All evening, the men had made lewd comments to and about her, in French and English. There had been cheers and shouts of encouragement, and always laughter. But now, there was only silence, except for the sounds of bestial passion. She opened her eyes. The men were dumfounded, even her master. Obviously, they had not believed she would do this so willingly, or enjoy it so much. That she was able to shock even these men thrilled her to her core. She decided to carry the performance even further. She reached between her legs once more. She wrapped her fingers around the dog cock and, when he pulled almost all the way out, jerked him out of her pussy. Before the dog could make a forward thrust, she placed the head at her asshole. She howled when he fucked into her. The dog howled as well, whether in response to her own cry or at the tightness of her ass, Caitlin had no idea. The dog tried to fuck her ass as hard and fast as he had fucked her cunt, but, despite the amount of fucking and semen it had received that night, her ass offered much more resistance to the invading cock. Although the pleasure she felt from the dog cock in her ass was great, the pain from his frantic fucking was also considerable. She wondered if she might have made a mistake. She placed her shoulders directly on the floor and reached for her pussy with both hands. Three fingers of one hand went into her cunt, while two fingers of the other massaged her clitoris. She fucked herself in time to the hound's thrusts in her ass. She rubbed her clit even faster. As the small orgasms piled up, her ass relaxed even more, and she felt nothing but pleasure from the dog cock inside her. Even the small amount of pain she felt was pleasurable, like stretching aching muscles. This allowed the dog to fuck her even faster. The prick in her ass and her fingers on her cunt soon had their effect. She climaxed under the dog's assault and her own ministrations. Her asshole spasmed around the dog cock, sending him over the edge as well. As her pussy quivered under her hands, she felt the dog's hot semen shoot deeply into her ass. His cock swelled to enormous proportions, and Caitlin was momentarily concerned that he would rip her apart. But after the first couple of spurts into her ass, the dog's cock popped out. There was some pain as the swollen head forced its way past the ring of muscle, but it only added to her climax. As the dog walked away from her, satisfied, Caitlin waved her hips in circles, wanting more. She heard the other dog behind her, claws scrabbling on the floor as he tried to get at her. "You said you wanted to suck one, yes? And 'swallow his seed?'" She turned over and looked at the dog's turgid cock. He was smaller than the other one. She might be able to get the whole thing in her mouth. She propped herself on her elbows and licked her lips. "Aye, Master. Let me suck this one, please?" Robert led the dog up to her. He tried to lick at her pussy, but Robert pulled him forward. He awkwardly tried to lower himself so that he could fuck her, but Robert pulled him forward. Finally, his cock was pointed straight at her watering mouth. Without preamble, Caitlin opened wide and let the dog walk his cock into her mouth. His prick was just as hot as the other's, and it was also leaking prodigiously. His fluid tasted gamier than the men's, but just as delicious in its own way. It was definitely recognizable as semen, and she wondered if the men would taste this way if they ate nothing but meat all their lives. His cock didn't seem as filthy as she had expected, either. Certainly it felt cleaner in her mouth than Ralf's had, but she couldn't smell it because of the overpowering scent of unwashed dog fur. When the dog got his cock into her mouth, instinct took over and he began to fuck her face like a pussy. She let him batter her lips for a few moments, but stopped him because he was hitting her nose, making tears well up in her eyes. She raised one hand and braced it against his hind legs, preventing him from fucking her mouth. Instead, her mouth fucked him. She bobbed her head up and down on his prick. It constantly leaked thin salty fluid, and she enjoyed letting it fill her mouth and flow over her taste buds before she swallowed it. She took it out of her mouth and kissed up and down its length. She licked the sides and underside. She circled the pointed head with her tongue. At last she took it back into her mouth. She sucked hard, drawing more fluid from the dog's pisshole. She wanted to stroke his cock, but she needed both hands to hold herself up and to keep the dog from accidentally breaking her nose. The dog began fighting her. His cock got harder and larger. More precum leaked from his cock, filling her mouth more quickly. It was thicker, now, as well. She knew the dog would come very soon. She hungered for his semen, she wanted it to flood her mouth and run down her chin. She wanted to drown in dog cum. Suddenly, the dog went stiff-legged and she felt the first burst of jism against the back of her throat. It was thinner than a man's, but with a wilder taste. And there was so much more of it. Caitlin was hard-pressed to swallow it all. Indeed, despite her efforts, a good deal of it did run down her chin and drip on her tits. She swallowed and sucked and swallowed again. It seemed like she was trying to swallow the sea. But gradually, the tide ebbed. The river of cum became a stream, then a trickle. Caitlin sucked as hard as she could to get every last drop the dog cock had to offer. When she had gotten it all, the dog stepped back. She licked her lips to gather up as much cum as she could. The wolfhound dipped his head and lapped his own semen that had fallen to her tits. His tongue felt rough and cool on her nipples. He followed the trail of his cum up her chest and neck, to her face. When he had lapped it all up, he walked away, ignoring her. Caitlin fell to her back. She spread her legs and pawed at her pussy. "Please, Master. May I fuck your brother now? Please will you let me feel him inside me?" "No. You're still not ready." Robert helped her up and led her over to the wooden frame. "If you want Etienne to fuck you, you have to be bound in this frame." The frame was almost eight feet tall. She noticed that the lower half had holes at regular intervals in each post. Two pegs were placed in each post just lower than the levels of her knees. Robert helped her step onto the pegs. While he held her steady, two of the soldiers put her wrists in the upper bracelets. They were stiff and lined with soft fur. Then they put her ankles in the other cuffs. When she was bound hand and foot, Robert pulled out the supporting pegs, leaving her dangling by her wrists. Caitlin groaned in painful ecstasy. "Will Etienne fuck me now, Master?" she panted. "Please?" Robert just grinned at her. "No. But everyone else will." "Ooohhh, Master!" Ralf stepped up to her, breathing heavily in her face. He grabbed her roughly by the buttocks and lifted her onto his cock. She felt another cock nudge against her asshole. When Ralf let her sink, she was impaled front and back on two hard, long pricks. She sighed contentedly. Four hands lifted her, using her entire body to stroke the members inside her. Her arms were too weak to lift herself very high, and her feet had nothing beneath them; she could not even wrap her legs around Ralf. She could only rely on the strength of the soldiers to satisfy her. Even though Caitlin was somewhat small, even though they were used to wielding heavy weapons in combat, even though there were two of them, the men could not raise and lower her body fast enough.Bending at the knees, they began to spear their pricks up into her holes. They fucked into her at the same time, lifting her as her cunt and asshole resisted their entry. She rose and sank on the stiff rods inside her, over and over and over again. Eventually, the warriors came inside her. They were replaced by two more, who fucked her to the edge of insensibility, through innumerable orgasms. Five times in all she took cocks in her cunt and ass, hanging from her wrists. Only Robert and Etienne were left now. "I'm ready now, Master. Please let your brother fuck me. Please let him fuck me." Robert bent down to unbuckle the ankle cuffs. He placed the pegs in the highest holes and lifted her to stand on them. Her head was now above the crossbar. She was too high for Etienne to fuck now. She wondered what her master had planned for her. Etienne stepped out of the crowd. Caitlin was too fascinated by the giant's cock to notice what he carried. Then she saw. His sword. Still in its scabbard, he set its tip against the floor. It was a two-hand sword made for a giant's proportions. The hilt was nearly two and a half feet long, and the pommel was bigger than her fist. It reached almost to her cunt. In fact, she could look down and see droplets of sperm fall on the pommel from her leaking pussy. "If you can take this," Robert was saying, "I'll know you're ready for Etienne." Caitlin shivered in anticipation. While the brothers held the sword steady, Caitlin slowly lowered herself to the hilt. Her pussy lips touched the steel ball on the end, and she was surprised to find that it was not cold. She twisted her hips about, rubbing her cunt on the ball and on as much of the grip as she could reach, getting it wet with the juices that were now veritably pouring out of her. The grip was wrapped in leather strips, well-worn from use. But even so, she could feel the roughness left to the edges as she stroked her clit up and down its length. Finally, she thought she had gotten it wet enough. The leather felt wonderful, but she was determined to fuck this sword so that she could fuck Etienne's... sword. Perhaps later she could wheedle a leather-hilted dagger from one of the warriors for her own use. The ball at the end of the hilt wasn't really a sphere, it was more egg-shaped, for battering at enemy heads. Caitlin rotated her cunt on the rounded tip of the pommel, widening her hole to accept it. As she sank lower, she continued moving to and fro, stretching the muscles to accommodate the rapidly widening pommel. When she reached the widest point, she found she could not stretch any more. She resorted to brute force, pushing directly down upon the steel. She looked down to see how much she had gotten in, and saw Robert looking up at her, an approving smile playing across his lips. She redoubled her efforts. Then, suddenly, her muscles stretched and she dropped like a rock on the sword hilt. She caught herself before she fell too far. The pommel had entered her so suddenly, it had caused some pain. Robert stood and massaged her clit with his middle finger. This caused her to relax even more, and she was able to once again begin moving down lower. Her pussy lips wrapped around the leather strips. They clung to the hilt. She had never felt so full. The pommel felt heavy in her pussy. It stretched her walls more than they had ever been stretched before. Again she looked down to see how far she had taken the hilt inside her. About half was buried inside her. She twisted around a little. This was all she was able to take, she decided. She began to stand up on the pegs again. Slowly, she moved off of the weapon. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could see the outline of the pommel inside her belly. Up and down she moved on the hilt. Each stroke took half a minute. Then a quarter. Soon, she had relaxed enough that she was taking a foot of leather-covered steel in little over a second. She wished she had Etienne on top or underneath her. He would fuck her hard and fast. But the leather felt wonderful against her clit. She felt a pair of lips on hers. It was the first time she had been kissed that night, and it surprised her. Only one man was tall enough to kiss her on this perch. She opened her eyes to see Etienne. But if he was kissing her, who was holding the sword? She glanced down. The sword was still standing on its tip, her pussy the only thing keeping it from toppling. Faster she moved on the sword, squatting and standing, back as straight as she could manage to allow as much of the rigid steel as possible in her. The pommel was so filling, and the leather wrappings so stimulating, she knew she would climax at any moment. Faster and faster she fucked the weapon. She was moving almost as though she were fucking a man now. She squatted and stood, squatted and stood, and then... She heard a clank as the sword fell to the floor. "Nooo!" she sobbed as she tried to fuck empty air. She had been so close. Only one thing could be as filling as that sword. "Master," she pleaded. "Now Master, PLEASE!" "Take her, brother," he said simply. Etienne's powerful arms wrapped around her waist. In a single motion, he brought her down on top of his prick. He wasn't as wide as the pommel had been, but the girth of his prick was constant all the way to the root. He lifted and lowered her on his cock as though she were a feather pillow. He crushed her body to his. He had been waiting all night, watching her suck and fuck all those other men, and dogs, and even his own sword. He flooded her pussy with his cum. So forceful was his ejaculation, that it forced out the spendings of all the others she had had that night. Stay hard, she prayed. Stay hard. She finally had him and she could not stand the thought of losing his cock so soon. Her prayers were answered. He stayed firm inside her. He continued bouncing her on his groin. She screamed her climax in his ear, her strongest one of the night. She went completely limp. She hung from the crossbar, her legs relaxed around Etienne. Only his grip on her ass and thighs kept her from sliding off of his magnificent member. She felt someone loosening the bonds that held her to the frame. She felt herself falling, but she didn't care. She was completely filled. Strong hands caught her and she vaguely realized she was being carried, Etienne still rampant in her cunt, to a table. She felt the giant's body on top of her, she felt him fucking her savagely, but she was too exhausted to care. In a way, she barely noticed it. Her body kept climaxing, and she heard her own screams of passion. But her mind was somewhere else, retreating from the overwhelming sensations. I think I remember more men buggering me, even Etienne, that night. And the dogs again. And dear Heather. But it is mostly a blur. I might be just remembering other nights when Heather and I served our master by serving his men. Of course, it lasted only a year. Robert was felled by one of those Welsh arrows on a raid. Then Heather wed Etienne -- and the girl was even smaller than I was! -- and they left. When the king gave the keep to a new knight, I was more or less included, by my own choice. But the new man was no Robert, and one day I learned what it was like when the tables were turned. But that's another story. But wait! I hear your mother coming. Get your hands out of your skirt, girl! Oh, hello, daughter! Just telling the little one some of the things a woman must know. The End

Mf M+f ff ds bd 1st best ws

Section D

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10394.txt

Tigger

A Change of Direction

"Hello?" Laurie's voice echoed in the earpiece of her phone. "Mother? It's Jacqui. I've just learned some things that I need to talk about with you. Now." The emotion in her daughter's voice alarmed Laurie. "Jacqui, what is it? What is wrong?" "*NOT* over the phone, Mother. You might want Bronwyn there, too. I have questions and I *want* answers. I will see you in about half an hour. Bye." The phone clicked off preemptively in Laurie's ear. Frightened now, she quickly dialed Bronwyn's line. Whatever this was, she did not want to face it alone. Bronwyn and Jacqui arrived at Laurie's house almost simultaneously. Bronwyn was already out of her car and decided to wait for Jacqui to get out of her own before going up to the door. She watched as Jacqui, dressed in her jeans for a change, pulled a large manila envelope stuffed with paper out of her book bag before closing her car door behind her. "Hello, Jacqui," she said pleasantly, "What is so important that you had to frighten your Mother and pull me away from my writing?" Jacqui did not acknowledge the greeting, other than to say "Not out here, Bronwyn. Inside, please," before she stomped past to the door. Inside, Laurie had laid a light lunch on the kitchen table where she led the two women after greeting them with hugs and kisses at the door. Once seated, a highly agitated Jacqui tossed the envelope she'd carried in with her across the table in the general direction of Bronwyn and her Mother. Curious, Bronwyn opened the envelope and was surprised to see papers discussing various aspects of Wicca on top. Quickly, she riffled through the rest of the thick stack and found that all of the papers were on that topic. "I have been using the Internet to research modern-day witches. As you can see, the bulk of what I found is on Wicca. I started reading it and saw that it had much in common with what you two have been teaching me," Jacqui paused to take a calming breath. "With two small exceptions that I currently know about. Several of the documents specifically state that there is no concept of an entity of absolute evil in the Wiccan belief systems. In other words, they don't accept the existence of a devil. The other thing is that *they* include *male* witches in their groups. I don't think you do, Bronwyn. I don't know why I believe that, but I am absolutely convinced that the only men in your group are now women." Bronwyn set the papers down and looked at Laurie before returning her attention to the very upset young woman across from them. "So?" She was not sure what had the girl so upset, but she knew she needed to get it out before they could help her. "You two *do* believe in the existence of such an evil power. I have caught hints of that belief in your teaching of the magic, and in your conversations. That means that whatever you two and your Sisterhood are, you are very different from what I have read about in there. I want to know what is going on. There is something about all this that you have not told me. Somehow, I *know* that it involves whatever this evil power is and that it is at the core of the reason you Transformed me." "Oh," Bronwyn sighed as Laurie looked down at her hands, avoiding making further eye contact with her daughter. "That is all you have to say? "OH"???" Jacqui roared, pounding her fists against the tabletop in an altogether male response. "No, Jacqui. That is not all we have to say." She shook her head. "Too soon," she thought. "She has not even had a full year of formal training, yet." Laurel and Bronwyn had previously agreed they would never tell the girl the whole story since they accepted that Jacqui would choose to become Jack. There simply was no reason for a powerless man to be concerned with the issues that confronted the Sisterhood. That had just changed, radically, because of a tool that had not existed at the time of their own Transformations - the World Wide Web. Computers and magic were a powerful combination, and one that the Sisterhood had never really had to deal with before. The resulting synergy of such easily accessed and organized raw data coupled with Jacqui's own rapidly developing intuition was potent, if premature. Now, she had no choice but to explain most of the truth, and hope that Jacqui could deal with it. "All right, I will explain about the Sisterhood and why we continue to exist. I would ask that you listen, Jacqui, without comment until I am through. I give you my solemn word that everything I am about to say is the truth as we know it. You are correct in your surmise that we are not truly of Wicca. They are followers of peace. We also seek peace, but our order was created to fight for that peace. Perhaps a weak analogy is that the followers of Wicca are like the monastery monks of the Middle Ages. The Sisterhood is more akin to the fighting priesthood that was known as the Knights of the Temple, or more simply, the Knights Templar." Bronwyn's Story. There are two ways to power. One is the way of Light and one is via the absence of light, or the way of Darkness. The Sisterhood considers the way of Light to be the way of the Goddess whose dictates we follow. The converse of the Sisterhood is a group known as the Brotherhood. They follow the Dark Power which they personify into the being they call the Dark One. Whether such an entity really exists or not is a moot point. The Brotherhood believes that he exists and the power they attribute to deriving from him *is* real. We must deal with that power and with those who wield it. In some ancient time before recorded history, the powers of Light and Dark existed together in harmony until something went very wrong. The followers of the Dark One attacked those who followed the Light and all but wiped them out. The group that undertook that ambush eventually became the Brotherhood. With the seeming destruction of the only beings who were capable of stopping them, the Brotherhood turned their power to conquest and brought the local tribes of men under their yoke. However, unknown to the Brothers, a few of the men who were attacked survived the ambush. They hid from the Brotherhood and sought ways to oppose them without taking the same Dark Path. Ultimately, their search brought them to the Goddess. Upon hearing their appeal, and seeing the suffering of those under the Dominion of the Brotherhood, She offered them a bargain. She would grant them the power they needed to oppose the Brotherhood successfully, but only at a price. The survivors are said to have initially quailed at Her price, but finally, unable to bear the suffering of their fellow humans any longer, they agreed to the Goddess' offer. Thus, the Sisterhood was born, for the price of Her aid was the surrender of their masculinity. Gradually, the new Sisterhood grew in their own power and slowly began to confront the Brotherhood. After a long struggle, they managed to bring about the downfall of the evil members who had led the rest of the group astray. Following that initial conflict, the two groups continued to exist as cohesive groups, while training new members to ensure the continuation of their orders. It was at this juncture that the Sisterhood discovered that they could only breed sons; and sons could not wield the power bequeathed to them by the Goddess. Evidently something about their Goddess-Transformed eggs somehow rejected any sperm cell that carried a female-creating "X" chromosome. Again with the intervention of the Goddess, they developed their own version of the Transformation Spell as their only means of perpetuating the Sisterhood. This was absolutely vital because they knew that a viable instrument had to exist in order to combat the Brotherhood if they again decided to use the Dark Power to dominate other people. Thus were two opposing factions born; the Brotherhood of Men wielding the Dark Power, and the Sisterhood of Transformed Men wielding the Power of Light. Time and again, evil men have gained power in the Brotherhood and have been opposed by the Sisterhood.Each time, the Sisterhood deterred the Brotherhood, but only at great personal cost to the members of the Sisterhood. Understand, please, that the Dark Power is not inherently evil. Throughout our recorded history, there have been many good men in the Brotherhood; men who have used their power in the service and to the betterment of humankind. However, implicit in the Dark Power is the potential to bring forth evil in the men who wield it. When a particularly powerful Brother turns away from humanity, terrible things happen on the earth and many die before they can be stopped. The most recent major confrontation between the Brotherhood and the Sisterhood occurred during this century. After nearly a hundred years of uneasy peace between the factions, a young acolyte of the Brotherhood came onto the scene. Rapidly, his command of the Dark Power grew. He used his power to captivate, to enthrall and to inspire huge crowds of fearful and desperate people. Eventually, he came to the attention of other members of the Brotherhood who shared his views on the world. In a remarkable series of coups, the young man and his circle of supporters first took control of the Brotherhood, installing him as the High Leader, and then gained absolute power over their country with him as the nation's absolute dictator. Before this reign of terror ended, these men had nearly conquered the entire world while laying a great deal of it to waste. The young acolyte was Adolf Hitler, High Leader of the Brotherhood, and Führer (Leader) of Nazi Germany. The men who supported his dual rise to power in the Brotherhood and in Post-World War I Germany were Joseph Goebbels, Heinrich Himmler, Ernst Röhm, Martin Bormann and Rudolf Hess. The confrontation is recorded in human history as World War II. Like the great nations of the world, the Sisterhood was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of a new High Leader with aspirations of world domination and conquest. Although they perceived the danger sooner than the world's leaders, by the time they fully recognized the threat Hitler posed, he had become too powerful. It was only a matter of time before he took over Germany and the Sisterhood had already lost any hope of stopping him by direct action. Grimly, they were forced to accept that only with subtlety and blood - a great deal of blood - could they hope to stop him. The essential contributions of the two great heroes of that conflict remain unknown to the world at large. Oddly enough, both were in the centers of national and world power throughout the conflict, but their true roles in shaping the final Allied victory remain the closely guarded secrets of the Sisterhood to this day. One of these heroes was named Elias and the other was named Evan. At least, that was how they were known before they were initiated into the Sisterhood and all record of their male identities disappeared forever. In 1930, the danger represented by Adolf Hitler finally became clear to the Sisterhood. Shortly thereafter, Eleanor (Elias) Roosevelt ascended to the office of High Priestess of the Sisterhood. Rarely do Sisters take such public roles, and never before had a High Priestess been so well known, but those were desperate times. As a result of her family's public persona, only one of her sons, the oldest, was Transformed. Unfortunately, once it became obvious that FDR was going to be a very public figure, Eleanor was forced to attempt the Transformation when Alan, then Anna, was very young. She had to "adjust" FDR's memories to do this, but she was there to protect him against outside magical influences. In the final analysis, Anna was too young at the time of Transformation for she never was able to learn to wield the power. That sometimes happens when a subject is very young at the time of Transformation. In any case, none of the other sons could be Transformed under such worldwide public scrutiny, so their entry into the Sisterhood was sacrificed to win the War. Eleanor's primary task was to prepare an unwilling, isolationist United States for the unavoidable war to come. Under her direction, the power of the Sisterhood was used as never before, influencing the outcomes of certain critical events in the United States. How else, but with the help of the Goddess, could a man confined to a wheelchair win the Presidency of a country still tied to its rough and tumble past? With her husband installed in the White House, she used the power of his office to revive the Depression-crippled economy, ensuring that it would be ready to be "The Arsenal of Democracy" when the dark days came. However, the most important action undertaken by the Sisterhood under her leadership was also the most painful one - the complete disruption of certain critical U.S. intelligence and military operations in the early hours of December 7, 1941. Eleanor's efforts deprived the United States of information that should have given at least six hours of advanced warning of the imminent attack on Pearl Harbor by elements of the Japanese Navy. Eleanor knew that only a fully committed and war-hungry United States could defeat the Brotherhood-supported Nazi War Machine. Therefore, she and other members of the Sisterhood interfered with the collection, analysis and consolidation of the various clues that otherwise would have accurately predicted the Pearl Harbor attack. This gave the Japanese their clear, unopposed path to Pearl Harbor, and put the power of the United States irrevocably and completely on the side of the Allies. Eleanor's final crucial decision was made in 1944. It was another very painful duty for a woman sworn to protect and nurture life. By the end of 1943, it had become obvious that not even the strongest healers in the Sisterhood could keep the increasingly frail FDR alive much longer. However, the country still needed a strong leader to finish the job that Eleanor, through FDR, had begun. The best, most merciful option would have been to have someone else win the Presidency that year and let Roosevelt go home and die in peace. Unfortunately, none of the likely winners of a post-FDR election possessed the strength of character that would be necessary in the final days of the conflict. Finally, and with much remorse, Eleanor agreed to make FDR run for President one last time, knowing that he could not possibly survive another year in that office. The High Priestess of the Sisterhood personally handpicked the best man for the onerous tasks ahead to be FDR's final running mate. Thus, the little known Senator for Missouri, Harry S. Truman, was elected Vice President of the United States in the 1944 elections. Less than a year after assuming that office, Mr. Truman ascended to the Presidency of the United States. The other great unknown hero of the War was Eva (Evan) Braun. In 1932, she became the Sisterhood's woman inside the Nazi-Brotherhood cabal. As Adolf Hitler's Mistress for almost fourteen years, she suffered terribly. Eva Braun tolerated and encouraged the attentions of a sadistic madman so that she could collect and pass on vital intelligence about German operations and planning to the Allies via the Sisterhood. She also subtly reinforced Hitler's growing megalomania by pandering to his already monumental ego. One result of her efforts was Hitler's precipitous and ultimately disastrous invasion of the Soviet Union that forced Germany to fight a hopeless two-front war. Eva even managed to influence Hitler to see the infamous Dr. Mengele whose crippling drug "therapies" further undermined the self-control of the insane High Leader. By volunteering to become the Sisterhood's conduit to and from Hitler's lair, Eva had willingly accepted a life that was hell on earth. Toward the end of the war, the Führer's madness grew geometrically with each defeat, and so did the torments he inflicted on Eva. Her final act of heroism was in the manner and method of her own death. Fearing that Hitler or one of his henchmen might at last have seen through her disguise, she elected to induce him to commit suicide. She died beside him that fateful day in the Berlin Bunker, literally shaming him into finally taking his own life with her own courageous example. Goebbels' last hope of smuggling the High Leader out of Germany and reconstituting their Power through Hitler as a figurehead, died with Eva and the Führer. Goebbels took his own life shortly thereafter. Now, we appear to be facing a new, and evidently, very powerful High Leader who shares those dreams of conquest. We don't know who or where he is, but we have seen signs that point in that direction. We needed to prepare for a conflict, and we needed more power on our side of the ledger. As I said earlier, only women can wield the white magic. Similarly, only men can wield the dark. As Jack, you could not wield the Dark Power because of certain rites that were performed by your Mother at your birth. Still, you had a spark of power in you that could become great if you accepted the Gift of the Goddess. That was why the Sisterhood Transformed you - so you could become a woman who could grow in the power the Sisterhood needs to face a rearmed Brotherhood. Jacqui was very quiet after Bronwyn finished her tale. Whatever she had expected, what she had been told was not it. Was she supposed to become some type of female mystic warrior, fighting to the death against the evil minions of the Dark Brotherhood? Lord, it sounded like something from a comic book or a B-Movie, "Texas Chainsaw Bimbo Witches." "I don't think I can deal with this, Mom, Bronwyn. You did this to me, took away everything I thought was mine, to go to war? What am I? Some sort of witch-assassin in training? Buffy the Brother-Slayer?" The other two women spoke simultaneously. "No!" "Goddess, no!" then looked at each other apologetically. Laurie continued."Jacqui, the Sisterhood does not, cannot kill. We fight the Brotherhood, yes, but our purpose is to deprive them of power, not life. Remember what I told you would happen if you aborted a child. A Sister who kills another human being forfeits forever the Gift of the Goddess." "But how? I mean, what do you... Lord, I assume that the Brotherhood has no such limitations on the use of their power?" Bronwyn smiled sadly. "You assume correctly. The Dark Power is very capable of destruction and death. It is one of the reasons that Hitler was so effective at removing his opponents just before they became a real problem. The Brotherhood can and does kill, Jacqui, with great ease and effect." "They can try to kill you, but you can't kill in return." Jacqui just shook her head in disbelief. "Amazing. I am surprised there is a Sisterhood left if these little turf wars have been going on throughout history." "There have been times when it has been a near thing, but we are not so defenseless as that. The Dark Power exists in the absence of light. Our power derives from the Light, and we have ways to attack individual Brothers, provided they are not too powerful, by sort of "filling in" the dark places with light. That is not quite what we do, but the analogy is close. In any case, the end result of that attack is a Brother who has been permanently divorced from his source of power, and who no longer has any feelings of aggression. Some of us are very powerful, and we can do this to most of the Brotherhood." "We also," Bronwyn continued, "Work as we did during World War II, removing their power base in the non-magic world, and de-stabilizing their command structure. As we said, not all Brothers are evil and usually, the ones who are not take advantage of our activities to bring down the evil ones." "Sounds like a shaky way to fight a war, Bronwyn. I suspect there are casualties?" "Sadly, yes. On both sides." "And you," Jacqui looked at Bronwyn before turning her eyes to Laurie, "and you, want me to join your fight?" Bronwyn took Laurie's trembling hand. The accusation in Jacqui's voice pained her, and had to devastate Laurie. "We felt that, once again, the world would need us to be ready to face the Brotherhood and to answer that call, we felt that we needed you and your talents on our side," she answered with grim dignity. "Greetings from the High Priestess, you have been drafted." She returned with disgusted irony in her tones. "I don't want any part of that, Bronwyn. Now, I suppose this is where you tell me that my failure to cooperate will force you to end the lessons I need to be able to reverse the Transformation Spell?" "No!" the shout from Laurie rocked Jacqui back. "I told you, I promised you that I would do everything in my power to help you undo what I have done. That promise stands unchanged and unconditionally. Whether we wanted you to help us or not is a moot point, since we have accepted that your foremost desire is to change back. As Jack, you cannot wield the power. There is nothing Jack could do to help us." Bronwyn added. "I add my own assurances to your Mother's, Jacqui. Nothing changes. Yes, we want and need the power you could add to our ranks. However, you have to want to be there with us, the same as any other Sister. Some of us are going to die in the coming fight, Jacqui. Those who go to fight, must know in their hearts that such a sacrifice is justified. If you don't feel that way, there is no way we could permit you to join us." Nothing more was said for several minutes as all three women tried to cope with the emotions of the previous half hour. Finally, Bronwyn held out a hand to Jacqui. She eyed it, and then slowly reached out her own to take it in hers. Tentatively, Laurie held out her free hand to her daughter and felt joy when Jacqui all but snatched at it, gripping it tightly in her own. "I don't know about you two," Bronwyn said haltingly, "But I would really like to be held." Simultaneous "Me, too"-s answered her and she used her own power to shift them into Laurie's large bed. Disoriented by the teleportation, it took Jacqui a moment or two to realize where she was and that she was in the middle between the two older women. It only took an instant longer than that to realize that all of them were completely naked. Unprepared for the sudden change, Jacqui spun toward her Mother and made to get out of the bed. Bronwyn caught her about the waist and pulled her back down and into her, spoon fashion and her Mother enfolded her in a full body embrace, her breasts flattening against Jacqui's own. Jacqui's protest were swallowed by Laurie's mouth covering her own and Laurie's tongue impudently exploring her mouth. The clever hands of two experienced women made short work of any lingering, halfhearted resistance. The man entered into the spacious office, pleased for once to make his reports. He had what he thought was good news for a change. The High Leader was seated at his desk, pouring over some report, which he continued until he deemed he had made his minion wait long enough. Even so petty an expression of power fed the hunger inside him. "Well?" he asked preemptively. "The girl has been doing a very exhaustive search of online and other reference resources for information on witches and magic for some time now. We have been monitoring her accounts and know exactly what she has seen and what she has downloaded to her private machine." He looked up from his notes at the High Leader. "So?" he challenged. "The boy-slut is highly computer literate. That she is using those skills to try and learn about the ones who did this to him should be expected. Too bad your ineffectual organization did not discover him until after the bitches Transformed him. I could have used someone with that potential for power coupled with modern technical skills." Fearing the direction the High Leader was taking this discussion, the Chief rushed on to get back to his own purpose in being here. "Yes, we did expect the data search, High Leader, which is why we have tapped her accounts. In any case, after the last download, she spent some time apparently organizing and analyzing the data, then phoned her Mother. She refused to tell her what she wanted, but rather insisted on meeting her immediately, along with the other subject, Bronwyn Llewellyn. All three subjects met at the Mother's house about thirty minutes later. No one left until the next morning." The High Leader considered this. "I think we can assume that the Llewellyn woman is a high adept of the Sisterhood, perhaps even the High Priestess. We know she protected the girl throughout her last year of high school and has continued to take a deep interest in her activities since. As far as we know, this is a singular deviation from their normal procedure of leaving the Transformed sluts to their Mothers. So, the girl must be important to them. Why?" He looked up at his minion with angry eyes. "Tell me why!" he bellowed. "And don't come back here until you can. Don't make me wait too long for your return, either." The man scurried from the room, his heart racing. That had been a near thing. The High Leader was becoming more dangerously unpredictable with each passing day.

