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New Eden 26

Parker

Stacy's Senior Year

"Do you remember Peter Jenkins?" Sharon looked up from her position on the bed, where she was skimming through the latest National Enquirer. Gary was sitting in front of his computer with an old Greenwood school yearbook open in his lap. "Huh?" "Jenkins," Gary repeated. "Peter Jenkins. He was in grade twelve when you were in grade nine." He turned and handed over the old school yearbook, pointing to a picture. "That guy. He went out for Stacy for a little while, but she broke up with him." "Oh... that's right. He's the one who got so drunk at the Prom that he vomited all over himself; they had to throw him out." "That's him." Gary took back the yearbook and gazed at the picture. "He was fucked up over Stacy for months: a real basket case." Sharon glanced back at her National Enquirer for a moment, but then turned her attention back to her boyfriend. He must have something in mind, even if it was taking him a little while to get to it. Gary just stared intently at the picture for a moment, saying nothing, and then went back to work on his computer. "Yeah?" Maybe a little prodding was necessary. "Nothing special." He hit the return button on his computer, saving some work. That done, he turned back to Sharon. "I heard he was working up in Point Hope." Sharon waited silently for the other shoe to drop. This time, it was not long in coming. "I was just thinking," he mused, gazing again at the yearbook, "that maybe we're being a little greedy, keeping Stacy to ourselves up here in Bakersville. Wouldn't it be nice if we could get him back together with his old high school flame... at least for one night?" NUMBER 52 - 56 The game was over, and the players had long since showered up and left the building. Biff Talbot led his four friends into the now-deserted locker room. Together, they made up the first-string offensive line of the Greenwood Bulldogs, the football team at Greenwood High. As offensive linemen, they had not been picked for their speed, dexterity or intelligence. No; they occupied the position they did on the football team because of their size. The smallest of them, Billy Paxter - "little Bill" - was 6'2" and weighed just over 240 lbs. He received a lot of ribbing on the team because of his size. Being an offensive lineman, even a good one, was not a particularly glamorous position. It was pretty much all grunt work - "down-in-the-trenches" kind of stuff. The type of football that won games by attrition, not by spectacular solo efforts. Hence, all the attention... all the acclaim; all the girls went to the players in the flashier positions, such as the quarterbacks and wide receivers and the like. Until today. Grinning his big, stupid grin, Biff flipped open the door to one of the unused lockers at the end of the wall. "Holy shit!" Stacy flinched at the sudden brightness. She had been crouched in the locker for almost three hours, ever since the end of the game when Barry Packard had hustled her into the locker room just as the final few moments expired on the clock. Barry hadn't been "using" her since early January, when he had started going steady with another girl at school, but he hadn't forgotten Stacy either. Particularly when Neil had "explained" a few things to him. At first, he had been a little depressed at the knowledge that Stacy had only been fucking him because she was being forced to do so. Then he got angry; the bitch wouldn't give him the time of day unless she had to! At least he was seeing Heather now. And, he thought, philosophically, Stacy was such a slut these days, he didn't really want to fuck her anymore. She was used goods. Who knew where her pussy had been? Nevertheless, although he might not want her anymore for himself, he could always do favours for his buddies. Stacy hadn't complained when he told her what she was to do, not that it would have done her any good. He had been quite prepared to "insist". She had just stared down at the ground and nodded her head silently when he had told her what she was going to do; all five guys were "new meat" (Sharon's term). Each fuck would bring her closer to the end of her ordeal. "Get in," Barry ordered, opening up a locker. "Hurry." Stacy hesitated slightly - the locker was pretty small - but then she obeyed. Making certain she had a firm grip on the small flask (red wine this time), she wriggled ass-first into the locker, facing outwards. Her tight little cheerleading costume - green, sleeveless blouse and white skirt - rode up on her thighs, exposing her bare pussy to the open air. Barry, unable to resist, reached down and fondled it, slipping his middle finger into her snatch and wiggling it around. Stacy had not yet ingested any of the wine, and thus squirmed away. Barry didn't notice. A few seconds later, Barry stepped back to take a look. Stacy was wedged backwards into the locker, crouched on the heels of her feet, with her thighs splayed open. 'Looking good' he thought. 'Just one more...' "Hold on," he muttered, moving away out of Stacy's line of vision. Stacy waited nervously. The game must be over by now. Any moment there would be... "Here we are." Barry had returned with a couple of dildos a foot long, "I know how hot you are," he muttered bending down. "I wouldn't want you to get lonely down here while you're waiting." He reached under her crotch and slowly inserted one of the dildos handles into her dry pussy. Stacy squealed and tried to wriggle away, but the silver tube slid quickly up into her pussy until about eight inches of it was lost from view. Barry propped it up on the base of the locker. Stacy tried to push herself away, but was only able to move up about four inches before her head hit the top of the locker; she was now effectively impaled on the handle until she left the enclosed space. Leering, Barry passed the other to her. "This is for your mouth," Barry instructed her. "When my buddies open this locker, I expect you to be tonguing it the way you sucked my cock a couple of months ago." Stacy looked up at him from where she crouched in the locker, her eyes watering with humiliation. "If not," he continued, unrelenting, "I'll have to complain to Sharon." He smirked at her. " We wouldn't want that, would we?" A tear trickled down Stacy's cheek as she nodded. "How about a demonstration?" Barry suggested. Stacy hesitated momentarily, but then brought the handle up to her mouth and began tonguing and licking it. She closed her eyes as she did so, trying to imagine that it was a real cock; that she was anywhere but here... FLASH! Stacy's eyes flew open. Barry was standing in front of her with a polaroid camera. He took another picture while she stared at him in panic and then lowered the camera. "Looking good," he laughed. Stacy turned red, but continued sucking hungrily at the handle as she had been ordered to do. Still laughing, Barry moved forward and slammed shut the locker door. Inside, Stacy pulled the handled out of her mouth and reached down for the thermos, wincing as the slight movement caused the unwelcome visitor in her pussy to grind itself in a little further.Stacy had remained in the cramped confines of the locker for the next three hours before Biff and the rest of the linemen arrived. It had been quite hot in the locker room, particularly as the boys were showering, and by the end of the three hours, her entire body was damp with sweat. Her skirt was bunched up at her waist, and the shirt of the cheerleading outfit, never all that concealing in the first place, was now plastered to her upper body, clearly revealing her rock-hard nipples. She had gone through most of the wine in the thermos, more from thirst than anything else, and she was almost unbearably horny. More than once during her stay in the locker, she had been tempted to burst out and grab one of the cocks that floated so temptingly across her limited field of vision (there were small ventilation slits in the front of the locker), but common sense - and a good dose of fear - had won out. There were over twenty boys in the locker room. And she still had some pride left. Her sluttishness was not yet common knowledge at Greenwood, and she desperately wanted to keep it that way. Only another fifteen or so guys to fuck. So, in the end, she had to settle for sliding up and down on the now-slippery handle Barry had stuck in her pussy. By doing so and wriggling around as much as she could, she managed to bring on several small orgasms in the course of the three hours as the boys of the football team showered and changed, unsuspecting, all around her. At one point, she was afraid that her moans would give her away, but she was unable to stop herself from sliding up and down on the metal "cock". So instead, she stuck the second handle in her mouth and began to suck, thus muffling any noises she might have made. Three hours passed slowly... "Holy shit!" Stacy Richards squinted up at the surprised football players from inside the locker. Her cheerleading outfit was plastered to her sweat-soaked body. Her pussy, clearly displayed from in between her splayed thighs, sucked hungrily at the shiny metal cylinder as she slid herself up and down on it. Her hands clutched another metal cylinder - barbell handle, Biff realized - and slid it suggestively in and out of her mouth, between her shiny, wet lips. Her charm bracelet jingled quietly as she moved the metal handle up and down, all the while making quiet moaning sounds around the object in her mouth. Biff tore his eyes away from this incredible sight and turned to his equally stunned friends. "Guys," he chortled, "I give you... Stacy Richards. She's ours for the evening." "Jesus." They couldn't believe it. Stacy Richards; the Stacy Richards who had been flaunting herself in front of them from the sidelines these last three years; the Stacy Richards who had teased them, yet only gone out with the quarterbacks and other stars; the Stacy Richards of their dreams. Bill moved forward first, reaching into the locker. "Wait," Biff told him. Barry had given him some instructions. "Just wait a second." Biff moved forward and looked down on Stacy. She looked back up at him, tears of humiliation burning in her large, green eyes; tears of humiliation... and something else. He reached down and gently took away the barbell handle she had been sucking on. She moaned softly, but didn't resist as he slid it out from between her lips. "Stacy," he said quietly, "is there something you'd like to say?" Despite what Barry had told him, Biff still couldn't really believe she would say it. Once again, he was surprised. "Fuck me," she moaned, eyes closing as she ground the second handled deeper and deeper into her sopping pussy. "I need your cocks." This was enough for the guys, and they surged forward. Biff, however, held them back again. One more thing... "What do you say?" he asked the desperate girl. She looked up at him for a few moments, but then glanced away, unable to meet his eyes. "Please..." "What? I didn't hear you." Stacy looked up at him, lips parted. "Please," she said, her voice louder. "Please fuck me. I need you all; I n-need your cocks in me. Please fuck me... p-please shoot your sperm into me. Please..." And they did. Friday afternoon. 3:45 PM. The school cafeteria was almost empty, as most of the students at Greenwood had, typically, declined the opportunity to hang around the school after classes. The weekend beckoned, and, with the wonderful late spring weather, the beach was exerting its almost magnetic pull on the teenagers of Bakersville. The cafeteria was not, however, completely deserted. Three students sat, quietly talking, in a corner table. Gary, as usual, did most of the talking. He was also the one who handed out the latest round of money from the sale of pictures to various magazines. May had been a good month for them as far as picture sales went. Stacy had now unwittingly adorned the pages of over a dozen magazines across the country, with more to come. It was only a matter of time before she found out - before someone in Bakersville saw some of the pictures and spread the news - but they didn't really care. Their time with Stacy was nearly done anyway. The main cafeteria door opened and Karen walked in, followed closely by Ashley. The two girls had spent more and more time together over the last six weeks as Karen tightened her hold over the older girl. Like Stacy, Ashley was the victim of blackmail, and, as had been the case with Stacy, events had quickly moved beyond her control. Since the incident which put her in this vulnerable position in the first place, there had been any number of events which had deepened Karen's hold on her. All Ashley could think of was the end of the school year and freedom. All Karen could think of was how nice it was to have such a beautiful girl as Ashley as a personal slave, and how hard it would be to give it up. If she gave her up... "Wait here," Karen ordered, moving towards her three friends in the corner. Obediently, but not without a flash of anger, the tall brunette sat down on a bench near the door. "What's up?" Karen asked as she approached. "Neil said you wanted to meet." "Just the final plans for tomorrow night," Sharon told her. "The football party." She looked over at where Ashley sat, staring at the floor. "Everything's cool with her? Did she cause any problems?" Karen plopped herself down beside Neil. "No," she answered. "No problem. We'll be there." "Great," Sharon smiled. "I've got the perfect costume picked out; the guys are gonna love her." Neil chuckled at this, but Karen only frowned. "Listen," she said tentatively, "she's not gonna get... you know... hurt or anything like that?" "Ha," Neil laughed. "Just get her brains fucked out. That's all." "No," Karen ignored him. "I mean like, beaten, or... well... you know." "Huh uh," Sharon shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's just a party; the guys on the football team at BCN just want to celebrate the end of the season with a big blow out. Stacy was such a big hit the last time, they want her back again." Sharon looked over at Gary who didn't react. "I offered them Ashley as well because you said you wanted the money. They were willing to pay twice as much for two girls." Karen looked undecided. "There's not a problem with that, is there?" Gary asked. Karen looked over at Gary, meeting his intense stare for a few moments and then looking away. "No," she answered finally. "I just don't want her hurt. That's all." The table fell silent for a few moments. "OK then," Sharon stated. "That's settled. You'll meet us at my house at eight to get the girls dressed." "Yeah," Karen told her, getting to her feet. "We'll be there." This said, she turned and walked away towards the waiting Ashley. She walked straight past her and out the door. After a confused glance at the three teenagers in the corner, Ashley scrambled to her feet and followed her out. "What was that all about?" Neil muttered. "Dunno." Sharon shrugged her shoulders. Gary laughed. His two friends turned towards him. "It's spring," he explained, grinning. "Huh?" "You know," Gary insisted. "Spring. Birds and bees and that sort of thing." His two friends stared at him, blank looks on their faces. Gary sighed. "I think our Karen is falling in love..." When Peter Jenkins had called to invite her to a party up in Point Hope, Stacy had jumped at the opportunity. Peter was two years older than her, and had been a senior at Greenwood when Stacy had been in grade ten. They had gone steady for a little while - about nine dates altogether - but Stacy had eventually dumped him when the current captain of the football team had expressed an interest in her. She had never really seen much of Peter after that; she knew that he didn't get another girlfriend that year, but never really thought about it. In her mind, the split-up had been entirely natural, and, if it bothered him, well... he'd just have to grow up a bit, wouldn't he? Thus, when he called her up, she had not hesitated to accept his invitation. He had moved to the nearby town of Point Hope after graduation, where he worked as a clerk in a department store. For Stacy, it represented the chance to get away from her present situation; to go to a party with people who didn't know her and wouldn't force her to have sex with them. It sounded perfect. She even bought a new dress for the occasion. A sleeveless green dress with little ruffles on the shoulders. It matched her eyes perfectly, and, she thought, it made her look a bit like a little girl. She had made a mental note to do her hair up into a pony tail. It was the sort of look which used to drive the guys wild back when she had enjoyed that sort of teasing.Now, of course, she was obliged, as often as not, to put out, so the cock-teasing was not as much fun as it used to be. Not tonight, though. Tonight, she could be her old self. No one in Point Hope knew her or went to Greenwood. It would be just like old times. Peter showed up at 7:00 PM as planned. It was almost a two-hour drive to Point Hope, so he wanted to leave fairly early. She had been ready a good fifteen minutes before he arrived, but she still kept him waiting downstairs for almost half an hour; it was just like old times. He hadn't changed much. Always rather short, the last couple of years had seen his body fill out quite a bit until he was beginning to show a bit of pudginess. Obviously, the clerking job at the department store didn't involve much physical activity. Stacy felt herself sneering a bit as he led her out to his car - a somewhat battered Toyota Tercel; he was turning into a bit of a slob. The way he looked now, he couldn't be getting too much attention from any girls; that was probably why he had turned to his old high school girlfriend for a date at this party. No doubt he'd be so overwhelmed at having such a beautiful date as herself, he'd do whatever she wanted. What a schmuck! The drive up the coast to Point Hope was not particularly scenic. The only real nice part of the drive came just as they passed by the Point Hope Maximum Security Penitentiary and crested the hill leading down into the town itself. Point Hope was a quiet little town nestled against the beach below the sandstone cliffs. The view from the top of the hill was little short of spectacular. Stacy, however, had seen it all before. Besides, she was having too much fun annoying Peter. The two-hour drive had been marked by small talk and long silences, but Stacy had quickly discovered that Peter was still easily upset by talk of their brief relationship a couple years earlier in high school. He had flushed an angry red when she had brought it up earlier in the trip, and had, since then, shut up almost entirely. Stacy, however, was enjoying herself immensely. She made a point of bringing it up as often as possible. By the time they arrived at the party, she was in a great mood, and Peter was quiet and sullen. Peter fought to remain patient as he led Stacy up the walk to the front door. This had better be worth it! He had received a phone call from a guy - some kid - at Greenwood, telling him something about Stacy's recent activities, and about her "weakness" for alcohol. The caller had suggested that once she had a couple of drinks in her, she would do anything, and that 'wouldn't it be nice if the two of them got back together for a date.' Peter wasn't sure if he believed him, but it was worth a try. Stacy had been an incredible bitch to him in high school, and any chance to get even was well worth attempting. Since the phone call, he had been experiencing this recurring fantasy... Stacy quickly realized that she was overdressed for the party. Most of the guests seemed to be blue-collar workers from a local fish packing plant; the majority of them wore nothing more fancy than jeans and t-shirts. Stacy was the only woman there in a dress. She was also the only one young enough to be in high school. Peter immediately brought her a glass of punch. When she sipped at it, Stacy discovered that it was a bit strong for her taste, but not too bad. She took another, longer, drink from the glass. The way things were shaping up at the party, a couple of drinks might well be called for. The whole idea of coming to this party with her ex-boyfriend was beginning to look like a bad idea. A little alcohol never hurt anyone; she finished the drink. Peter brought her another one and stood talking with her while she finished that one as well. He asked her to dance. At first, everything went well. The music was up-tempo and the dancing was fun, despite her inappropriate dress. After a while, though, she began to feel a bit queasy. It must have been the punch. In fact, she realized suddenly, if felt a little like... A new song started. A slow song. Peter pulled her close, into his chest; instinctively, she draped her bare arms over his shoulders and they began to dance, slowly revolving around the dance floor. As they danced, Stacy began to experience the now-familiar feeling of disassociation as the room started to spin. She closed her eyes and held on to Peter's shoulders, trying to fight off the dizziness. The drug! They had drugged her; Gary must have arranged this. Panicked, Stacy tried to disentangle herself, but she was unable to do so. Her limbs failed to respond properly, and it was all she could do to hold onto her dance partner in order to keep herself from sinking to the floor. Around and around they went, each revolution sending Stacy's perception spinning, until all she was aware of in the room was Peter. There was nothing else; just a blur of sound and a solid object she could hang onto. She felt the warm tingling begin in her groin. "Stacy..." A voice! Her eyes opened and struggled to focus on the face in front of her. Peter? Everything else was a blur. "Do you remember going out with me in high school?" Remember? Of course she remembered. Stacy nodded in the affirmative, still trying to focus. Why was he asking? The tingle in her groin grew stronger. "We went on nine dates," Peter murmured to her. "Nine dates..." Stacy felt one of his hands leave her shoulder, slide down the back of her dress and latch onto her ass. She felt that she should make some objection, but... "And all I got was one kiss," the voice continued. "One kiss..." The blonde teenager tried to focus on what Peter was saying, but the hand on her butt was making concentration difficult. She felt the hand pull away... "One kiss..." ...and begin pulling the zipper of her dress down her back. She tried to wriggle free, but her arms remained wrapped around Peter's shoulders. "I don't think that's fair. Do you?" "N-no." Stacy discovered that she could speak, although even her own voice seemed distant to her. The zipper was now all the way down, and she could feel the cool air of the room on the small of her back. The feelings of arousal increased, spreading up from her crotch into her belly. Involuntarily, she ground her lower body against Peter as the dance continued. "So," Peter continued, "we're going to work through those dates now. All nine of them. As they should have been." Stacy tried to shake her head, no. Not here; she wanted him to take her to a bedroom or something... do what he wanted there, but not here. Not in front of... "First date," he whispered, his tongue licking out at her ear. "A kiss would be nice." Retreating from her ear, he brought his lips down against hers. She moaned softly, parting her lips, but he quickly pulled away. That felt so good, but not here. Please, not here. "Second date," he continued. One of the straps of the dress slid off a shoulder. She tried to shrug it back on, but it just slipped further down her arm. "Maybe some tongue." This time, he thrust his tongue into her willing mouth. She kissed back, unable to do anything else as a wave of lust surged through her body. Oh god... The kiss broke, but the dance continued. The dance continued through the "third date", where he copped a feel of her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Her nipples hardened immediately when he ran his fingers over them. On the "fourth date", he removed her bra, unclipping it from behind her back and sliding it off. By now, her dress had slid down off the other shoulder, uncovering her back all the way down to the top of her ass and leaving her breasts partly exposed... More of the same on the "fifth date". Some heavy necking while mauling at her now almost-naked breasts. By now, Stacy was panting with lust, all thought of where she was and who she was with having fled her mind. All that mattered was... The dance. She missed what he said on the "sixth date", but by the end of the "seventh", she was grinding her crotch against him with abandon... "Eight date," he panted, hoarse. "It's time you felt my cock." She didn't need to be told twice. Groaning with lust, she disentangled one arm from around his neck and reached down to his crotch. With an ease born of much practice, she pulled down the zipper and slide his cock free of his pants. It was already damp and rigid... "Ninth date," he gasped. "You need to be fucked." He looked at her. "Beg for it." "Please fuck me," she moaned. "I need to be fucked. Please put your lovely cock into me, Peter. Fill me up. Please..." Peter could take no more. He had been dreaming of this moment for over two years. With a cry, he shoved her back against the wall, pulled one of her legs up, and shoved his cock straight into her dripping pussy. The dress, bunched up at the waist to allow him access to her pussy, fell forward, abandoning any pretence of covering her breasts. Stacy didn't care. Holding onto his shoulders, she wrapped both legs around Peter's ass and fucked him right back as he drove her again and again against the wall. She drooled and slobbered and squirmed out her lust, all the time moaning and crying for him to fuck her harder. He obliged... The last trembling vestige of orgasm rippled though her beaten body. Groggy, she looked up from the floor where she sat, propped against the wall. Just as she did so, a flash went off...and then another. Dazed, the blonde teenager looked around. She was lying, practically naked, against the wall, her green dress a shapeless mess around her waist.A group of people - the guests at the party - were standing around, looking down on her and laughing. A few of them had cameras and were using them. She heard the words "slut" and "whore" being used in conversation. Were they talking about her? Just as had happened before, the orgasm seemed to have burned away the effects of the drugs, leaving Stacy clear-headed and sober. Sobbing with embarrassment, she stumbled to her feet, her breasts bobbing merrily, clutching her dress around her as the crowd laughed. Another flash went off. The dress didn't seem torn, and she quickly had it back over her breasts, but she was unable to zip it up on her own. Eyes downcast, she pushed her way through the crowd, looking for... "Peter!" He was standing with a couple of guys near the entrance to the kitchen, drinking a beer. "What... what are you..." He looked over at her and smirked. "I'd heard that you had become quite a slut since my days at Greenwood. I just wanted to see if it was true." Stacy stopped talking and began to cry. Yet another flash went off. "Stop it," she cried, spinning around to strike out at whoever was taking the picture. The blow missed, however, and she succeeded only in letting the front of her dress flop forward again. Two pictures were taken of her re-exposed breasts before she was able to cover up. Furious, she turned back to Peter. "Take me home," she ordered. "Now." Peter just laughed. "Are you kidding? Get home yourself, you slut." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. "Take this," he said, handing it to her. "There's a bus depot just down the block. There are buses to Bakersville every couple of hours." Stunned, she held the ten dollar bill in her hand, staring at him. Eventually, she turned and stumbled through the laughing crowd to the door, still holding her unzipped dress around her. "And Stacy," Peter called out from behind her. She turned; maybe he was going to give her a ride after all. "You were worth every penny." The crowd roared with laughter as Stacy, tears running down her face, ran out into the cool night air...