Chapter 22

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16514.txt

Lucinda Gavin

Latin Night by Lucinda Gavin

"Hey! Look at you!" cried Zeke. I smiled a little as I turned to Tommy's friend. "You fixing to go out or something?" "Yeah, I'm going dancing, while y'all mess up my living room." I looked in and saw that Tommy had already laid out the flimsy paper map with a honeycomb grid. "War games tonight. Just you and Zeke, sweetie?" "Yep. Everyone's out of town during the semester break. Sure you don't want to stay and join us? Isn't it going to be hot there?" "No, you and Zeke have fun. The club will be less crowded, and I've learned to sweat gracefully. I'll see you later tonight, sweetie." I kissed Tommy on the top of his head and squeezed his shoulder. The big man mumbled something and patted my hand as he focused on the overflowing clipboard in his hand. As I stepped out of the house, I stumbled against the humidity, so heavy in contrast to the air-conditioned house. The mist rose up from the pavement, which was still wet from the evening rains. I felt the moisture bead up on my forehead. "Damn, I thought, this is going to be sooo flattering." I parked in the lot across from the club, actually an old house that had been converted into a nightclub. It has two small dance floors and several rooms with low couches and pillows; it is really a fun place. As I left my car, the man who is part pan-handler and part evangelist greeted me. His presence is actually a comfort, knowing the college town's crack houses are only a block or two away. I walked up the steps to the house, pulling my driver's license from a tiny purse. The bouncer was dressed in black, and it was clear he worked out, although the t-shirt hung loosely and he wore baggy pleated trousers. It was too hot to be a show-off tonight. It was still early, so I bought a soda and sat at a table. A few people waved, and I smiled back. They didn't beckon me over, and I didn't leave my table. They were speaking Spanish, and I haven't learned the language, although I suppose I should. I came to dance, and they knew that. I'm too old, too white, and too... different to completely belong here. I know, I know, I shouldn't think that way. These are college kids, but you won't see pierced noses or tattoos or combat boots on Latin Night. I don't know why not, but you won't. These kids are middle class and mainstream. A colleague from the department came over and talked with me for a while. He was being very gracious, and I appreciated that. We talked shop for a moment, and I let him go circulate. I went to the other side of the house to watch the dancers. I felt the music before I heard it, the insistent beat of a merengue. Merengue was the first Latin dance I learned; it's the first Latin dance anyone learns. It's a simple one-two, one-two beat, the trick is the hips. There were only a handful of couples on the floor, although the adjoining room had a few clusters of women dancing in circles. Some of the young women wore their little black dresses with the spaghetti straps and high-heeled shoes. Others wore little tank tops and miniskirts or tight-fitting bell bottoms. Later, I would see Dominique from dance class, with a filmy top tied at the waist and an equally filmy and flippy white miniskirt with a thong clearly visible. You have to admire that girl's audacity. As for myself, I had to compromise between audacity and sensibility. I wore a purple t-shirt dress that would have been a minidress on someone taller, but suited me fine. Its v-neck gave me enough cleavage for confidence, and that's about it. I wore flats, I wanted to last a little longer than three dances, and no stockings. I left my eyeglasses in the glove compartment, and my hair was restrained by nothing but an amazing concoction used to tame curls in this awful humidity. And under it all was a black lace bra and a thong. I couldn't help but feel a little aroused when the soft cotton of my dress slid across my bare hips, and the thong shifted between my legs as I walked. I've learned it's that little sparkle in your eye that attracts men better than anything else. I leaned against the wall, watching people dance. This particular club has painted their walls in a dark undulating pattern I'm old enough to recognize as psychedelic. In the darkness, interrupted by the disco lights, it appears black, white, and brown. The shifting lights and moving bodies combined with the smell of smoke and heat, and I was immersed in a purely sensual experience. The smell of cloves was heavy, and it bit at my throat. The DJ played another merengue, and the men pulled the women close, leading them in tight, frantic circles before releasing their young beauties for a turn or two. I saw an arm stretched out before me, and recognized my colleague in the darkness. I gave him my arm, and he led me to the dance floor. I joke that this is the only place I let someone else lead. That's more true than I'd like to admit. I rested my left arm over his, and he took hold of my right hand. We began our own merengue, my hips rocking in time with his. In spite of the erotic implications, we've always maintained the appropriate distance physically and emotionally. I felt my body awaken to the music, and I let him lead me through the turns. I've always considered myself clumsy, and it still startles me that I can dance now. Sweat ran down my back and down my face. I didn't care, that's what I was here for. In spite of myself, I felt a warmth build between my legs, and that was okay with me. The song ended, and I thanked my partner. The next song was a salsa, but to use the singular is misleading. This is not one basic step; there are many variations, and each man has his favorite. Salsa isn't a bad word for this dance, a lot of hot stuff chopped up and thrown together. I saw Terrell and asked him if he would dance. Terrell is a physical dancer, and if you don't match his burly style of salsa, he will drag you across the floor. As he turned me, my hand slipped across his slick arm, and I almost lost his grasp. He laughed and pulled me into a tight circle, his arm close against my back. Terrell let go, turned me a few times, and we continued dancing. By the time the next song began, I was pretty hot and sweaty and needed a little break. I found a chair and watched the dancers. Couples filled both rooms as the young men consumed enough liquid courage to ask the young women to dance. A few young men were very good, moving gracefully with compact, lean bodies. Their hair was cut very short as a defense against the heat. A couple almost remind me of the young flyboys from a local air base back home, that would come to clubs when I had been an undergraduate. Their partners were equally graceful and pretty, since a man who dances well will surely attract attention. I couldn't help but notice the girls' slender legs, shaped by months or years of dancing. I looked on with a bit of envy at these beautiful young women, particularly as they turned the floor with such confident partners. I noticed a group of black girls dancing together on one side of the room. They moved in a different style to the fast, heavy beat than that of the Latin dancers. One young woman in particular expressed the erotic rhythms in her own compelling way, arching her supple back. I watched a young man teach his blond girlfriend how to salsa. I eventually lost focus of the details, and it all ran together, the bodies moving, black, white, and brown. A young woman with a pretty face, wearing a wrap skirt and a short top that showed her belly, walked onto the dance floor with a young man. As he put his hand on her back, she pulled herself to him, pressing her hips against his. Her hips moved in time with the music against his thigh, and when he looked down at her, she smiled. The young man led her into a turn, and as the girl moved, she turned slowly, keeping her hips touching him. He then led her into a 'basket' where she faced away from him, their arms wrapped around her, her pelvis swaying and rubbing the front of his pants. I watched this rhythmic seduction, unable to turn away. Terrell, exhausted, collapsed beside me. He leaned over to speak into my ear. "What's up, you're looking like a zombie or something." I turned to speak into his ear over the loud music. "I'm watching them, can't help it." Terrell looked up to see the young couple intertwined. He smiled and leaned back to my ear."Hoo yeah, they're getting jiggy with it! Why don't you go home to your old man and do something about it?" "I should, but he's still gaming... I just need to be distracted." "Allow me, then. May I have this dance?" So once again, Terrell was leading me across the dance floor, and I was focused on keeping up with him. He made a few funny faces and even led me into a triple-step swing, which is seen mostly in country and western bars. I laughed. As we danced, I became drenched with sweat, my hands slipping in Terrell's, and it became too difficult for him to turn me in his vigorous style. Terrell was tired too, the humidity was simply too much. Soon he just pulled me against him, and we rocked back and forth on the dance floor. I was intensely aware of his hand on my lower back, and the heat returned between my legs as his hips pressed against mine. Terrell brought my right hand up to rest on his shoulder and then my left. The heat turned to an ache as his hands returned to my waist. He squeezed me for a moment, and I closed my eyes. A part of me wanted to beg him to move his hands lower, and I could feel every brush of his leg between my thighs. I was no longer aware of the music except for the driving beat which resonated between our bodies. I no longer smelled the smoke, but I could smell Terrell, the sweat and something which I guessed to be desire. All I could see was my hand resting against his shoulder, while the sweat glistened on his neck -- black, white, and brown. I was lost to my senses and to the man in whose arms I stood. And the music ended. The next song brought a mild outcry, and I heard the word 'Lame!' bounce from the crowd. I was a bit startled and backed away from Terrell. I noticed immediately that Terrell didn't stop me. The air felt cool on the places where Terrell's body had been. It took me a moment to look Terrell in the face, and even then, he didn't meet my gaze right away. "I'm going to get something to drink, you want anything?" He finally managed. "Uh no, I think I'd better be getting home, the smoke is getting to me." "Yeah, it gets to me too." "Well, um, thanks for the dance." "Listen, Dr. Kruger, I mean, Meg..." "It's okay, Terrell... it was nice." "It's cool then?" "It's cool." I smiled up at the young man, touching him on the shoulder. The air felt much fresher outside than in the crowded club, and my head cleared somewhat. When I stepped into my car, however, a sense of loss came over me. I turned on the radio and found the Spanish station. I wanted the noise, the beat, not the silence of my car. When I arrived home, I was disappointed to see Zeke's pickup in the driveway, even though I knew it was still early for them. Even before I opened the front door, I could hear Metallica playing. It wasn't fair, but this was exactly what I didn't want. "Hey honey, you're home early. Woooeee! You look like a drowned rat! Told you it was going to be hot." "Yeah, I must look a mess. I'm really tired, I'm just going to shower and go to bed. Could you turn down the music a little?" I could hear my voice getting sharp and felt guilty. Goddamit, why did I feel guilty? "Sure thing. You're sure you're okay?" "Yeah, I just need to rest." I went straight to the upstairs bathroom and turned on the water. I kicked off my shoes and pulled the damp cotton dress over my head. I watched myself in the mirror as I reached behind and unhooked my bra. The flesh was red where the straps dug into my shoulders. I tried to slide the thong off my hips, yanking at it as it stuck to my sweaty skin. I stepped into the shower, letting out a tired breath. I just stood and let the hot water run over me. I picked up the soap and began to lather up, beginning with my tired ankles. I tried to use slow strokes to bring back the aroused feeling, but something was wrong. Midway through the shower, I tried again by slipping my finger between my legs, but it wasn't right, I was forcing it. At least shampooing my hair felt somewhat soothing. I got out and toweled myself off, wrapping the big damp towel around me. I was relieved to turn off the bright lights of the bathroom as I went to bed. When I entered the bedroom, I walked over to the small collection of CDs and found some Latin music. I had bought it for practicing between classes. I went back to the queen-size bed I shared with Tommy and put the CD in my portable player, so that I could use the headphones. I hit the play button and once again I felt the beat. I unwrapped the towel and lied back on the bed in the dark. I let myself relax and tried to remember Terrell's familiar hands. This time, they slid down to my ass, and squeezed them, rubbing them possessively. I imagined I lifted a leg and wrapped it around him, pulling myself onto him more tightly. My nipples hardened in the cool air-conditioned room, and I took them between my thumb and fingers, rolling them, pinching them, and evoking that familiar tension. My pussy began to ache, and I spread my legs. I believed that the ache pulsated to the beat of the music. I slipped my fingers of one hand between the folds of my pussy and found my clit. I rubbed it directly in small circles. I then dipped a finger farther down and found that I was wet. I brought some of the juices up to my clit. As I rubbed, the little bud would slip under my finger, teasing me and causing the aching to build. I thought back to the young man as we danced, and he pressed my body into his. I imagined grinding my hips into his and feeling his erection. I wanted to slip my hand down and rub his young cock, while he slipped his hands between my legs and felt my arousal. My pussy ached, and I pressed my feet into the bed, squeezing my pelvis. My breathing became heavy, and I could feel my face get flushed. I couldn't distinguish my pulse from the throbbing beat of the music. I imagined Terrell taking me there on the dance floor with impatient thrusts as I ground my fingers against my sensitive clit. I felt the orgasm spread from my clit until a light sweat broke on my forehead. My head fell back on the pillow. The music suddenly seemed very loud, and I took off the headphones. I was still breathing heavily and felt that drowsy feeling. I woke again when Tommy came to bed. "Mmmm... you smell good. I see you used Uncle Tommy's never-fail insomnia remedy." "Huh?... oh ... mmm-masturbation, you mean?" Tommy had his hand between my legs, coating his fingers with my juices. "Dreaming of me I hope?" "Huh? Uh... well..." I didn't know what to say, Tommy and I have tried to be honest with each other. "Mmmm," Tommy said as he ducked his head under the covers, "An extra-curricular fantasy?" "Well, maybe..." "That's a relief," Tommy said, muffled by the quilt, "Wouldn't want to be the only one in the house with those. Why don't you tell me about it, while I'm under here, eh?" I would have jumped as Tommy took my clit in his mouth, but he grabbed my hips and held me steady. "Ummm," I said as my voice trembled with arousal, "As you know, I wore the purple dress tonight..."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16850.txt

Scamp(UK)

Home Cooking (A very short story)

"Bye, darling! Bye!" Melanie waved her husband off to work, just as she did every morning. She closed the front door and sat in the lounge, staring out of the window into their back garden. It was Jason's 30th birthday today, and she wanted him to have a real surprise waiting for him when he returned home. Melanie walked over to the window and looked at the new barbecue combi oven Jason had built. Ever since they had joined the local "Dolcett Circle" and seen the excellent artwork and stories of this maestro of the cookout, she had fantasized about being cooked and eaten, and she knew Jason wanted to sink his teeth into her soft flesh for real. Just thinking about it was making her wet. For several months, they had discussed making their fantasies a reality, but Jason had never really pushed the idea, and Melanie had let the matter drop. After a couple of months of not mentioning it, Jason, completely out of the blue, built the oven. Melanie knew it wouldn't be long before her firm, sexy body was sizzling meat. With this in mind, she had decided that if she were destined for the pot, she would cook herself for Jason on his birthday. Melanie went to the kitchen and began preparing the stuffing. She grinned as she made the mixture; she was going to make sure she enjoyed stuffing herself, that was for sure. Melanie stripped naked and cleaned herself out, back and front, then sprayed cooking oil into her pussy and ass. She lay on the kitchen table and, using the blunt end of one of her dildos, began stuffing her pussy. "Ooooooo! Yea!" The warm, gooey mixture was pushed deep into Melanie's belly; she could feel its warmth glowing inside her. The heavily ribbed dildo was rubbing against her clit; every fresh handful of stuffing was rammed home harder than the last. Melanie could feel the stuffing pushing at the entrance to her womb. She picked up the next blob of stuffing and pushed it in hard. "Eeeeeeeee!" She felt herself open, and the mixture squirt onto the lining of her womb. It felt so good. She pushed more stuffing into her pussy, watching as her stomach expanded as she filled herself to the brim. The dildo, slick with stuffing and pussy juice, slid in and out of her wet cunt. "Oooooo! This feels so good. Nnnnnnnghgh" "I'm Cumming! Oh, fuck, I'm cumming! Urrrrrrghgh!" Melanie's body shuddered as her orgasm rippled through her. As she gradually got her breath back, the one thought on her mind was "now to stuff my ass." A small groan fell from Melanie's lips as the first handful of stuffing entered her bowels. Slowly, her insides were filled, and what was left in the bowl, she ate, washing it down with glasses of wine. Feeling more than a little bloated and in need of a good shit, Melanie waddled into the garden. She opened the oven door and checked the baking tray was ready. A selection of vegetables lined the edge of the tray, ready for the meat to be added. She checked the automatic timer and temperature controls, picking up a bottle of cooking oil and pouring half into the tray, smearing her body with the rest. Her hands glided over her nice, firm breasts, pulling her nipples as they went. Her fingers slid easily into her pussy and ass, and she was soon smearing her body with a mixture of oil, stuffing, and pussy juice. When Melanie felt her own juices begin to trickle down her leg, she swallowed hard and climbed into the oven. The cool oil felt good against her skin, and her nipples hardened at the thought of her skin roasting, cracking, and her own juices basting her succulent meat. Melanie reached out of the oven and pressed the auto button; the door closed with a mechanical click as the child safety lock sealed her fate. The oven's fans began to hum as hot air blew over Melanie's delicious body. Melanie began to get wet as the heat in her pussy competed with the heat of the oven. The heat, it was so, so hot. Her first sensation was of tightness as her skin shrank slightly, the pressure on her nipples felt good. "Mmmmmmm!" Melanie was getting hot, really hot! The oil had started to bubble, and she felt the back of her body start to gently fry; she felt the muscle of her anus begin to cook. "Nnnnnnnngh! I'm gonna cum!" Her skin was pulling tighter all over her body. As her clit split open, her orgasm ripped through her, her body jerked, and hot oil splashed over her skin, making a delicious sizzling noise. Just before Melanie died, she managed to lift her head, and in the light coming in through the glass door, she saw her breasts all golden brown, ready to eat. One final pleasure was hers when she watched her right nipple burst open and her breast juice run over her roasting tits. When Jason arrived home, he was greeted by the smell of something burning. He followed his nose into the garden, where thin wisps of smoke drifted from the oven. Quickly, he switched it off and, with a sense of unease, opened the oven door. He looked down at the burnt, charred remains of his once beautiful wife. He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know why I married that girl? She never could cook!"

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12204.txt

M. Quayle

Late for Dinner

"Let me put a little Vaseline on the hose tips, and we'll get your little bottoms all nice and clean," Mommy chirped. "Thanks, Mommy," Kathy and Christi leaned their bottoms up against the side of the bathtub. "This is so cool! Our bottoms will be nice and numb when Mrs. Potter tells us to bend over and spread them." Christi looked over her shoulder at Mommy. "Would you mind not putting any Demerol in mine, please? I want to feel every delicious rip and tear." "Why, certainly, Christi," Mommy smiled. "I guess you don't have a sensitive sphincter like Kathy and I do." "Christi!" Kathy almost screamed as the tiny tube knocked on her tight backdoor. "You can't possibly be serious? She's going to put her whole arm up there!" "Yeah," Christi said dreamily, "I know." The girls had just finished filling Mommy when the doorbell rang. Kathy dashed downstairs to welcome their guests. "Ho ho, Kathy," Officer Ray wrapped his arms around her waist. "Nothing like being greeted by an eager suspect. Where's your Mommy, little girl?" He slipped an envelope into the top of Kathy's garterbelt. "We're just giving her an enema to get her ready for you and Mrs. Potter," Kathy looked over at the tall woman with flowing raven hair who was taking off her coat and revealing a stunning, pearl-white body. She was nude except for thigh-length black latex boots and elbow-length gloves and a gigantic black phallic strap-on that rose menacingly from her womanhood. Mrs. Potter took a black-handled riding crop from her purse, "Well, Kathy, you look lovely tonight." She ran the tip of the crop across the trembling girl's left breast. "I see you've healed nicely from target practice." "Yes, Ma'am," Kathy answered respectfully. "Mommy says we mend faster than most people." She was stunned at how different Mrs. Potter acted when she let her hair down. "Hello, Officer Ray, we're ready to help you catch all those awful tiny criminals," Mommy giggled as she descended the stairs. She was a little wobbly from the Demerol. "Ho ho, Kathy's Mommy," he bounded up the stairs to steady her. "And who's this?" the jolly policeman asked as Christi came into view. "This is Kathy's little girlfriend," Mommy said. "Christi tells us we're in for a real treat, Mrs. Potter." "My mom and I live down the block from you, Ma'am," the blue-eyed brunette slipped past Mommy and the officer and knelt humbly at Mrs. Potter's feet. "She always says how much she appreciates you and Mr. Potter taking time for a lonely widow who doesn't have a husband to keep her in line." "It's my pleasure," Mrs. Potter cracked the crop across the cowering girl. "You're mother suffers so sweetly and," swack, "I see you do, too." Kathy quickly slipped the envelope under a couch cushion while all eyes focused on the delicate pattern of red welts that was forming like magic on Christi's back.She stopped in the living room and pretended to check her seams, then quickly slipped her hand between the cushions of the couch. The envelope was still there! "So, what are you going to do, Kathy?" Christi propped her chin on the pretty blonde's flat stomach. "I don't know," Kathy sighed and shifted on the bed. "Michael's letter is just so, so sweet. He says he's suffered a setback, but he's working really hard so he can get out and come see me." "I think 'Michael' just needs to learn to let go," Christi teased as she slipped her tongue into Kathy's belly button. "Ha, ha. Really funny. Now, what am I going to do?" Kathy fretted. She hadn't told Mommy and Daddy about the passion that had ignited during her night at the County Home. "How many guys have tried to buy you? Ten? Twenty? Your dad always says no," Christi outlined the worried girl's breasts with soft kisses. "But I want him to say yes," Kathy sighed. "Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!" She stroked a curl in Christi's long brown hair. She knew her friend was trying to make her feel better, but the letter had set off a million emotions. She'd dreamed about Michael Barnes every night, even though, until now, she hadn't even known his first name. It was always the same: she was chained to a bed and covered with drops of hot red wax that slowly melted into her flesh. She could feel every molten invasion and the heavenly fire inside as he thrust into her loins. Then, his gentle hands would tighten slowly around her neck and she would ride spasms of airless terror towards ecstasy and oblivion. But, now, there was a letter to prove that it was more than a love-struck school girl's fantasy. He wanted to possess and enslave her completely; just as Daddy had enslaved Mommy when he brought her home from the convent. Christi kissed Kathy tenderly and raised her head so she could place the nylon noose around her neck. "I know what you need, Kathy, I'm not going to lose you to him." "You won't lose me," Kathy pulled Christi close. "I won't let him buy me unless he buys you, too," she pledged. "I'll write and tell him that we're a package deal, double or nothing." "But, what if he doesn't want me?" Christi whispered. She lost her grip on the noose and began to sob. Kathy held her tight. She had never seen her bold friend frightened before, but now she was as timid as a mouse. "Then he'll have to buy you for me or he can't have me at all. I promise. "Anyway, I know Daddy won't even consider selling me until after we graduate, so there's plenty of time to make everything okay," Kathy comforted. The two girls lay with hair entangled and quietly gazed into each other's eyes as the late afternoon sun shot long golden beams through the window of Christi's room. There was a knock at the door. "Oh, I thought I heard voices," a stunning, more mature vision of Christi came into the room. "You must be Kathy. You're all Christi can talk about. I'm Carol, I'm so glad to finally meet you." "Hi," Kathy said shyly. Her face was still buried in Christi's curls. Both girls sat up. "Mom," Christi motioned for her mother to sit down, "it's about time you got acquainted with your new daughter-in-law." "Oh," Carol laughed. "You have to forgive her, Kathy, she does carry on." She smiled and tickled the tip of her daughter's nose. "Young love is so grand." "Why don't you join us, Mom?" Christi drew her mother toward her. "I'd love to, Honey, but I can't. I've got to work tonight," Carol kissed both girls and excused herself. "What does your mom, I mean Carol, do?" Kathy asked. "She's the featured lap dancer at Ferrell's Family Diner." "Really? We eat there all the time," Kathy exclaimed. "I thought she looked familiar. I didn't recognize her with her clothes on." "Most people don't," Christi hopped out of bed and pulled up her nylons. "I think being a lap dancer is really cool, but Mom says she'll do anything as long as it pays the bills and makes her cum." Kathy rose and embraced her beloved. Her fingers traced the long red welts on Christi's back and felt her shudder with each delicious memory of the previous night's sweet agony. If only Michael could be here the triad would be complete, she thought as they watched the sun's last rays vanish in the west.