Part Nine-A

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10889.txt

Spoonbender

The Legend 4

"It happened like I say." "Come on, Dad! We know you've been sipping your ale. It's the ale talking." "I swear it. Your great-grandfather, he saw it, plain as day." "Where did it happen, Dad?" "Right here. Close enough." "Tell us again, Dad." Owain Morgan settled back in his chair and tamped his clay pipe. He stared at the two youngsters, his sons, fifteen and seventeen. Hard men, farming men. Wresting a precarious living from the thin soil of the hills made them men before their time. The candle flickered as he grabbed his tankard, the head frothing over the side as he waved it towards the window, out across the rain-drenched hills. He told the tale his father told him, passed on from generation to generation. "It was the battle of Builth Wells," he started. Wyn, his eldest, cut in. "There wasn't any battle of Builth Wells." "Maybe 'battle' is too strong a word. The fight of Builth, we'll be calling it then." "Aye, the fight. Carry on, Dad." "Then the fight. A little battle, to be sure, but guts were spilt right enough. English guts. The boys had caught a coach, packed through with damsels and guarded by dragoons. Lady Morris of Trecwn and her three comely daughters. Visiting their cousin in Strata Florida, a-worshipping and a-taking the waters, you see. Travelling at night they were, riding by the light of the moon. Rich women, tidy women. Slim of limb, proud of breast. Noble women, high of carriage, soft of flesh. Women you be dreaming about." He looked at his sons. They sat mesmerized by the visions in their heads. It was just like when he first heard the tale. He took time to refresh his pipe as they fidgeted impatiently. At last, he continued. "They were captured by the boys. 'Twas a good day. The dragoons were in terror of naked Welsh steel." "Ah!" The dream of the Welsh since Edward Longshanks had bestrode the Cambrian Mountains and built his mighty grey castles, and Owain Glyndwr was slain by treacherous turncoats. Welsh steel, English blood. The dream, the dream. "Then, Dad! What happened then?" "They were a-calling and a-wailing, but the boys carried them off. Would make fine serving wenches. Made I laugh, great-granddad said, fine women serving the boys. Serving them in fine ways too, not just food and liquor, but in closer ways. In the ways of men and women." The younger man's eyes lit up. It was sex his dad was alluding to. The dark shadow between Anharad's legs when he caught her bathing in the brook. That be sex. He dreamed about it in his loft. His brother, who had bedded Blodwyn the Red in the haybarn last year, smiled nonchalantly. "Go on, Dad." "The next morning they came. The men from the valleys. Miners, see. Brought from England. Called themselves Welsh. But they couldn't speak our language. Welshmen they were not. They came, tracking, looking for the boys." "Grrh!" Cursed miners, gathered from the flatlands of Derbyshire to hew the coal and the gold from under the feet of the true-born Celts. "Leading the Redcoats. Finding the boys. Surrounded them they did, see." "How'd they get away, Dad? Was Great-Granddad killed?" Owain looked askance at his youngest son. Bright he was not! "Look you. I'll be a-telling the story. If you want me to finish, then you will put the cover on the well." "Sorry, Dad." "Better. The boys, they be a-thinking with these big English turnabouts after them. They tried to get into the Lyswen Forest, but the women were a-dragging 'em back. It 'twas then that great-granddad had his idea. He forced the women to undress and he tied them to the trees on the edge of the forest, with nothing protecting them." "That musta been a sight, ay, Dad?" Exclaimed his youngest, his face flushed with the thought of it. "My Dad, he told I that Great-Granddad says the same. 'Twas the same for the miners. A rabble they were, see. Saw these women all defenseless and they forgets the chase, see. Falls on the women. Taking their chastity like." Again, he paused to relight his pipe. "Great-granddad, he stayed on, hidden in the forest, see. Watched the miners take the women, all screaming and struggling. Then the dragoons they came. The leader was Lord Morris. He was powerful angry, seeing his womenfolk being used like that. So he sets his dragoons onto the miners. 'Twas a mighty fight, with no quarter given. Great-Granddad, he called the boys back, and just as the dragoons started to win, they fell on them and killed them all." "They all got killed? All the English?" "'Tis true, boy. Then great-granddad, he says that it weren't right that the women should be left alone out there. 'Cause their master, he be killed too. So they took them. They produced many a fine son and a handsome girl 'cause they were made to serve all the single men in the hills. Put new blood into the hills it did, see. Made us strong, helped us fight. They say there is a bit of Lady Morris in all of us. Maybe it be true."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7781.txt