Chapters 16-18

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/18161.txt

Spoonbender

Anthrax (forced masturbation, spy thriller)

"You sent for me, Your Excellency?" The scientist tried to still his thundering heart as he stood before the vicious dictator, whose famous chromed pistol gleamed menacingly in its holster. The moustachioed figure, smiling benignly but with a hint of underlying menace, waved airily to a seat before the altar-like desk. "How is the research going?" he asked mildly when the scientist was perched uncomfortably on the edge of the chair. "Fine," said Rais, "We have eliminated most of the problems and the new, er, weapon is almost ready for use." "Almost?" The raised eyebrows conveyed a world of horrific terror. The scientist gulped audibly. "The biological weapon itself surpasses our expectations. But we do have a problem with the delivery system." The eyebrows knitted. "The delivery system? Do we not have Al-Abeid?" The scientist was suddenly chillingly aware that he had become one of the few confidants of the existence of the Qa'ala, the fortress in the heart of the hills of Jebal Hamreen above Kifri. The fortress that contained two of the most powerful guns ever to be assembled called the Al-Abeid, the believers. Designed by the legendary Canadian, Gerry Bull, they were each capable of hurling a missile into low space, despite the frantic denials of the CIA and Mossad. Now he officially knew and so he had become inextricably linked to the success of the project. If it failed then he could expect the cold summons from Omar Khatib, the President's much feared Secret Police Chief. It, like many such trips undertaken before by his unfortunate countrymen, would consist of a one-way trip to Abu Ghraib, the prison run by the feared AMAM secret Police. A humble but brilliant scientist, like many of his fellow countrymen, he had been developing a new biological weapon so terrifying that he himself woke at night in cold sweats thinking about it. But one that required careful handling. Very careful handling. And this was what was causing him his most concern. If it were not handled right then it could erupt prematurely with catastrophic consequences. Now he struggled to explain, rationally, his problems to someone who only cared about results. He took a deep breath. "When I say the delivery system, I mean the method of transporting the agent from our laboratories out into the field where it is to be used. It requires very careful, and specific handling, or it may cause us serious problems." "What sort of handling?" "For a start it must be kept at body temperature. It must be constantly shaken and every two hours it must be kneaded, like bread, or its consistency will thicken. And with the rise in viscosity will come a corresponding rise in possible explosive failure." "You are working on this problem?" "Of course," said Rais. "We have identified a possible method of transportation. But....." He tailed off lamely. Even he couldn't imagine the President would stoop that low. "But what?" The President was obviously becoming irritated, which didn't bode well for the immediate future. "The only reliable method of transportation that we have identified is, er, inside the vagina of a woman." There, he'd said it. Now he must live with the consequences. The dictator regarded him with dark, staring eyes. "And you are sure this will work?" "Oh yes," said Rais. "Our tests have proved it." "Then I see no problem." "But what about the ...er.. host?" "Ask Omar Khatib. He will have a suitable candidate." He paused, then his face lit up in a rare show of genuine happiness. "Wait, didn't we arrest that American spy last week?" "American spy?" said the puzzled scientist. "The so-called reporter. Snooping around one of my palaces. I think we have found our candidate. I will tell Omar Khatib to make the preparation. You, meanwhile, will ensure that the weapon is ready on time. Do you understand?" The scientist nodded frantically. He understood all right. It would be ready, come what may. Keri-May Wilkins fretted in her cold, dank cell, cursing her bad luck and worrying about the future in equal measure. The newest reporter on the Middle East circuit and also one of the brightest, she had graduated summa cum laude in modern languages from a prestigious East Coast university. Her proficiency in Arabic, and particularly the dialect of the Marsh Arabs in the south of Iraq, had brought her to the attention of a fast-rising media baron who could see that Iraq would again become an explosive flashpoint in the powder keg of the Middle East. And who wanted, lusted after, a serious presence on the ground there. So Keri-May found herself working out of the bureau's Riyadh office, chafing amongst the paper clips as the men dashed off on glamorous assignments. For her, unlike many other women, her looks were a positive hindrance. A natural blonde, with a firm, athletic body and an almost angelic face, she had often got mistaken for one of the corporate "bimbos" who dropped their panties at the slightest chance of appearing in front of a camera. She called them 'News Screws', which earned her their undying enmity. She shrugged it off, her dynamism being focused elsewhere. So when she heard a couple of Iraqi refugees talking in the local souk oblivious to the fact that she may actually understand their language, she decided to approach her bureau chief, with a view to being sent on a special assignment into the heart of Iraq. To find the place where the chemical weapons were being stored, away from the prying eyes of the UN Weapons Inspectors. "It's too dangerous," was his, not entirely unexpected, reply. "But Wally, this could give us the break we need. We could show those CNN guys that we mean business." He considered it for a moment, fingers steepled in front of his lips. "Okay, I'll send Greg Hoskins." "Greg Hoskins! Why? It's my story." "I told you it's too dangerous for you." "Because I'm a woman, right? That's bullshit, Wally, and you know it. It's my story and I want to cover it." The bureau chief looked across at her. Her eyes glinted with the ferocity of a cornered feral cat. She had the determination, that was for sure. "It's not that. Well, not entirely. It's just that I can't cover you when you're there. Greg looks like an Arab for Chrissakes, which you obviously don't." "Look, Wally, the best camouflage is to be out in the open. They'd hardly expect a blonde blue-eyed spy now would they? Anyway, women have more methods of escaping detection than men have." "How so?" "Well, we can wear the Chador for a start, that covers us from head to toe so no-one can see us. Furthermore, everyone takes it for granted. And my Arabic is perfect, as you well know. Finally, I can get more information out of a man within an hour than Greg Hoskins could in a lifetime." Wally had to concede that point. She was extraordinarily adept at extracting information from the most intractable source. Perhaps it was her "bimbo" looks that disarmed them. That, plus a first-class brain. He mulled it over in his mind, then tried one last time to dissuade her. "Look, Keri-May, I understand how you feel, but this sort of assignment is dangerous. I can't give you any support, except from casuals in country and the Lord knows how reliable they'd be in a crisis.The State Department would deny all knowledge of it. You'd be on your own, in a hostile country where they'd all get a pat on the back and extra rations for their kids for turning in an American spy. I wouldn't like to send an experienced reporter into that lot, never mind someone who has only recently joined. It's too risky, surely you can see that? "Oh, come on, Wally. Stop treating me like a child, I knew what I was getting into when I came here. You get me good ID and I'll be fine." Slowly, over the course of the next hour, she wore him down, the possibility of a Pulitzer finally winning him over. The amazing thing was that she had found the dump within a week of being there. She wasn't averse to a roll in the hay to further her career, which, coupled with the fact that the officer from Tikrit was absolutely smitten with her, gave her the lead she needed. Her problems started when she was caught trying to take photographs of the compound in which they were stored. The soldiers had been rough but not brutal, and she hadn't, to her great surprise and relief, been sexually assaulted apart from the occasional fondled breast and pat on the rear, of which she'd endured far worse in her office. Reporting sure dulled the threshold level on her reaction to physical abuse, she surmised. The worst part was the mind-numbing boredom of the prison. For someone of her intellect, it was the worst form of cruelty, being taken away from all forms of intellectual stimuli and forced to exist in a cold, heartless cell, with just the murmurs and occasional screams of the other prisoners for company. And so it was with a curious mixture of longing and dread that she heard the key turning in the lock of her cell door. The guard was new and dressed in a uniform she hadn't seen before. "Yallah!" he shouted and jerked his thumb along the corridor. "What's the rush?" she replied in perfect Arabic. He smiled, revealing a mess of Qat-stained teeth. "A clever spy, heh? But you got caught, so maybe you're not so clever. Now, come on, the director is waiting." He hustled her along the corridor, past the bleak row of identical steel doors behind which terrified citizens huddled in dread. Instead of going down to the interrogation rooms that she knew so well, they ascended to the first floor. The guard paused at a plain steel door and tapped respectfully. He then ushered her inside. The laboratory was unexpected in its cleanliness. She looked around at the array of stainless steel instruments in cabinets around the wall, then her attention was drawn to the chair in the center of the room. It looked like the gynecological chair she'd had to endure when she thought she'd picked up a dose of something nasty at college. But this one had straps hung around it menacingly, and suddenly she was afraid. The scientist darted towards her. "Excellent," he said. "Hook her up so I may get to work." Keri-May was unceremoniously stripped by two matrons, who employed an economy of effort that bespoke long practice. When she was naked, she was hustled over to the chair, blushingly conscious of the lustful grins of the prison guards that stood in the room. Once she was strapped into place, the scientist approached. He looked sadly at her, his inner self obviously at odds with what he was being forced to do. "I must insert something into you," he told her, almost apologetically. "Please keep still, I will try not to hurt you." "Please," she wailed, as he picked up a long, thick rubber canister from which wires protruded ominously. "Please don't. Why are you doing this?" He shrugged. "I'm sorry, it is most unfortunate, but I must obey my orders. I hope you understand." He then proceeded to lubricate the canister with a thick layer of what looked like KY jelly. Keri-May watched in fascinated terror as he approached her wide-open pussy. He paused for a second, then proceeded to push it slowly into her. She wriggled unconsciously as she felt the canister slide into her. To her surprise, it was warm, and if she had closed her eyes, she could have imagined it as being the penis of one of her lovers sliding pleasantly into her inner self. She groaned slightly, despite her best efforts at self-control, as the 'thing' slid further in, and the guards chuckled. The scientist stopped and admonished them, then continued to force it into her until it was completely buried inside. He then took a small tool and applied it to a hidden screw-head at the base of the unit. A single twist, and she felt the top of the device balloon outwards until it was jammed immovably inside her. The scientist tried tugging it gently and, satisfied that it couldn't be removed without the aid of the tool, he stood back and wiped his hands. Keri-May continued to wriggle at the unwelcome intrusion. It wasn't that it was painful, but it was so embarrassingly intrusive that it humiliated her. It was pushed so deep that she could barely feel it in a sexual way, but the dangling wires, akin to the strings on a tampon, reminded her and her watchers of its presence within her. "What is it? Please tell me," she pleaded. "It is... ah... a poison capsule," he replied, simply. "Poison?" Now the tears started to pool in her eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?" "Hush, dear," he said mildly. "And listen. I have placed the container inside you so it can be used to transport a certain, how shall I put it, er, weapon to the front line. This weapon requires special handling, which you have been chosen to administer. There are no choices in this. You have no choice, and neither do I. Do you understand me?" She nodded. She thought she understood, but was unprepared for what followed. "In order to ensure that the agent remains in a usable condition, you must knead the vessel every couple of hours or so. There is a sensor fitted inside the vessel which will sound when the treatment is required, so you will be warned. The kneading must be rigorous and thorough, which can only be achieved, our tests have concluded, by you having a rigorous orgasm." "What?" she exclaimed tearfully. "I thought I had explained it adequately." He continued patiently. "You must induce an orgasm every two hours or so, or I cannot be held responsible for the consequences." "Every two hours, but what about my sleep?" "Your guards have been trained to, as you Americans so aptly put it, 'bring you off' whenever they hear the warning." "But what if I don't want to? Or I can't?" "Oh, but you must. I must stress the danger you are in if you don't. The vessel may rupture, and you will die. It will not be a pleasant death. Do you understand?" She closed her eyes, trying to will away the horror, and her body involuntarily tried to force the container out from her, but it was held firmly in place, and her efforts barely shifted it. He studied her for a second, then continued. "I will help you." With that, he turned and picked up a hypodermic from an instrument tray, then proceeded to draw a colorless liquid into it from a small bottle. She flinched as he approached with it. "Relax, my dear. This will help you. It is a powerful aphrodisiac that will induce a prodigiously enhanced sense of sexual excitement in you. It will help you to fulfill your task." She cried as the liquid was forced into her arm. He dabbed the needle mark carefully and looked down on her. "May the blessings of Allah go with you, and may his benevolence guide you in your forthcoming trial." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, followed by the matrons, leaving her alone with the two grinning guards. "It is time to see if the drug is working, Ali," laughed one of them as he approached her helplessly bound body, his finger flexing theatrically. Avi Mehandin leaned forward in the rickety chair as his case officer explained the problem to him. Lean and rangy, he looked like a typical street Arab that is likely to be found idling slowly through any Middle Eastern town, which suited him and his bosses perfectly. He was one of Mossad's deep cover assets in Iraq and had been instrumental in providing much of the information regarding Saddam's intentions towards the West and Israel in particular. The case officer had met him, at great personal risk to both men, at a small coffee shop the Agency owned in a village close to the Jordanian border. Now they sat, two itinerant Arabs, sipping their mint tea and resting away from the sunshine, a scene repeated countless times across the area and unlikely to arouse suspicion. "We know that he has developed something new, which he is intending to target on us. What it is, we are not so sure about, but, put it this way, I've moved my family from Tel Aviv. We also know that he has some new type of delivery system. We know it's not the Scuds. We know where they are, and we also know that most of them are out of commission. For a while, we thought he might have bought some Nadong Missiles from North Korea, but we can't find any evidence of them being trans-shipped. Which leads us with one alternative, and that is a super gun of some kind. Now, we heard, from one of our agents in England, that an engineering company there had been receiving orders for, what could only be, gun barrels. We, together with MI5, allowed them to be shipped, and we followed closely. Unfortunately, we lost track of them when one of our agents was compromised in the docks. So where they've gone is anybody's guess. That was three months ago, since then we've heard nothing. Then we heard of an avalanche in the Jebal Hamreen hills, which killed a group of construction workers. Not one of them escaped. That sounded extremely convenient to us, so we suspect that that is where the guns have been assembled, and he's covering his tracks.We managed to get some satellite time from the Americans, but we've found nothing of substance. That's where you come in. We want you to find them and call up an air strike to take them out. The case officer leaned forward and continued, "I need not stress to you the urgency of this mission." Avi lowered his hawk-like eyes to hide his intense anger at this new threat to the peace and security of his homeland. "Give me the means, and I will do the job," he said simply. Keri-May's fingers diddled her clitoris frantically as she tried to coax an unwanted, but crucial orgasm from her unwilling body. It had been twelve hours since she had been given the injection, and it still hadn't kicked in like the doctor had promised. As she twirled her fingers and mauled her breasts, she was aware of the strident screeching that came from her crotch, signaling that she must massage the container as if her life depended on it, which it patently did. Just as she started to climb her heights, the door flew open, and two of the guards stepped into the room, followed by an unknown officer, whose lip curled in disdain at her lewd display. Her hands automatically stopped and went to cover her crotch and breasts protectively. They were all frozen in a silent tableau, while the screaming from her crotch continued unabated. "You must fuck yourself, American whore. Or we'll do it for you," sneered one of the guards, as the officer continued to stare at her. Lost in a haze of humiliation, her fingers again started their work, while the officer calmly pulled out a cigarette. Perched comfortably on the rickety table, he watched as she forced herself towards her humiliating orgasm. She closed her eyes to shut out the scene, but the ribald comments and the slow, forceful exhalations from the officer intruded on her senses. It was the hardest cum of her life to achieve, as her body fought against her instincts. But eventually, and to her great relief, she exploded into a welter of whimpering, sweating convulsions as the eagerly sought orgasm raced through her. After she had subsided, she opened her eyes to find the men watching her in amused contempt. She wished she could have crawled into a hole and died. "Get her up," snapped the Officer. "Dress her and bring her to the truck." He then turned on his heel and walked out. They put her in a simple dress that barely covered her crotch. It was grey and shapeless through uncounted washings and did little to assist in protecting her modesty. Its main benefit, from her captors' point of view, was that it allowed unhindered access to her pussy. Which meant that they could force her into having orgasms whether she co-operated or not. The word had gone round: their continued well-being and that of most of the people in the country depended on her achieving her cums. And they weren't going to let a little thing like her willing participation stand in the way of their personal safety. Just before she was taken from the cell, one of the guards injected her again. "It is the catalyst for the previous injection," he said to her unspoken query. "The scientist said you would understand what that means." She understood all right. The almost immediate tingling in her crotch signaled the start of a new life - as a cum-crazed slut. Avi slipped back into Baghdad later that evening. Leaving his Land Cruiser out in the desert, he took an ordinary bus back to the city, so as to not arouse suspicion. His first call was on a technician he had compromised earlier in the year. He knew that his visit could possibly destroy the asset, but time was not on his side. It threw up an interesting fact. He followed up on it, which led him in turn to a certain Colonel Rashid of the Imperial Guards. He had left town over six months ago, and no one had known where he had gone. But, suddenly he had re-appeared. A loquacious soldier had furnished the further fact that he was leaving again tonight. Avi waited on the Old Damascus road for the Colonel to appear. It was nearly dusk as he saw the small convoy approaching. He squatted down in the dust and waited for them to go by. He had been in this game a long time, and he thought nothing could surprise him. But the glimpse of a semi-naked blond girl chained up and fondled by a group of laughing soldiers widened his eyes a little. His first thought was that she formed part of the Rest and Recreation package that Saddam had put together for his lonely troops. But if they were that lonely, why weren't they giving it to her there and then, instead of just playing with her? He waited for an hour, then started up his Land Cruiser and went to follow. The journey itself, along a road pitted with potholes, was bad enough, but the almost continuous fondling nearly drove her out of her mind. They had chained her standing, with her legs spread and her hands tied above her in the bouncing truck. Then they took turns fondling her in every way imaginable, while she stood there in lustful shame. She knew she couldn't do anything about her hyper-aroused state, but it still shamed her nevertheless, as they forced yet another writhing orgasm from her. Worse, they had taken bets on who could make her come the quickest, and so she had to not just endure the fondling, but also the shouts and coarse laughter as they worked her body with abandon. As the journey ground on, the soldiers seemed to start to lose interest in her, and, as dusk fell, they rolled themselves in blankets between the ammunition cases and fell asleep. At first, she was pleased with a cessation of the continuous mauling, but then, with mounting horror, she started to feel her crotch get tingly again. She endured for two hours, willing herself to ignore the urgency of her crotch, but then the alarm went off, and she realized the predicament she was in. She had to cum, her life depended on it, but how? She started to call softly, but they ignored her. She tried calling louder, but still they snored on. Eventually, the alarm itself provided the answer. Its raucous screech awoke one of the men who, grumbling sleepily, reached up and unlocked the handcuff that was holding one of her arms high. He then settled down to sleep again. At first, she was dazed, then it slowly dawned on her what she was expected to do. They weren't going to masturbate her. She was expected to do it herself. With a moan, she reached down towards her tortured crotch. This was going to be a long night. Avi nearly stumbled upon the convoy as he followed cautiously behind. They had ascended into a range of foothills, where the track was rocky and barely discernible. He had breasted a rise to see the campfires of the troops twinkling in the distance. He found a convenient gully and hid the Land Cruiser as best he could. Removing his Uzi, he started to make his way towards the campfires on foot. The men in the truck awoke to the delicious sight of a beautiful and half-naked young woman masturbating herself furiously. Her hand kept up a steady pumping motion as her fingers massaged and stroked. Each of them had dreamed about a girl like this. And now she was here, making herself cum in front of their eyes. It was better than any floor show they had ever heard about, because here, they knew she wasn't faking. She came, bucking her hips wildly and oblivious to their presence, just as the trucks pulled up. They drew themselves away from the girl, who hung limply in her bonds. All night long, she had been forced to masturbate herself. For every two hours, she had been awakened and had had to do it again. Eventually, she was so tired, as the result of her mistreatment and the number of good cums she'd had, she started doing it in her sleep. She stood there, straddled, her head lolling on her chest as her fingers played lazily with her clitoris. Her cums were muted, but strong enough to achieve the desired effect. It was dawn by the time they eventually took her down from the truck. She didn't know which had disorientated her more, the use of her limbs again or the fact that she had been forced to remove her hand from her crotch. Finally, she stood before them. The officer came up beside her and turned to address the men. "I cannot stress how important this package is. I do not want it to be damaged. Therefore, you will not fuck this girl in any way, including oral sex, at least until the package has been safely delivered. At which point her usefulness in her present capacity is over, and she could be made available for more general duties. I hope I am making myself clear?" He was. He nodded. "Good. Now, I don't want the column held up because of having to service some whore, and so our scientists have come up with an ingenious solution." He held up a high-tech chastity belt. The men cheered as he fitted it over her and connected the wires to the unit inside. He then picked up a large battery pack and solar charger unit and slung it over her shoulders like a rucksack. Finally, he pulled her arms back and tied them together behind the batteries. He then flicked a switch. "Right, men, we have a long way to go before nightfall, let's move out." They left the temporary camp and struck off into the hills. Keri-May stumbled miserably along behind them, a young goat herd teasing her naked thighs with a switch. That was hours ago. Since then, the climb had been a nightmare for her. The batteries were heavy, the trail was steep and rocky, and the chastity belt kept molesting her. Now, instead of the raucous scream, it merely set off a vibration unit which hummed and rubbed between her legs.Such was its power and movement that it had her cumming within a minute or so of being activated. She remembered the first time with shame. The goatboy had tucked the back of her dress under the rucksack and was urging her on with the occasional stinging stripe across her bare bottom. The combination of his casualness and her nakedness hurt her worse than the bites, but they achieved their purpose as she stumbled on blindly. Then, just when she thought things couldn't get worse, she felt the unit kick into life, and immediately she started to get hot and tingly down there. Her steps faltered as her climax started to grow, and the boy was forced to lay into her naked and defenseless bottom hard in order to get her to move at all. Finally, she was walking bow-legged, wishing desperately that she had the use of her hands to help her orgasm along. When it hit, she stopped walking, and no amount of thrashing could make her move again, as her climax soared. The combination of the searing stripes and the firm, purposeful vibrations caused her to climb higher than she had ever done in her life. And so it was that she had the most explosive orgasm of her entire life whilst bent over with her legs apart, with a goatherd swiping her butt and a vibrator massaging her clit vigorously. Some of the soldiers came back to see what the hold-up was and were fascinated as she flew like an eagle. Her screams of pleasure bouncing around the narrow gorge then echoing back to torment her, with her lewd, abandoned display of hedonistic pleasure. When the orgasm finally hit, in full force, she stretched her neck back and howled like a beaten dog. She stiffened her whole body, and her crotch rotated in small bucking circles as if she was entertaining a real lover between her athletic legs. When it was over, she slumped, and it was only the prompt action of one of the guards catching her arms that prevented her from falling over. It was as if the orgasm itself had been her only means of support, and now that it was over, she was bereft of enough power to maintain her posture. "What's happening?" the officer said angrily as he strode back. "She was having an orgasm, Sir." The Officer looked at her, wild-eyed and rubber-legged, then smirked slightly. He was going to enjoy handing her over to the men. But now they must move on. "Get the whore moving," he ordered and, turning on his heel, he marched away. It took nearly a minute of frantic thrashing before she could move again. And in a little under two hours, it was going to happen again. Avi had watched the display with amazement. He thought he'd seen everything that life had to offer, but the sight of a half-naked beauty having an earth-shattering orgasm on a rocky hillside arrested him in his tracks. "What on earth was going on here?" he asked himself. He crouched, waiting, until she had recovered enough of her composure to shamble off again. He then followed, discreetly at a distance. It was indeed fortunate that the Iraqis were so lax when it came to military discipline. This was far easier than the Be'qaa valley. Eventually, they had to assign two guards to her to help her on her way. The repeated orgasms had a cumulative effect on her bone-tired body, and she was barely able to walk at all. So the guards held her arms and hustled her forward. It was then that she learned about having orgasms on the march as they wouldn't let her stop to savor the ecstasy, but instead kept her moving forward while her head lolled drunkenly and her crotch exploded. Keri-May lay half-comatose on the floor of the small cinderblock storage shed. The enforced march and her numbing orgasms had sapped her very will, and she ended up drifting in and out of consciousness like a wraith. But despite her privations and the terrible drain on her inner resources, her body still felt tingly and alive, especially in the junction between her legs. They had arrived just before dusk after enduring the searing heat blasting off the rocks as they climbed deeper into the pitiless mountains, through countless narrow gorges. She'd been fed, barely, on a few scraps and had been thrust into the storage shed with only an earthenware pitcher of water for company. It was sheer laziness, she surmised, that stopped them from removing the vibrator from her crotch. It was just as well, as she couldn't summon up the energy to masturbate herself enough for the sort of orgasm that would keep the poison alive inside her body. It took all of her remaining resources to lie there and immerse herself in her cums. In that, she had no choice, as her body and the capsule both demanded that she fulfilled herself repeatedly. Her boredom had vanished, and in its place was an overwhelming lethargy that bordered on unconsciousness. Gone was the bright, articulate reporter, and in her place, there was a sexually frustrated bimbo who appeared to be kept alive purely by the longing for yet another cum. She whimpered in lust and hopeless humiliation as the vibrator set to work again, deep down in the confluence of her legs. Avi crouched in the lee of two large rocks as he adjusted the collapsible satellite antennae. He had pulled a sand-colored net over his upper body to help provide him with camouflage and to nullify any glints of reflected light that may come from his equipment. Finally, he was ready. "Dove calling Mount. Are you receiving me? Over." A slight hiss as the squelch kicked in was followed by, "Mount receiving you, over." "Co-ordinates follow." He then proceeded to read out the map references of the site. The base followed through by reading them back, which he acknowledged, then dismantled his set. He'd already set his laser guides, so now all he could do was wait. The bombers streaked in just before dawn, jinking and weaving along the steep valleys as they hove in for their attack run. The Iraqis were taken momentarily by surprise by the scream of the jets but soon recovered and ran towards the carefully concealed AA guns. Meanwhile, the radars lit the ether up like Christmas tree lights. Avi waited until the crump of the first descending bomb before he made his move. He was confident that the laser sources that he had laid amongst the buildings and, more importantly, the guns themselves would guide their charges to the sweet spots of destruction. Normally, in this type of raid, he would have been long gone by the time the bombers were called in. But there was something about that girl that intrigued him, and he was determined to find out what role she had to play in the events here. So he dashed across the ground, crouching low, as the bombs started to smash into the ground around him. The Iraqis were far too absorbed in protecting both their lives and the guns to notice his silently flitting shadow making its way towards the grey block house that held the pretty young lady captive. Once he reached it, he smashed open the lock with the butt of his gun and crept inside. She lay huddled against the far wall, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "Do you speak English?" he whispered. She nodded dully. "Good, let's get out of here then. I think the Iraqis are not going to be too pleased once they get a chance to sit down and work out what has happened and, more to the point, how." With that, he stepped across and hauled her to her feet. She felt surprisingly heavy, and then he noticed the heavy haversack on her back. A large knife appeared in his hand like magic, and he severed the straps as she murmured, "No, no." The wires linking the unit to her crotch still held her back, so he cut those too and then pulled her towards the door. A quick glance outside confirmed that no one was taking any notice of the blockhouse as they dashed around the encampment, their figures silhouetted by the flames. He pulled the stumbling girl after him as he made his way out of the camp as fast as he could. He didn't want to be around once this raid was over. She whimpered as she forced her leaden legs to move. And her crotch tingled. An hour later, they found themselves in a narrow ravine just below the skyline, just as the sun started to make its presence known over the horizon. Considering her lack of energy, they were making surprisingly good time, but he still wanted to put as many miles as he could between them and the undoubtedly pursuing and vengeful Iraqis. He knew Saddam of old and didn't want to become a guest of him and his tame torturer. He knew too much. Suddenly, the girl stopped, and no amount of pulling would urge her to move on. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled angrily as she reached for her crotch. "I...ah...must cum," she whispered. "Lady, there is a time and a place for everything, and this isn't it," he retorted. "I must. I must," she mumbled as she started to diddle herself. He stepped forward and tried to pull her hands away, but she fought him with a burst of frantic energy that startled him. So, seething with anger, he let her get on with it. An emotionless man he may have been, tough, resolute, and extremely dangerous, but he was still a man. And the sight of a beautiful woman, her body gleaming softly in the rays of the new sun, cresting the waves of an obviously powerful orgasm caused his breath to quicken as the old familiar feeling grew in his crotch. They both squatted facing each other, he, resting with his hands tightly gripping the muzzle of his Uzi, and she, with wide-open legs and a hand delving under her short dress.After what seemed like hours but was in fact a minute or two, she threw her head back, eyes tightly closed, as she soared to the sky. Finally, it was over, and she slumped onto her knees, her head bent in submission. He waited until she got her breath back and then asked, "What was that all about?" "I must orgasm every two hours," she whispered, her shame coloring her cheeks prettily. "Why?" So she told him. His eyes grew hard, and his mouth tightened grimly as she finished her tale. A quick swig at his water bottle, and they were off again. Was it his imagination, or was that a dog pack he heard echoing down the valley? They rested up in a small cave to escape the worst of the midday heat. He looked tenderly down at her, like a father looking at his newborn daughter, as she dozed. She looked so innocent lying there, her features slack with overwhelming fatigue. Suddenly, the alarm sounded, and she tried to move her hand towards her crotch. But she didn't have the strength. Avi carefully moved her hand away and gently eased open her legs. He then started to masturbate her. He thought he heard her whisper 'thank you' as his fingers worked, but it was so quiet that it could just have been the sound of her breathless panting as she neared her climax. They crossed over into Jordan three days later with half the Iraqi army hard on their heels. Once safely across, Israeli agents spirited them away, and they found themselves in Jerusalem the following day. She was whisked away to the hospital, and he was debriefed by his commander. Everywhere, there were beams and smiles and slaps on the back. They told him that she must be airlifted out to the Centre for Contagious Diseases in Atlanta to remove the capsule, as the facilities in Israel were not up to the delicate task of both removing the tube and neutralizing the poison. So he found himself sitting next to her on the C130 as it clawed its way into the air from Ben Gurion. He took over her masturbation duties as they lolled in amongst the packing cases. She smiled and willingly spread her body when the alarm went off. In between, they chatted and touched like lovelorn teenagers. For such a long flight, it was over surprisingly quickly for them. The package was removed from her two days later. But they were unable to provide an antidote to the aphrodisiac. That night, she and Avi went to a small restaurant, and afterwards, they consummated their relationship between the cool sheets of her downtown hotel. His hard body yielded up so much pleasure that she was able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks. Threats to his homeland continued apace, and before long, he was discreetly advised to take over his responsibilities again. So it was a hard time for both of them when he was recalled to his homeland. They clung together at the airport, promising to keep in touch forever. But they both knew, deep down, that it was over. The nature and uncertainty of his work was the severance inevitable. She sat in the departure area and howled for over an hour when he had gone. Keri-may became an instant celebrity and was soon fronting her own news show on prime-time television with a salary that exceeded her telephone number. She was particularly popular during marathon news sessions. It was obvious to even the most jaded viewer that she was hot to trot. The flush on her cheeks, her squirming posture, her panting recitation, her glazed expression - it all added up to one hot bimbo. The viewers, especially the males, just couldn't get enough of her. And her ratings soared. And best of all, she was allowed to move into the marine barracks. Where morale suddenly soared. So there is a heaven after hell, after all.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16438.txt

Waldo (mellin6695.aol.com)

Flash

"Tixar, you are beginning to bore me. What useless piece of advice do you think that I need at this time?" asked a somewhat bored Emperor Ming as he watched six beautiful naked women make love to each other on carpets placed in front of his throne. "Pray forgive your humble servant, but I bring good news. Our scientists manning the space radar have detected something that appears to be a rocket coming toward us. It's coming from the direction of Earth." Ming slammed his hand down hard on his throne, startling the women who were otherwise occupied at the moment. Rising quickly to his feet, an evil leer filled his face as he stared down at the cowering messenger. "I knew that he would be back. It's a two-month journey to Earth, and it's been almost five months since he left my sweet prize behind as he fled to Earth. How far away is he?" "They predict that he should land in three days." Ming spun and walked toward the corner of the room where Dale's unconscious body still floated on a small soft cloud-like surface. Ming waded into the edge of the cloud just slightly until he was standing beside her prone body. Looking down at her, he whispered, "It won't be much longer until I can wake you with a kiss, my sweet." He touched his long finger to his lip, then touched his finger against her lip to share his kiss. He let his finger drift down her chin, down her soft throat, and to the crest of her breast. He traced the outline of her areola through the diaphanous gown covering her body, then slowly stroked her nipple with his finger as he stared at her. For a few minutes, there was silence in the room as everyone held their breath, fearful of being the one to break their Master's tranquility. He stood beside the real Dale, playing with her nipple, causing it to harden under the thin material as he whispered so softly to her that no one else in the room could hear him. Just as quickly as he had started it, he finished his teasing of her body and turned around with a relaxed look on his face. Striding back toward the throne, he commanded, "Divide my Sharkmen into three groups, Tixar. You will command one of the groups. The commander that brings Flash to me gets to keep his life. The other two commanders will feel my wrath for not being the one to bring Gordon to me." "Most honorable one. I know nothing about soldiering and am unfit to lead such fine troops on a delicate mission. May I recommend another to lead your troops in my place, who is more of a warrior than this poor servant?" Spinning so that he stared at his cowering counselor, Ming's words locked in his fate. "It's going to take cunning to capture Gordon, and that's something that you excel in. Go inform your new troops of your honor." Corporal Hurley was sitting on the bunk naked with one wrist handcuffed to the bunk. His face was swollen, and his jaw was bruised from Dale's kick. When he came to after being knocked unconscious, he had been very angry at Flash who had by then transformed back into his real body.So angry was Hurley that the doctor urged Flash to restrain the grumpy cook. Hurley resisted the handcuffs, but the cook wasn't any match for Flash's just as strong, if not stronger, male muscles. As soon as the cook was handcuffed, he removed his clothes as a protest to his imprisonment and sat on the bunk, playing with himself. Doctor Zarkov held his unlit pipe in his mouth and stared at the cook who was very involved in his own erection. Glancing at Flash, the doctor said, "Our new friend has the most severe case of space dementia. I've personally seen a couple of similar cases, but never one this bad. I think that his current medical condition is caused by the combination of low oxygen and freezing cold for so many hours on his ship, which could've damaged part of his brain. I noticed that for the first couple of days, he was sometimes lethargic and very uncomprehending. But I didn't pay any attention at that time because that could've been his normal personality. Then his brain got overstimulated and stuck in that oversexed position. He's got a very one-track mind right now, and all he can think about is sex." Flash ran a large hand through his short golden hair, as if scratching his head could solve the puzzle. "So what I'm hearing you say is that we can't count on him for any help until he recovers from this...condition. Would Dale's..physical assistance help him get over it quickly? We can use all the help we can get on Mongo, and if necessary, then I would...." Shaking his head negatively, the doctor spoke without moving his lips as he held the unlit pipe in his mouth. "We don't know much about Dementia yet. Some people, such as yourself, can handle the rigorous constraints of exploring space, while others...didn't have 'all of their oars in the water to start with'. I think that our cook had some problems which the damaged brain tissue just amplified. Giving up your virginity to him probably won't do more than just make him come after you for more loving..which is something I don't think that you'll appreciate as much as he would. I don't think that we should count on the cook as being too helpful to us on Mongo." "When we land, we'll take him to some of the nearby caves and hide him. That way, if the Sharkmen find the rocket, they probably won't find him too." Zarkov nodded his head in acceptance of what to do with the cook. Then he leaned back in his chair and watched as Flash checked his instrument panel, as was his custom every waking hour. Clearing his throat, the doctor asked, "And how are you doing?" Flash shook his head negatively and smiled a 'you-wouldn't-believe-me-if-I-told-you' type of smile. "I was in euphoria when I skip-hopped into the shower. Every inch of Dale's body was tingling and feeling so good. And the warm tiny beads of stinging water only made my masturbation that much more delightful. Then when I was drying off, the impact of how I had reacted to a man's advances struck the masculine side of my mind. I told you that sometimes, I'm almost totally Dale mentally, and that's what happened to me today. When the male side..the real me..took control again, I knew that I had come close to dropping my drawers and climbing aboard that cook's very erect express train. I was about to go for a ride that I would've never forgotten and would've have to remember for the rest of my life." "Damn it, she's supposed to have enough sense left to be able to pretend that she's really the Earth woman. You've turned her into a fucking idiot that can't even do something as simple as stick her hands up her own ass." Moesia was sitting in a chair, looking straight ahead with a very unfocused, dazed look in her eyes. Her mouth hung partially open, as if she wanted to catch some flies. Her body was very slack in the chair and would've fallen out of the chair except for the pillows bracing her into a semi-upright position. The doctor cowered behind his table, whimpering out excuses. "But you pushed me to hurry her. I told you that it was too strong of a dose to give her, but you demanded unreasonable shortcuts. It's all your fault that we scrambled her brains and turned her permanently into a zombie." Tixar slapped the woman's dull-looking face, as if the slap could knock some sense back into her scrambled mind, but it did little more than relieve some of the frustration that the young Counselor was experiencing at this unexpected failure. Her head remained tilted at the unnatural angle, but there wasn't any change to her dazed expression. For all practical purposes, she was dead, except that she was still breathing. Pushing her head back into a more normal upright position, the angry young man grimaced through clenched teeth. "My beautiful plan is blown all to hell. I was going to use Moesia's modified appearance to trick Gordon into trying to rescue Moesia because he would think that she was the real Dale Arden. If he succeeded in rescuing her and escaped with my clone, then nothing was lost. We would still have the real Arden to bait him back again. If he failed, then we would have captured him. I was going to give Ming a gift of the captured Gordon and the brainwashed Moesia. Ming would have two beautiful bimbo-brained Ardens as his playthings as well as Gordon. I would become the most powerful man on the planet..besides Ming. Now my choices are limited. Moesia's nothing but a mental rag doll." "We can still use her to try to capture Gordon." Spinning to face the scared doctor, the angry Counselor yelled, "If that fails, one of us is immediately dead. And it won't be me." "I gave him a strong sedative and taped a time-delay needle to his arm. He's sleeping like a baby, so I removed the handcuffs because I couldn't strap him down and keep him handcuffed also. There's enough proxoizibide in the time-delay-injection needle to keep him asleep for a good three days. Will you be able to find Dale and get all three of us back to the ship in that time?", asked Doctor Zarkov as he sat down in the passenger seat beside Dale. The young woman's solemn face was staring at the instrument panel as she made last-minute corrections. She answered, "The Sharkmen will be expecting us to land in the wilderness, but I'm going to fool them. I'm going to come in hard and fast so that I get by their tracking sensors, then I'm going to land at the base of the cliffs. They'll never expect us to land that close to the fortress. Ten minutes after we land, we should be in the castle and looking for Dale. I suspect that Ming will be keeping her in his Throne Room. I'll go grab her while you go to your old lab and get the Murp. We'll need that alien equipment to restore Dale and myself to normalcy. In less than four hours from landing, we should be blasting off, headed back to Earth." The doctor pulled his pipe out of a pocket and placed it in his mouth, sucking on the unlit pipe to get some of the faint tobacco aroma into his mouth. Clenching the pipe between his teeth, he stared at the instrument panel, then muttered, "My lord, the speed indicator must be busted. We can't be going that fast." Dale's pretty face smiled momentarily before becoming dead serious again. "No, it's right. I know that Ming's sensors can detect us way out in space and predict when we'll land. While you were examining your patient, I increased power to the rear booster, increasing our speed by a factor of four. We'll enter the planet's atmosphere in a little over an hour..seven hours ahead of schedule." "BUT...that means that we won't have time to get rid of our excess speed, and we will come in too fast. Won't we burn up because of the heat?" "It's going to be a little hot in here, but we'll survive it. I'm more worried about the landing than the heat. It's going to be a little rough." "...so you see, when the Earthlings break into here to try to rescue the woman, they won't recognize that it's not the real woman. We'll have the real Arden safely hidden away and let them spend their energy trying to rescue my clone. Then we'll capture them." A mischievous smile was on Ming's cruel face as he stared at the soulless clone of Dale Arden in the wheelchair at the base of his throne. The obviously scared doctor was holding her limp head up straight as Tixar pointed out how much the surgically modified woman resembled the unconscious real Earth woman who floated nearby on her cloud. Rubbing a long fingernail against his cheek as he compared their striking similar appearances, the evil Emperor cackled, "It's a plan good enough to warrant forgiving you for your past mistakes. You have my permission to put your..woman in my beautiful goddess's place of honor. I'm interested in seeing what you do next to capture Gordon now." Doctor Zarkov was staring at Dale Arden's naked body. It was getting close to the time that the transformation back into Flash's male body was supposed to occur and also very close to the time that they would be entering the planet's atmosphere. Dale was naked because she was changing back into the larger male uniform so that when the transformation occurred, she would be dressed in clothes that fit the larger male body. She was doing it beside the pilot's chair because they were so close to the planet that she couldn't risk being too far away from the controls. A small yellow light began blinking on the console. Dropping the large male trousers that she was getting ready to slip into, the naked woman slipped back into the pilot's seat. She pressed the button beneath the yellow light as she muttered, "Incoming message from one of our vessels. Who the hell knows our frequency and is far enough out in space to be within radio range of us." "This is Radio Operator Wilson. SCRAWKKKKKK" The loud static burst caused both occupants to flinch from the ear-bursting scratchy sound.Dale adjusted a button and the loudspeaker continued its mission. "Scrawkkkk. Repeat. This is Radio Operator Wilson broadcasting for Captain Browning to Flash Gordon. Captain Browning sends his regards and advises that he is leading a Ranger Team to Mongo to provide assistance as you battle Ming. Scrawkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk. Browning recommends standing by until we get within striking range in an estimated seventy-two hours. Do you hear us? Please respond." Glancing at the instrument panel, she declared, "We're too far along on our committed path toward our target. We're minutes from entering the planet's atmosphere and can't change our trajectory in time to miss the planet." She reached toward the panel to press the broadcast button, but an unexpected loud rumbling began vibrating throughout the small rocket, and the front window turned unexpectedly bright orange from the heat generated by the atmosphere slowing the rocket down. Sitting back down into the pilot's chair quickly and reaching for the seatbelts, she yelled at the Doctor, "Too late to do a damn thing except to try to ride it out. We're already within the edges of the atmosphere and almost out of control. Hold on because it's going to be a rough trip for the next thirty seconds until the atmosphere slows us down." Her warning came too late because Zarkov had already bounced out of his passenger seat and was holding onto the armrest as his body bounced up and down from the turbulence. The pipe flew from his mouth as he concentrated on holding onto the securely mounted passenger seat, and he ignored the pain from his body bouncing against the floor, instrument panel, and sometimes ceiling. Just as quickly as it started, the rumbling ceased, and the bright orange from the flames engulfing the rocket disappeared as the rocket slowed down from the pressure of the atmosphere. Zarkov fell heavily from an upside-down position over his chair and crumpled onto the floor. Dale's body had a bright red welt across her chest from the one seatbelt that she had been able to barely secure in time. Ignoring the pain and discomfort, she grabbed the controls and began a reversing rocket action to slow the ship down to landing speed as it continued a bullet-like trajectory straight toward Mongo's planet surface. For several long seconds, she fought the controls, then she felt the slightest change as the rocket began to respond and change its direct approach to a more conventional landing approach. She didn't take her eyes from the instrument panel as she calmly declared, "Left Rudder is stuck. Probably fused from the heat, but that can be repaired after we land. It's going to be a hard landing, but we're going to land exactly where we wanted to land. Hold on." Zarkov's unconscious body began sliding along the floor back toward the bathroom, but she didn't have time to go help her obviously senseless friend. She held the control stick tightly and made the minor course changes as the rocket fell like a plunging rock straight toward the planet's surface. She knew that she was coming in too damned fast, but she kept putting all of her relative feeble strength and skill into adjusting the rocket's angle so that she would land like a rock skipping across water - a couple of bounces across the surface then a soft landing. She hoped! The first bounce jarred her hands loose from the controls, and she felt tremendous pain as the single seatbelt across her chest mashed the left breast completely flat. Struggling against the pain and turbulence, she grabbed the control and held on with her limited strength as the rocket bounced again. This time the bounce wasn't as bad, but the loss of response from the controls told her that the rocket had some outside damage that must be repaired before they used it again. Four minor bounces against the planet's surface later, the rocket finally slowed to a complete stop - less than two hundred feet before it would've crashed headlong into the cliffs. Unbuckling her seat belt, she rubbed the tender breast as she eased gingerly out of the chair. She was all right but feeling dazed from the crash. Stumbling like a drunken naked woman, she eased back toward the back of the rocket cargo hold area where Zarkov's body had drifted. As she went by the bunk, a gasping breath from the bunk reminded her of their drugged passenger. Glancing at him, she saw that he had moved within the straps so that the upper strap was around his neck instead of his chest. Hurley's face was red, and he was staring at her as he fought the sleeping drugs in his system. She knew that he could die if that strap around his neck stopped his air supply, so she leaned over him and unbuckled the upper strap. She never saw his fist, but she felt it as his hard hand powerfully crashed into the side of her too-close face. She fell unconscious on top of him. The hand that he had used to hit her with now pushed against her body and pushed her dead weight off of him and onto the hard floor. Then his hand fumbled with the other straps restraining his body to the cot. Ripping himself loose, he sat up on the bunk as he undid the rest of the straps holding him. The only sounds in the cabin were from his ragged breathing as he worked to free himself and as he grunted, "Fucking bitch. You can't screw over me just because I'm a cook and you're a fucking officer and world-famous explorer. You think that I'm not good enough for you, do you? Well, I'll show you two that you can't fuck with me."

Chapter 5 - Flash's crash becomes Dale's hell

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/18124.txt

A. Van Peebles

Snowbound

"Dr. Lombardi, it's your wife on line two, and your four-thirty appointment has been canceled. You have no more appointments scheduled for today." "Thanks, Margaret," I said to the receptionist. Then picking up the phone, "Hey, Cath. What's up?" "I'm in St. Louis. The airport here just closed due to the snow. My flight from L.A. made it in here, but my connecting flight is canceled. I'm stuck here, at least for tonight." "Damn. Well, I guess it can't be helped. Anything I can do for you?" "No, I'm staying at an airport hotel. I'll call with the number later. Karen is having some friends over for a slumber party tonight. Do you think you can manage?" "No problem. Fifteen-year-olds are pretty self-sufficient," I said, even though being alone in a house full of giggling, teenage girls was my idea of purgatory. "That is, if you think you can trust me alone with a bunch of nubile young girls," I teased. "Sure. You're not that much of a stud," she teased back. "You'll have to go to the grocery store. We don't have that much in the refrigerator." "Anything else?" "Just that I love you." "I love you, too." I looked out the window and realized that it was snowing steadily now. Two inches had accumulated already. I buzzed Margaret. "What's on the docket for tomorrow?" "The hospital called and rescheduled tomorrow's surgery for two weeks from now. They are canceling all elective surgery due to the snow. That was the only thing on your calendar." "Have you notified the patient?" "Yes, disappointed but understanding." "Okay, I'm leaving early. I have to go to the grocery store. I have a house full of teenagers this weekend." "Lucky you." The store was mobbed. What was it about snow that made the city go wild? All the milk was gone by the time I got there, as well as most of the bread. The people had also made a good dent in the store's supply of toilet paper. I spent forty-five minutes in the check-out line, and another two inches had accumulated by the time I left the store. As I started the car, the weatherman on the radio raised the prediction from eight inches to twelve. My cellular phone rang. "What is it, Karen? I've already been to the store, and if I didn't buy it, I'm not going back to get it." "No, I was just wondering if you could pick up Allison. Her parents don't want to drive her over in the snow, but you should be going right by her place." "Where does she live?" "112 Terrace. You should know that; you've taken her home from swimming practice lots of times." "Oh, that Allison. Sure, I'll go right by. Any other of your friends you want me to pick up?" "No, just Allison. Cheryl and Susan are walking over. Oh, and Mom called. She's stuck in St. Louis." "I know, we talked too. I'll be home in ten minutes, providing Allison is ready. Bye." "Bye." Allison was ready, running out of the house as soon as I turned into the drive. "Hi, Dr. Lombardi," she said as soon as the car door was closed. "Thanks for the ride." "No problem." I turned to her as I said it, and was rewarded with a wonderful smile. Allison was my favorite of Karen's friends. She was by far the prettiest, stunningly beautiful actually. Much prettier, even, than Karen, and I see Karen through a father's adoring eyes. She was bright and more mature than most fifteen-year-olds. While she had the looks to be a model, she had once told me that she wanted to be a doctor and we had a long talk about the medical profession. I remember being struck with how perceptive her questions were. Even though Allison had been ready, my prediction was way off the mark. It took us twenty-five minutes to get home. The side streets were treacherous, and the car was sliding all over. At one point, I completely lost control and the car slid down a hill sideways. Miraculously, I didn't hit anything and we came to a stop at the bottom. I looked over at Allison to see if she was all right, and her face was covered with a big grin and her eyes flashed with excitement. The fear that always follows a close call in a car disappeared. I laughed and apologized. Then, I put the car back into gear, and we drove the rest of the way without incident, but not without a bit more sliding. When we got home, a disaster was in the making. Domino's would not deliver in the snow, and the girls just had to have pizza. I made the situation worse by calling Karen, "Kitten," my pet name for her, mortifying her in front of her friends. Heroically, I managed to save the day by producing the ingredients for homemade pizza from the grocery bags, and the "Kitten" incident was quickly forgotten. Making the pizza was fun. The girls did most of the work, and I kibitzed and flirted with Karen's friends. I suppose my presence embarrassed Karen a bit because there were a few "Oh, Daddy!"s out of her, but she didn't seem to mind too much. After dinner, the girls disappeared upstairs into Karen's room, and I went into my study to read. My reading was interrupted with the sound of a crash.The girls had been having a pillow fight, prematurely because I had always believed the slumber party pillow fight was supposed to be scheduled after lights out, and Allison had taken a tumble down some stairs. She was sitting on the landing, holding her ankle, tears in her eyes. I delivered the usual rebukes about rough-housing to the assembled girls while I examined Allison's ankle. It didn't appear to be broken, probably just twisted, at worst a sprain. She had full range of motion in the joint, although not without pain. I helped her to stand, and then with her left arm over my shoulders and my right around her waist, I helped her back up the stairs and into my bedroom. She was wearing some kind of perfume; it smelled pleasant. As we moved, I became aware that her left breast was pressed against my rib cage; that was pleasant as well. My hand rested on her hip, and I marveled at her slim waist and the wonderful curve of her hip. Allison sat on the edge of the bed. I took off her shoe and sock and told her to roll up the leg of her jeans so I could put a bandage on it. "I think they are too tight to roll up." I looked, and noticed that they were indeed very tight. They could have been painted on. Her shapely calf was clearly displayed. "All right, then you'll have to take them off." "Take them off? In front of you?" "I'm a doctor. You don't have anything I haven't seen a thousand times already, and don't worry, I won't watch you undress." I went into the bathroom to find an Ace bandage. I gave her some extra time to finish taking off the jeans before emerging from the bathroom. I sat on the floor at her feet and started wrapping the ankle. The skin of her legs was soft, like a child's. The shape of her legs, though, was that of a woman. She sat with her legs slightly spread, and I could see her white, cotton panties which covered the mound of her vulva. A few wisps of hair poked out through the elastic. I glanced up at her face, framed by disheveled, light-brown hair. Her eyes were soft with tears, and she was biting her lower lip against the pain. I felt the blood begin to flow to my penis and the beginnings of an erection. I forced myself to focus on the medical task at hand, to be professional. It had been a long time since I was distracted by a pretty patient, not since I was a resident. Pretty women often distracted me, but not while I was treating them. What made it worse was that she was only fifteen and my daughter's best friend. When I was done with the bandage, I went up into the attic to find the crutches I used after my last skiing accident. By the time I returned, Allison was dressed and trying to hobble about the room. I adjusted the crutches to her height, gave her a large dose of ibuprofen for the pain, and told her to keep weight off of the ankle and to let me know if it started to swell. I got a kiss on the cheek for a reward. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. The snow kept falling; the predictions had been upped again to eighteen inches. There was the expected giggling and slumber party noises from Karen's room and the TV room, but no one else took a header down the stairs. I had decreed "lights out" at midnight, and no more pillow fights. The talking and giggling continued for some time after that, but I didn't really care. Around one o'clock, I clicked off Conan O'Brien and decided to go to bed. I stopped in the living room and looked out the front window at the snow. The neighborhood was almost unrecognizable. The road had not been plowed yet and the neighbors' cars were just white humps along the side of the road. I heard a noise on the stairs and turned. It was Allison, hopping down the stairs on her good leg, banister in one hand, crutches in the other. "What are you doing up?" I asked. "I came down to get a drink." She moved across the room, stood next to me, and looked out the window. She was wearing a short, white nightgown. It came down to her mid-thigh, her perfect legs extending out of the bottom. The gown was also low cut in the chest, placing her fifteen-year-old breasts on display. They were not large, but were round and firm and perfectly formed. She looked vaguely angelic in the white gown, but like an angel that was about to taste the fruit of the tree of knowledge. "It's beautiful." "It sure is," I replied, not taking my eyes off of her. We stood there for a few moments, Allison looking out the window, and me looking at Allison. Then she turned, looked up at me and smiled. She then leaned over and put her arm around me and her head against my chest. "Thanks for having us over. I'm having a lot of fun, despite the ankle." "You're welcome. I'm always happy to have Karen's friends over." Pleasant as it was, I realized this had gone far enough. I had to stop this before I did something irretrievably stupid. "How about that drink? I think there is some juice in the fridge. We ought to save what's left of the milk for breakfast." After getting Allison some juice and helping her back up the stairs, I went into my bedroom, stripped down to my underwear and went into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror and tried to convince myself that I was normal, that there was nothing wrong with being aroused by a beautiful, fifteen-year-old. She was a young woman, not a child. I didn't do anything to take advantage of her. This was healthy. Well, maybe not healthy, but natural. It did not make me a pedophile, or at least that is what I tried to convince myself of. The next choice would be a cold shower or masturbation. I prescribed the latter. I was already semi-erect, and my cock sprung to full size at the first touch. As I stroked, I imagined that Allison came into the bathroom, wearing that nightgown. Wordlessly, she knelt before me, put her hands on my hips and took me into her mouth. I looked down and I saw her take all of my cock into her mouth. She looked up at me, engaging me with those piercing blue eyes. She let my cock slip out of her mouth, and grasping it around the base, ran her tongue around the head, all the while looking into my eyes. She then smiled and tilted her head to take my balls into her mouth. I ran my finger around my balls, pretending it was her tongue. Then I resumed the stroking of my cock. In my fantasy, she continued sucking for a while, using her tongue expertly along the underside of my cock. Not wanting this to end too quickly, I grasped her head and gently stopped her sucking. I raised her up until she was standing before me; then I leaned down and kissed her. She responded eagerly, sliding her tongue between my lips. As we kissed, I ran my hands under the nightgown and along her body. Her skin was soft, but firm. Her belly was flat, smooth and taut, baby fat gone, adult fat yet to come. I ran my hands up and grasped her breast. I ran my fingers across the nipple, feeling it harden under my touch. Allison shuddered when I touched the nipple and broke our kiss. "That feels wonderful, Dr. Lombardi." "You just sucked my cock. You'd better call me Alan." "OK, Alan." "Allison, I'm not sure..." "Alan?" "Yes." "I want you to fuck me," she said, boring a hole into my head with those blue eyes. "Are you sure?" "Yes, Alan. I want you, more than anything." I led her into the bedroom, and lifted off her nightgown, tossing it aside. She stood before me, half girl-half woman, naked and beautiful. Her breasts, small and perfect, capped with erect nipples. Her smooth stomach. Her amazingly thin waist and the gentle curve of her hips. The wisps of hair that covered her mons. We kissed again; this time she was aggressive, shoving her tongue deep into my mouth and scratching my chest with her nails. We fell onto the bed, the fall breaking our embrace. I started kissing her throat, and moved down from there until I reached her breasts. I took one, then the other, into my mouth, at first sucking and then twirling my tongue around her nipple. Then I slid further down, past her navel, until I was between her legs and that sweet-sour musk filled my nostrils. I licked, tentatively at first, up and down her labia. She was already slick. I tried a quick stab of my tongue at her clitoris. She yelped and clamped her thighs around my ears. I looked up and she looked down. Her blue eyes, glazed over, tried in vain to lock onto mine. "That feels wonderful, Alan. No one has ever done that to me before." I smiled and continued my work until she was shaking, violently shoving her hips into my face. I moved back on top of her and kissed her deeply. She broke the kiss and took my earlobe into her mouth, tugging it with her teeth. "Fuck me, Alan. I want you inside me," she rasped into my ear. I positioned myself at the entrance to her vagina, and slowly pushed forward, not wanting to hurt her. She was tight, tighter than any woman I had ever felt, but I entered smoothly. I wondered if she were a virgin; I could not tell. The doubt excited me more than if I knew she was. Allison tossed her head back, eyes closed, and moaned. I started thrusting, and she began gyrating her hips, matching my thrusts. She brought her head forward and opened her eyes. Her blue stare had a fiendish intensity as she stared deep into mine, bucking her hips all the while. I could not hold back much longer. I closed my eyes and started thrusting violently. Our movements mismatched, I slid out of her. I fumbled to try and reinsert myself, but she was quicker.She darted down and again took my cock into her mouth. I shot my load all over the bathroom tile, but in my mind's eye, it was down Allison's throat. She swallowed it all, except for a drop of semen which ran down the side of her chin. She brought her hand to her face, cleaned the semen off her chin, and then licked her finger clean, all the while staring up at me with those eyes of hers. I cleaned up the tile and went to bed. In the morning, the girls fixed their own breakfast; then three of the girls went sledding. Allison stayed behind because of her ankle. I headed out into the snow to shovel the driveway. It needed it, and I did not completely trust myself in the house alone with Allison. There was a lot of snow, but it was dry and light. It took me about two hours to clear the driveway and path, and by that time my lower back was stiff and burning. I really should buy a long-handled snow shovel. Once inside, I shed my boots and coat and realized that I was soaking wet with sweat. A critical choice faced me, a shower or lunch? Hunger won out. I quickly got out of my wet clothes, changing into sweat pants and a T-shirt and headed into the kitchen to make a sandwich. In the kitchen I dropped a knife, Allison must have heard me moaning as I tried to bend over and pick it up; the pain in my back was excruciating. She hobbled into the kitchen. "What's the matter Dr. L?" "Just a stiff back from shoveling." "Would you like a massage? I give them to my Dad all the time. I'm pretty good at it." "No, thanks. It'll be better in about an hour." "Come on. You fixed my ankle, let me fix your back. It'll feel great." That was what I was afraid of, but she kept pleading, and finally I relented. I had a day bed in my study that was the closest thing to a massage table in the house. Allison led the way. We must have been quite a sight with her limp and my gasps of pain with each step. I lay face down on the day bed with my hands folded under my head. I closed my eyes and Allison climbed up and straddled me, her bottom lightly resting on mine. Allison started in on my shoulders. "Oh, you are really tense. All knotted up. Too bad I don't have any massage oil, but I'll have to make do." She leaned forward so she could bear down harder. Her hair hung down and tickled the back of my neck, and I could feel her breath on my cheek. I could also feel a raging hard-on developing. Gradually, she moved her ministrations lower, working my shoulder blades and down my sides. "You are kind of sweaty." "Sorry, it's from the shoveling. I guess I should have showered first." "Don't worry. I don't mind. In fact, it's kind of sexy." She giggled. "I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have said that." "Just massage. No comments from the peanut gallery." I didn't know which felt better, the relief from the back pain or her hands kneading my flesh and her hot breath on the back of my neck. Also, every time she shifted her weight, her crotch rubbed back and forth across my butt. My penis screamed for relief, but it was pressed hard against my stomach and got none. Allison got off the couch, moved behind me, and started massaging my legs. I was glad that my penis was pressed up against my stomach and not extending down into one of my pant legs for her to find. "Roll over and I'll do your front." That I could not do. In my loose fitting sweat pants, I would pitch a circus tent. There had been nothing overtly sexual about her massage, but my penis felt like it was at least an inch longer than it usually got. "Thanks, Allison, but no. My back is one hundred percent better. I'll just lay here and try to nap." "OK, Dr. L. See you later." I managed to avoid Allison for the rest of the day. The other two girls left around three, and Allison's parents came by to pick her up around four o'clock. Before she left, she sought me out to thank me for "fixing" her ankle and having her over. I remember looking into her eyes as she thanked me and realizing that her eyes were brown. I had thought they were blue. I guess I was not that observant. It disturbed me since I had been looking at her all weekend. At about eight o'clock on Sunday, I heard a car in the drive. I walked into the foyer and Catherine, my wife, was coming through the door. She set her bags down, and I took her into my arms and kissed her hard. "Well, somebody missed me," she said when we came up for air. We kissed again. "Oh, gross! PDA," said Karen behind us. "God, my own parents slobbering over one another. You're worse than the teenagers in school." "It's nice to see you, too, Dear," replied my wife. "I'm going over to Cheryl's to watch a video," announced Karen. "School night. Be back by ten," reminded Catherine. "But, it's eight now. The video won't be over by ten." "Ten thirty," I said. Karen sighed, and left, kissing her mom on the cheek as she left. "You're getting generous in your old age," joked Catherine. "Generous? I am being completely self-serving. I just bought us another thirty minutes of being alone together." "Oh, I see what you're up to. Poor man. Cooped up in a house filled with, how did you put it, 'nubile, young girls.' No wonder you're so eager. Let me get cleaned up. I have a surprise for you. Meet me in the bedroom in twenty minutes." Twenty minutes later, I was lying on the bed and Catherine emerged from the bathroom. She was wearing a low-cut, white nightgown that came down to the middle of her thigh. "Believe it or not, there is a Victoria's Secret store in the St. Louis airport." She spun around, modeling it for me, not realizing that I had seen it just last night. It fit Catherine better, though. It was designed for a woman with larger breasts, and Cath filled it out nicely. Somehow, it did not look angelic on her; it looked damned hot. She slid in bed next to me. As we kissed, I ran the back of my hand along her cheek. Her skin was soft, but not firm like a teenager's; it was yielding instead. She took my finger into her mouth, sucking on it and looking up into my eyes. I then realized that those piercing, blue eyes about which I had fantasized did not belong to Allison; they belonged to my Catherine. END