Andrew Roller

Fevered Fall

"YEEEEEEK!" I cried. I had come home half an hour early from school. I'd come up the driveway humming a happy tune about Tommy the Tugboat, who Told. Tommy told about everything: drugs, strange men in the neighborhood, even parked cars along the curb that didn't look like they "belonged" there. The song went like this: I'm Tommy, and I Tell! That's why All is Well! I patrol the harbor, Nearer and farther, And Tell everything I see! Nothing gets by Me! Anyway, I came into the house and there was my aunt, being attacked! At least it looked like she was. My boyfriend, Brad, was arched over her. He was completely naked, except for his socks. His pants were tossed over the back of a chair, and he was pounding on her with his hips. His long, thick penis was hammering her repeatedly. He looked like one of those workingmen that you see in the street, operating a drill. With vengeful pneumatic-like strokes, he thrust himself into my aunt's soft, shuddering body. She groaned. She lifted her legs, as if trying to rise, but my boyfriend's thrusting cock kept moving in and out of her, pinning her to the couch. She clawed his back. He swore at her. There were no kisses. There were no sweet blandishments. They weren't even hugging. Brad was braced by his elbows, his face a little above my aunt's, and his eyes alternately staring at nothing and shut tight. His hips did most of the movement, forward and back, up and down. His ass looked like a tight ball, both cheeks clenched hard. His penis was engorged and dripping with my aunt's intimate juices. Brad worked it remoreselessly between her legs, as if trying to rip out her insides with the long, plunging strokes of his organ. "Stop! Please! What are you doing?!" I shouted to both of them. Neither responded. It was as if I wasn't there. Brad kept pumping, and my aunt, willingly or not, received his every stroke with new shudders of her body. I watched as Brad climaxed and delivered his load of sperm deep into my aunt. She shouted, trembled, broke into screams. Somewhat red-faced, my aunt explained to me afterward what they'd been doing. "I'm helping him practise, dear," my auntie explained. She sat next to me on the couch where they'd fucked, and I, still in my school clothes, sat between her and my boyfriend. I rubbed Brad's hairy thigh. I eyed his cock. It was much diminished now. Droplets of sperm oozed from its tip, forming a pool on the couch's brocaded surface, but my aunt seemed not to mind. It made me wonder why she was so worried about my water balloons, when she didn't seem to mind at all having boys shoot their jism onto her furniture. Near my hips, the couch was wet from their tryst. "Why does he need to practise?" I asked my aunt. I reached between Brad's legs and fondled his flaccid penis. It was warm and slick from fucking. It felt strange. "Because," my aunt said. Her blush became deeper. She was dressed in a robe, but it was open where her legs met. With a flick of her hand, she covered her bush. Then she shifted her hips, and the robe fell open again. I saw sticky stuff gleaming in the lowermost portion of her pubic hair; Brad's sperm. He'd overfilled her cunt, and it was seeping out into her robe and perhaps onto the surface of the couch also. My aunt coughed, tugged at her robe again, then said: "Because, dear, we've been invited to a fuck fest." "A what?" I asked. Brad's cock grew a little within the inquiring grasp of my fingers. "It's called a fuck fest, dearest," my aunt said. She reached out and patted my head, stroking my hair. It was the same hand she'd used to pull at her robe, and I squirmed, I didn't want her putting Brad's sperm in my hair. "Do I have to go?" I asked. "Only if you want to," my aunt said. She looked at my boyfriend. "Brad and I are going," she said. "Well then I'm going too!" I declared. "But I don't want to be fucked." "What are you doing home from school early?" my aunt asked me. "I brought you a note about it, last week," I said. "Tommy the Tugboat visited us and made a special presentation, about Telling, and so we got out early." "Oh," my aunt said. She lowered her eyes and pulled again at her robe, finally pulling enough of it across her thighs so that it wouldn't slip off and reveal her nest when she moved her hips again. It was made of the softest, smoothest silk. It was a robe from Japan, like the Geisha girls wear. "Who's Tommy the Tugboat?" Brad asked me. "Tommy Tells on everybody," I said. Brad's cock grew bigger. It exceeded the scope of my hand. "Tell Tommy I'm getting another hard on," Brad said. He glanced past me at my aunt."Or he'll tell you he's going to go use the toilet, and you know what boys sometimes do in there, when they get really desperate." "I know!" I said. "I saw my cousin Johnnie in the bathroom once, and he was, like, sitting on the toilet to poop, but he was also yanking hard on his dick, even though it was so big it stuck out over the toilet seat, and the head of it was hanging over the floor." "Yes, dear," my aunt said. "You told me that when you were eight. I haven't forgotten." "And he's like, 25 too! He shouldn't be spurting all over the floor!" I said. "So anyway, I want you to be a little bit like Tommy the Tugboat," my aunt explained. "Keep an eye on Brad. And don't let him get away with anything. Don't let him fuck you, don't let him wank himself, don't let him do anything. I want his balls completely full for the fuck fest." "Alright," I said. I grinned. I liked the idea of supervising my boyfriend. "Now," my aunt said, with a toss of her long, chestnut-brown hair. "It's important that Brad exercise. He slept late today, so he still needs to swim his laps. Would you please take him out back and see that he does all of them?" "God, I don't want to swim, I want to fuck," Brad said, turning and looking hopefully at my aunt. "Brad, I love having a man of the house, but here the woman of the house is above the man of the house," my aunt told him. "I want you to go out back and do your laps while I fix you dinner. Then, after dinner, we'll read sexy stories, by the fire, to keep you thinking about sex so your balls stay inspired to become as full as possible. And I'm going to make us eggnog too, because I read eggnog causes men to produce lots of sperm in their balls." "Augh!" Brad said. He arched his hips. "That's what I don't need." "And then," my aunt said, pausing to lick her lips. "Then, Brad dearest, I'm going to put you in my bed and tie you spread-eagled to it, on your back, with your glorious cock sticking up hard and ready all night." My aunt slipped a hand between the folds of her kimono, and rubbed herself where Brad had fucked her. "What if he needs a drink of water?" I asked my aunt. "Then you'll get up and get it for him," my aunt told me. "Because you and I, dear Chloe, are going to sleep on either side of Brad, to keep watch over him all night long." "He'll be as desperate as a tiger by Friday," I confessed to my aunt, turning my head and looking at Brad's penis. It stuck up like a spear, red and throbbing and obviously hungry. "Yes, that's the point," my aunt said. "He'll be raring to go." "You girls are terrible," Brad said. I looked at my bosoms. "Auntie! My top is too small!" I protested. I had on a black bikini swimsuit. Its cups held my nipples, but little else, leaving the roundness of my bosom-cones appealingly naked. I gazed at the whiteness of my breasts, set off starkly against my more deeply tanned tummy and shoulders. How embarrassing for my bosoms to be so revealingly displayed! And the little top only seemed to emphasize my tits, snugly fitting over my nipples but not the rest of my mammaries. The bottom of the bikini was worse. A small, flat pouch, cut like a slim triangle, lay smoothly over my vulva. The rest of the panty was just a string. It ran round my hips, holding up the triangle of material over my pussy. It connected to a thong in back that split the cheeks of my bottom. My sex was barely contained in the panty. In front, the triangle of material cupped the front of my labia. But the back half of my sex was left exposed. The panty's front pouch gave out, halfway back along my sex, turning into a thong which dipped into the lips of my pussy instead of spreading across the lips and covering them. I tugged at my panties and tried adjusting them. No luck. They still lay awkwardly upon my sex, both hiding me and, at the same time, separating me. If I wasn't careful the whole panty would wedge itself into my lips and leave me showing my vulva to all who cared to look. "Auntie!" I cried again. I fussed with my top. "Why is my bikini made of leather, auntie?" I asked. "I can't go swimming in a leather bikini!" My aunt walked briskly into my bedroom. She wore panties like mine, with a bustier. It was made of leather, and was black, the same color as my bikini. She was lacing up the front of it with her fingers. She wore gloves on her hands; long, opera-length gloves that extended all the way up above her elbows. Her bosoms, not yet contained by the bustier, wobbled freely above its bra cups. Her nipples were hard. "Darling, don't yell so loud. Your window's open. Do you want the neighbors to hear?" my aunt asked me. "My swimsuit's too racy," I told her. "And I want gloves, like you have." My aunt ignored me and went to my closet. She drew a pair of boots from it. They were made of polished leather. "Here, put these on," my aunt said. "But auntie, you bought those for me to go riding with!" I said. "On horses." "I know," my aunt smiled. "But I want you to wear them tonight too. Do you have a ribbon? Tie your hair in a ponytail and put a black ribbon in it, to match your swimsuit." "This is silly," I said, taking the boots from her. "I look like I'm going riding and to the pool too! And in leather." "Yes," my aunt said. She turned. "Brad. Brad, darling, does it fit?" My boyfriend walked into the room. He was nude except for a zippered pouch over his cock. It held him like a stocking, leaving his balls free. The pouch was made of leather, black like the clothes my aunt and I were wearing. "This is the most ridiculous pair of underpants I've ever put on," Brad said. "They don't even hold my balls. And in back, there's just this damn rope cutting between the cheeks of my ass." He tugged at a leather thong splitting his bottomcheeks. "Yes," my aunt said. "They're not meant to be practical, dear. They're meant for show." Brad flexed his arms. His muscles bulged. He looked at me, then in my bedroom mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, admiring himself. His cock stuck out from his body. "I don't want to wear a collar," Brad said to my aunt's reflection, in my mirror. "You'll wear that, plus a leash too," my aunt said. "Go into my bedroom. There's one in the top drawer." "Damn, I look good," Brad said, still staring at himself. He was lean and strong from his daily exercising in our pool. He was tanned all over, except for his buns, where my aunt had insisted he cover himself so his ass would be "nice and white for our party." Now, his bottom uncovered, it stood out starkly white against the trim tanned lines of his thighs and back. "I can't believe you want me to go dressed like this, with my ass showing," Brad said. "Are there going to be other men there?" "Yes," my aunt said. "What if some of them are fucking gays?" Brad said. "Then don't bend over," my aunt smirked. "Look at me. I look like I'm going swimming, and horse riding too," I told Brad, sitting on the floor and pulling my boots on. He turned. He looked down at me. "If your aunt weren't standing right here I'd be on you, fucking you so fast, you wouldn't know what hit you," Brad told me frankly. "Thanks a lot," I said. I sat with my legs splayed, pulling on my boots, and Brad looked between my legs. "That suit doesn't even cover her little snatch," Brad told my aunt. "Such a pity," my aunt said, leaning forward as she fitted herself into the bustier. "It's a disgrace for a girl her age to be outfitted like that," Brad told my aunt. "Punch me in my tummy, dear. I've got to get this bustier on," my aunt said. Then, seeing Brad seemed eager to do as she wished, my aunt added: "Not too hard!" I watched as Brad punched my aunt. It forced the breath from her and she yanked hard on the strings of her bustier. It closed over her. She smiled, gasped. "Thanks," Rebecca told my boyfriend. "Here, let me pull on those strings for you," Brad said. "I can make your bustier nice and tight for you." "Not-- too-- tight," my aunt sighed, watching as Brad, his zipped-up cock sticking out in front of him like a spear, tugged on her bustier's ties. My aunt's bosoms, enclosed now within the garment, bulged soft and tempting above the bustier as Brad made it tighter. When Brad had tied off the bustier's strings my aunt's nipples could be seen rising from the top of the bustier, the upper half of each fleshy red disk showing, like twin suns rising. One of her nipples popped free. "Ooops," my aunt said. "Here, let me get it," Brad said. He tucked my aunt's nipple back into the bustier as she watched. "You're full, but when we come home you're going to be empty," I told Brad, gazing up at him from the floor. "I know," Brad said. "You're going to spurt your sperm out at the party," I said. "Brad knows that, dear," my aunt said. "You're going to make a deposit, like when we go to the bank!" I said. "I'm going to get some much-needed relief," Brad said. "I'm not. I don't need any. I'm a girl," I told him. "You may just watch if you wish, dear," my aunt told me. "Are you going to get fucked, auntie?" I asked. Rebecca blushed. "I-- I don't know, dear," my aunt said. "Perhaps I won't care for any of the men. I don't know who will be there." She clapped her hands, as if to silence me. "Let's just enjoy ourselves, okay?" she asked. "After all, it's the weekend!The party was to take place in a hotel downtown. A large suite had been reserved. The use of a suite for such an affair ensured that nobody's own property was involved; if anything went awry, nobody's home was on the line. A person might get sued, but the police could not call their home "a crime scene." I saw the need for this precaution shortly after we arrived. At the door, we were met by a girl with an elfin face. She was blonde, with lustrous big eyes, taller than me but shorter than my aunt. She opened the door to the hotel suite and stared out at us, her lips soft, her gaze inviting, but perhaps slightly bored. She drew the suite's door inward, letting half her body be seen. She was topless. She seemed not to mind that we had a full, perfect view of one of her breasts, with its rose red nipple standing up perkily at the summit of her breast. In fact, as she regarded us, she tugged lightly on the skimpy bikini panties she wore. She pulled at the front of them, as if her small feminine sex found them too tight. Or perhaps her cunny was too aroused, and wished to be free of her panty. We were wearing street clothes over our costumes, so they wouldn't be seen. "Are you here for the party?" the pouty blonde asked. Her liquid eyes scanned us. "Yes," my aunt replied. "I'm here for the party too," I told the girl, who seemed to focus herself entirely too much, I thought, on my boyfriend. Brad, in response to the girl's gaze, opened the top button of his shirt, showing his collar. "Oh," the girl said, looking at Brad. "Please come in." She drew back the door. Rebecca pushed me ahead, I exchanged glances with the blonde and she looked at me with snub-nosed insouciance. I wanted to stick my tongue out at her, but didn't. "Right over here," the blonde said, closing the door behind us. She pointed to a table. I saw clothes hung on hooks in front of the table. A brunette was standing behind it, smiling. She had on a leopard print teddy. Its plunging V front ran all the way down to her dell. Wisps of her pussy hair showed at the base of her teddy's V. I gazed at her flat, nude belly, at the dimple of her navel. How wicked her teddy was! Her bosoms were tentatively held, the cloth of the teddy covering just the nipples, leaving all the rest to be seen. It was, as Seneca might say, "The sort of garment which revealed no more when it was taken off." (I read about Seneca for a book report I had to do; he owns all the grape juice at the grocery store.) I felt jealous, having my boyfriend surrounded by such lovely, scantily-clad women. The redhead behind the table nodded to us and lightly touched a riding crop lying atop the table. My aunt turned. She began unbuttoning my boyfriend's shirt. As she did, the others watched, and the leash connected to my boyfriend's collar, hanging down the front of his chest, inside his shirt, gleamed out at them. "Oh, he's already been trained," the spoilt blonde who couldn't stop tugging on her panties remarked. "A little," my aunt said. "You know how guys are. There's always more work to be done." "Mmmm, I love guys who've been housebroken," the redhead said. She grinned at me. "He's my boyfriend," I told her. "You have wonderful taste, dear, but aren't you a little young?" the redhead asked me. "She's quite mature for her age, aren't you, Chloe?" my aunt asked me. She finished unbuttoning my boyfriend's shirt and pushed it back to reveal his chest. "Ahhh," both females sighed. "Ohhh, such big shoulders," the blonde pulling repeatedly at her panties said when my aunt took off my boyfriend's shirt. "And now for your pants, Brad," my aunt said, kneeling before my boyfriend. She unbuckled his belt. She unsnapped and unzipped his designer