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13952.txt

Alan C. McD

Passages In Time 3 1.1: The Confidence Of Lovers M/F

"And might I add," Melira said, "that you might have been a bit more considerate with your caveman antics. My poor host won't be able to walk straight for weeks." Sarah giggled. "It wasn't my fault," she reminded. "I had no control. When I was him, all I felt was, well, desperation. You were going to get fucked, and that was all there was to it." "Well, it hurt," Melira complained, and cringed. Sarah giggled again. She was more comfortable now that she could see the person who was talking to her, and that had not been the case with Jober. She didn't quite understand the process by which the illusion was created, and even though at times Melira's voice, like Jober's, seemed to be coming from within, she knew that Melira, the person she could see, was the source. Melira claimed to represent herself accurately. If so, then, apart from the addition of clothing, she bore a striking similarity to the primitive whose body she had until recently been resident in. When Sarah had pointed this out, Melira had agreed. "It's always that way. The influence we exert on those whose existences we share appears to amend them physically." The facets of appearance which Melira had shared with her host had, Sarah now realized, been the reason why the caveman had been so attracted to that host. The woman within whom Melira had lived had not been a woman of her time. She had been taller than she should have been, more feminine, possessing the litheness of a more developed creature. The caveman had been lured and captivated by her exotic nature. There had been other factors too, of course. The fact that she had been naked hadn't particularly hindered matters. Although even now, dressed in a figure-hugging thigh-length green velvet dress, Melira was an absolute vision. The surroundings in which she had chosen to be an absolute vision, having declared herself bored with the tumbling timestream, were pretty impressive too. A manor house, Sarah guessed. Probably Edwardian. But the rooms were not constant, changing in layout and nature according to Melira's occasional whim. Their current location was a reading room, with bookshelves along two walls heaving with handsomely bound tomes, and with rich oil paintings decorating the other two. A central table, at which Melira was seated, bore an impressive candelabra. "You just wouldn't know that time was passing you by, would you?" Melira joked, regally waving a hand. "I'm so impressed," Sarah replied tartly, whilst glancing at herself in a large mirror placed strategically between two bookshelves. Even the sight of herself was, she knew, a mere representation, because her real body was in 1997, being given a pretty good shafting by one Gary Callery in the cheap rate room of a Manchester brothel. And her real body, just like Melira's, was stark naked, whereas this image of her wore a dress identical to Melira's in all design respects except colour. Sarah's version of the garment was yellow. In all material respects, however, the image was perfect. She could sense her hands, her legs, all of her body, as though such things were real. When she pulled her hair experimentally, she felt pain. And the fascination of the mirror lay in the fact that every gesture she made was duplicated in it. She indulged herself, studied herself. She was, she decided, a good-looking woman. And she enjoyed that. But the truth was, she had enjoyed being a man too. Particularly insofar as the sexual sensations were concerned. Those had been very different. Not better, but very different. For one thing, there had been a sense of power, a power which arose primarily from being the penetrator rather than the penetrated. For another, there had been the sharp concentration of sensation, and the sheer physical relief of ejaculation, as well as the feeling of both completion and commitment that passing something of oneself into another human being created. Now, of course, she was considering the probability that she was neither man nor woman. That she was not human. That her origins were other than terrestrial. She vaguely understood her task at last, and some of its purpose. She even accepted that her existence as Sarah, whilst remaining valid, was subsidiary to that task. Because Melira had told her the story, and as it had been told, Sarah had started to remember. Like all Revisians, Loranna had been captivated by the idea of the Grand Tour, which had been proposed as an experiment and an entertainment by the celebrated adventurer Kotee. Kotee had theorised and developed some time previously a way in which time travel might be possible. Loranna had never understood the physics, but in essence the traveller became unlinear. The individual existed in all times at once, effectively becoming a part of the time stream. It then took only a mental effort to isolate a moment within that time stream and to observe it. Unlike previous time travel schemes, the Central Council had permitted the research, mainly because any traveller using the technology was trapped in a passive, observing role. Past time could not be contaminated, which had always been a primary concern, and future travel would be limited by the machinery to twenty turnings of the moon and was only to be permitted with stringent confidentiality undertakings. There had been, nonetheless, opposition, principally from those who claimed that no Revisian would ever again have privacy, that it would never again be possible to be certain that someone from the future was not watching them. There were also limitations. The linear dissolution was a temporary status which required technical support from a stable tachyon field. For the experiment, this field was located in the laboratories of the Astro Centre, but Kotee had been unable to overcome the problem of powering the field sufficiently to permit travellers to move more than ten ruhls from the Centre and more than five turnings of the moons into either the past or the future. Then the breakthrough came. What, Kotee wondered, would restrict him if he were to build the tachyon field into the skin of a spacecraft? The field would thus become mobile, and the distance limitation would be removed.It was an exceptional notion, and one which Kotee had always claimed to have conceived within a paradox. He had, he said, gone forward five turnings and had seen himself starting to modify the craft. There were dangers. In particular, there was a notional long-term fallout issue. Also, as the practicality of the proposal came to be accepted, people became concerned about temptation. It was theorized that the chance of looking far into the future might be just too tempting for Kotee and those who traveled with him to resist. A meeting of the Science Council was therefore convened, and a compromise reached. Kotee would be permitted to modify his spaceship, but would be banned from using it within the Revisian system. Kotee's honor was never in doubt, and his acceptance of the conditions ended the matter. Revisians had long been space travelers, and had mapped over half of the galaxy. There would be much for a spaceship full of travelers to see, and Kotee had no trouble in securing recruits. Loranna, one of Kotee's students, had volunteered immediately, and the ship had launched with a total crew of twenty-five. Once clear of the Revisian system, the time field had been engaged. It had been a fine adventure. Because the crew were young, romance and sex had enlivened the vessel, and Loranna, despite her status as mission second, had joined in with a will. The history and future of many worlds had been dipped into, and the Revisian crew were able to establish that many races would develop technologically in the future, that the fate of the universe was in good hands. War, whilst glimpsed, was not a common thread. At least, it wasn't until the Revisians visited Earth. Sarah's thoughts were suddenly disturbed. The library dissolved around her, to be replaced by the now familiar twisting colors which seemed to be the way in which her eyes interpreted travel through time. The twisting, she noted, was sluggish, and she read this as an indication that a stopping point had been selected. She raised an inquiring eyebrow at Melira. "We're going to rescue Holak," the other girl replied. "He's the next on the list." "I wasn't aware that we were following a list," Sarah mentioned. "Well, we aren't really," Melira conceded. "Not as such. But we have tried this before, you know. We know where some of our people are. So every time we make a new effort, we visit those places first." "Go for the easiest ones," Sarah interpreted. "Well, yes," Melira acknowledged. "Because in essence, the more we are, the stronger we are." "And Holak is a simple rescue," Sarah presumed. "An easy target." Melira chuckled. "You don't remember Holak, do you? He was always easy. No, never mind. We haven't time for that sort of smut. Yes, he is an easy target. But valuable too. He's... well, a bit unusual." "He preferred the back way," Sarah remembered, suddenly seeing a clear picture in her mind. Blonde. Craggy face. Sharp blue eyes. Logical mind. Not much of a sense of humor. But always cooperative in the recreational sex department. "Yes, he did prefer the back way," Melira confirmed. "And that's the problem." "Why a problem?" Sarah wondered. "As far as I can recall, it never bothered me. As far as I can recall, it never bothered you either." "It didn't," Melira said. "But that way won't free him. The exchange of fluids is the important thing in transference, you see. An exchange in... well, in the usual place. And the human Holak has occupied has, not surprisingly, inherited Holak's preferences. So this time, you're going to need to concentrate not only on who you want but... well, not to put too fine a point on it, where you want it." "Just how difficult is he going to be?" Sarah asked. "From previous experience?" "We've succeeded four out of five times," Melira advised. "Pretty good odds." Sarah nodded, accepting that. "Clearly I'm a female this time," she stated. Melira nodded in turn. "Sorry if it disappoints you," she said, "but yes. And we've arrived, incidentally, at the place where you put your femininity to use." Sarah felt like she was part of a magic trick. The colors rolled away, and she found herself looking at a smoky nightclub. Not a particularly modern one, she realized, because the waiters who moved between the crowded tables wore black jackets and bow ties, and the tables were in rows, small and circular and lit by table lamps. She almost expected to see Humphrey Bogart standing by the bar. Her fondness for the movies gave her a good steer towards the time period. The clientele of the club were predominantly male and predominantly employed in the German armed forces. The Nazi uniforms left her in no doubt of that. To the right of the room, there was a small stage, currently occupied by two women in early middle age, dressed up like fairies and banging their bottoms together. Their movements were awkward, but were presumably intended to represent a dance to the discordant soundtrack provided by an unseen oompah band. The audience was barracking them good-naturedly. "Paris," she guessed. "1940." Melira shook her head. "Close," she said. "But not quite. We're in Berlin, Germany. And the time is March 1938. This is a period, you may recall, that we studied extensively. Because we thought it a good grounding in human fatalism. That said, I don't know whether Holak came here by accident, or whether he steered himself here. I don't suppose it really matters." "It isn't Casablanca after all then," Sarah announced. "I thought it was. But it's 'Cabaret.' 'I Am A Camera.' Christopher Isherwood, and all that." Melira frowned. Clearly her knowledge of the planet's popular culture was not as extensive as her familiarity with its history. "All I know," she said, "is that it's a very important night. Your target is Gunther. A shy man generally, but we know that tonight... well, there's a good chance of making things happen. And we can't afford the time or the energy to search around for another time when Gunther finds a lady friend. We'll need all that energy later on. When we really do need to start hunting." "Gunther it is then," Sarah said. "Hadn't I better take a look at him?" Melira was momentarily confused. "A look?" "Of course," Sarah replied. "If I'm going to fix my ambitions on him, wouldn't it help if I knew who he was?" Melira smiled agreement and pointed. "Blonde guy," she said. "Captain's uniform. By the wall." Already, as well as pointing, she was moving them closer. Moments later, it was as though they were standing, invisible, by Gunther's table. Sarah studied him, and wasn't in the least surprised to note the incredible resemblance to Holak. Neatly tended short blonde hair stood guard on a thick neck. Piercing blue eyes watched the stage, disinterested yet anxious. The man's face was chiseled, like some sixties TV action hero, but the mouth, wide and voluptuous, was out of place for that image. He was slim and fit. Not, Sarah had to admit, the sort of man that she would have gone out of her way to pull, principally because of his apparent stiffness. But attractive enough. He was smoking a cigarette, his shirt was open at the neck, his cap was on the table before him and the debris on his table showed that he had consumed at least four glasses at least of some clear spirit. But the alcohol had not left him at ease. His left hand balled occasionally into a fist, and he was perspiring slightly. His uniform, because of his tight posture, was still crisp and uncreased. "Serious bloke," Sarah remarked. "He's waiting for you," Melira explained. "Well, for who you're going to be. He's not just serious. He's obsessed." "And who," Sarah enquired, "am I going to be? One of these old bum bangers?" "Not at all," Melira said, fighting a chuckle. "You, my girl, are going to be the famous Lucy Bennett." For a moment, she left it there, but Sarah's confused look seemed to force the further observation, "Oh, come on. You're the entertainment buff. You must have heard of Lucy Bennett." "Remind me," Sarah suggested. They were walking now, towards the wall to the left of the stage, then, disorientatingly, they were walking through it. The bum bangers, meanwhile, were concluding their act, earning muted applause and a few catcalls. "Lucy Bennett," Melira lectured, "was, before the outbreak of the Second World War, perhaps the most famous cabaret artiste in Berlin. New York girl. Sassy as they come. A real star. You'll love her." "Does she take it up the ass?" Sarah said. "Because if that's going to be new for her, I'm not sure I want to bother. The first time I did it, it was bloody painful." "No comment," Melira replied with a smirk. "Great," Sarah sulked. By now, they were in one of the club's dressing rooms, having entered through the wall just as the bum bangers entered through the door. Bum bangers included and ghostly visitors excluded, there were six people in the room, enough to make it crowded. Only one of those present was male, a tiny individual in his early forties with white hair, a white handlebar mustache and a white suit. He was busy fussing the new arrivals, lying to them, telling them that they'd put on a wonderful show. The other three were young women, two of them tarty blondes made up so heavily that they could have imprinted their faces on towels and wearing dresses so low-cut that their nipples were fighting to say, "Hello." The third young woman, who was currently applying lipstick in front of a mirror, was rather more sophisticated. She was wearing a low-cut black dress, revealing fine legs disguised by sheer black stockings, a dress slit vertically but not too broadly to the breastbone, teasing with a hint of cleavage. In truth, she didn't have a lot of cleavage to reveal, because her figure was quite elfin.She was strikingly good-looking, with a tiny, angular face, a long neck, a small, red mouth, and big green eyes, lovely eyes that shone in contrast to the black of her upturned eyelashes and her short black hair. The hair was plumped up but otherwise almost as short as would be worn by a man of the time. She took Sarah's breath away, and Melira clearly noticed this, commenting, "She's lovely, isn't she?" "I do hope that's me," Sarah said. "It's you," Melira confirmed. "I can't wait," Sarah confided. "Now?" "As good a time as any," Melira decided. "And exactly where are you going to be," Sarah wondered, "while I'm trying to get Gunther to do things properly?" "Watching, of course," Melira said. "But don't worry. You won't know. So you won't be embarrassed." "I might be afterwards," Sarah supposed. "After what you've already done to me," Melira judged, "I doubt it." "There is that," Sarah conceded. "Well then. Here goes." So she concentrated. And this time it was easy. The transition was simpler. The moment of shared consciousness was briefer. And then she felt herself disappearing into Lucy Bennett... ...Who was consumed by just one thought. "Hey, Arturo," she called. "Arturo, will you quit with the bumbangers and give me a minute here." Bumbangers? Where the hell, she wondered, had that come from? Well, the where was irrelevant. Apology was the important thing, because Frieda looked just about ready to burst into tears. "A little cruel, cherie," Arturo remarked critically. "Everyone has to earn a living, n'est-ce pas?" "Yeah, I'm sorry," Lucy insisted. "Frieda. Eva. Really sorry. No offense. You were great, kids. Truly." Frieda smiled uncertainly, but the crisis was past. Arturo wandered over. "What can I do for you, cherie?" he wanted to know. "I wondered if David was here tonight," she said. "Ah, David," Arturo replied, as loudly as he could. "You wondered if David was here." There was general laughter at Lucy's expense, and she colored. For a moment, she wanted to punch the nasty little Spaniard in the nose. Of course, she couldn't afford to do that. If she was dismissed from her job here at the Liebehaus, then she'd only have two choices: something a lot more sleazy here in Berlin, or poverty in New York City. And she'd have to leave David behind. "Yes, David," she grated. "No David, I am so sorry to say," Arturo taunted. "But plenty of German boys in crisp uniforms drooling at you, Lucy dear." "You know I hate those scum," Lucy snarled recklessly, the lost job suddenly less important. "They are good boys," Arturo replied playfully. "Good German mothers' boys. They show you what it's all about, Lucy. Fucking German boys is good for business." "Arturo," Lucy stated coldly, "I've told you before. I'm a dancer. And an entertainer. You want whores, you hire whores. I'll dance for the bastards, but if any of them touches me, I'll cut their balls off." Arturo raised his hands to his mouth in mock horror. "But David, his balls are safe," he presumed, "because he's so nice and so English." "You wouldn't understand," Lucy told him. And it was true. Arturo was such a degenerate, twisted character that love was an alien emotion for him. He slept with anyone who would have him, male or female, and was famed as the most compliant of masochists. David Holm had no such flaws. David was a British journalist working permanently in Berlin, a handsome man and a gentleman of the highest order. Lucy had tried to seduce him on a number of occasions without success, but she continued to hold out hope. His commitment to her was a given, though, because he escorted her to restaurants and shows on a regular basis, and telephoned to chat and flirt with her at least twice daily. There were rumors that he might be homosexual, but Lucy discounted them. He was hers. It was simply that she had yet to find the key to open him up. Arturo left the room, indicating his intention to introduce her. As soon as he had gone, the other girls immediately offered their sympathy. "He is just a jealous man," Eva judged. "I think he is attracted to David himself." Lucy bent to pull on her black high-heeled shoes. "Thanks, Eva," she said. "But it's alright. Arturo's a lizard. He doesn't bother me." "Why do you stay, Lucy?" Isobel, one of the younger girls, wondered. "I mean, we have to. There is no choice for us. But you. You can go back to America. Land of the free, eh?" "I wish I could sometimes, Isobel," Lucy replied. "But not often. For the most part, I'm happy here." And she was. Lucy had come to Berlin in 1933, when her father had been posted to the city by the international bank for which he worked. She was an only child, and her mother had walked out two years after her birth. Things had gone well, despite the poverty and upheaval in the city, but then, in 1937, her father had been posted again, this time to West Africa. Lucy, having many friends in Berlin, had refused to go with him. There had been a difficult argument, but Lucy's mind had not changed, and her father had left Germany all but disowning her. Over the next six months, the friends she had so treasured had seemed to melt away, and eventually she was forced to accept that her father's money had been the primary reason for the deprived Berlin teenagers' involvement with her. And that money, of course, was not only now denied to those teenagers. It was denied to Lucy too. She had been forced to edit her lifestyle somewhat when she realized that her personal savings were running out. The first priority had been a cheap room. Of necessity, she had moved to a poorer area of Berlin, an area which was frequented by prostitutes and which, at night, was illuminated by the bright lights of the gentlemen's clubs. Financial difficulty had become pennilessness. And she had been left with two options: to join the girls in the streets, or to use the limited talent for singing and dancing which she had acquired as a young girl, to use it in a rather sleazy manner. This last possibility had been put to her by Eva, who had a room in the same lodging house. The thought of becoming a whore had been unbearable. As a result, she'd allowed Eva to introduce her to Arturo. Arturo had found the prospect of Lucy joining his "ladies" a potential moneyspinner. Her nationality, he had decided, would be a real pull. An American, bumping and grinding for Germans. It had to be a winner. He had started her big, and public reaction had made her a roaring success. Within weeks, she was headlining the bill. To her shame, she found that she was very good indeed at what she was called upon to do. The routines were relatively simple. Three or four crude songs, in the company of Arturo and some of the other girls, were followed by a stage dance routine during which Lucy left the others on the stage to move around amongst the audience, showing her stuff more privately. She was only too well aware that at such times she was little more than a glorified stripper. The fact that she kept her clothes on was frankly irrelevant. So. It was time. Trailing Isobel and the other younger blonde, Mariella, in her wake, Lucy headed for the stage. Still adjusting her costume, she moved to the wings. Arturo was ending his short and appalling comedy routine with some nasty joke about two copulating dogs. Lucy took a deep breath. The laughter was dying. Arturo took on a mock serious demeanor. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "I bring to you now the lady who has taken Berlin by storm. I bring to you, ladies and gentlemen... Miss Lucy Bennett." Lucy moved. She had been nervous as usual, but there was no time for nerves now. It wasn't all bad. When she was on stage, before the floor dancing, she always enjoyed herself. Less so since the Nazis had discovered the club, but enough to keep on performing. Performing gave her a thrill. It was just as simple as that. The first song was difficult, though, because it involved a lot of touching in personal places. Lucy touched the girls and the girls touched Lucy. Arturo touched the girls and the girls touched Arturo. Towards the conclusion, Arturo came to stand behind Lucy and reached up to squeeze her breasts. Each squeeze was accompanied by the blast of a motor horn from the orchestra pit. It was degrading. But she could live with it. After that, the show proceeded as it always proceeded. Audience reaction was good. She immersed herself in that reaction, committed herself to performance. It was during the third song that she noticed the German officer. She didn't know why she found him so riveting. It was as though some relay inside her had clicked. Her reaction was a gut reaction, an uncontrollable physical response that she didn't particularly like. The odd thing was that she'd seen the man before and had never been at all stricken. But now, she noticed everything about him: his strong eyes and hard, masculine profile, his intensity, his obsessive rather than passing observation of her. She felt heat in her face and a vague stirring in her groin. Throughout the remainder of the song, and through the one that followed, she took every opportunity that she could to glance in his direction. She hated his uniform. But she was attracted by his power, and by his naked lust for her. There was no doubt that he had registered the return of interest, because his posture stiffened. Lucy was frightened by him, and strangely this fueled her interest. The time of the evening arrived when she was required to leave the stage. Still drawn, she drifted in his direction, pausing to dance lackadaisically in front of a couple of customers on her way, failing even to register their faces. She stopped again at a table two to the left of his, ground her hips for a fat middle-aged lieutenant. All the while, she looked at the other man, the man who had sparked such animalistic urges in her. As she'd hoped, he beckoned her, and she immediately went to him.Close up, he was even more attractive than she'd thought, a classic Aryan type with blonde short-cropped hair and a firm jaw. She restarted her dance, moving in much the same way as she had done for the other men, but more slowly, more naturally. He had time for her body, observing it closely from time to time, but mainly he watched her face, those hot eyes gripping hers, compelling her to treat him differently. She knew that she was wet between her legs. And she knew that he could resolve that problem. And she was pretty sure that he would want to. Opportunity was the only missing element. A murmur of discontent rumbled through the audience. She forced herself to move on, but she was dizzy with confusion and lust. Her body and mind had been hijacked. Since she had first met David, he had never been quite so far from her thoughts. She returned to the stage after about ten minutes, perspiring, still disoriented, and performed the last number. She was conscious of Arturo's amusement, and expected a rough time later.