trousers. She grinned with delight as she lowered his pants and showed the girls the leather sheath which held his cock. "Oh, such heavy balls," the blonde remarked, seeing that my boyfriend's testicles hung free of the pouch holding his equipment. "Isn't he fine?" my aunt asked the two women. "We must measure him," the redhead said. "What's that?" I asked the redhead. I pointed to a device sitting atop the table, where she stood. It looked like a miniature gallows. "It's a guillotine," the redhead giggled. "Every man who comes to the party must put himself within it, so he can be measured, and to prove his bravery. And his obedience." "What?" Brad asked. Like a woman huntress taking out her rifle, my aunt unzipped the pouch holding Brad's penis. He sprang free, thick and hard and long and very naked. "Oh, good. He's been circumcised," the redhead said, gazing at my boyfriend's equipment. "Ooooh, how naked he is," the blonde said. "Come over here, darling," my aunt said to Brad. "You must show your willingness to obey by sticking your cock into this miniature guillotine." "Oh, don't cut his thing off!" I cried. The women laughed. "Every man must be measured before he can go in to the party," the blonde told me. I watched with horror as, impelling my boyfriend forward with a warm palm on his bottom, my aunt made Brad slide his cock within the framework of the miniature guillotine. It was, I think, something made to chop the ends off of cigars, but now it was being used for my boyfriend's cock. "It's the largest model, but it's still a close fit," the redhead said, helping my aunt work Brad within the twin posts of the guillotine. I stared raptly at the sharp blade hanging above his cock. "You must promise to be very good," the blonde, sidling up to Brad, told him. "Uh, sure," Brad answered. He gaped at his thing within the posts of the guillotine. His dong looked like a sausage at the supermarket, put into a slicer for sandwiches. "Very, very good," the redhead said. She took a ruler and measured Brad's cock. "Oh, God! Ten and a half inches!" she exclaimed. "What a monster!" She looked at Rebecca. "We can cut him down to size if you like." "No!" Brad shouted. The women giggled. "Just kidding, dear," my aunt told Brad. "Take yourself out of there before something happens to you." "Thank God!" Brad said. Quickly he drew his hips back, retrieving his erection from that awful device. "Let's undress, Chloe," my aunt told me. "We can hang our clothes on these hooks here." I looked at the clothes of the other guests, already hung on the walls just inside the suite's door. "What if somebody takes my clothes?" I asked my aunt. She smiled. "Then we'll just have to take theirs, dear," she replied. "But keep your bikini on for now." "I'm keeping my bikini on all night!" I assured her. "Can I put that, uh, thing back on my dick?" Brad asked, looking at the pouch which had so recently held him, which my aunt now slung up over one of the wall hooks. "No," Rebecca answered. "Men are to keep themselves vulnerable and displayed at all times. And ready for sex." She grinned. "It's why I didn't let you cum for the last two days, darling." "He's full!" I told the redhead. "How remarkable. I'm empty," the redhead answered. She laughed heartily, as did my aunt. I blushed a deep red. "You have nice panties," the blonde told me as I pushed down my jeans. "Thanks. So do you," I replied. "Do you mind if I lick them?" the blonde asked me. "Huh?" I said. "I like the taste of leather," she smiled at me. It was a seductive smile. I felt a sudden impulse of feeling for her, like I'd felt toward Miss Fredrickson at the office of Mr. LaCrosse. "Uh, no," I replied. "I don't need my panties licked." "Would you like to lick mine?" the blonde asked me. She jutted forth her hips. Her panties were made of black silk. "No," I said. "I'll eat them," Brad said. "Okay," the blonde told my boyfriend with willing eyes. She turned slightly and offered her hips to him. The redhead lifted the riding crop off the table and reached out and tapped the blonde on her bottom. "Be good, June," the redhead warned her. She looked at my aunt. "June's job is to make sure all the men stay hard." "Oh," my aunt said. We undressed. My aunt and I stripped down to our bikinis and we both blushed as the two women present gazed at us with frank admiration. I looked at a banner hanging above the redhead's head, on the wall behind her. "Lilith's Fuck Fest," it said, in decorative script. It was a small banner, no more than three feet across, but it sent a thrill of wonder through me. I knew Lilith was the name often applied to a woman who was very liberated. If the men, like Brad, were to wear collars and leashes, and the two women who greeted us were so obviously interested in both me and my aunt, as well as Brad, were we going to, like, be doing something together as girls? Sexually? I looked at the blonde tugging at the front of her panties and licked my lips. How sweet and soft she was! How submissive... yet challenging! She caused Brad's penis to stick out very hard and red, standing there fiddling with her panties, offering her hips so salaciously, and at the same time she even got me, a girl, excited! Fortunately Rebecca didn't allow Brad to take June up on her offer of eating her panties, allowing me to keep my jealousy within bounds. How strange to feel jealous toward a girl, and hot for her at the same time! Clad only in our miniscule bikinis, with Brad completely naked, save for his collar and leash, we were led by June into an adjoining room. I gasped.It was much bigger than the entryway where we'd hung up our clothes. There was exercise equipment scattered around the room, as well as a buffet table with food, a couch, and pillows scattered about the floor. I saw perhaps a dozen people. The men were all naked and exercising. The women wore just a little, enough to tease. They stood around or sat languidly, admiring the men. Some of them snacked on the food that had been provided. Other girls simply watched. Some furtively fingered their dells. I gazed with wonder at the sight of raw-boned, bare-assed men working out on the exercise equipment. They all had collars around their necks. From the front of each man's collar hung a leash. Despite their bondage, the men acted like men in any weight room, working their bodies, flexing their muscles, despite being attired like dogs. The girls let them run free in the room, not controlling them by their leashes as long as they approved of what they were doing. I looked at the girls' fetching clothes. They were dressed in a way sure to fire any man to perform at his very best. One girl wore a mesh cami, with white school girl panties. Another girl wore a catsuit and a g-string. June led Rebecca and me over to a girl who was topless, with just panties on, and long, black stockings. She looked at us, smiled, and picked up a bottle of baby oil. "Hi," the topless girl said. "Welcome to the fuck fest." "I'm not going to Do It," I warned her. She smiled warmly, ignoring my remark. She reached out and with delicate nails pulled open the front of my leather panties. "Ooook! What are you doing?!" I protested. Aiming for my bush, the girl squirted a long shot of baby oil right into my bikini bottom! "Rebecca!" I cried. My aunt laughed. "And now you," the girl said, turning from me, letting go of my panties, moving to my aunt. I felt wetness in my bush as the girl opened the front of my aunt's panties. Another long squirt. A sigh from my aunt. "Auntie! She got my pussy all wet!" I complained. "Yes, and oily too," my aunt smiled at me. She accepted the baby oil in her panties without protest. When the topless girl was done, she aimed the bottle she held at Brad's cock. "And now you, sir," the girl said. She fired the baby oil in a long, shooting squirt against the reddened head of his penis. She hit directly against his pee hole. Brad gaped, but said nothing. He watched with eager eyes as the girl proceeded to direct the squirting of the baby oil all along and around the shaft of his dick. When Brad was dripping wet, she stopped. "Now you must go exercise," my aunt told Brad. She pointed to the exercise equipment scattered around the room. "Go show us your stuff," she said. Eagerly my boyfriend hit the weights. He exercised with great enthusiasm. What a sight it was to see him working out with a bunch of other young, strong guys! They all were naked and had massive erections. We girls sat and chatted, watching our men work themselves like a half-dozen Hercules, doing their labors in order to win our love. All of them had cocks dripping with baby oil. If a man's penis dried off, a girl would step forward and give him a new squirt. Always it was just his cock that she aimed at, never any other part of him. How erotic it was to see all those penises, oiled and ready for whenever we wanted them! "Would you spot me?" one big, strong guy asked Brad. "Sure," Brad answered, as the man slid face-up onto a weightlifting bench. Brad leaned in over the man, his oil-coated dick dripping down into the man's face. "Sorry about my penis," Brad told the man underneath him. "Hey, no problem. I'm dripping too," the man said. He did his repetitions on the weight bench. Then they switched places and I watched with fascinated eyes as Brad, lifting hard, let the man's penis drip baby oil and pre-cum into his open, gasping mouth. "How do I taste?" the man asked Brad, when my boyfriend had finished doing a set. "A pussy would be much better," Brad replied. "We'll get plenty of that soon," the man said. "I hope so," Brad said. "I haven't had anything in two days." "Shit," the man said. "I haven't cum in a week." "You must be dying," Brad said. "Be glad I didn't jism into your mouth," the man said. "I'm bisexual." "Thanks for the warning," Brad said. "But I'm not." "I'm anything," June said, stepping up to the men with a bottle of baby oil. "What? We don't need any more of that. We're already dripping all over each other," Brad protested. Nonetheless, June aimed at each man's cock in turn and liberally doused his member along its whole length with baby oil. We watched the men exercise some more. They worked like slaves, eager to please us with the sight of their straining, bulging muscles. Each man tried to outdo the other in how much weight he could lift. Sometimes the men cracked gay jokes, or made lewd proposals to each other. I felt a thrill whenever one man, as in a game of football, patted another man on the behind. It was all in good fun, and yet, with them all so hard, I wondered if they might not go down on each other if they didn't have us girls waiting for them. I gazed about the room. How festive it looked! Streamers hung down from the ceiling. Party decorations were pinned to the walls. And then there were the balloons, long ones, half-inflated, with penis-like tips, because the balloons had each been filled only half full with air. It was all so pleasantly fun and erotic. I tugged at my wet swimsuit. It was only wet where I'd been squirted with baby oil, making me feel like I'd wet it myself, with my own juices. (Which, I had no doubt, I must've done a little of, looking at all the men.) June sat down next to me and leaned close. "Do you really need this?" she asked. "What?" I said. Her fingers stole across my bra. "Ooooh, don't," I said. But she plucked at my nearest bra cup and lifted it, liberating my nipple. "Your tits are hard," June said to me. "I know," I answered. "They look so suckable," June said. "Don't!" I gasped. June put her small, delicate mouth to my nearest tit and sucked on it tenderly. "Eeeek!" I shouted. The other partiers laughed. "June likes your niece's nipples," Nadine, the redhead who'd manned the guillotine by the front door, told my aunt. They were sitting together on some pillows on the floor, munching orange scones and drinking tea. "Yes," my aunt answered. "More tea?" she asked. She picked up a tea kettle off the floor in front of them. "Thanks," Nadine said. My aunt refilled her cup as I watched, gasping, as June licked at my right nipple. "Say, has a man ever lost himself in your guillotine?" my aunt asked Nadine. The redhead picked up her refilled teacup and drank from it, sipping slowly. "No," Nadine answered, in a voice that seemed laced with disappointment. "But there's always the possibility, if he disobeys," Nadine answered. "How... intriguing," my aunt said. "Mmmm," Nadine agreed. And, to my utter surprise, my aunt leaned over and pushed aside the V of Nadine's teddy, revealing her bosoms. The woman's tits spilled out. They hung nakedly, freely, in front of her, the nipples hard and tempting. My aunt drew back. "Oh! I'm sorry!" my aunt said. "I don't know what came over me, except you have such pretty boobs, I couldn't help having a peek." My aunt blushed. "There's no need to apologize," the redhead smiled. She reached out and began untying my aunt's bustier. It was a slow job. She was tied in tightly and the laces had to be completely undone. My aunt watched, made no protest. I cried out to her again that June was licking my tits, but she seemed not to hear. Instead, she stared down at her own tits, watching as they were slowly freed from her leather bustier. When finally her mounds of flesh were revealed in all their nude glory, Nadine bent forward and began feeding on them. "Oh, your mouth is like a baby's!" my aunt sighed. "Mmmm, quiet dear," Nadine said. She slurped at my aunt's bosoms and my aunt bit her lip. I, meanwhile, had suffered the unveiling of both my tits, and June was making me hot by continuing to pay the most delicate, sensuous attention to my twin nipples with her tongue. My tits were covered with saliva from her mouth. I leaned back, I sighed. I couldn't keep her off me, she was so ravenous. Her touch made me feel weak. I reached into my oil-wetted panties and diddled my slit. The men continued to work out as we girls played with each other. When June had tantalized me completely, it was my turn. I fed at her breasts with a lustiness I'd not known I possessed for another girl. My aunt went farther, actually undressing Nadine completely, letting the same be done to her, and engaging the woman in a 69. Their sighs filled the room, as the men, grunting away, did their best not to shoot at the spectacle of two girls licking each other to orgasm. Wicked games followed. The men were gathered around a small table. Marbles were placed on the table and we girls supervised them as they played marbles with their dicks. The men used their oiled, erect cocks to knock the marbles into each other. When a marble fell off the table, the man who owned it was given a slash on his buttocks with Nadine's riding crop. The next game involved a metal basin with champagne in it. The liquor was made as cold as possible, having big chunks of ice floating in it. Plastic rings were dropped into the water. They floated on the surface.Each man had to lean over the tub and attempt to scoop out the rings using his cock. The men complained about the temperature of the water, saying it made their cocks feel as cold as icicles, and the liquor made the skin of their dicks sting. We girls merely laughed. The last game was for us girls. We paired off. A long plastic mat was rolled out on the floor, going from one end of the room to the other. Two lines of whipped cream were squirted down the length of the mat. We girls greased our bosoms with baby oil. By now we were all naked, and our bosoms gleamed under the party lights as we waited our turn to play the game. The game involved two girls racing each other from one end of the mat to the other. The first to arrive at the other end was the winner. However, each girl had to lick up the line of whipped cream that had been squirted in front of her, down the entire length of the mat. At the same time, each female had to push a ball down the entire length of the mat using her breasts, as her hands were tied behind her back. I raced against my aunt. We both crawled down the mat, neck and neck, busily licking up the line of cream. At the same time, using just our breasts, we had to move the ball along. My stiff nipples scraped the mat, which was fortunately made of slick rubber. I lost control of my ball and had to crawl backward to the starting line and begin again. Fortunately, my aunt's ball rolled away and she had to back up and begin again too. With our bottoms well displayed, my aunt and I were tempting targets for Nadine's riding crop. At first she didn't bother us, but after one minute of 'free time,' our bottoms were fair game. She cracked us across our heinies to inspire us to play more diligently. I howled; my auntie protested, but she and I were both so aroused by our circumstances that we didn't give up trying to beat each other. The next game involved the basin again. Condoms were inflated by the men, using their mouths, and then tied off and dropped into the basin. We girls had our hands tied behind our backs by the men and were blindfolded. Two by two, we girls had to kneel over the basin and try to pick up as many condoms as we could with our lips and teeth. I managed to get out one more condom than my aunt. At last we could stand no more, and Nadine ordered us all to lie down. She told us we had been excellent participants at the Lilith Fuck Fest and sprinkled us with honey, to make our bodies adhere more completely when we went into the bedroom next to the main party room and fucked. Then, with even myself willing now, we trooped into the bedroom and humped like rabbits until dawn.

Part 2 of 22

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14859.txt

Jonathan Dzoba

Kay & Beverly - The Birthday Movie

"I don't know. I just don't know what to get him, Bev." I flopped over another page in my history book. She had come over to stay the night while Mom was away on another business trip. "What does he like?" she answered. "Constant sex," I laughed. "That's practically all we do when we're together, anyway," I added jeeringly. "Oh. Well then, your problem's solved," she said. "Just give it to him," she laughed. "Very funny. I do. All the time," I said. "It's nice," I smiled. "I guess," Bev stated, "or you wouldn't do it." I read another page in my history book, then got up for a drink. I went to the kitchen. "Want something?" I yelled back across to the Florida room. "Sex." I laughed. "No," Bev added. "Get a boyfriend," I yelled. "Very funny," she yelled back. "Why not?" I asked when I came back into the room. I sat across from her on the floor at the other side of the coffee table scattered with homework. "Because I'm not interested in anybody. When somebody I like asks me, I'll do it," she said for the umpteenth time. It was the same thing she always said when I asked her about going out. Her stock reply. I shrugged it off and went on to chapter five. Bev kept on at her math. By six o'clock we were getting hungry. I got up and made some spaghetti. She liked it. She said I was a good cook. "You'll make a fine wife some day," she chided. "Mmm hmm. And a fine vet, too, I hope," I added seriously. "You're so sure that's what you want to do, huh?" "I guess I always have been," I said. "Why don't you buy Jerry a dog for his birthday?" Bev said. "Because he hates dogs," I said flatly. "Why?" "I don't know. He doesn't know, either. Just doesn't like them. Says they're too fawny, too mushy. Which is weird 'cause he's so mushy and romantic." "Is he? I never would have thought it. He looks like the cerebral type." "Oh, he is. He's so smart it's disgusting. He never studies much. Just knows it somehow. But he reads a lot, I guess." "So what are you going to get him, then?" Bev said. "I don't know," I said exasperatedly. Bev picked up the TV guide. "What's on TV tonight? Anything good?" That was all I needed. The idea came to me. "I've got it!" I half shouted. "I think," I hesitated. I didn't know how to do it. "What is it? Tell me," Bev said. "Well, I might need your help," I said. "And I've got to think about it. I'm not sure," I giggled. "What is it?" Bev wanted to know. I was reluctant to say. I just smiled. "Oh come on. Tell me. Or is it something you can't say in public? Some weird sex thing?" she laughed. "Well, not TOO weird," I said. "Oh god. Forget it then," Bev said and started to reach for the channel changer. "But I do need your help," I volunteered. "With what?" Bev laughed. I thought about it again. Enough seconds went by that Bev became curious. "So. What with?" she repeated. "I'll show you," I said. "But you've got to promise not to tell anyone. Promise. *Not a soul!*" I said. I waited till she nodded in agreement, then disappeared into my bedroom."In some of the other kinds of films, they put the camera right next to things," I said. "You don't happen to have one of those around, do you?" Bev said. "I'd like to see what it's like. For the camera, of course," she added. "Of course," I laughed at her. "Oh, stop it. Just go get the damn thing, would you?" she said. "And I don't believe you have one! You guys are really kinky!" she laughed. I hesitated and was going to tell her I didn't have one. But I thought it through and didn't see any reason why she couldn't know I had one. So I went and got it. When I came back and was putting the tape in, Beverly asked me something that really flustered me. "Does this have any lesbian stuff in it?" she asked in a normal voice. "I don't know. Jerry and I haven't seen this one yet. He just got it the other day," I said. "You were only supposed to be interested in it for the camera stuff," I said. "I've never seen one before." "Oh. Well, you'd better be prepared for more than the other one, then. It's pretty raunchy stuff sometimes. Even I don't like some of it. But it's different watching it with Jerry, too." "I suppose so," Bev agreed. The movie got into it fairly quickly. Bev didn't say much. I hadn't seen it before and so was just watching the movie. But I could tell Bev was also looking at the camera work, too, from her hand motions and expressions. Not that she didn't see what was happening on the screen, though. There were times when I could see she was just as interested in the scenes where there were close-up pictures of the men. She would interject once in a while. "Nice buns," or, "God, he's big." There were plenty of real close-up scenes. "The other one didn't have anything like this," Bev remarked. "Do you want me to get that close?" "How should I know? Just do whatever seems right," I said. I started thinking about what I was going to wear and didn't pay much attention to the movie for a while. When I looked up again, there were two girls making love. I looked at Bev and she was very attentive to what was happening on the screen. And not to the camera movements. I thought about her for a minute. She never seemed to date very much and I wondered if she was gay. I wondered if she thought she was, or didn't know if she was, and how hard that would be to deal with. The next scene was heterosexual again, and the rest of the movie was too, till the end, when there were two couples together and the girls were kissing and touching each other as well. "Pretty lousy plot," I said. "Kay the critic," Bev said, and nothing else. "So what do you think I should do?" I said. "Hmm. Oh. Go ahead and do it. It's not that bad, really. You've got the nerve to do that much if you can stand to watch these things. Only don't go putting on a dress right away. I don't think it's necessary." "What do you mean?" "Well, I just don't think it's very realistic, that's all. Nobody gets dressed up all the time to have sex. You guys don't do you?" Bev said. "No. Whatever I wear to every day to school," I said. "Then wear that. What you've got on right now." "You mean you think it'd be sexier if I was dressed in jeans, like I usually am?" I said. "Sure. That's what he's used to seeing you take off, isn't it? Well, take it off in front of the camera for him. Ooh, that sounds sexy, doesn't it?" Bev said. "You'd better try it right now." I hesitated. "You mean now?" I gulped. Bev was getting the camera ready. She walked around shutting the drapes and turning on the lamps to their lowest settings. "Almost ready," she said, checking the camera. "You sit on the couch. Is that where you guys usually sit?" she asked directorially. "Most times," I told her, taking her direction and moving to the couch. She was picking things up that didn't belong laying around. She kept talking. "So what do you do on the couch? Kiss?" I thought about it, trying to remember Jerry there with me. "Yes," I said, feeling a little turned on by the darkened room. "Does he touch you?" Bev said. I didn't reply. "Put your hand where he touches you," she ordered. I lifted my hand limply to my chest, waiting for my next order. "You talk," Bev said, and she turned on the camera. I froze. She waited for a response, some motion from me. "You do move, don't you?" she laughed. It broke the ice a little. "Yes," I replied loudly. "This isn't exactly easy to do, you know," I told her. "It's only a two-hour tape, you know," she smacked. I cracked. Laughed for ten seconds. "Enough. Let's see some action. You kiss, you talk, he puts his arms around you and you make out for a long time. Your body is warm by his and you start to feel good. He wants your shirt open. Open it for him." I listened to her. I lifted my hands up again to my shirt and unbuttoned it, imagining Jerry watching me. I smiled at him and undid the three top buttons and pulled my shirt open for him. I moved my fingers along the outside of my bra just as I had seen the girl in the movie do. I forgot about the camera for a moment, but not about Jerry. I touched myself. I uncovered my breast and toyed with it. Then I remembered the camera and realized Bev was taking pictures. I looked at her and she shook her head minutely, indicating that she could no longer talk. I understood. But she could take pictures with one hand and leave the other one free. She moved her hand up to her shoulder and made motions indicating that I should take the strap off my shoulder. I did and immediately looked back to her for direction again. But her hand had returned to steady the camera. I realized how stupid I must look looking at the camera like that and remembered the girl in the movie doing it too. I almost stopped right there, but Bev put her hand down by the lowest buttons in her shirt and I got the idea. I undid the other buttons in my own shirt and put the shirt off to the sides of my body. I pulled the shirt away from my other shoulder a little and lifted the strap down my arm. I pulled my arm out of it completely, then returned my hands to my front. I held the top of the bra cup where it met the straps and slowly pulled them down, exposing my breasts to full view. Then my hands went to them and I touched them. I tried hard to think of just Jerry, but I could see the camera, too, and began to play to it. Who was watching me? Would someone see this? What if I showed it to someone else? Some strange man? I'd let him watch me. That fantasy man hid behind the camera and it wasn't Jerry at all. I made up someone so handsome and perfect that it could only be a fantasy. I stripped for him. Touched myself for him. Closed my eyes and rubbed my breasts and my sides longingly for perfect him. Then I came back to reality when the camera moved to a new position. Bev came closer. She knelt on one knee and I could see she was taking closer shots of me. My face, my neck, my chest. I let her. She moved slowly. Then I put my fingers to my nipples and touched them. Beverly shot me, turning me on. I thought of Jerry again and how he played with my nipples. I wished Beverly would take a picture of my face so I could show him I was thinking of him. It was then I realized that I could speak. Beverly couldn't, but I could. Nonetheless, it shocked Beverly when I did. "Do you like the way I touch my nipples?" I said quietly. To my surprise, Beverly nodded yes gently. But her hand came free and made a little rolling motion to indicate I should keep talking. "I like the way you touch them," I continued. I circled them lightly with my fingertips. "They're soft for you. Silky, you like to say." I played with them silently for a while. Then my hands strayed down my stomach and my sides. Beverly had to pull the camera back. I arched my back and undid my bra. I pulled it off and threw it to the chair next to the couch. Beverly settled down on her haunches in front of me, still shooting. I lay back into the couch, slouching down a little. Beverly jerked her finger up, telling me to sit up straight, I looked bad. I straightened up slowly so as not to seem too contrived or directed. Beverly put her hand under her breast and lifted it, massaging it. I got the idea. I did the same, recalling the movie again. I seemed to be going from reality to movie to fantasy like stepping stones. My nipples became stiffer and I tugged at them to emphasize the fact. I looked down and they protruded nicely towards the camera. I saw Jerry there watching them in my imagination and played with them some more for him, but did not speak to him. Instead, I just touched and caressed myself as he would have had he been there. My hands floated about my arms and shoulders and chest and stomach. Could I have touched my back more I would have felt better. Warmer as I was when he held me. I longed for him a little. I held my breasts because I wanted to and stiffened the nipples in my fingers. I felt I was masturbating for him for the first time. I wanted him to watch me and I put my hands down to my stomach, pressing my fingers into it above the waist of my jeans. I thought about how I'd done it for him once, how he'd asked me to do it. How I'd undone my jeans and lay right there on the same couch and opened my jeans. He pulled my jeans and panties down my legs and did nothing else. He waited for me to start to touch myself. He watched me as I played with my pussy. I'd never felt more excited till then. I felt, remembered my wet fingers, myself wet with my pants at my thighs and realized I had done it. I was masturbating in front of the camera. The memories and the reality had blended and I was undressed slightly there. I came to, seeing the camera close to my knees where my jeans and underwear were gathered. The eye was right there, staring at me. Between my legs.Beverly reached out with her hand and pulled at my jeans. She removed them from my legs with her free hand, balancing the camera steadily on her shoulder with her other hand. Her head was focused on taking pictures. When my pants came off completely, I felt naked. I felt exposed for the first time. I tried hurriedly to go back to my fantasy, but I couldn't. I had to play with myself in front of the camera while Beverly watched. I had moved my legs further apart and let her zoom the camera in. I knew she did it because I saw her. I tried to picture what it looked like. What it looked like to her. I wondered if she was enjoying taking pictures of me. She seemed completely engaged in it, unaware of the subject matter other than it was sex. I tried to please her. I did it for her for a while. She wouldn't know. It was my fantasy. I imagined her watching me through the lens. I pictured her seeing my fingers touching myself. I rubbed my clitoris directly and saw the camera zoom a little more. I was pleased and spread the lips of my pussy apart so the camera would get a better view. I moved the pubic hairs to the side and exposed my clit, looking down at it to get a good view myself so I could see how it looked, how much was exposed. I tugged gently at the hood and showed it. I teased it and it felt suddenly good. I looked up at Beverly and the camera. They were trained on my genitals. I decided to talk to her. "Do you like the way I play with it?" I asked her without saying her name. She did not respond, thinking that I was talking to Jerry. I tried to think of what to say next that she would know was meant for her, that would draw her attention. "Can you see it well enough?" I said. Beverly lifted her head and put her fingers to her lips to shush me momentarily. She turned the camera in her hand. I could tell she had stopped recording momentarily. She fiddled with the buttons and then crept closer to my legs. She hunched back down and adjusted the camera again. Then without lifting her eyes away from the viewer, she gave me a signal to continue. It felt and looked strange to have her there between my legs giving directions. But there was nothing for it but for me to try to continue where I had left off. I tried to think of Jerry again. I closed my eyes and pictured myself undoing his pants. I pulled his cock out and massaged it gently in my hands. It grew stiffer, yet remained soft. I put my fingers back to my clit and massaged it in circles. It was dry again. I pictured holding Jerry's cock and guiding it into my pussy. It slid in. He began to fuck me. I put my hands between my legs and spread them apart. My fingers went down. They slid inside and I pulled them back up to wet my clitoris. I held the hood back with one hand and rubbed it with the other. I put my fingers down again, back inside, worked them in and out several times. That was enough. I quickly rubbed my clit to orgasm. I came and wondered what the camera saw. What did Beverly see of me. It was a minute or two before I calmed down. I began to feel cold and exposed. I reached for my pants and Beverly stood up with the camera, arching her back in pain. I started to get dressed, then realized it was silly to put on the bra and shirt again, so I picked them up and headed off to my room to get on some pajamas. I got back out and Beverly was watching the tape. I came in near the end. It was weird. I was glad when it finished. "That was awful," I said, before realizing it could be construed as a commentary on the camera work. Beverly just ignored me. She knew what I meant. "Here," she said, handing me the remote control, "Watch it from the beginning and tell me what you think. I'm gonna go get dressed." She got up and left. I rewound the tape and was going to start it over but decided to wait for Beverly. "Ready?" I said when she'd come back into the room. "Ready. Go ahead," she replied. I started the tape. "It's not that bad, really. But then I was behind the camera," Beverly said. "I'm sure Jerry will enjoy it." I thought about that, and viewed it with that in mind. It wasn't so bad from that perspective. I knew he would like it. I relaxed and watched it from the camera's angle. Beverly had actually done a pretty good job. She didn't zoom around too much and was real steady holding the camera. "You did a great job, thanks," I thanked her. "No problem. It was interesting," she said. "Was it?" I said. "Yeah." "What was it like?" I asked. "Strange. I couldn't help getting into it. It's kinda like you're being pulled," she said. The tape ended. We just sat there. "Do you want to try it?" Bev said. "You mean use the camera?" I said. Beverly nodded. "I'd let you if you wanted to try it. Only fair," she said. "Ok," I said. I was nervous. I got up and looked around for the camera. "On the end table," Beverly pointed. "Oh." I went to get it. "You didn't say much. It was a shock when you did. But it came out nicer than I thought, not saying too much. Remember to hold it steady and don't zoom too much at all. It looks really strange when you do." "You want me to give this tape to Jerry too?" I asked half seriously. "I'm sure!" Beverly said. "You do and you won't live to see the day." "He'd really like that, I bet, having the two of us on the same tape," I chided, getting the camera ready. "I'll bet. Don't you dare," Bev scorned. "Then why do you want to do this?" I asked seriously. Beverly looked at me and knew I meant the question. "Because it's exciting," she said, and flopped down on the couch. "And I can do it better than you can," she jeered. "Oh really!" I said, flabbergasted. "Let's see." "Hi Jerry. It's me, Beverly. I'm going to do what Kay just did. Do you want to watch me? Good. Sit down right where I'm sitting now and I'll undress myself just for you." Beverly pointed at the camera. I was almost laughing at her, it sounded so funny. I knew she didn't mean a word of it. It was all for my benefit. She really surprised me when she opened her pajama shirt and there was nothing there. I don't know why I was expecting there to be. I didn't wear a bra under my pajamas either. Maybe it was just seeing her breasts exposed to plain view like that. Then I realized it was the camera. Somehow the camera did something to seeing things. I was looking at her as if she were already on tape and that excited me. I knew right away what she'd meant by feeling pulled into things. It was as if I were on the outside looking in and shouldn't be. I was too close. I wondered what it would be like to be closer. I zoomed in before remembering her instructions. "Damn!" I said to myself. Beverly broke up. I laughed at myself. "All right. All right. Do it again. Take two," I said. "No no. That's enough," Beverly laughed. "Oh no. You got to do it, so do I," I said, and motioned my hand to keep rolling. "We'll just edit that part out," I commented. "You can do that?" Beverly said. "Shush," I scolded. "Action!" Beverly tried to stop laughing. I kept the camera going. Eventually she got it together. She tried twice and laughed both times. "I can't do this," she said. "Think about Jerry. He's going to watch you, Beverly. I'm going to let him see this. I want him to see you doing it," I said, trying to spur her on. She reacted as I expected. She got serious. I knew she could do it. I could tell she had been turned on thinking about my boyfriend watching her. She looked at the camera as if trying to see Jerry there. She stood up. She used her hands gracefully along the length of her body with her pajama top open. She pulled back at it and let it slide off to the floor. "Damn that was a good move!" I thought to myself. Maybe she was going to do it better than I was. She certainly would if she kept up like that. And she did. She pulled me around with her expressions and made me know just where she wanted the camera to be. It was amazing. I watched her hold her breasts out to me and I zoomed in slowly to them. It was so close I could almost feel them. I wanted to touch them, to feel their softness through the lens. She made a slow turn and I photographed it. I watched through the camera as she endeared herself. She caressed her body sexily and lazily like a model. She enwrapped her body in her arms. I felt flowing, unaware of the camera. She moved her hands to her hips and lowered the pajama bottoms a few inches. They clung to her hips in a sexually inviting fashion. She moved her hips around circularly and slowly, then drew the pants down over the peak of her hips so that they fell to the floor. She had drawn me down with her and I was taking pictures of her pelvic area. Her hands went quickly to it and caressed it, hiding it a little from view. She parted what hair she could and invited me to zoom in on what was there. I did so, and she backed up slowly to the couch again. She lay down and I pulled back, almost out of breath. Her hands reached forward to the camera as if she were reaching out to hold someone's face. She spoke. "Come watch me closer now," she demanded softly. I knelt beside the couch and took a long slow shot of her face, neck, breasts and stomach. She slid one leg off the edge of the couch and moved slowly around it till I was facing her. She moved her hands down and caressed her thighs invitingly, motioning the camera to come closer to her. I followed her hand upwards and when I saw her parting the hairs around herself, I became excited. I nearly froze in place. Which was alright since there was not much else I could do with the camera but hold it steady. And I even had trouble doing that as I watched her at extreme close up, exposing and playing with herself for my boyfriend.I really wanted him to see this. She was good. I was surprised when her fingers left her clit and wandered downwards. I had to shift the camera a little. I watched with fascination as her fingers entered her opening and dove back in again. This repeated until I could tell she began to need release. I moved my free hand in front of the camera and before I realized, I was reaching to touch her. She did not see me. Her eyes were closed. I withdrew my hand. Her own hand went there a second later and did what was needed. She came, and I withdrew the camera a little to a safer distance. I captured her orgasm and was silent. I watched as she sat up. She looked around for her clothes but didn't reach for them. She sat quietly for another minute. I took the tape out and brought it to the VCR. I went back to the couch and sat next to her. She took my hand in hers and held it in her lap. She rubbed it as we watched her masturbate. When it came to the final part, she placed my hand flat on her thigh, holding it there. I moved my hand along her leg and caressed it. As I watched her touching herself on screen, I moved my hand closer to the center of her legs. She reached for it and placed it atop her mound. I moved my hand down between and touched her with my fingers. I masturbated her as it happened on the screen. She was wet, and my fingers slid along her clitoris easily. I played with her until she orgasmed, and her hands fell atop mine, pressing them into herself. It ended on screen, and I began to touch her again. She held my hands in place, letting me know she wanted me to stop. I looked over at her. She was rewinding the tape. When it started from the beginning, it was of me again. I hadn't seen it in a short time and was surprised at myself being there. As I watched, I felt Beverly's hands touching my folded legs. I looked over at her, and she smiled, inviting me with a gesture to lay back against her. I untucked my legs from underneath me and stretched them out along the couch. She put her legs up on the couch and made a small place in her lap for me. I was half seated there. Beverly pointed to the screen, and I watched. I was taking my clothes off. Beverly's hand was opening my pajama buttons. They slipped inside. I was undoing my jeans. Beverly's hands moved under. As I found my mound, so did she. Her agile fingers pressed into me. She held me as I watched. When I came, I came. Beverly neatly touched me under my pants until I relaxed. Her scene came on again. I watched her turns and motions and finally her assault on herself. Her breasts were above me, and I gathered them in my hands. Beverly put her arms around me, and I felt warm. I turned my head and sucked on her nipple gently. It hardened, and I toyed with it a little. Beverly smiled down at me. I liked it. I teased her nipple more and then found the other one in nearly the same state. She watched as I sucked it gently. I kissed her stomach because that was all I could reach. She adjusted a little, pulling her leg up under me and moving more towards the end of the couch. I turned my body at the same time and found myself facing the inner part of her thigh. I put my hand up against it and pushed myself lower down, feeling her other leg give way. I pushed her leg back up against the back of the couch and started kissing the inside of it just above her knee. I kissed the inside of her thighs all the way down until I reached between her legs. I lifted myself up a little and put my hand underneath her bottom. I kissed in the seam of her leg and mound and parted the hairs around her with my hand. When she was exposed, I kissed her. She tasted sweet and wet. I licked at her clitoris with my tongue until all the wetness was mine. She was moaning lightly as I took care of her. I let my tongue wander all around her, dipping to her opening and then putting my fingers in her. They slid in easily, and I sucked and licked at her clitoris at the same time. She reacted by lifting up and down, making me know it felt very good. I was glad it did and that I could make her feel that way. I kept it up until she came. I sucked her so hard and so right at the last second that she screamed. I slowed down my fingers, but kept evenly sucking her clit. She bucked and came again, so I licked her up and down and withdrew my hand from inside her. I put both hands under her bottom and squeezed it. She lifted up, and I put my tongue inside of her. It was swelteringly wet and tasted awfully good. I lapped at her opening, and she pushed into my tongue. I left her clitoris alone for quite a while, but soon enough my fingers touched it and found it. I teased her to a final come and licked slowly at her until she subsided. I kissed her thighs lingeringly. She had her hand rubbing my back. "Umm, that feels good. Scratch a little, would you?" I asked. She did. "I gotta move this leg," she said quietly. I got off of it as she pulled it in towards the other one. I sort of half fell, half sat off the couch. I pulled myself up on my knees and leaned over her head. I kissed her. She responded quietly and nicely, kissing me back and putting her hands up behind my head to hold me there kissing her. When she released me, I looked at her. "You wanted to do that for a long time, didn't you?" I said. Beverly nodded her head. "Did you know?" she said. "Not till now," I told her. "And there's something else I've wanted to do for a long time, too," she said. "What's that?" I asked. She smiled and pushed herself slowly and agonizingly up on the couch. "Lay down, and I'll show you," she said. It was my turn to be delighted. Beverly ate me expertly. Her gentle feminine touches were most welcome. I came many times, and we spent the night in bed together. We made love in the morning before Jerry came over. He saw more than just our home-made videos.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7410.txt