Chapter 3: THE CONFIDENCE OF LOVERS

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8365.txt

Andrew Roller

FUCK DECENCY

"Oh, only my husband must do that to me," Rose wailed. But she relaxed her burning cheeks sufficiently for Kate to make headway. Kate tasted the inside of Rose's hole and stabbed at her like an Indian raping a white woman. "No, no, no, no," Rose wailed, but she only tightened her bottom a little, and Kate was able to yank her cheeks apart when she did. In and out Kate moved her tongue. She fucked Rose's hole with her small little tongue as eagerly as John would have with his big penis. Rose sobbed in her pillow and wailed that she was no longer a virgin. Kate kept up the punishment. When she had tasted as much as she wished, she withdrew her tongue and leapt from the bed. She ran into the bathroom and opened the hot water tap and bent down and stuck her face under the warming stream to clean it. "Mmmm, M&M's without the candy shell," Kate smiled when she returned to the bedroom. Rose sat on the bed, clutching her tear-stained pillow to her face. She sat on her bottom protectively, obviously fearing a new assault. John stood, his cock newly risen and ready for action. "We need to put some cream on your bottom to repair the skin," Kate said to Rose. "I know," Rose answered. "Did you cum tonguing me?" "Not, not quite," Kate said. "I was too busy holding you open." "I came," Rose said. "Let me tongue you to orgasm and then you can attend to my bottom." "How can you bear to sit on it?" Kate asked. "I don't want you to fuck it again!" Rose blurted. "Okay, I won't, skairdy-cat," Kate replied. "Come and lay on the bed and I'll lick you," Rose said. Kate obliged. Rose lay on top of her and kissed her face. Then she slid down her body, slowly, kissing her risen tits and even biting them a little, so that Kate was forced to cry out. Rose licked Kate's belly button, as if to fuck it with her tongue as Kate had fucked Rose's hole. Then, sliding still lower, she put her face in Kate's nest and slowly licked her pouty sex. John, getting on the bed behind Rose, helpfully stroked himself to orgasm and spurted his healing cum all over Rose's bottom. With a sharing of kisses and a jostling of limbs and thighs and bosoms, Kate slid out from underneath Rose. She knelt on all fours with her bottom high, in case John should find new inspiration, for she knew a slave's duty was to always present herself willing and ready before her master. Kate licked her lips to get her tongue ready. Then she bent down and began to lick up the semen that John had so generously provided upon Rose's bottom. The sperm was salty. Kate felt funny licking another woman's fanny, but her master had chosen to deposit his sperm here, and so Kate felt it was her duty to make sure it didn't go to waste. Sperm belonged inside a girl, Kate told herself. So she laved Rose's huddling bottom with her tongue while Rose lay on her belly upon the bed, sobbing quietly into her pillow. Every touch upon her bottom hurt. Even John's sperm shooting onto her bottom had made her quiver with pain. Now Kate's tongue, trying extra hard to be very soft and gentle, sent new spasms of pain tremoring through her plump fanny. "There, there, it's not too bad," Kate assured Rose, though she had never been whipped as soundly as she herself had just whipped Rose. Kate, with her bottom lofted high, still showing the fading marks of her less severe punishment under the tree, wondered what it was like to be so completely and thoroughly beaten. She almost wished John would pick up the riding crop and lay it on her, vigorously and without remorse, so she could know for herself what she'd done to poor Rose. And it was in thinking this that she knew that John wasn't the right man for her. Whatever his reputation with Marie, he had failed her. He'd let her become a mistress when all she wanted was to be a slave. When her tummy was full of John's sperm, Kate got up from the bed. John had sat behind her on the bed, watching her, and she gave him a brief kiss on his smooth-shaven cheek. Precociously she gave a little tug on his cock. It was soft and flaccid. He turned his head and watched her as she leapt down from the bed and walked confidently toward the door. "Where are you going?" John mumbled. He was satisfied and content, and he didn't bother to raise his voice for, it seemed, he thought Kate was simply taking a moment to attend to her bladder or to some feminine duty. But Kate, as soon as she was free of him, went out to the living room. She hunted for her discarded skirt and blouse among the many clothes now lying on the floor. Her blouse was under a pair of castoff panties. She got it on and then found someone's skirt, though it wasn't hers, and decided it would have to do. Someone was groping at her ankles and wanted her to lie down with him. Kate managed to free her leg and, getting on the skirt, slipped out the front door as quietly and quickly as she could. CHAPTER: Chapter Nine CORRECTED_TEXT: Kate walked along the roadside, kicking pebbles and wishing someone would kidnap her. She wanted to be someone's property, wholly and completely. She didn't want to live in the real world anymore. She wanted to be a pet, and be fed and cared for and do only as her master told her. But it had to be the right man, she told herself. And then she scolded herself for thinking such thoughts at all. What would her mother think? She hadn't served all those years on the PTA so her daughter could graduate from high school and become some man's plaything. Yet, Kate mused, turning and watching the trees by the roadside and feeling the wind rippling through her hair, she could only be happy at this point in her life if she devoted herself to a man. Not marriage. That's not quite what she wanted. A marriage was a partnership. She wanted something... deeper. She watched the moon. It was late. There was nobody around. The road was silent. A rabbit appeared in the grass near her feet and crept out slowly toward her. She shivered from the chill in the wind, and the rabbit scurried away. A cloud passed over the moon, and she wrapped her arms around herself to try to stay warm. She wondered if she should go back to the house where the orgy was in full swing. It would be warm in the tangle of arms and legs. She had only to enter, and she would soon be amongst them. Wasn't that a kind of slavery? But John was there, and she was tired of John. And she didn't want to meet Rose again and feel responsible for what she'd done to Rose's bottom.The religious right and left-wing feminists have created an America where "sexual McCarthyism" reigns supreme. There is no "free love" in America anymore. Instead, there is Ken Starr, and Catharine MacKinnon. There are "stalkers" and "sexual harassers" and "child predators" and Bill Clinton. There's also a lot of porn. Every time I go to Tower Books, there is more porn. Take this magazine, for instance, "Oui International". It's a new magazine. What's interesting about it is that Oui is a shit-can magazine. But apparently they're making so much money at Oui, despite publishing crap, that they've decided to start a second title! The first thing that amazes me about this magazine is, in fact, the title. "International" was once an independent magazine, back in the 1970s. It went out of business. "Club" magazine apparently bought it, because nowadays there is a magazine titled "Club International". Despite the fact that "International" is not the best-selling of names, Oui has decided to name its new magazine "Oui International". That shows you how well porn is selling in 1990s America. The "free love" era couldn't support one magazine named "International," but Ken Starr's America can support two! So, what do I think of this magazine? It's okay. But it's nothing special. There is no particular quality about it that makes it distinct from other second- or third-tier porno magazines. There are some pictures of naked females, and some articles. That's it. The cover girl is a girl I've already seen too many times before, in other magazines. Nonetheless, with sexual puritanism running rampant in America, I imagine this half-hearted, undistinguished porno magazine will make money. Now, I shouldn't be too hard on this magazine. Let me point out the few instances where, in this issue at least, it has delighted my eye. "Dove", pg. 38, is this month's centerfold. She's not much to look at, but on pages 43-44 she gives an outstanding view of her bottom! It is really quite luscious to look at. Not only does she have a perfect bottom, but she's wearing long white stockings. They end at mid-thigh, where frilled garters, tied into small bows, keep them from falling down. One is reminded of the novel The Story of O, in which it is written: "Take off your stockings too," Anne-Marie said suddenly. "You see," she went on, "you shouldn't wear garters, you'll ruin your thighs." And with the tip of her finger she pointed to the spot just above O's knees where O rolled down her stockings around a wide elastic garter. There was in fact a faint mark on her leg. (Pg. 143) As I'm sure you know, despite her concern for 'faint marks' made on O's legs by her stockings, Anne-Marie is the lady who subsequently makes permanent marks on O, by piercing her cunt and branding her bottom! "Tabitha and June", page 56, is a reasonably creative pictorial of two girls making love. I've seen the white girl in this pictorial a lot already, in other magazines (or, at least, I think I have) but it was okay to see her one more time. "Jovanna", page 5, wears some interesting clothes before popping out of them and taking a bath, in a tub cluttered with children's toys. Again, a reasonably interesting pictorial. If you like black girls, both Jovanna and Tabitha are quite attractive! Apparently the aim of this magazine is, in fact, to broaden the racial mix of girls featured in porno magazines. That can be interpreted two ways, of course: to the traditional reader like me, non-white girls can tend to fall into the "ho hum, nothing special" category. But if you specifically are looking for non-white girls, you should be able to find quite a few of them in "Oui International". And, judging from the two black girls in this issue, you will be pleasantly surprised!

Chapter Eight

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16533.txt

HotScribe

Mirror Images

"Sorry I'm late," I apologize. "I missed my regular bus." "No problem," you reply as you take my coat. "I thought it might have been something like that." You smile at me, kiss me lightly on the lips, and stroke my cheek. "You're here now - that's all that matters." I kiss you back, more passionately this time. "Take your clothes off," you remark as you begin to remove your own. A little surprised, but happy, I do so. Then you lead me into the living room where there is a large mirror. We stand in front of it. "What's this?" I inquire. "You'll see," you respond. Before anything else can be said, you are on your knees before me, your hands on my cock and balls. Then your mouth closes over the head, and you begin to suck it. I gasp at the sight of our mirror images - like watching another couple going through the motions - as your head bobs in and out, your lips skimming across the shaft of my cock, and it grows harder and straighter. I pull myself out of your mouth, pull you around in front of me. We gaze at each other in the mirror - your hand gripping and pumping my cock slowly, my own hands running over your breasts, squeezing your nipples, then sliding down your belly to your pussy. Your head leans back against my chest, and we watch the reflection of my hand thrusting in and around your pubic hair, and you feel it upon your clitoris. You watch as I slide down and situate myself beneath your legs. In the mirror, you see my tongue flicking out, finding and licking your clit. You raise your leg to get a better view, and even as you watch, you feel my hot mouth seeking your bud, sliding back and forth along your vaginal lips. I rise, bend you over. We both look in the mirror as I slide my cock into your cunt from behind, and you feel its thickness inside you. I shove backwards and forwards, my thighs slapping wetly against yours, your breasts swaying in time to our rhythm. I pull out of you again, turn you and raise your leg onto a chair. I move in between your legs so that you can see my cock in the mirror as it slips into that warm nesting place between your thighs, there to slide in and out once more, the head and shaft glistening with cum-dew as they appear and disappear. I retrieve my member once more, fall to my knees and use my tongue on your most private parts, thrusting and sliding across your clit and labia, stabbing into your sex until you cry out and your body begins to shake above me. Your body jerks, and you push my head into your cunt with your hands, and I thrust and lick and suck with my tongue and mouth until you finally stop. Now you are on your knees in front of me again, your hand wrapped tightly around my cock, pumping it with swift, smooth strokes, your tongue and teeth licking and running over the swollen head until I begin to groan aloud. Yet still you jerk my cock with your hand, watching in the mirror as my hot jism spurts onto your breasts in long thin streams, running down like rivulets to encircle your nipples. You lift one of your breasts with your hand, lick my love-juice from it; and I drop down, cover the other breast with my mouth, suck the remaining jism from its jutting teat. You embrace me with your arms, hold me close, and I feel the fast beating of your heart within your chest. We both feel loved and wanted and needed, and I return the hug and kiss you passionately.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17582.txt

Crimson Dragon

Time Out Of Time (Chapter 49)

"God, I'm tired," Christi muttered as we passed through the doors. Her whole body ached from the games. I checked my watch. "You've only been up for six hours." "Six hours? My God. It seems like forever." I looked at her. "I'm still full of energy." "You would be. You haven't been nude, chained and forced to endure abuse for six hours." I just smiled at her and she stuck out her tongue. "Jane?" "Yes?" she answered cheerily. Glad to be away from the store. "Do you know how to drive?" "I don't have a license." "I doubt if any cops are going to stop us. And if they do, your lack of a license will be the least of my problems. Can you drive?" "My boyfriend let me drive his car once. But Christi drove us here. Why me?" "Christi claims she is tired. Tired drivers cause accidents." "And drivers without licenses don't?" she raised her eyebrows. I shook my head. Her sarcasm was going to cause her trouble in the future. I ignored it this time. To be honest, it didn't bother me a lot. "Do you think you can drive us back to the hotel?" "I guess. If I don't have a choice." I considered having her drive. I didn't particularly want her without her steel bands. She still looked ravishing in those restraints. Inexperienced driver. No license. Nude. Strange car. Hands bound. Odd driving conditions. Didn't sound like a wonderful situation to me. And I wanted to get back to the hotel. Walking, though pleasant, wasn't in the plans for today. Perhaps later. I just looked at Christi. She sighed. "OK. I'll drive." Not even bothering to suggest that I take the wheel. She managed to open the drivers door to the Toyota with her bound wrists without too much trouble. Slipping in behind the steering wheel and waiting for me and Jane. I turned to Jane. "Wrists." She obediently held her hands up for me. I unlocked her wrists and had her turn around. She reluctantly held her hands behind her back and I slipped the cuffs back on her. She turned around, a hurt expression on her face. The girls really did prefer their hands in front of them if they had to be bound. "Well, if you're useless to drive, then why should I have your hands in front. This looks much prettier." I watched as she fought back the tears. Tears brought on by her helplessness. Her complete inability to do anything about her situation. The fact that she had to stand there and allow me to bind her hands behind her. Not having any voice in the matter. She bravely fought the tears and slipped into the back seat of the car. Her eyes looking at me accusingly. She probably thought that she had earned the privilege of having her hands bound in front of her. And truthfully she had. She'd been more than cooperative today. But life isn't always fair. Especially for women under my control. I slipped the seat belt around her waist and down between her bare breasts holding her safely into the seat. She settled back and closed her eyes. I climbed into the passenger side and belted myself in as well. "Drive on, James ... er Jamie." "Where to?" "Back to the hotel. No rush." I settled back and took Jane's lead and closed my eyes. I felt the car jostling as the naked woman guided it through the strange world back to the hotel. I opened my eyes as we arrived. Christi just parked in front, an impossibility if the world was running. Damn taxis and such getting in the way. Christi handed me the keys to the car. I'm not really sure what she did with them last time. As she handed me the keys she spoke, "In case I'm not with you next time you need the car. I don't exactly have pockets anymore." She glanced down at her bare body. "You have a couple of places to keep them." "Oh God. Please no." She realized where she might have to keep the keys given that she had no clothing. I grinned at her and gently took the keys from her fingers. I slipped the key into my own pocket and climbed out of the car as she sighed in relief. Christi managed to get her own seatbelt off, and out of the car on her own. Jane sat quietly waiting for me to come and release her, her hands tied a little more awkwardly than Christi's. Once we all had gotten out of the car, we walked straight through the lobby of the hotel. Two bare girls and me. Just as we neared the stairs, I stopped them. I pointed back the way we came. "See that girl behind the desk? Before we leave here, she's going to be spread out between those two pillars. Begging." Christi just turned pale. "God. You know already that you are going to torture her. God help her." "Yup. Nipple clamps. The crop against her back as she begs and screams. While you use that wonderful tongue of your's on her puss." "Oh my God. Please no." "Not now. Later." "Is that my punishment?" referring to her bargain to get Kimberly off our timeline. I just shook my head. "If it was your punishment, the positions would be reversed. You'd be tied to the pillars and begging as you were cropped. The redhead on her knees making love to you. I've got something better in mind for you." "I'm sure I'll love it." I idly wondered what the redhead's name was going to be as I watched the lithe nude bodies climbing the stairs in front of me. We entered the quiet suite. I remembered that I'd left Elizabeth and Amy sleeping peacefully in the bedroom. I poked my head in, and they were both still happily asleep. I quietly shut the door, leaving them in peace. For now. I released Christi's hands. She stood rubbing her wrists, not having been free of the steel bands for a long time. "Christi?" I addressed her. "Yes sir." "I want you to make us some lunch. Peanut butter for you and Jane. One sandwich each. Grilled cheese for myself. Two. And breakfast for Elizabeth and Amy. I'm going to wake them soon. Maybe make them some toast and cereal." "Please. Can I ask for something. Small?" Christi looked a bit agitated. "Yes ..." "Peanut butter sandwiches? Please. I don't like peanut butter. Never have." "Are you allergic to nuts?" "No. I just can't stand the taste ... or the consistency," she explained. "Does it matter what you like?" "No sir," her face falling. "I'll eat the peanut butter." The nude blonde wandered towards the kitchen. I heard her begin her preparations to prepare the food. I guided Jane to the couch. She sat down daintily and settled back into the sofa. Legs crossed. I sat down in the easy chair facing her. She just gazed at me for a few minutes. I could tell that she was struggling with something. Wanting to talk but not knowing how to start. Perhaps afraid of starting. One advantage of having the women nude, their body language was a lot more pronounced. I doubt if they were even aware of it. But I was beginning to be able to tell their moods and sometimes even their thoughts from how they held their bodies. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Pulled weakly at her wrists. "Please," she began. "Can a slave beg to have her hands free."them behind her. Please. "Jane. I like you with your hands back there." "You don't have any idea what it's like to be in chains all the time. Please." "Jane. Something on your mind?" "Oh God. Can I talk without you punishing me?" "I'm listening. What's up?" Tears filled her eyes and one escaped. She shook her head in frustration. Not being able to wipe the moisture from her face. I reached forward and stroked the tear from her cheek. "Jane," I started. "It's about the store isn't it?" I was just trying to get her talking. Normally, I wouldn't make it this easy on any of them. In this case, I had a funny feeling I knew what was on her mind and I didn't really feel like tormenting her further. "I'm so confused," her voice low. "'bout what?" As though I didn't know. "You bastard. You made me beg." "Yeah. I knew I could." "How?" "What?" "How did you know? You could do that to me?" She was crying a bit now. Still pulling at her bound hands. Her bare feet curling and uncurling her toes. "Jane. It wasn't hard. In your position, you can't hide a lot. Your body gave me all the signals." "My body. Dammit. If you didn't keep us naked all the time ..." "I like you naked." "Don't I know it. And you like making us do things too. And keeping us bound, helpless, humiliated. Like animals." "Hey. I treat you better than animals." "Not much. We're just pretty, female pets to you. Look at me." That wasn't hard. I let my eyes run down her bare body and back up to her face. "I'm a person over here. Hello? I'm Jane. I have a name. I'm not just an object. Put here for your pleasure. I have feelings. I hurt. God, how I hurt for you. I'm a human being. I shouldn't be treated like this." "So you want me to treat you like a human being right?" "Isn't that just common sense. Please. I'm not equipped to handle this. I'm only seventeen." "Jane. You are a strong girl. You are holding up a hell of a lot better than I would in your place." "Damn right. But do I have a choice? You'll punish me if I don't." Her eyes widened slightly as Christi walked into the room. Jane stopped talking as Christi knelt down by my feet and looked up at me. I guess I could have forced her to continue despite Christi's presence, but decided that it might be better to continue the discussion in private. "I'm done. Food is on the table," Christi spoke from the floor at my feet. "We're not ready for it yet." "Oh." "Would you like to take a shower?" "God. Would I?" she looked up at me hopefully. "Two showers in one day. That's pretty extravagant. But I guess you've been through a lot. Go shower." She continued to kneel there. Her face a mask of concentration. "What is it?" She gathered up her courage. "Is your slave allowed to use hot water?" her eyes exceptionally expressive this time. She must have really wanted to use hot water. Used her slave talk and everything. Took a bit of concentration. It was unusual for Christi to slip into the third person for me. Jane could turn it on and off at will. And did. I had to bite back a smile. "I don't know. A private shower. *And* hot water? I'm not sure if you've done anything to deserve hot water." Previously I'd always forced the girls to take showers together. Two or three at a time. This was unusual letting her take one alone. Giving her time to herself. She was pushing her luck and knew it. "Oh please. This slave begs her master. She doesn't want to use cold water. Please. This slave will be good for the rest of the day. She promises. Please?" I relented. I couldn't think of anything that she'd done lately that required punishment. Maybe she actually would behave for the rest of the day. I nodded at her. "Go have a hot shower." She didn't need to be told again. She climbed to her bare feet. She tossed a quick whispered "Thank-you" over her shoulder as she scampered to the bathroom. Moments later I heard the water running and her softly singing to herself in the shower. Some Aerosmith tune, I think.

Mf, MFf, bd, exh, sm, inc, nc

Chapter 49

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9652.txt

Lord Malinov

Faster than Light

"You don't believe me?" Rick asked. "Well, no. I guess not," said Brian. "You think I'm going to lie about something like that?" "Of course you would. Depends what's at stake, but if you had some scheme in mind, you'd say just about anything, Rick." "I can't believe what I'm hearing." "Rick, I've known you, what? twenty years? You'd sell your Mom to get some skirt. Remember when Judy was coming down for the weekend and you told Liz that you were going in for surgery . . ." "All right, all right." Rick's grin confessed to the charge. "But I'm not shitting you this time. I saw Tommy boffing Cheryl." "Cheryl Sanders?" "One and only." "You're a liar. What's the angle?" "Look. Hey, Steph. Come over here." "Rick, Brian. What's up?" "Rick says . . ." "Wait," Rick interrupted. "Let me remove all doubt." "About what?" asked Stephanie. "How long have you known Cheryl?" "I don't know. Six years?" "Do you think she'd cheat on Jerry?" "Never. Not in a million years. You going after married women now, Rick?" "Nope. Not Cheryl, anyway. Jerry's a friend of mine." "Didn't stop you when Angie . . . ." "All right," interrupted Rick. "I just have one question. Does Cheryl have a birthmark on her tit, right there?" Steph slapped Rick's jutting finger away from her breast. "Well," she said. "A lopsided heart?" "Yeah. How did you . . . Rick, did you . . . ?" Stephanie's brow tensed angrily. "No," Rick said emphatically. "I went back to the house to get my other pair of sunglasses." "Time to trade the early morning pair for the mid-morning ones?" asked Brian with a smirk. "Mark sat on the one's I was wearing while I was swimming, funny boy. Do you want to hear this or not?" "Shut up, Brian," said Stephanie, as she sat down in the warm sand. "Thank you," said Rick. "I went back to the house and just as I reached for the back door, I thought I heard Cheryl say, 'Fuck me, stud.'" "Oooh," said Stephanie, leaning forward. "I stopped dead in my tracks. There was some rustling and a faint moan. Then I thought, I just saw Jerry go with Steve and Allison up to the boardwalk. So then I'm thinking that I must have been wrong, it couldn't be Cheryl." "But it was," said Steph, anticipating. "I slowly got down on my hands and knees. I started to crawl toward the window. Then Cheryl shouts, 'What a hot cock!' She was really excited about it." "I can't believe it," said Stephanie. "Cheryl? I've never heard her say anything dirty." "I couldn't believe it either. I thought one of the guys had brought some bimbo back to the house. So I crept closer and peeked in the window." "That is so twisted," said Brian with a smile. "I wish I had my camera. Now, that would have been twisted. Anyway, I peek into the back bedroom and there's Tommy sitting on the bed with his trunks at his ankles and Cheryl's kneeling in front of him, sucking his dick." "Wow," murmured Stephanie. "I wouldn't have guessed she'd do anything like that. She always blushes and runs off when we talk about stuff like that." "Well, Cheryl may not talk the talk, but I don't think it was the first time she'd sucked dick. Very enthusiastic performance. Beautiful titties, too. Bigger than I'd noticed before, and big dark nips. And a birthmark." "That's Cheryl," Stephanie confirmed, nodding. "So then," Rick said in a low voice, "she pulls down the bottom of her swimsuit and wiggles her white butt while she's going down hard on Tommy's dick. I thought I'd blow a load, just watching" "Rick," said Brian, blushing. "I don't think we need to know all the details." "Shut up," said Stephanie. "Is he big?" "Not bad," said Rick. "I mean, it was pretty long but slender. I'm no judge of meat, but Cheryl seemed to like it." "Mmm," said Stephanie, licking her lips. "I wonder if . . ." Manicured nails scratched a gnawing itch under her bikini. "Well, you'd better get a piece before Jerry finds out," said Rick. "Can you say 'justifiable homicide?'" "You can't tell Jerry," said Stephanie, suddenly serious. "Not me," said Rick. "But I've never seen a secret like this one kept quiet long." "You guys tell Jerry and I'll mess you up," warned Stephanie. "Capisch. So Cheryl's going to town and I'm thinking Tommy's going to blow but then Cheryl climbs on top of his rod and jams it into her pussy. She was so wet I could smell it." "Wow." "She starts riding like she was galloping to freedom. Tits bouncing, Tommy's groaning, Cheryl's just spewing obscenities; "Fuck, suck, bitch, cock, fuck, dick," and then she squeals so loud I thought the whole gang was going to come running up from the beach to save her."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14153.txt