Corn53

Marie Clair - Goes To the Wrong School

"Why, sure, you may sit here, sir," Marie Clair said to the kind-looking, middle-aged gentleman. She was glad to have a "gentleman" sit next to her on the train, considering there was some "riff-raff" getting on behind him. She sure wouldn't want to sit next to one of them. Her aunt had warned her about some of the people who might be on the commuter train. "My name is Marie Clair, and I'm on my way to Saint Catherine's School for Girls in town. I've never been to the city before," she said, introducing herself. The man looked her up and down, making her blush, and said, "It's my pleasure, Marie Clair. My name is Dr. Hardman. I'm an instructor at Saint Catherine's. What a small world." "Well, this is my lucky day, and tomorrow will be even luckier!" she said cryptically. "Why is that, my dear?" "I'm going to be fourteen! It's my birthday tomorrow." "My, my. I would never have guessed. You look much younger," he said. "Wouldn't it be strange if you were the student housekeeper we've been expecting? Maybe I should call Mrs. Hardman to see what to do. She could even ask the headmistress to assign you to us. Then you wouldn't have to take the bus in to campus and risk getting lost in the city. You could ride home in the car with me and settle in a day early." "Oh, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you, Dr. Hardman," then she added, "But I have been worried about getting on the wrong bus." "Yes, I'm sure your mother warned you about getting on the wrong bus, didn't she?" "No, I lived on a farm with my Aunt and Uncle, because my parents are deceased. But, yes, my Aunt warned me about lots of things. She made the city sound like such a scary place," Marie Clair replied, looking down at the floor. Her feet did not touch the floor of the train car, and she was nervously swinging her feet apart and together. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear about your parents," commented Dr. Hardman, and patted her on the knee. "You are very fortunate to have your Aunt and Uncle." "Yes, I suppose," still not looking up, "Auntie was usually nice, but Uncle John was also my teacher, and sometimes he was pretty strict." "What do you mean - 'strict?'" "Well, sometimes when I didn't learn things fast enough, he would spank me." "Sometimes little girls need spankings, though. Don't they?" he asked her and patted her knee again. "I'm sure if he spanked you too hard, your Auntie would have said something." "Hmm, now that you mention it, he usually spanked me when she was gone. But a few times when she was home, she would come into the study and watch me getting spanked. Once she even said she should spank me more when he was done... to help me learn my manners and to show some gratitude.""You want to live with us for your full scholarship, don't you? We'll provide room and board, and in exchange, you will help our housekeeper, serve meals, and so forth. You will need to follow whatever directions we give you, not only Mrs. Hardman and myself, but also some of our distinguished guests. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." Pulling off her sweater, flipping her pigtails back and forth, "I'll do whatever you ask, and I'll try not to ask so many questions. Sorry." "Good girl. Now unbutton your blouse." Seeing her hesitate, "All the way. Hurry up, I'm on the phone. Mrs. Hardman needs to know this so she can get out the correct sizes. Choosing a bra is more difficult than you may realize, Young Lady." "Yes, Sir. See, I'm following your directions." Looking a little worried and unbuttoning as fast as she can. "There - all unbuttoned," she said with a sigh of relief. "Oh, you have a T-shirt on, too. Lift it up so I can see what size bra you will need." "Yes, sir." She untucked her T-shirt, bunching it in her fingers, and lifted it all the way up to her chin. "I'm looking forward to getting my first bra, Dr. Hardman." Into the phone again, "Well, she looks like almost a 'B' cup already, even though it's her first one. I'll check the firmness." With that, he reached his right hand to Marie Clair's breasts and began a few minutes of "firmness checking." Occasionally taking his eyes off the traffic, Dr. Hardman determined that they were indeed very firm, pointing straight out, with no crease underneath. "Darling, yes, she's a 'B' cup and has very firm and pointy breasts. With small pink nipples by the way." Pause. "Yes, Dear, I'm sure you will. They are about 60 durometer, and about 110 at the tip. Extremely high British Thermal Unit possibilities. Did I tell you it's Marie Clair's birthday tomorrow? Yes, yes. You could take her shopping. We can have a cake tomorrow evening. Perhaps our guests could bring presents and help with the spanking. Call and tell them. Bye, Dear." And he clicked off his cell phone. With her blouse now back in place, Marie Clair was glad she had proved she could follow directions without asking so many questions. She also wondered why her breasts felt so tingly. Had she been alone, she may have continued to test her own "firmness" for a while longer. She wondered about the birthday shopping and other guests spanking her. "I didn't know getting a bra would be so complicated, Dr. Hardman. Thank you for your help." "There is more to it than you think, especially since you will be fitted with a special uniform." They drove the next half hour in almost complete silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The long driveway led to a Victorian house with a spacious lawn. Marie Clair was excited to see such a grand house. Many questions rattled in her mind, but she resolved to keep them to herself and just follow directions until she got to know the Hardmans better. As if reading her mind, Dr. Hardman said, "Welcome to your new home, Marie Clair. I'm sure you will enjoy your stay here. Just remember to do whatever we tell you, even if it may seem silly or embarrassing at the moment. OK?" patting her knee again, a little higher. "Yes, Sir. I'm sure glad I met you on the train." Dr. Hardman carried her suitcase into the foyer and introduced his wife and their maid, Inga. Marie Clair had difficulty not staring at Inga's maid uniform. The short, black ruffled skirt barely covered her lacy white panties, which showed when she curtsied or moved. Black mesh stockings covered her long, slender legs, and you could see the black garter straps fastened to the tops. Marie Clair guessed Inga's age at about 21. The white apron only covered the front of her very-short skirt and reached up to her low-cut sheer blouse. Marie Clair also noticed that the top half of Inga's breasts were exposed, almost like they were resting on a stiff corset platter. Not that they were large - "about orange size," thought Marie Clair, but the way they were presented made them appear larger. Everyone noticed Marie Clair's stare. Inga was also checking out "Little Marie" as she later called her. The adults stopped talking and watched the girls' mutual staring. "Inga! Take Marie Clair's suitcase on up to her room now and then start the bath, while we show her around her new home," directed Mrs. Hardman. "Yes, Mum. Right away." Before turning, she bowed deeply to Marie Clair, offering a clearer view of her breasts to the shorter girl. "And pleased to meet you, Miss Marie." Then Inga turned and bent farther than was necessary to pick up the small suitcase, offering another, better view of her sheer, lacy panties to Little Marie. She picked up the suitcase and headed up the stairs. Marie Clair watched her ascend. "Marie Clair? Marie Clair! Look here. We need to get your picture." After several snapshots of Marie Clair, Mrs. Hardman said, "Come with me now, and I'll show you around." Then to her husband, "Douglas, I had Inga lay out her things and will give her a bath before dinner. And just in case of further daydreaming, I also got out the canes and paddles as you requested." "Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Hardman. I was just thinking of Inga's outfit. I've never seen anything like it before," apologizing. "Your uniform will be different, Dear." She led Marie Clair on a tour of the first floor, explaining some of her new duties as they went. When they went into the living room, Marie Clair picked up the remote control for the TV and clicked it on. "Young lady! Who said you could do that? You must ask first. You are a servant here. Since you're so new, I'll only give you five hand spanks. Now turn around and bend over," commanded Mrs. Hardman. Turning off the TV and turning around as ordered, Marie Clair said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know the rules. Please don't spank me." "Pull down your panties and be quick. That's three more for insubordination. But since it's your first day, I'll spank lightly." "Yes, Ma'am." Not wanting to offend the hostess further, she pulled her cotton panties down to her knees, keeping her feet far enough so that they wouldn't fall to the floor, as she bent over. "Come over to the couch, Marie Clair. I'm going to sit down, and I want you to..." Taking Marie Clair's hand, standing her up and walking her to the couch. Marie shuffled, trying to keep her panties from slipping down over her knee socks. It didn't work. "Why, Marie Clair! Your panties are touching the floor. Just take them off and give them here." Marie Clair stooped and picked them up. Turning, she handed them to the now seated Mrs. Hardman. "Turn around. Lift your skirt." "Yes, Ma'am." "Put your feet farther apart. Bend over farther. Back up until your legs touch the edge of the couch. Put your feet farther apart. Hold on to your ankles." Marie Clair was obediently holding that position, waiting, waiting. Thinking, "When is it going to start?" "Good. Just try to bend a little farther." Her skirt flopped over her back so her entire bare bottom was exposed. "I want you to count these, Marie Clair, and say 'Thank You, Ma'am' after each spank. Do you understand?" Quietly, "Yes, Ma'am." Another pause. Marie Clair holding her ankles, waiting. Smack. "One. Thank you, Ma'am." SMACK! much harder. "Ouch." And standing up, rubbing her bottom. "Two, thank you, Ma'am." "I didn't say you could stand up. I didn't say you could rub your bottom." And continuing in a level, patient tone, "So that's two more. Do I need to get Dr. Hardman or Inga to hold you?" "No! I'm sorry. I'll do better." And with a flip of her dress, she bent all the way over again, her legs touching the couch on either side of Mrs. Hardman's legs. Instead of another smack on her bottom, the next thing she felt was Mrs. Hardman's fingernails tracing little circles on her fanny and down her thighs. Then SMACK! SMACK! Maintaining some composure, eager to please, Marie Clair said, "Three. Four. Thank you, Ma'am." "That's better, Dear." SMACK! "Five. Thank you, Ma'am." Thinking it wasn't so bad after all. Hearing footsteps coming into the room, Marie Clair stood up again. Turning, she saw both Dr. Hardman and Inga enter the room. Marie Clair turned a bright red and looked down in embarrassment. "What's the trouble, Dear?" Dr. Hardman said to his wife. "Marie Clair can't seem to follow simple directions. We'd better start her off on the right foot," Mrs. Hardman told the others. "What should we do?" "This is her first day here. Perhaps Inga should demonstrate obedience," stated Dr. Hardman. "Marie Clair, watch Inga demonstrate the proper way to get a spanking," agreed Mrs. Hardman. With Marie Clair watching intently, Dr. Hardman sat down in a stuffed chair. Without raising his voice, "Come here for a spanking, Inga." Inga walked to the chair, lowered her sheer panties to her ankles and stepping out of them, bent over with legs apart. Backing up until her legs touched the chair, she bent down to grasp her ankles and said, "Ready, Sir." "Very good, Inga." He gave her several pats, and before she could count them, he said, "Good job, Inga. You may put your panties back on now." "Thank you, Sir," she said with a curtsy and picked up her panties. Dr. Hardman rose, and he and Inga walked over to the couch. Dr. Hardman sat down beside his wife, and Inga walked around behind the couch, which was sideways in the large room. "Marie Clair, bend over again, and I'll make this quick. Is her bath ready yet, Inga?While Marie Clair flipped her skirt up and bent over again - legs apart and straight - grabbing her ankles, Inga answered, "It will be ready in a few minutes, Ma'am. Shall I go check on it?" "In a moment. I want you to watch Little Marie's next few spanks." Marie Clair could have put her palms on the floor, thinking, "I'll show them how obedient I can be!" No spanks. Waiting... then Dr. Hardman said, "Legs a little farther apart." "She is getting much better already, isn't she?" inquired Mrs. Hardman. Both were patting and tickling her bottom and thighs. Then with a firm pat, not quite a spank, she said, "Okay, Little Marie, let's just go on up and take your bath now. You girls run on up. Inga, help her undress. We'll be up in a few minutes." "Yes, Ma'am," Inga said with a grin. She seemed to skip out of the room. NEXT: THE BATH