Edward Bangor

Terry

"Hi, Terry," said the young boy nervously, "can we play some more of those games we did the other night?" "Terry doesn't know," the teenager answered, "are you going to get all snotty this time?" "Oh no. I'll do everything you say as long as you do the same for me afterwards." It seemed as good a moment as any for Terry to take his shorts down, so he did, leaving his pricklet to stand flat against his belly. "Tell you what?" he said, "Why don't we start from where we left off with me sucking you and, then, when you're good and ready, you can show me how much you've learned." With Donny's agreement, Terry got onto his knees before the boy and took his stiff willie into his mouth. It was as sweet as ever, and he sucked greedily on it. "That's great!" said Donny almost at once. "Can Terry do you now?" Terry had intended to argue, but once he'd started, he found he couldn't. And, while he got to his feet, the little lad, with his pricklet standing stiffly in front of him, got down to his knees in a perfect impression of the older boy's previous position. The little face beamed up as he prepared to take on the larger erection. The boy opened his mouth, but his lips couldn't make it around the teenager's knob-end until he received some help. Once, however, he'd managed to get that far, he was eager enough to start sucking on his own. Still, Terry had a hunch that more could be done, and, at first, he applied gentle pressure to the lad's head, coaxing him to take a little more of the length and then a little more. The tip hit the back of Donny's throat, and he spat part of it back out again. With the boy behaving like he himself was no longer allowed, Terry forgot the other was only a youngster and grabbed a fistful of the kid's hair and yanked it forward, forcing him to take as much into his mouth as he could actually hold. Donny bolted a little, but decided that he might as well do it the way the other wanted, as he'd promised. And, when Terry saw that the boy was resigned to his fate, he relaxed a little, ready for some simple pleasure. "Go ahead, kiss it. Lick it all over," he said, "then you can start sucking properly." The little boy nodded his head in agreement, already knowing more than he let on and never, once, letting the shaft drop from his mouth. He tried to remember all the steps he'd been taught, with his lips and hands. Every couple of seconds, he'd look up for the approval of the older boy, which he soon got. Opening his youthful jaws as far as they would go until he could feel the swollen tip once more hitting the back of his throat. He wanted to suck a little more, all the way to the fuzzy balls, because that's what had been done for him. He tried his best, but, eventually, he came to the position when he simply couldn't fit anymore in. When he tried, he only gagged, so was left with the option of trying to do the best with what he'd already managed. Donny only knew one way to suck on something, so that's what he used. Closing his lips around the hard thing in his mouth, he pulled on it slightly. The sensation against his lips reminding him a little of sucking a stick of rock, but that wasn't an overly unfair comparison either. The pricklet in his mouth tasted as nice as rock had done, although the forward and back motion as it slid through his lips was something else. And, as for the way it throbbed whenever his tongue ventured close... Donny sensed something was changing. The pricklet in his mouth began quivering, and the other boy had begun to act strangely, quivering and moaning, his fingers pulled on Donny's hair. "Almost there!" Terry gasped, more to himself than anything else. The words meant nothing to the little boy on his knees. All he knew was the way the other was very keen not to let him move his head too far back. Not that there was any danger of that, for sucking the youth's prick was something of an adventure, and he didn't rightly know what was going to happen next. He heard Terry moaning and felt his vibrations, so he sucked that little bit harder. Closing his eyes real tight, he dropped a hand to his own lap and touched his own hardness the way he always did. Suddenly, right in mid-suck, the lad felt the rod in his mouth start to explode. Terry was moaning and groaning as the hot cum began to pour down Donny's throat. He hadn't intended to make the lad swallow his cum, and Donny was none too happy about it either as tears poured down his face almost as fast as the cum was going down his throat. When, at last, the fingers dropped from the top of the lad's head, Terry saw he had pulled out clumps of the lad's hair. Quickly he tried to comfort the lad, but Donny would have none of it. His face had turned a purplish green, and his cheeks puffed up as he put his hand to his mouth and ran off into the bushes, retching all the way. Terry took his cue and left. CHAPTER: Chapter 08: Thief "You are to steal something from the NAAFI shop." It seemed to be the easiest of the instructions so far, and Terry didn't hesitate to carry it out. Being in the middle of an army base, the NAAFI shop had no need for security cameras or alarms, so Terry assumed the task would be easy to accomplish so he could return to his more interesting activities. And, it did go perfectly until he was caught trying to leave. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, the shopkeeper called Mr. Diamond for her advice on how to deal with the situation. "Speaking from my own experience," his mother had said, "Terry thinks he should receive a sound spanking and then work off the money in the store." Naturally, Terry didn't like this solution much, but with the eyes of both adults glued to him, there was little he could say about it. Still, he thought, the shopkeeper would hardly want to be put to so much trouble. Unfortunately, he was in for a surprise and not a pleasant one. "How quite right you are," said the shopkeeper, "Terry certainly would never commit the same crime twice after having my bare bottom spanked." So it was agreed. Terry was to remain in the shop until it closed at 5 p.m., at which time the shopkeeper would bring him home. In the meantime, however, he was at the mercy of whatever the man had in mind. As soon as Terry's mother had left, the shopkeeper swept past the boy, locked the front door, and turned the sign to 'Closed'. "Right then, boy," the shopkeeper said, "in the back, you've a sound spanking coming." A hand landed on Terry's shoulder and guided him through the storage area behind the store. The boy only took tiny steps until the shopkeeper's free hand whacked his backside, hurrying him scampering forwards. He was surprised how much it hurt, even through his trousers, and he hated to imagine what it would be like once these were removed. Propelled into the large warehouse area where rows of shelves rose to the ceiling, the shopkeeper paused for a moment, then pushed the boy towards a stack of crates. And, before Terry could grasp what was happening, the shopkeeper had sat on the crates, pulled him between his knees.Locking his legs around the boy, the shopkeeper held the boy firmly and took hold of the smaller waistband. "No!" Terry squealed, "You can't!" No matter what the boy said, it did nothing to prevent his trousers from descending. When he tried to grab them, his hands were slapped away sharply with one hand while the other finished lowering the shorts to his knees. Frantically humiliated, he stood there with just his soon-to-be-lowered underpants covering his thirteen-year-old privates, ashamed, somewhat absurdly, that the man was going to see how underdeveloped he was. "You can't! You're not my father!" he hollered in one last ditch attempt to keep his underwear. "No," the man said slowly, "I'm not your father. But I'm still going to spank your naughty bare bottom." A short tug of war followed, but it ended quickly when the storekeeper somehow got his hands behind the boy and gave his sensitive seat three or four hearty slaps. They burned so fiercely that, without thinking, Terry put his hands behind himself to comfort his rear and, before he knew it, his underpants had joined his shorts around his knees. His groin staring the man in the face. The storekeeper didn't seem the slightest bit flustered by the display. He simply spread his legs apart, took the boyish hips in his hands and moved him around to the side of his lap. "Lie down," he ordered, and Terry nearly dove across the knees in order to hide his embarrassment. There followed several moments of nothingness while the man took his time getting things settled. He moved the boy into the correct position and pulled his clothing the rest of the way to his ankles, and then reached back up and pulled his arm up his back. Terry tried to move around when he realized his penis rested against a hot thigh, but he was pinned down too tightly. As embarrassing as it was, having someone he didn't know staring down at his bare bottom, he was more scared he'd be able to feel him hardening. Soon he had other things to think about. The shopkeeper didn't spank at all like his mother did. The man scolded him for a long time while he hung there with his bum up in his face. Although he only listened to a couple of minutes of it before switching off his ears. Then it started. Terry didn't know how anything could sting him so much as the storekeeper's hand. He howled like crazy as his entire rear turned, quickly, to fire. Then, it stopped. "You ready to learn your lesson?" he was asked. Terry answered the only way he knew how: "I'm sorry," he said, "I'll never do it again. Please don't spank me." The man listened carefully until he ran out of things to say, tucked him up tighter under his arm and then started slapping his bottom like it was possessed and needed the devil driving out of it. His palm was big enough to almost cover one cheek and he went from one to over repeatedly. Soon his entire backside was stinging. For a thirteen-year-old, Terry knew how to raise a real ruckus while he was being spanked and did just that. He totally forgot his sense of modesty or what his penis was doing after the first ten, or so, slaps, even though he had stiffened against the thigh as he was rocked against it by the force of the blows. He pleaded and cried uncontrollably for a little while until it all went blank as the spanking continued. The boy wasn't really with it by the time the spanking finished. All he was aware of was that one minute he was sobbing and gasping for air over his lap and then, the next, he danced around the storeroom, half naked and holding his bottom. He knew the woman was watching him and smiling but didn't care. It felt good to rub himself but it was like using a drinking glass to put out a forest fire. Yet, it was some time before he realized that his little penis was halfway hard and only then did his modesty return and he try to return his clothing to its proper place on his person. "Leave them there," the shopkeeper barked, one hand threateningly held aloft, "you've a date with the corner of the store before you get dressed again. Now move." Terry, naturally, wasn't in a position to argue and, leaving his shorts and underpants where they were, he hopped back into the shop and was escorted to a corner where he stood facing the wall at the back of the shop. It was only then that he realized what the man had in mind. He was going to put him on public display. "Please," he begged, "you can't leave me here." "I can," the man said, "and I'm going to. Now, you can either stand facing the wall with your hands on your head as a warning to others who might be tempted to steal from me or, we can go into the storeroom again and sort it out there. Which is it to be? The choice is yours." Of course, it was no choice at all and Terry turned his teary face towards the plaster and hoped no one would recognize him, or realize what he'd done. However, these thoughts were to be short-lived as a sign hung around his head proclaiming him to be a 'THIEF' and then told anyone who came into the shop - whether they asked or not - what he'd done and how he'd been punished for it as if the heavy shaping on his backside wasn't enough to make the latter obvious. There was one thing, however, for which young Terry could be grateful and that was, given his current position, there was nothing to hold his shirt up and this dropping went somewhere to lessening his embarrassment. Still, it was while he was checking this covered him in front when he noticed his pricklet was half hard again with the knob-end peeking through the end of his foreskin. The memory of both the woman's legs rubbing against it and of little Donny's lips wrapped tightly around it, were both fresh in his memory. The storekeeper was at the front, so Terry figured he could touch himself without being seen and did so, briefly. His hand, however, made the situation worse and soon his penis was at a full stand, clamping itself tightly to his belly where it remained for the rest of the time he was to stand in the corner. This turned out to be worse than the actual spanking had been for, although his rear still stung from the woman's hand, being stared at and commented about as if he wasn't there, Terry found deeply humiliating. Behind him, the storekeeper would exchange stories with various customers about how spankings should be, or had been, administered while, any children who entered would be taken up to him and shown what happened to a bad boy. Some of the braver ones, poking the bruised flesh as if to check for the fastness of red coloring though, thankfully, no one but Terry himself, knew this also kept him hard.You are to be stringently bound so you cannot interfere in the punishment Terry is going to administer. Understand. Sobbing back a tear, Terry Diamond answered in the way he'd been trained. "Yes, Mother." Since the head of the bed was pushed hard against the wall, the woman had to walk all the way around before she could get to the boy's other arm. Soon, however, she was yanking on his right arm with all the force she'd used on his left and had it tied in place. Moving to the foot of the bed, the hefty woman jack-knifed sharply and grabbed both of Terry's ankles. These were still tucked beneath him, but in one fell swoop, Mrs. Diamond pulled them open so the feet were close to the corresponding bedposts where they were quickly bound, rendering the thirteen-year-old helpless. Powerless to resist as his mother sat heavily on the side of the bed next to him and leaned across him so he would be unable to see what she was doing. His definitive erection was swallowed by one of her huge hands that began to manipulate it far more vigorously than he had done to himself. All the time, she continued to masturbate the helpless boy, cataloguing all the dire consequences of self-abuse. Terry, who'd been close to the edge before the unwelcome interruption, experienced his first orgasm quickly. His thin, boyish cum spurted from his pricklet over his belly where it was left to dry as the manipulations continued. The second wasn't far behind the first, with the third following on rapidly behind that, each a little less violent than the one which had preceded it, until the boy was feeling completely wrung out. Yet, his mother continued her ministrations for half an hour, wringing two more dry shudders from his exhausted body before she finally left him. Completely exhausted and with a rare red penis, Terry was then forced to sob his apologies for having been 'wicked and sinful'. The matter appeared closed after that, for although his mother didn't untie him, she did leave the room. However, just as Terry was getting used to the idea of having to sleep spread-eagled on his bed, his mother returned, bringing with her, of all things, an overly large baby's dummy. Saying nothing, yet aware of the boy's eyes upon her, she went to the foot of his bed and, once more bent herself across it. This done, she reached forward with the dummy furthest from her fist. The round, plastic tip slid up the inside of Terry's left thigh until it came to the point where his legs came together. Not that the dummy stopped there. Continuing upward, it sought out, and found, the one place it could go. Terry gasped as he felt the object butting against the entrance to his anus, but he could do nothing about it as his mother increased her pressure upon the end and slowly, tortuously, screwed it in, past his resistance. Slowly, but surely, the boy's sphincter opened up around the widest part of the dummy until, with a flick of her wrist, Mrs. Diamond could punch it home. Then, as soon as the two-inch diameter section had entered, the rest followed automatically, swallowed by the sphincter's natural responses until the base of the dummy pressed tightly into the crack of Terry's buttocks, giving him his first idea of what it would feel like to be fucked. Chapter 10: Make-up By the time he was released the next morning, Terry had become quite accustomed to the feeling of having something inside his young bottom, and, once left alone to dress, he toyed with the idea of leaving the oversized dummy inside himself, but he feared his mother would ask for it back. Coming downstairs a few minutes later, he heard voices from the living room. Voices that sent shivers up his spine. One was his mother's and expected, but the other wasn't, seeing as it belonged to the girl who'd initiated one of his first spankings. "About time too," chastised his mother when he emerged through the living room door, resplendent in his brand new suit of clothes. "Now Terry can go to work." "But Mum - mother," Terry tried, but it got nothing but a stern look. "You'd better do what Sally says, else you'll have me to answer to. Understand?" "Yes, Mother." Satisfied, the woman left her son in the capable, if scheming, hands of her new babysitter. "So, boy," Sally said once they were alone, "Do you think I'm pretty?" "Yes!" he replied, thinking this would be the best answer. "Judging by your clothes, you like pretty things, don't you, boy?" Looking down at the many frills that adorned his blouse, shorts, and ankle socks, Terry could only agree. "Then come here." Slowly, he walked across the living room floor, and, as he did, Sally held up her lipstick and said, "I'm going to make you look even prettier too." When he realised what she intended, Terry jumped back again. "No, please!" he said. Sally looked at him with a smile on her face, "What makes you think you have a choice in the matter? Either you let me put it on you, or I'll make you." With that, she quickly cranked down the lipstick, put the cap back on, and started to walk towards the boy. Terry started to run out of the room, but Sally was just too quick for him. She grabbed him by the arm and got him onto the floor, where she sat on him, holding his arms down with her knees. Terry struggled beneath her, but, try as he might, he couldn't do anything. Eventually, he relaxed, and looked back up at Sally smiling down at him. "Oh, you silly boy. You should have let me put the lipstick on you because now, as a punishment, I'm going to have to make you wear makeup as well, and see what Terry can do with your hair." She took a curling iron from the bag that had been hidden beside the sofa and plugged it in so it could heat up. Then, holding the boy's head between her legs, she took liquid makeup from the bag and started to apply it to his face. She could feel him trying to struggle and wriggle his head loose from between her thighs, but as she continued to apply the chemicals, she felt Terry's resistance start to flounder. And, when she opened her legs, the boy just lay there, defeated. Sally smiled and said, "That's a good little boy. You just lay there and let me make you pretty." Finished with the liquid makeup, she put blusher onto each of his hairless cheeks. Then she held his eyelids closed one at a time so that she could apply the bright blue eye-shadow. Next, she outlined his eyebrows with eyeliner and put mascara on his eyelashes. "There," she laughed, "Now you look almost like a girl. Hold your lips together." Terry didn't do anything but stare at the lipstick held in front of his face. "Come on. Be a good girl for me because," her voice dropped to a whisper, "you wouldn't want me to tell your Mother you'd been bad now, would you? Not after last time." Terry held out for another minute before finally giving up the last of his dignity. Slowly, his lips moved from the pouting scowl into the tight lines the girl wanted, and, equally slowly, Sally brought the tube of bright red lipstick to his lips. "Pretty! Pretty!" she mumbled, taking her time applying the lipstick to the boy's lips as if he were a doll. When she'd finished, Terry had a very thick coat of lipstick past the edges of his mouth all the way around, forming his lips into a more sexy shape than was natural for such a young boy. Allowing the boy to sit up, Sally picked up the curling tongs and started on his hair. Due to its prior length, she was able to take short runs of it into the curling iron until she'd framed it all into light bunches. Then, as a final touch, she took one of the curls and tied in a large pin ribbon. Finished now, the babysitter helped her charge to his feet and exclaimed, "You look just like a little girl. Come on, Terry, I want you to see." Taking him by the hand, Sally led him up to his mother's bedroom and the full-length mirror in front of which she placed him. "This," she told him, "is what will happen if you are bad and disobey me while I'm here." Terry couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was his face alright, but his skin seemed to have a soft glow about it. His cheeks were a soft pink, and his eyes, pale blue. His eyelashes were twice as long as normal, and without the way the eyeliner contrasted, made his eyes stand out in a decidedly more feminine way. His lips glistened from the heavy coat of bright red, while his usually flat hair was a mess of curls with the ribbon cocked to one side. "So," Sally interrupted his thoughts, "do you think you look like a little girl?" "Yes, Miss," he said honestly. "Good. Let's look through some fashion books." As they did this, Sally continually asked for Terry's opinion until they came to a picture of a short pleated skirt and long-sleeved jersey, at which she announced, "that would be a good thing to dress you up in and make you really look like a girl." Terry blushed, but said nothing, well aware now that his pricklet had started to harden the moment the girl had overpowered him and had remained hard throughout the following degradation. Perhaps, he thought to himself, it wouldn't be so bad to be a girl. After all, girls didn't get punished as often as boys did. Chapter 11: Indians A couple of days later, Terry, in order to keep out of Sally's way, listened to the doorbell ringing from upstairs and was surprised when he heard his name called. Obediently, he raced down to where the girl waited for him and asked, politely, what she wanted. "One of your little friends has just called for you, and as you've been so good recently, I've decided to allow you to go out to play. However, before you go, you will need to be dressed properly. Let's go upstairs and see what we can find." This didn't turn out to be nearly as bad as Terry had expected. There was none of the feminization, but rather, the more macho appearance of a cowboy, complete with Stetson, jeans, waistcoat, and a knotted bandanna around his throat.Somewhat pleased with this attire, he was only too happy to go and find his young friend - whoever that might be - and play, whatever they wanted. Terry followed the instructions he'd been given carefully and soon found himself heading back towards the frighteningly familiar surroundings of the Old Guardhouse. There, waiting patiently for him, was none other than young Donny. Not only that, but the eleven-year-old was more than dressed for his role, although "undressed" may have been a more accurate description. "How!" shouted the youngster through the bushes. "Do you like my costume? I made it myself." "I'd never have guessed," answered Terry sarcastically, hiding his real feelings of envy, for, despite being simply the other boy's clothes, they were very effective. In fact, Donny wore little more than a piece of elastic around his waist, from which he had threaded a length of soft cloth between his legs and back out again, so the two ends hung down over his loins and rear like a real breechcloth. Even his war paint, although amateurishly done, did set off the lines of his well-defined chest. As the younger boy walked over to where he'd entered the clearing, Terry, for the first time, realized just how brief the other's cloth was and asked, "Do you go around like that often?" "Of course," said Donny with pride, "But mostly down here." "Why? What's here?" "It's where we play all our games," the lad explained. Remembering what he'd been doing the last time he'd been there, Terry asked, "What sort of games?" "You know, like 'war' and 'Cowboys and Indians' and stuff like that?" "You play these by yourself, do you?" "No, me and the others." Suddenly, Donny changed the subject, "Do you want to play 'Cowboys and Indians' with me?" Terry shrugged, "Why do you think I'm dressed like this? How do you play, anyway?" "Oh, it's simple. Mostly, we just divide into armies and take prisoners and kill each other and stuff like that." "Won't it be a bit boring with just the two of us?" "No, we could skip the first part and go into the prisoners bit. If you want to, that is?" The idea appealed to Terry the instant the other boy had said it, for he too didn't want to be bothered with all the running through the woods, as this would be bound to make him dirty, and he didn't fancy another of Sally's punishments. So, without waiting for another word to be said, he went into action. Donny didn't know what hit him and didn't stand a chance. The larger boy flew at him from a standing start, and soon the pair of them lay on the floor in a scrambling heap. Thankfully for Terry, the amount of punishments he'd been through had taught him something, and he soon had Donny down on his front with his arms behind his naked back. From there, it was an easy task to use the elastic around the boy's own waist to bind his wrists into the small of his back. "Got you?" he said, helping the bound boy to his feet. "What you gonna do with me now, pale-face!" teased the poor impression of an American Indian. "I think," Terry said, even though he hadn't thought about it at all, "That I'm going to have to take you back to my camp and torture you." And, with that said, he circled behind the boy and prodded him forwards into the darkness of the Old Guardhouse. Not speaking again until they were safe from any prying eyes. "Tell me what you know?" he demanded. "I won't tell you nothing," replied the bound boy. "In that case, red-skin, you leave me no option but to spank it out of you on your bare bum." Contrary to the struggles Terry had envisioned, Donny just shrugged, "Go on then. I dare you," the little lad said, "I dare you?" "Oh," Terry scoffed, "I dare alright." So it was that, for the first time in his young life, Terry Diamond found himself undressing another boy. A boy who had his hands tied behind his back. Actually, this made the job a little more difficult than the thirteen-year-old had imagined it would, and, in the end, he had to give up his plan to remove all traces of Donny's costume. Still, that didn't matter too much as he removed the cloth itself, which rendered the lad naked before his eyes. "Now," he said, his voice a little shaky, "I am going to inspect the prisoner before punishment begins. Stand still." Taking his time, Terry found a couple of boxes to sit on and placed them directly in front of his proposed victim. On these, he sat and studied the form standing before him. Donny, he soon discovered, wasn't as immature as he had first thought. Although the lad still had the high-pitched voice of prepubertal boyhood, his body showed the early signs that the changes had already begun. His nipples stood out, almost pointed in the heat of the moment, while, down between his legs, the area directly above his groin, although silky smooth, had the darkened appearance of a boy about to sprout his very first pubic hair. The genitals themselves were rather small in size, even if some of that could have been down to the shrill draft that floated through the Guardhouse. The crinkled sac hung closely to the bottom of the slim length that, slowly and steadily, expanded the longer Terry stared at it. It was, however, the reverse view that excited Terry himself. The very instant he had the lad turn around, he felt his own penis spring hard against his underwear at the sight of the well-rounded buttocks that just begged to be spanked. Forgetting all pretense at his game, Terry urged Donny to lie face down over his lap, not caring if the younger boy could feel his erection pressing up through the fly of his denim shorts. Gently, but hurriedly, Terry ran his hand over the presented area, keeping it in tight to the dark valley nestling between them. He began to spank, gently at first, and then harder until Donny's buttocks bounced up and down on his lap. This, Terry found, caused a delightful sensation to flood through his own loins from the see-saw motion of the body laying across them. Every so often, however, he found he had to stop so he wouldn't make a mess inside his underpants, but he made good use of this opportunity to stroke and caress the flesh he slowly reddened, still pushing his fingers into the soft, sweaty crack. "Ooooohhh!" the little lad sighed, "That feels brilliant. Spank me some more now. Then rub my bum some more." "You mean," blundered Terry, "You like this. You like being spanked?" "Sometimes," admitted the lad on his lap, "If it's being done like you do it. Go on, do it some more and I'll rub on your prick and make you feel good too." It was too good an offer for Terry to turn down, so he didn't. Knowing the other boy liked it really spurred him on, and he tucked Donny further under his arm and started to really let him have it, smacking one side then the other, until all the twisting and turning this produced drove him over the edge himself, and his thin boyish semen flooded into his clothing before he could do anything about it.Then it was my turn, again. At Billy's head, my feet were tied into the same rope that held his hands, while my hands were added to the cord hanging from the back of my friend's neck. This didn't, however, get what Simon wanted, but he soon rectified his miscalculation by raising Billy's head by the hair and pushing on my bum. As a result, my groin was crushed into Billy's face. The ropes then adjusted to keep it there. Obviously, if you think about it, with the two of us trussed up like that, only Terry could see what Simon did next, and when Simon stripped himself, his prick was every bit as big as I'd imagined. Soft, it was impressive enough, but hard, he'd expanded to at least double that, if not treble, with a head of fiery red erupting from the withdrawn pink foreskin. With my imagination, it didn't take me long at all to work out what Simon intended to do with what he had just unleashed. Unfortunately, for Billy, my body reacted in the only fitting way. One second he was breathing sweaty, urine-dipped, testicles, and the next he struggled to swallow my dick, as Terry sprung an instantaneous erection. However, before Billy could get used to the familiar feel of my dick in his mouth, he had one he wasn't so familiar with trying to bore him a second arsehole. Billy told me later just how much it had hurt to be fucked by the rampant teenager. Not just the hole itself, but the entire area around it. Simon's fingers dug into his flanks, buttocks, and thighs. The red-hot telegraph pole of a prick rammed his tiny rear entrance. Billy squirmed about as much as his bonds would allow to make the process easier. So much so that Terry had no idea when he was actually entered. His oral movements on my dick kept my eyes screwed shut, even though Terry had the perfect view of the cleft of his buttocks. Simon and Billy did, though; they both felt the red, bulbous, damp, head of Simon's outsized erection as it forced its way through Billy's clenched buttocks and up into his rectum. On and on it went. Further and further in it travelled. Deeper and deeper it sank, carrying on through until Terry was virtually face to face with Simon over the back of the boy we occupied. It only took the inexperienced Simon little more than a couple of hastily performed hip thrusts to complete the act of fucking his first boy. If only Billy had informed him that this was what he wanted all along. If only. Two words which always dominated Simon's life. Yet it was Simon who'd shown us the way forward. Simon who'd made our childhood dreams come true. Simon who'd given both Billy and Terry a taste of the pleasures of life. Simon who'd taken away all the safety nets we'd previously protected ourselves with. Simon who'd showed us how to do it right. And they called Simon Simple! Chapter 13: Puppy "Strip!" It was a simple instruction, and one which Terry should have been expecting. In fact, he had been expecting it. Expecting it with a mixture of dread and anticipation, since he'd first entered the house. Late. "Strip!" repeated Sally. "Take all your clothes off. You won't be needing them where you're going." It didn't sound so bad. In a split second, his shirt was off, and down came his shorts and underpants. He didn't speak, strangely enough wanting to impress the girl with his obedience. "Get down!" Terry lay with heels tucked tight under his bottom while Sally produced two large rolls of two-inch-wide, brown, parcel tape and a strange maze of leather strapping connected to dog collars with embedded steel loops instead of a buckle. These were dumped on the floor in a steadily growing pile of some of the most interesting items he'd seen in a long while. A butt plug just like the previous one he'd worn, only without the latex briefs. "Faster!" Sally barked, swiping him across his exposed bottom so savagely the skin instantly changed colour. Despite being frightened of this new development, Terry soon relaxed at the professional way he was treated. With his legs bent at the knee, the parcel tape was applied, liberally, first to his ankles and then to the corresponding thigh, effectively halving the length of his legs. Then, with his lower limbs secured without constricting his blood flow, attention turned to his hands. These, Terry was told to make into fists with the thumb tucked around the outside of the fingers. The whole of the hand, from the wrist up, was then heavily coated in tape, making all his digits useless. "Stand up," Sally ordered. Terry nearly spoke, but managed to contain himself in time, giving his best 'puzzled' look instead. It worked. "Like a dog." It took a few tries, but eventually Terry managed to roll himself onto what remained of his limbs, crouching just like the 'Puppy' he was obviously meant to be. "Very good," said Sally. She picked up a tangle of leather and started to straighten it, "Little Puppy dogs have a tendency to chew on things they shouldn't. That's where this comes into play. Terry, bet you've been wondering about it, haven't you?" Terry nodded. "Terry had it made especially in the camp workshop. Do you like it?" Terry nodded. "Then why don't you try it for size? Head up." Sally took over five minutes to fit the contraption, while Terry took less than a split second to decide he didn't like it. The first applied, an inch-diameter, solid section of rubber, fitted perfectly between the boy's teeth and was held in place by the leather web. These straps taking all Sally's time in adjusting. Before it was finished, Terry was more than effectively silenced, only then did he get to see the item the whole performance had been about. Gingerly, Terry lowered his head down again as Sally snapped the long-awaited collar around his neck. It was a perfect fit - tight, yet not choking - a small padlock at the back fastening it shut with a satisfying click. It also attached a length of chain which Sally now took up. "Right then, Puppy. Let's show you around. Heel!" The chain was yanked forward, putting a strain on the back of his neck that would have made Terry cry out had he been able to do so. Instead, all Terry could do was stumble forward, lose his footing, and fall onto his side. Sally wasn't impressed. "Naughty Puppy," she said, slashing his helpless rear with the free end of the leash, "One more time like that and it's a punishment for you. Now, WALKIES." Terry's first walk as a Puppy turned out to be a lot more difficult than he'd imagined. It wasn't just the way he controlled his bound limbs, but the gag made breathing difficult to boot. Then there were the demeaning comments Terry had to endure, as they left the house and headed into the woods. Comments that came from everyone they passed. Comments that mainly had to do with which breed of dog Terry was. Then, if that wasn't enough, the comments got more personal, as the girls circled him, until they were all about the size and operational aspects of his genitals and how their current position - swinging down between his thighs - made his arsehole look enormous. Objects were suggested which could be easily fitted into his hole. They started with the possible - a tin of deodorant - and ended with the impossible - an elephant's trunk. "What's the matter, little Puppy?" Sally said, patting him on the head, "Do you want to play? We can find you a stick to fetch. You'll like that, won't you?" Just as Terry was about to shake his head, a young voice cut in. "He'd prefer it up his arse." The joke fell flat. "Who said that?" Sally demanded, looking around. "Donny," she spotted the youngster, "Terry should have guessed it was you. Get the stick." The boy Indian ran away like a scared rabbit. Terry smiled behind his gag until Donny returned with what looked like half a log and dropped it in front of his face. Sally cuffed the back of his head. "Puppy doesn't want it yet. You're going to get it first. Strip!" Donny looked scared, but there was no point in arguing. Terry watched, glad not to be the centre of attention, as a small circle formed around the disgraced lad. "If Terry were you," laughed Sally as Donny's costume was removed, "Terry wouldn't make jokes about the size of Puppy's privates. Not when you have next to nothing in that department yourself." Donny laughed, hoping to ease the situation. It didn't help. Sally wasn't finished yet. "However," she held up her hand for silence, and got it. "what about your bottom. How does that compare? Why don't you bend and spread, so we can check?" "No, please!" the lad begged. "Are you refusing me, boy?" The question confused him, "Yes - er - no! Terry... please!" "You remember what happened last time you didn't do what Terry wanted, don't you, Donny?" His face fell. "Yes!" "Why don't you tell my friends then. So they'll all know!" Obviously no wanting to, Terry told the story as quickly as he could, only to be prompted whenever more detail was needed anyway. Gradually the tale emerged of the small boy playing football, alone, on the sports ground when the girls turned up for their Ping-Pong practice. Sally had told him to leave, but, being the new girl, she had yet to establish her authority and, to his peril, he didn't listen. The argument continued for some time before, with their reputations on the line, the threats started. Of course, Donny had assumed hers had been empty threats, but they weren't. When he'd realised her intent was to carry out the summary justice she'd promised, he'd run and made it halfway across the sports field before she'd caught him. Under one arm, his torso had been pushed. Sally's right arm had made short work of his soccer shorts and underpants, pausing only briefly before showering a rain of Ping-Pong bat blows down upon his rear until he was howling with all the might of his young lungs and his bottom glowed brightly. "Well?" demanded Sally once the story was concluded. This time it wasn't a question - everybody knew that - it was an order.With little more than a half-hearted sigh, Donny kneeled down, pressed his face to the ground, raised his hindquarters, and used both hands around behind himself to pull his buttocks apart. The gang crowded in for a closer look. "Seems pretty small to me, but what do Terry know about boys' bottoms?" the girls laughed at their leader's joke. Sally waited until they fell silent before continuing. "No, what we need here is an expert. Now, where would we get an expert out here? Oh, yes, Terry knows." All eyes turned down to stare at Terry. "A Puppy. Of course, who else would know all about bottoms?" She patted his head. "Why don't you have a sniff and let us know what you think?" Terry waited until Sally pulled on his chain. Then, like the small dog he was supposed to be, Terry trotted across the surprisingly level ground and peered into the gap between his friend's buttocks. A hand on the back of his head pushed his face closer until his nose was virtually touching the crinkled flesh. It smelt clean with a faint hint of soap, but this was far closer than Terry wished to be, yet still he found it intriguing. "What does Puppy think?" Sally asked him, pulling the leash back. Terry shook his head, not really to answer his question, more to move away from Donny's arse-hole. "Is it too small?" Terry nodded, almost squashing his nose, for it was very small, and he couldn't see how anything could ever pass through it. "Will it stretch?" Now that was a question going through his mind, just as it was Sally's. Thankfully, his own experiences told him the answer. He nodded. "So Puppy thinks it will stretch. Anyone disagree?" No one dared to. "In that case, Donny, spit on your finger and stuff it up your arse." Terry felt his penis click up a notch, at last he was going to see something he'd often done to himself. Right before his astonished eyes, Donny, unable to comfortably reach around himself, slid his hand between his own slightly splayed legs to put the fingertip right on that tantalising little hole. "As far as it will go," Sally broke the expectant silence, "we don't want anything half-hearted. Puppy wouldn't like that, would you Puppy?" Terry wouldn't, but couldn't say so, the horse-bit gag preventing him from dribbling over Donny's bum. A slight sweat had broken out on the eleven-year-old's body, which undoubtedly made it easier for him to shove his right forefinger into his arsehole. Terry's eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets as the finger twisted itself into the expanding hole. The elder penis turned itself into a fully fledged prick the moment the first knuckle disappeared into that pulsating hole, and by the time the second one passed through, Terry was dribbling enough pre-cum to turn the grass to mud between his legs. Then, Donny's hand spread flat against his bottom, his finger embedded just as far as it could possibly go. For the first time, Terry was pleased to be restrained. Had he not been, then he'd have been pulling on his dick hard enough to rupture himself. That is, if he'd be able to resist the temptation to ram something else into that delightful hole. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice his discomfort. Or, so he thought. "So, Puppy was right," Sally patted his head again, "and, shall be rewarded." She turned to the boy with his finger up his arse. "But first, Donny, you will have to be punished for your previous transgression. Bend yourself over Puppy, but don't even think of moving your finger, understand?" He did, and Terry was in heaven. If there was one thing Terry liked more than looking up another boy's arse, it was seeing a decent spanking, preferably bare bottomed. However, Terry was to be disappointed, for he wasn't going to be able to see anything, having missed one of the instructions. When Donny crawled, with difficulty, to a position laid over his back, all Terry could see was his hips and side. His head and shoulders pressed onto the small of his back, while the rest trailed out away from him. Terry couldn't even see his genitals, for they were obscured by the arm still passing through his thighs. The so-called 'spanking' wasn't much better. Not only was it executed by stick rather than the flat of a hand, but the blows were all gentle. Terry thought the idea of a punishment was for the one being punished to feel it. There was, however, one other thing Terry had forgotten about. It was up to Sally to remind him. He pointed with the stick: "Terry think Puppy is ready for his reward now." Thankfully, no one questioned just why his prick was stiff and running. At least The Sons of Bitches' had come to terms with the way their bodies reacted to seeing one of their number humiliated. Terry had definitely made the right choice in joining them. With some obvious difficulty - the caning must have been harder than Terry thought - Donny dragged his head and was about to right himself when the stick gave him an unexpected blow across the base of the spine that made him jump. "Where do you think you're going? You're Puppy's reward. Take the position." Donny shrugged his shoulders and got into his previous position, face down in the mud, bum up. Now it was Terry who needed Sally to explain what was going on. She smiled a queer sort of grin and explained. "You've seen excited Puppies in the park before, haven't you? Excited like you." She pointed at his prick, making it bob below his belly. "So you should know what they would do in the current circumstances?" Terry did, but he helped by taking the stick from his prick and pointing at Donny's most exposed region. "This is what you have to do." Terry couldn't help a smile spread across his face, or would have had the makeshift muzzle not been there. Donny must have noticed this, for he opened his legs and took his finger from the hole Terry was about to possess. Terry no longer needed any instructions. It wasn't an easy operation given his trussed limbs, but like they say "Love conquers all," and by pushing his arms to their fullest extent, Terry was able to raise his head and shoulders high enough to pass over the top of Donny. He lowered himself to make it easier and then he raised back up until their bodies touched. His heaving chest pressed into the slight curve of his back. Naturally, that wasn't the only place they touched. His forearms clutched at his sides as his knees walked forward until his prick came into contact with the warm flanks. Now the tricky part. It took several long, anguished minutes as Terry rubbed his length around the crack until he could get it located in just the right spot. Once there, it sank into the crease like a long lost friend. His hips jerked rapidly. Desperately, Terry hoped it wouldn't tip over the top before he was inside. Thankfully, he didn't. "Easy!" the eleven-year-old yelped as Terry jabbed his testicles. Somehow, he reached between his legs and guided Terry most wanted to be. The plump buttocks jammed back. The rosebud opened and swallowed Terry's whole length. With a barrage of rockets and stars exploding on the inside of his eyelids, Terry went the full depth inside the boy. The, obviously experienced, sphincter muscle milking him for everything he was worth, and then some. Wave after wave of hot gushing sperm shot from his testicles with so much force Terry half expected it to come shooting right out of Donny's mouth. God, it was good, and then, suddenly, Terry was lying on his side in the grass. "Looks like Puppy needs to be sexed." Terry was trying to right himself without much success when Sally spoke. "Think I'll have to be the Vet - assistance please." The assembled girls seized his four bound limbs, rolled him onto his back, and held him open for Dr. Sally's inspection, which, not surprisingly, centred around his penis. "Who's a naughty Puppy then?" she asked, taking the limpness between his thumb and forefinger like a spent condom. "Been doing naughty things, haven't you? Still, never mind, I'll can help you stop." Terry was more than a little worried. Sure, he'd enjoyed everything so far, but there had always remained that element of familiarity. Put bluntly, Terry was up shit creek without a boat, let alone a paddle. He had plenty of time to think about the problem as Sally's fingers moved to the end of his prick where she held his foreskin in a pinch. The main body of his prick made a hasty retreat down inside its protective sheath. This tube of skin was then wrapped tightly in packing tape, keeping it, as Sally joked, "Out of harm's way." His mind resembled itself as he rolled back onto all fours. Sally took up his chain as Terry trotted over to a nearby tree. Concentrating hard to keep his balance, Terry raised his hind leg and released his bladder. At first, nothing happened. All eyes were fixed on the end of his prick where it swelled vulgarity out of its bondage. Then, just as Sally thought she'd tied the tape too tight, out came a great steaming stream of dark yellow urine. Only just in time did Terry manage to get his leg out of the way, and he'd never felt so relieved in his life. The girls cheered his successful urination, and Terry was informed, by Sally, that it was time for him to be put to bed. Terry scampered along behind his Mistress' with all the dignity his current predicament would allow, hardly even noticing the variable pains created by the contraptions he'd been fastened into. The most uncomfortable thing, surprisingly enough, was his own cum as it dried on his thighs, gluing the tiny hairs on his legs together. Meanwhile, Sally chatted as if this were a Sunday morning stroll. The final destination came as a bit of a surprise. They broke from the clearing and into the courtyard of the cottage. Quickly passing around the building and into a seriously overgrown back garden. "Here," Terry was told, "Is your home for the night.""Sally didn't point at the cottage but through a hole in the waist-high undergrowth towards a patch of newly leveled grass, beyond which a small wooden construction loomed. "Go and have a look." He should have known better, but Terry couldn't help himself, and it wasn't as if he could be locked in, or anything which he'd been afraid of, as there was no door. There again, who has ever seen a kennel with a door? For that's what it was: a very solidly built, large-sized dog-house, right out of a Tom & Jerry cartoon. Fresh straw covered the otherwise bare floor. Outside, to one side of the entrance way, lay two bowls, one marked 'Food' and the other, 'Water', both were empty. That was all there was to it, however, Terry took so long looking for more that he didn't even notice who crept up behind him. "See you in the morning." Terry turned to follow, took half a dozen paces and choked. His eyes flashed around, but there was no one near. Terry looked at Sally, nearly twenty feet away, obviously no longer holding his leash. He turned his attention to Donny, the only member of the gang who bore him a grudge, but the little lad didn't hold the chain either. Thinking a bit more logically, Terry moved around so he could follow the links of the chain itself, right to the kennel where a small padlock held him firm. Terry refused to panic and got comfortable. Thankfully, the kennel had been made for a fair-sized dog, so it was no trouble for him to waddle his way inside. The ceiling was low for sitting down - or rather squatting, doggy style, so that left only one option. Terry moved over to the right-hand wall, brushed himself against it, and then let go. The straw acted as a cushion, but it still hurt when Terry landed on his side. Once comfortable, sort of, he settled. Lying chained up, gagged, and with his prick and balls taped up, in a kennel beside a deserted cottage, Terry, strangely, recreated the sensation of sliding his pricklet through the soft folds of Donny's arsehole and wanked himself to sleep.