Part 1

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11380.txt

The Bear

Better Loving through Chemistry

"Okay," questioned Jenny. "Why is this one called the 'Dating Game'? I thought it was just another basketball game. You know, we cheer, the team loses, like usual." "Well," Carol explained, putting an arm around the petite blonde. "It's an old tradition. Whenever we play Ivy Hall, the losing team has to throw a party for the winners. And the pep squad has to supply dates." "When was the last time we beat Ivy Hall?" asked Jenny suspiciously. Ivy Hall was the "rich kids" school across town, and had the best team scholarship money could buy. This was Jenny's first year at the school, and she had let Carol talk her into joining the cheerleading group. "Seven years," Carol said with a smile. "So what are you smiling about? You're gonna end up with some dumb jock pawing at you, and the Ivy Hall cheerleaders laughing in your face." "Not this year," Carol said assuredly. She held up a hand holding an imaginary bottle, and made a spraying motion with one finger. * * * * * Wednesday night. This wasn't a big game. A big game was one that you could win, if you tried hard enough. That was not the case, and everyone knew it. Still, the students turned out, filling the gymnasium about 3/4 full. "Hey Carol," called one of the visiting cheerleaders. "Guess who you're going to this year's party with?" "My boyfriend," Carol replied coolly. "Want to bet?" the other girl taunted. Carol dismissed the challenge. She would make the other girl eat her taunts. Jenny bounced up, bright as a sunbeam in her cheerleader outfit. Giving Carol a conspiratorial wink, she asked, "So, what's the plan?" Carol tried to look confident, but failed. "I don't know. I was hoping to dose some of the girls enough to distract the other team, but it would affect our guys at least as much. And it probably wouldn't help anyway. They're just too good." Jenny sat down next to her friend, and the two pondered for a bit. Finally, Jenny had an idea. "Carol," she began. "There was a movie once. I wasn't old enough to see it, but I heard about it. A bunch of girls snuck into the visiting team's locker room and fucked the hell out of them. They were so tired that they couldn't play. Could we do that?" "Nice idea, but too late," Carol replied, pointing towards where the Ivy Hall team was entering the gym. "Here they come." "Well, there's got to be some way," Jenny said glumly. The pep squad did their best to urge the team on, but it was like trying to cheer up a man headed for the gallows. The home team was getting murdered. At the end of the first quarter, the score was 53 to 20. Carol stopped by the team bench, and made a serious plea. "Look you guys, I know you won't beat these clowns, but if you can keep it close, I promise that the pep squad will make it worth your while." With a nasty grin and a flip of her skirt to emphasize her point, she headed out onto the floor for the next set of cheers. When they were finished with their dance routine, Carol wandered over to the Ivy Hall pep squad. She had a plan. "Trying to cut a deal, or switching sides?" called the head of the squad. "Neither. Just offering to up the ante on the bet, if you have the guts," Carol replied. "What else are you planning to lose?" teased the blonde. "Loser doesn't just supply dates. They play slave. Anything goes. Bet?" Carol replied with firm confidence. The blonde, whose name was Misty, quickly agreed. On her way back to her side of the court, Carol emptied a small bottle into a bucket that sat by the Ivy Hall bench. Nobody noticed. * * * "You bet what?" asked Jenny in shock. "I didn't like the orgy I had with our own boys. There's no way I'm gonna play for those snobs." "Don't worry, you won't have to," Carol laughed. "I figured out how to beat them. I put the potion in the cleaning bucket. See?" Jenny looked where Carol pointed. A boy was damp-mopping the floor, cleaning it for the Ivy Hall cheerleaders. "Every time they go out, they have him mop the floor first. They're going to get a dose every time they touch the floor with their skin. By halftime, they'll be so horny they'll lose their minds." Jenny smiled, understanding dawning in her eyes. "So, after the half-time orgy, our team will stand a chance." The show got interesting. Every time-out, the Ivy Hall girls took to the floor, and they worked the side lines constantly. Within about 15 minutes, they were doing a lot more splits, and the boys were definitely taking notice. When they had to sit on the bench, several of the girls were squirming noticeably, rubbing their asses against the bench. Jenny smiled at the image, knowing just how they felt. They were hot, and getting hotter. The score at halftime was 67 to 35, and would have been worse, except that the Ivy Hall boys had taken to show-boating. They were openly making fun of their opponents, clowning, and generally rubbing it in. Carol watched as the visiting team headed for the locker room. The coach didn't even bother with a half time talk. Then, after a minute or so, one of the cheerleaders slipped from the girl's area into the boy's locker room. Then another. And another. By the time Carol and her friends were done with their half-time routine, the Ivy Hall girls were nowhere to be seen. Carol and Jenny snuck to a supply closet they knew about, and peeped through the vents into the boy's locker room. Misty was on the training table, her skirt flipped up, and her panties nowhere in sight. She was being taken from behind by one of the players, while she took another with her mouth. Two of the girls had tackled a freshman, and were busily pulling his pants down. He tried to hold onto them, but his willpower was fading fast. Clothes went flying as the two squads went into full-contact wrestling, no holes barred. The boys were superb athletes, but the girls were insatiable. They couldn't see the showers, but they did see one girl, naked and covered with soap, come sliding through, hotly pursued by an equally naked boy. Giggles and squeals of delight echoed through the chamber. Then came an interruption. With halftime almost over, and the cheerleaders nowhere to be seen, the coach and the choreographer came in, following the sounds of pleasure. The scene stopped them in their tracks. The coach was only stopped for a moment. Two girls, seeing a man who wasn't spent, jumped him, tearing at his clothes. The choreographer backed away, a look of horror on her face. Suddenly the coach was on his feet, peeling the amorous nymphs away from his legs. The look on his face was dark and stormy. Hell was about to break loose, if he could get their attention. Carol and Jenny snuck out, before they were caught. Ivy Hall took the court five minutes late, and nearly lost the game by forfeit. They might as well have. The home team, hoping to get what the visitors had too much of, were more than motivated. And the visitors moved like their feet were glued to the floor. By the third quarter, the score was nearly tied, and the Ivy Girls were nowhere to be seen. The final score was 101 to 95, and for the first time in years, Ivy Hall went home a loser. * * * * * The party was held at one of the Sorority houses at Ivy Hall, since they were hosting it. "Hi Misty," Carol waved as she spotted the familiar face waiting inside the hall. "Or should I say, 'Mistress'?" Carol said with a grin, looking at the tiny bathing suit the other girl was wearing, as she had been instructed. Misty gave her a scowl, then pulled her aside. "Are you really going to make us go through with this?" she asked unhappily. "I'll tell you what."Since you agreed to dress the part, I'll meet you halfway. Nobody will make you do anything you don't want to. You see, I never told the boys about the bet. I did bring something special for you, though," Carol said, handing the buxom blonde a package. Misty looked relieved as she took the parcel. "Good. None of us were really looking forward to this. Thanks for letting us off." "Oh, I'm not letting you off easily, but I'm not letting you off," Carol corrected her. "You still have to wear those slave-girl outfits. You just get to decide whether you play the parts." There were hoots and cheers when the girls of Ivy Hall made their grand entrance. They were dressed in tiny, French-cut bikinis, mostly black, high heels, and slave collars. Carol attached a leash to each girl's collar and introduced them to their dates for the night. "Don't forget, everyone, we're doing Prom Pictures later on," she reminded the girls with a grin. Misty came out last, but she was worth waiting for. Her costume consisted of the same bikini briefs the other girls wore, but her torso and breasts were covered (barely) in a snug leather corset. It drew her waist in tightly, making her bust line seem all the larger. Jenny watched Misty and the others heading for the dance floor and smiled at Carol. "I don't know why, but somehow I get the idea that Misty and her friends don't like their party clothes," Jenny commented sarcastically. "Don't worry about that," Carol confided. "They'll get in the mood soon enough." "You mean...?" gasped the petite blonde, stifling a giggle. "Yup," Carol nodded. "I added something to the inside of the collars. They may not want to play slave now, but in about half an hour, this party is definitely going to swing."

3

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14638.txt

deirdre

Cabin

"You've *got* to come," said Colleen. "I'll talk to Joe," I responded, wanting to say yes. Colleen was staying in the next cabin over; Joe and I had rented a lakeside cabin for a week, and Colleen had introduced herself right away. It was the morning of our first full day, and Colleen and I were sitting on the dock that our cabins shared while Joe was out in our boat. There were four cabins close by, and Colleen told me the four couples always got together several times during their annual two-week stay. She said the couple who had rented Joe's and my cabin for the last couple of years apparently couldn't manage it this year. I felt lucky: Colleen and Don were really nice, and though I hadn't talked to the other couples, I had to believe friends of Colleen's were going to be pleasant company. Joe and I certainly hadn't expected to step into a social scene, but I was sure we'd enjoy it. One of the other two couples, who Colleen introduced as Bill and Linda, were there when we arrived. Both were a little older than the rest of us, though Bill, who was tall, looked like he was in better shape than the younger guys. Colleen pushed wine in our hands, and we sat down. Linda didn't seem to be much of a talker, but I did my best to converse with her. The last couple, Jeannie and Greg, arrived soon after. They appeared to be Joe's and my age and were all smiles. I talked to Greg and Jeannie after we got our supper: the two of them seemed to stick together. I found out he was a doctor and she was a nurse. Joe was talking to Don and Bill and seemed to be engrossed in the subject of boats. Supper was over, and Colleen called for everyone's attention. She said it was time for the evening's games. I wondered about *Trivial Pursuit* and figured something like that wouldn't be too bad. Colleen didn't mention anything though. "What do you guys play?" I asked Jeannie. She giggled briefly. "Well, I'll bet we're going to do hypnotism." "Hypnotism?" "Yes, Bill is a hypnotist; it's hysterical!" This was a new one on me: I'd never met a hypnotist socially before or seen anyone do that at parties. I heard someone say "New couple should go first," but Colleen vetoed that idea and volunteered herself and Don. I just watched, intrigued if a little nervous at the idea that they might be expecting me to allow myself to be hypnotized. Colleen and Don sat on the couch next to each other, and Bill knelt in front of Colleen, talking to her quietly. "What does he make you do?" I asked Jeannie. "Oh, just silly things," said Jeannie. "Like what?" Colleen was asleep! She was slouching on the couch, and her head was slumped back, and Bill was talking to Don. "Just watch," said Jeannie, and she giggled. Soon Don was out too, and Bill had them both stand in the center of the room. Then he told them that when they awoke, they'd act normally, but if anyone clapped their hands, they'd immediately give each other a short kiss! He demonstrated the sound of a clap a few times as he instructed them. He awakened them, and Colleen was immediately asking people if they needed more to drink. Yes, I thought about clapping. Finally, Bill did. They did it! They both broke off and immediately found each other and kissed each other for just a second! Then Colleen went back and continued as if nothing had happened! "Nothing for me, I'm fine," said Greg as she came over, and he clapped. They did it again. Jeannie looked at me, revealing her amusement. I couldn't help it--it *was* funny. I grinned despite myself. That went on for another ten minutes or so, and then Bill put them under again and then removed the suggestion. We gave them a hand when they came awake, and they didn't show any signs of suddenly needing to kiss. Colleen smiled at me, and I could see she was a good sport about it. "You should be next," said Jeannie, next to me. "New couple's next," she announced to the whole room. "That seems fair," chimed in Colleen, "Move to the couch, you two." I'd never been hypnotized before, and was definitely nervous about it. But I did wonder what it would be like. Joe seemed to look to me for guidance. I shrugged at him, and he shrugged back. I figured they'd get their chance to laugh at us, but where was the harm?And we didn't want to look too stuck up when we were just starting our week. Bill started talking to me as I sat on the couch. Joe was next to me, watching me. I was sitting on the couch, talking to Jeannie. Suddenly I realized I wasn't wearing any pants! I looked down at myself. I was completely exposed, but for some reason, I didn't cover up. "Jeannie, I'm not wearing any pants!" I said quietly but feeling shaken. "Oh, don't worry about it," she said. She didn't seem concerned. I was wearing just a t-shirt and I'd been in a dress earlier. I couldn't figure it out--why was I like this? Joe wasn't wearing pants either. Just a t-shirt. He was still just talking to Don, Bill, and Colleen. I felt like I needed to tell Joe and to go get something to wear. But I didn't like the idea of standing up and walking across the room like that. "Jeannie, I need to put something on!" I said. "Don't worry, we don't mind," she replied, cheerfully. I looked down at myself. Just sitting there for everyone to see. "You look fine," she said, and went back into talking about something else. "Could you get me something to put on," I asked her quietly when I had a chance to talk. "I said, don't worry about it," she replied. "No one minds, do they Greg?" "Not a bit." "But, everyone'll see me," I went on. She ignored my complaint and just went on. Joe sidled over and sat down next to me. He whispered to me: "We don't have any pants on!" "I know," I whispered back. "What are we going to do?" It all was so strange. "We've got to get something to put on," he replied. "Oh, don't worry about being like that," repeated Jeannie, to Joe this time. "It's OK, isn't it Greg?" "Sure!" "Greg's a Doctor and I'm a nurse, and besides, everyone has seen penises before." I glanced at Joe and he glanced back. This wasn't right. I didn't see how they could just sit there, and talk about it. "Greg sees lots of penises," she went on, "do you want to check Joe's?" she asked, turning to Greg. Greg didn't reply and she went on again, "Stand up and let Greg look at it." Joe looked nervous, but stood. Greg pulled his chair closer. He took Joe's penis in his hand! He lifted it up and looked at the underside, and then fingered Joe's testicles, lifting them and letting them drop. Then he sort of folded Joe's penis to the right and to the left and then held it straight out. "Do you have any trouble with erections?" he asked, not looking up. "No," answered Joe. I couldn't believe this was happening. I glanced around--all eyes were on Greg and Joe. He bent over, inspecting it closely, top, bottom, and sides. "Do you masturbate?" "No," said Joe. He looked at the head and ran his finger around it and over it. He then bent it up again, looking at the underside and feeling Joe's testicles again. For a minute, he didn't talk, just continuing to handle Joe's penis. "Truthfully," Greg finally said. "Well, not much," Joe admitted. Then Greg wrapped his fingers around it and rubbed back and forth a couple of times. "Does Gina take it in her mouth?" he went on. I gulped when he said that. "Uh, once in a while." I felt embarrassed that they were talking about this in front of me. "Do you have good sensation?" He had grabbed it in one hand and was touching the underside of the head with his finger while he asked this. "What?" "When it's touched--you have no trouble sensing when it is stimulated?" "No." "Let's see you stimulate it a little." Joe looked terribly embarrassed. Greg let go and backed up a little. "Go ahead," he repeated. Finally, Joe took it in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it and started moving his hand back and forth. "OK, let go," said Greg. It was a bit hard, sticking out at an angle. "Did you ever let a man touch it?" "No!" came Joe's quick response. "Well, your doctor touches it, doesn't he?" "Well, yes, you know what I mean." "Just what *do* you mean by that, Joe?" he asked again, taking it in his hand again! I just stared. "Not sexually or anything!" Greg had it in one hand and was lightly running the fingers of his other hand over the head. "Did you ever get stimulated when a doctor touched it?" "No!" It was getting larger while Greg was touching it! "How about when you had a prostate exam?" "No!" Greg let go and stood up and Joe was sticking straight out! Greg went over and opened a black bag--a doctor bag that I hadn't seen before--and he pulled out a rubber glove and some lubricant. Everyone just watched him. He put on the glove and put lubricant over his finger and took some to behind Joe! Joe just stood there. "Gina, stand in front of Joe with your back to him," said Greg. I stood up. I felt so embarrassed, everyone looking at me. I got in front of Joe and did as Greg asked. "Reach behind and hold his penis and press it down." I did it. "Back into him and press your rear against the top of his penis. Don't take your hand off it." I stood there. I felt Joe's body move--I knew Greg had inserted his finger or fingers in Joe's rear. I could feel by Joe's movement against me that Greg was doing it. "Gina, is Joe still hard?" asked Greg. "Yes," I answered, obediently. I thought I heard a snicker from someone in the room. I wanted badly for this to be over with. I still felt Joe's body moving. "Is he getting harder?" asked Greg. "I... I don't know," I answered. If he was, it wasn't by much. Jeannie approached me and briefly put her finger right on my vagina. "She's getting wet, though," she volunteered. I felt I would just die right there. "OK, get her ready for her exam," said Greg. Jeannie pulled me by the arm and I followed her. I sneaked a look back. Greg was standing free of Joe and was taking off his glove. Jeannie led me to the kitchen table and told me to lean over it, so my rear was hanging off the edge. Behind me I heard Greg tell Joe to remain standing, and slowly "stroke" himself to keep himself hard. Looking back at him, I watched him do it while Bill approached him and talked to him quietly. Don came up behind me as I leaned there. He unzipped his pants and took out his penis, his cock. "Don't look," said Jeannie, "look forward." I felt the cock being positioned. Then it pushed in all the way and in seconds, Don was doing me wildly. Jeannie crouched down in front of me and looked at me. "Enjoy these exams?" she asked. I was breathing too hard to answer. Don finished and withdrew, then I felt a cock again. I knew it must be one of the other guys. Jeannie smiled at me. I glanced a little to the side: Linda was standing there--dressed in only a t-shirt. She just stood there, looking straight in front of her, her hands on top of her head. Colleen was behind her--I could see that she was touching Linda's rear but I couldn't see what she was doing. I felt yet another cock enter me. I wanted to know what Colleen was doing. I looked back in front of me to see Jeannie preparing three hypodermics from the doctor's bag. It was morning and Joe and I were making breakfast in our kitchen--for all of them. They'd gone out in the boats. We were still both dressed just in t-shirts. We just kept working, not saying anything. Colleen came in the door with the Landlady. The door had just been standing open. "Nice," said the Landlady, giving Joe's rear a little smack. I'd only seen her once, when we checked in, though I'd talked with her on the phone a couple of times earlier. She ran her hand over Joe's cheeks and between. "Did he enjoy losing his...*virginity*?" she asked. Colleen seemed to be hiding a smile. I felt like I was about to come, just looking at them. "Send them over for a while after they clean up here," continued the Landlady. "Her too?" asked Colleen. "I've got some ironing to do," answered the Landlady.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10716.txt