t/b f/m b/b spank bond tv toys

Chapter 07: Again

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12745.txt

PJ

Broken Jedi

"Red Alert! All stations! Red Alert!" shouted a male voice over thousands of comm stations across the surface of Coruscant. "All fighter pilots! Report to your craft immediately!" New Republic military personnel rushed aboard hover transports and flooded the transit lanes as they rushed to report to their stations at the various defensive sites surrounding the Imperial Palace. Squadrons of X-Wing and Y-Wing fighters shot into the sky on pillars of blue flame as they struggled to meet the advancing Sluggorn attack fleet. A small task force of New Republic warships slid out of orbit and sailed to meet the numerically superior enemy, launching their own starfighters to provide a thin screen. Huge, orb-shaped Sluggorn battlespheres emerged from Hyperspace and spread out in a wide arc formation with the apex pointing towards the New Republic capital. Swarms of fighter spheres spat out of hanger bays, shooting forward to engage starfighter targets. As the capital ships flew slowly towards their counterparts, fighters met in lethal exchanges of laser fire, evading and maneuvering for position while they struggled to kill each other. "Are the planetary batteries online?" asked Serilda tersely as she watched the battle unfold in the Command Center holotank. "Yes, Minister. The Navy is preparing the Solar System Array right now. They estimate that the weapon will be ready in twelve minutes," reported an Army major. "Tell the Navy engineers to hurry, the fleet may not be able to hold for long," ordered Serilda Solo. "Yes, Minister," acknowledged the officer with a brief salute before he rushed from the Command Center. "Damn those Slugs to Hell," muttered Serilda with venom. A Mon Calamari heavy cruiser exploded under the combined fire of three Sluggorn battlespheres. Sheets of blue laser bolts from Sluggorn ships filled the space around Coruscant, destroying any Republic ship in their path. In ten minutes of combat over half of the New Republic warships were destroyed, while the starfighters sustained over sixty-percent casualties. Four Sluggorn battlespheres descended into orbit around Coruscant, then shuddered as dozens of planetary ion cannons and heavy laser batteries opened fire on them, severely damaging their shields. The Sluggorn returned fire with hundreds of concussion missiles, destroying ion cannons and several heavily-populated sections of Imperial City. "Solar System is deployed and ready," reported a tech officer on the array's command ship. "Aim the System at the heaviest concentration of enemy ships and prepare to fire," ordered the ship's captain. "Target locked," said the tactical officer. "Fire," ordered the captain. The circular array of mirrors in orbit around the capital flared with reflected sunlight before it emitted a huge beam of destructive energy. The raging column of sunfire engulfed the bulk of the Sluggorn fleet, melting the battlespheres' hulls like soft caramel. The nova-hot assault disappeared in an instant, leaving a score of spheres where once hundreds had floated. The Sluggorn Command Orb staggered away from Coruscant with large stains of melted hull across its surface. "Damage report!" demanded the First loudly within the smoke-filled bridge. "Shields down to nine-percent. Primary weapons are offline. There is severe damage on decks eight through fourteen, and engine power is down sixty-eight percent," replied a shaken console operator. "Open a channel to the orbiting battlespheres. Tell them to use fusion warheads and bombard the planet," ordered the First coldly. "Yes, sir," acknowledged the bridge officer as he attempted to send a hyperspace message. "That could have gone better," quipped Captain Berg sarcastically. "You will be silent if you wish to continue living, human," hissed the First angrily. "Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood," apologized Berg with a smug grin before he leaned back in his chair and watched the slugs slide frantically around the bridge. "Send some ships to that damned array and destroy it," ordered the First as he sat back in his Command Pit, then monitored his crew's progress. Three battlespheres shot towards the Solar System, firing bursts from turbolasers and salvos of proton torpedoes. Large sections of the System exploded in clouds of glittering glass, then the command ship blossomed into a cloud of plasma and metal debris from five torpedo hits. The spheres orbiting Coruscant launched dozens of large, fusion missiles, which slashed down to the planet's surface before exploding in blinding, sun-hot domes of destruction. The entire equator of Coruscant was engulfed by fusion blasts, scouring all life and construction from the world's surface. "All New Republic defenses have been neutralized," reported a Sluggorn tactical officer. "Excellent. Deploy dropships immediately to gather as many healthy females as possible," ordered the First. "It will be done," replied the Tac officer. "Well, you did it. You seized the capital of the New Republic," congratulated Captain Berg. "Yes. Unfortunately, I can't hold it. I'll have to settle for taking as many females as I can and Jump out of your galaxy. My expeditionary fleet is in ruins," admitted the First pragmatically. "Ain't that a bitch," replied Berg with a cold smile. "I suggest that you take your payment and prepare to leave. The Fleet will be jumping into Hyperspace within the next twelve hours," advised the First. "Gotcha," nodded Berg as he shot up from his chair and left the bridge. "Stinking human filth," whispered the First to himself. Mara Jade lay restlessly upon her soft bed, dressed in a transparent lingerie top and white, lace panties. The room's lights were set on low, barely illuminating the large, silk-draped chamber as Mara lay bonelessly upon her back with arms above her head and legs spread apart. Negligently, the red-haired girl moved her right hand down to her crotch and slowly rubbed her pussy. Enjoying the warm sensations from her bush, Mara rubbed her snatch harder, pulling her panties away from her questing fingers. Mara moaned softly as she squeezed her left breast through the thin fabric of her top, then she pulled the garment over her head and tossed it aside. Reclining against the headboard of her bed, Mara opened her firm thighs and ripped off her panties. Smiling with lust, the beautiful girl slid her long fingers across the surface of her warm pussy, making it throb with hunger. Mara lowered her head to lick her nipples into hardness, then bit her pink knobs wantonly. The horny girl pressed her head back as she inserted a delicate finger into her slit and began thrusting into her clenching fuckhole, making it wet with lubricant. The naked girl was moaning with pleasure while she inserted a second finger into her dripping pussy, exploring her vagina with erotic abandon. Mara thrust her crotch onto her long fingers, fucking her probing digits as she gasped for air. Sweat glistened on Mara's pale, white skin as she licked her full, red lips and moaned with ecstasy. She removed her cum-drenched fingers, then brought them up to her mouth and sucked hungrily on them, relishing the taste of her own warm honey. Mara sat up, then got on her hands and knees before placing the fingers of her left hand atop her wet cunt. The red-haired girl caressed the firm flesh of her round ass, then she slid her fingers across her snatch before plunging them deeply into her honey pot. Mara grasped the headboard of her bed with her right hand while her other hand thrust into her cunt, filling her fucktunnel with pumping meat. The naked girl's mouth hung open as she grunted and groaned with lust, pushing her ass against her left hand as her fingers were devoured by her ravenous pussy. Mara's large, firm tits bobbed up and down while she finger-fucked herself, then she moaned loudly as she orgasmed, coating her hand with sticky cum. Mara sat up on her knees, then rubbed her jism across her tits before she licked her digits clean of honey. Grasping her own breasts roughly, Mara leaned down to lick her cum from her nipples and tits, arousing herself as she tasted her own sweet flesh. "Prepare to make the jump into Hyperspace," ordered the First from his Command Pit. "Sir, enemy ships entering the system!" reported a Tac officer. "What are they?" demanded the First. "Imperial Star Destroyers and TIE Defenders. There's a whole fleet of them!" replied the Sluggorn. "Damn it to Hell!" spat the First in frustration. "Prepare to engage them!" *************************** - +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/><http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.

[03]

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/6980.txt

Lord Malinov

Equal Opportunity

"How did the interviews go?" asked Kathy, unbuttoning her blouse. Sitting on their bed, Jeff looked up, still lost in thought. "Did you find someone to help you?" "Nope," he said, watching calmly as his wife unclasped her bra. "Tomorrow will be looking at four more applicants." Caught boyishly by the sight of Kathy's naked breasts, Jeff smiled slightly. "That's too bad," she said, dropping her pants. "I thought you sounded hopeful this morning." Kathy tickled her faint brown muff and turned to step into the bathroom. Jeff watched his wife's bottom shake, always ready to appreciate her sensual charms. "I was," he called out. "She looked good on paper, but it wouldn't have worked out." The water began to run, and Jeff heaved a deep sigh. Two weeks had passed since he had finagled the Morgan case away from Epstein, and Jeff couldn't help but lament the days they'd wasted. It was beginning to seem impossible to find assistants who could help handle the convoluted legalisms that plagued the Morgan situation. With the booming economy, competition for skilled help offered them a shallow pool of applicants. This morning, finally, Jeff really thought the search was over. He'd been sitting at his desk, reading over her resume again, trying to find an excuse not to hire this one on sight. Most applicants hadn't even been close; Jeff had turned away twenty. The work was starting to back up on him, but Jeff reminded himself each morning that bad help was worse than no help. The summer before, he'd been severely burned by the assistant Jack had hired for him, and Jeff didn't want that kind of trouble again. He'd spent six weeks undoing the mess Ben had made, three weeks more than it probably would have taken to just do the job by himself. Jeff scowled, adamant he would not go through that again. But when Jeff read through the list of this applicant's qualifications again, he found constant reassurance in each well-chosen word. "Maybe," he thought, still afraid to be hopeful, "we can actually start to get some work done today." Jeff took a deep breath when the intercom gave a familiar buzz, and Stacy said, "Beth Carter to see you, Mr. Walters." Jeff reached for the white button. "Thanks, Stacy. Send her in." Jeff started to stand as the young woman stepped into the doorway, but felt his knees weaken when she came full into view. Jeff's eyes opened wide, and he put a hand on his desk to help raise himself up. "Mr. Walters?" she asked. Her voice sang pleasantly. "Jeff," he said. His voice faltered. "Please, come in." He looked back down at the resume. "Elizabeth?" "Beth Carter," she said, reaching forward in greeting. Jeff shook her soft hand lightly. "Please," he said, already drifting down into his chair. "Have a seat." Beth smiled and smoothed her plum suit skirt over her lean thigh with an elegance that pleased Jeff. "She'd give the team a real touch of class," he thought, imagining the impact such a smart-looking woman would have by his side when he met with the field group. "I brought some writing samples," she said, opening a leather folder and withdrawing several sheets of paper. "Good," Jeff said, reaching over the desk to take the documents. Looking up from the well-crafted prose, he caught the anxious stare of her bright blue gaze. A rush of heat invigorated his heartbeat. "This is excellent," he said, reacting honestly as he deliberately read another paragraph. Jeff looked up at the woman and saw a faint blush color her soft cheeks. "Thank you," Beth said. "I wrote those when I worked for Myer and Baker." "Right," Jeff said, pulling out her resume again. "They're a good firm. Can I ask you why you left?" "They weren't challenging me," Beth said, seriously. Jeff could imagine her speaking with such insistence to someone like Jenkins or even Bradford. "I mean, I have nothing against the paperwork and such, that's just part of the business, but they seemed to shy away from tackling real problems. I want to work hard and have something to be proud of when I'm done." Jeff nodded knowingly, recognizing with delight his own attitude. He smiled wryly. "What makes you think a job here will be any different than the one you had with Don Myers?" "That's why I applied for this position. Frankly, Mr. Walters, I could probably find a higher paying job over at someplace like Witherspoon Gaddis, but I'm not looking to play a social, client shmoozing role. Not yet, anyway. From what I've seen of your work, and of you, I believe I can find what I'm looking for here." "Challenges?" "You're getting ready to handle the Morgan case, aren't you?" "Yes," said Jeff. "You're going to fight it, aren't you?" "Well, I'm not at liberty. . . ." "If you aren't going to fight," Beth said sternly, "then please don't hire me. I want to put on the gloves and get in the ring with that one. If you're just going to file settlements, I can get that somewhere else." Jeff leaned forward, excited by her fire. "Good," he said emphatically. "I like your attitude, Miss Carter." Without thinking, he noticed the absence of a ring on her left hand's fourth finger. "It would mean hard work, and probably some long hours, at least for the next few months." "I'm hoping it would," she said, smiling, flush with enthusiasm. As she leaned forward, Jeff noticed the gold cross at her breastbone, and then a glimpse of the untanned curve just beneath the edge of her blouse. He swallowed deliberately. "Evenings, some weekends," he said, his throat dry. He picked up the glass of water on his desk and, as he took a sip, he remembered the long evenings he had spent working with Ben. He remembered the proximity of his assistant as they pored over the figures for some indicia of intent, Ben's head almost on his shoulder, the dull scent of the young man's cologne irritating him immeasurably as the nights wore on. Jeff put the glass down and looked at Beth. She nodded and smiled. Her breasts weren't big, but they had substance. Jeff imagined the way they would press against his arm as she leaned over to show him some passage that needed explanation. Beth pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and Jeff could almost smell the delectable aroma. "We'll probably have to take two or three trips to Atlanta this spring, and there's a chance we'd have to spend a few weeks in Oregon." "I know," Beth said. "I know what the work is like. At this point, Mr. Walters. . ." "Jeff," he said quietly, smiling. "Jeff," she repeated with an indulgent grin, "at this point, I want to log some miles and put in the hours. My life is relatively free of commitments right now, and I want to put this time to good use. I don't know, maybe it's hard to believe, but I want to get my hands dirty working in the field. I'm not saying this to get a job. I can get a job. I just happen to know where I stand right now. I imagine there will be a day when I want something less taxing. But for now, I'm a young woman. I want the chance to learn from people who know and also to prove what I'm made of." Jeff nodded. He imagined for a brief moment the first week in February, when they'd go to Atlanta. He imagined carrying his suitcase into the hotel. He remembered the trip with Ben to Montreal, sitting at the hotel table most of the night getting ready for the meeting at Lystar. Jeff cleared his throat. "Well, Miss Carter," he began. "Beth," she corrected with a friendly laugh. "Everything looks good," he said. "I'm going to have to talk this over with Jack, I think they told me you met him already." "Sure," she said. "But we should be in touch with you soon." Jeff stood and held out his hand. "It's been a pleasure meeting you," he said. "Likewise," Beth said, standing and touching his hand with hers. Sitting on his bed, Jeff trembled slightly as he remembered watching the young woman leave his office, leering at the way her skirt moved when she walked. "What's the matter, Hon?" Kathy asked, toweling off her hair. "Nothing," said Jeff. "I'm just not sure I did the right thing." "About?" "Well, the woman I interviewed was probably as good as I'm going to get, and I can't help wishing I could have hired her." "Why didn't you?" Kathy asked, sitting down on the bed. "I don't know," said Jeff. "I think it was because she's a woman." Kathy hit her husband on the leg. "That doesn't sound like you, Jeff," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I know. I could even get in trouble, I mean, if she filed an EEO complaint, I'd have a hard time explaining."She was really well qualified." "Then why didn't you hire her?" "Kathy," he said, his voice implying his reasons, "if you'd seen her, you'd understand." "Oh," said Kathy, catching hold of his unspoken thought. "Well, then, I'm proud of you." She smiled gaily and crawled up the bed. "You're a good husband," she said, teasing the stiffening member shrouded within his pajamas. Jeff sighed. "Lead me not into temptation," he said softly. Kathy extracted his prick from its confines and kissed the round knob atop the hard staff. Her tongue played along his pale cockskin. "You'll find someone," she promised, tickling Jeff's balls as she let the rod descend into her mouth. Bringing it back out, she looked up at her husband. "Are you going to get in trouble?" "I don't think so," Jeff said. "I told Jack I couldn't work with her and he said he could take care of it." "Jack will take care of it," Kathy echoed, suckling down her good husband's dick. "Yeah," Jeff said, closing his eyes, "that's the way." "Look, Jeff," Jack had said later that day, "I looked over her resume and I think you're nuts. Beth is really too good to let get away and she really wants to work with us. So I hope you don't mind, but I hired her as my assistant. I'll let her get started on the Morgan case while you keep looking for another hand. She won't be reporting to you, so you don't have to worry about that. She'll sit at Louise's old desk, and you can start briefing her tomorrow after your interviews are finished." Jack smacked him on the back. "And don't worry. I told her you recommended her for the senior assistant position and threw in another five grand. I think she's worth it." Jeff felt the stroke of Kathy's tongue down his prick, but his thoughts filled with mad visions of Beth's bright smiling eyes and her tits and her ass and her lean, stockinged legs and the sweet subtle fragrance as Beth bent down close to help him understand the operative fucking rule. Each day and each evening, sitting ten yards past his door and always in sight and Atlanta still waiting just a few weeks away. "Oh, God," Jeff moaned as he thrust his prick up and felt his hot fountain erupt in spurts of wild lust. Kathy eagerly drank the thick wanton flow. As his wife smiled, licking her lips, Jeff shuddered and silently groaned, "please help me."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/18181.txt