Candy Kane

Girls Loving Girls Part 2

"Hi Lisa." Brenda held the door open. The petite seventh grader smiled and walked in, a small gym bag hung from her right hand. "You guys are really great to let me come over," Lisa said as she stood in the foyer and looked around. I could see her from the living room. She was dressed in short denim cutoffs and a Nike pullover. Her long blond hair was tied in a ponytail and she wore white tennis shoes, no socks. Her legs were long, firm, and starting to take shape; the two little mounds on her chest were developing nicely. Brenda was right, she did have a cute ass and it definitely filled out her snug shorts. My pussy tingled at the thought of licking it. "Come on in, Lisa," I called. She walked into the living room, sat her bag down, and plopped down on the couch beside me. "You hungry?" I asked. "No thanks, Karen, I ate just before I came over." Then she turned and looked at the TV. "What are you watching?" she asked with a startled expression. I had one of my dad's X-rated videotapes playing in the VCR, the ones he and mom kept hidden and didn't think we knew about. I had located a hot scene just as Lisa arrived. "Oh, this," I said nonchalantly. "We rented a couple of movies for tonight. You like adult films?" As Lisa stared at the screen, two girls and a guy had just undressed each other. "Yeah, I guess," Lisa said, transfixed on the images. One girl knelt in front of the guy and put his dick in her mouth while the other girl crawled under her friend and ate her. Brenda came over and sat on the other side of Lisa. "This movie is guaranteed to get you wet," she said. "Yeah?" was all Lisa said, sinking back into the couch and slipped her shoes off. "You don't mind if I turn the lights down, do you, Lisa?" I asked. "No," she said, never taking her eyes off the sex on the TV screen. As the movie continued, the scene got hotter: the two girls were doing each other in a sixty-nine while the guy screwed the one on top from behind. The girl on the bottom licked her friend's cunt and the guy's balls at the same time. It didn't take more than a few minutes before I saw Lisa move her hand down between her legs. I tried not to let her know I was watching but this was definitely promising. The hotter the movie made her the better our chances of getting her out of those little tight shorts.Then she said that if I wanted, I could lick the real thing. We kissed passionately and she ran her hand down between my legs. The other girls were going crazy watching us; the last of their panties flew off. Brenda went and turned out the lights, and the next thing I knew there were naked girls everywhere. I had never heard so much slurping and sucking and moaning in my life. In the dark, it didn't matter who was with who; it was a pussy-eating frenzy. My little redhead was so turned on, the first time I touched her clitoris, she screamed and climaxed. I remember at one point having two girls sucking my nipples, one eating me, and one sitting on my face. It was so much fun showing them how to please each other. The best part was when we all formed a daisy chain circle and everyone "ate at the Y". Eventually, we paired off and found an empty bunk. I lost count of how many times I came that night because the girl I slept with was having the first orgasms of her life and she was insatiable; we fucked for hours. When she finally fell asleep, I laid there for a long time with her in my arms listening to the erotic sounds of the other girls making sweet lesbian love. The next morning, I awoke from a wonderful wet dream to find my little redhead back in my bed. She had her warm mouth on my breast and a finger in my pussy. I pulled her mouth to mine and she tasted delicious. She said good morning and asked if I was hungry. I told her I was starving and she giggled saying she had something for me to eat. Then she got up on her knees, straddled my face and lowered her adorable little pussy down on my mouth. Soon, her cries woke up all the others, and it didn't take long before the sounds of girls loving girls filled the cabin. Finally, when everyone had climaxed one last time, we got up and came together in the middle of the cabin. At some point during the night, we had all made love to one another. Now we lovingly pressed our naked bodies together kissing and hugging; lovers forever. The girls would be going home that day so we promised that next summer we would have a reunion. My little redheaded still calls me once or twice a month to talk about the night we made love. We always wind up masturbating together on the phone. Thinking about how much fun I had with all that fresh girl-candy made my pussy ache as I sat next to Lisa and watched the porn flick. I was really turned on, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lisa rubbing herself. "This is making me so hot," Brenda said and stood up. We wore only T-shirts and panties and Brenda pulled her shirt over her head. She slipped her panties down and slid them off purposefully bending over so Lisa got a full view of her ass and delicious slit peeking between her legs. Her nipples stood out like pencil erasers as she sat back down, this time right next to Lisa. God, she played dirty, I thought with a smile. "What are you doing?" Lisa said. Her voice was more puzzled than alarmed as she looked at the naked girl beside her. "I don't know about you," Brenda said, "but I'm so fucking horny." She started caressing her breasts and rolling her nipples between her fingers. "Does this bother you?" she asked Lisa. "If it does, I can go in the bedroom and get myself off." "Well, no, I guess not." Lisa was not attempting to hide the fact that she was rubbing herself now, and Brenda's beautiful, naked body so close to her only seemed to add to her arousal. "I think you've got the right idea, Brenda," I said and pulled my shirt off. Without standing up, I slipped my panties under my ass and down my legs. Then I tossed them at Brenda who held the crotch up to her nose. "Smells like somebody wants to fuck," she said and playfully tossed them back at me. "Are you guys always this . . ." "Horny?" Brenda said. "Definitely." I added. "Sometimes we get so turned on," Brenda said, "we do each other." Lisa's eyes grew wide as she looked back and forth at our naked bodies. The timing was perfect as the movie changed to a girl-girl love scene. It was obvious I had picked the right tape; there were two beautiful, young girls French kissing. Lisa watched intently as they got into a sixty-nine and went down on each other. "Don't you just love having your pussy eaten like that?" I said as I looked at Lisa. "I've never . . .," she said softly. Her little body must be on fire by now, I thought. Her hands were between her legs, her fingers fighting their way under the edge of her shorts. Brenda leaned over and whispered in Lisa's ear, "That'll be a lot more fun if you take your pants off." Without hesitating, Lisa wiggled out of her shorts and panties, and pulled her shirt over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts, the size of ripe plums, looked delicious. When her fingers went back to work, I looked down at the most beautiful little hairless pussy. Lisa's fingers moved in and out, her head back slightly, her breathing heavy. The sight made me light-headed. Brenda winked at me and I knew what she was thinking. In less than ten minutes we had managed to get Lisa to take her clothes off and masturbate in front of us. This was too easy. Phase two of our seduction of Lisa was about to begin. So far, it had been each of us doing our own thing. Now it was time for group involvement. When the movie ended, I stood up. "I feel like dancing," I said and went over to the CD player. I put on a grinding rock song and moved back in front of the two naked girls. As the song started, I did my best slut dance; a lot of bending over and squatting down so Lisa could see what was between my legs. She stared at my crotch as I ran my hands up and down my body. Then I reached out and said, "Lisa, come dance with me." She gave Brenda a hesitant look and then turned back to me, not sure what to do. Brenda ran her hand up the inside of Lisa's thigh lightly touching her pussy and whispered in her ear, "Let's see how wet you two can make me." I danced over and took Lisa by the hand. Pulling her off the couch, I brought her to the middle of the room and started dancing beside her. She caught on quickly and it was obvious she had a little slut in her too. Soon she was rubbing up against me, teasing me with her ass and sliding her hands seductively over her body and down between her legs. I could tell Brenda was thoroughly enjoying our little game. Lisa was definitely aroused; I could smell her pussy and it drove me crazy. The song ended and a slow song started. Lisa took a step toward the couch as if she was going to sit down when I grabbed her hand and pulled her back. "Want to drive Brenda crazy?" I said. "Let see how sexy we can slow dance together." I turned her around so she faced my sister and pushed my crotch against her ass, pressing my tits into her back. Moving my pelvis in a slow, sexy motion, I placed my hands on her hips and guided her in sync with me. Lisa quickly followed my lead and we moved over to dance just a few feet in front of Brenda. My sister already had her legs spread and was masturbating, her eyes glued to the spot between Lisa's legs. The music was perfect: slow and steamy. I felt Lisa reach behind and start rubbing my hips and thighs. She slid one hand down between my legs and played with my bush while she used her other to stroke herself. Then she closed her eyes and let her head drift back to rest on my shoulder. I kissed her neck and ear, whispering how fantastic her body felt against me. "Do you like it too?" I asked. "I love it," she answered, never opening her eyes. Her finger found my slit and I trembled at her touch. I lightly pulled her chin around and our lips met. I slid my tongue into her mouth. She tasted so sweet! We kissed as I felt her finger slide easily into my wet hole. Then Lisa let out a heavy moan. I looked down to see Brenda on her knees, her head buried in the little girl's crotch. My hands went up and cupped Lisa's breasts and I closed my mouth over hers exploring the inside with my tongue. It was all I could do to keep from falling, I was so aroused. Finally, I led her to the couch and laid on my back pulling her down on me. She kissed me passionately, her tongue in my mouth. I pulled her knees up spreading her open for my sister. Brenda lay between my legs and sank her face into Lisa's ass while she fingered me. I ran my hands all over Lisa's body, trying to taste and touch as much of her as I could. I was dying to eat her but I let Brenda have the first taste. I could tell from their moans that both girls were really getting off. Lisa's hips ground into me and her breathing became heavy. Suddenly she let out a gasp and her body stiffened. I continued kissing her face and neck as the orgasm washed over her. She lay on me, breathless, covered in sweat, her eyes closed. "God, I never felt anything like that before," she said after a few moments. "Just the first of many, my sweet little lover," I whispered to her. Brenda moved up and lay beside us, kissing me then Lisa. Our mouths were close and the three of us kissed together. I could taste Lisa's juice on my sister's mouth; it was intoxicating. I had to have Lisa or I was going to explode. "Trade places, sweetheart," I said to her. She moved over and let me up. As I worked my way down the couch, Brenda got up on her knees and straddled Lisa's face. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Brenda's legs, pulling my sister down to her eager mouth. At the same time, I lay between Lisa's legs and spread her little-girl cunt open with my fingers. Then I put my hands under her ass, pushed her legs up and brought my mouth down on her. The sensation of tasting this delicious twelve-year-old was almost more than I could take.I ran my tongue up and down her slit, trying to taste her pussy and lick her ass all at once. I raised up to see Brenda, her head thrown back, eyes closed, her fingers caressing her nipples in a deep sexual trance as Lisa moved her tongue in and out of my sister. Lisa was totally ours now, her body completely overcome with the forbidden pleasures of girl sex. We climaxed together and finally lay back on the couch. Our bodies were covered in sweat, our faces and cunts dripping with girl-cum. The room was filled with the smell of wet pussies. After resting for a few minutes, Brenda said, "I'm going for a hot shower. Want to join me?" "Sounds nice," Lisa said. We each took her by the hand and headed up the stairs.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11167.txt

Andrew Roller

Dungeon of Desire

"It's my pool, and you can't cum in it if I say so," Miriam insisted. "Just pee. Show us how much you drank. I saw you drinking, now pee it out like you're supposed to!" The man rolled his eyes. He looked at himself, his quivering dick. It was huge and dry, suspended above the water, yet with pre-cum leaking from its tip. Suddenly, as if in a burst of virility, the man's pee sprouted from his cockhead. It arched in a lovely stream across the water and landed between his legs, out by his knees. I watched in fascination as he peed relentlessly, for what seemed like a whole minute. The whole room was silent. All eyes were fixed on his glorious cock, and all that could be heard was the sound of his urine. And then he was done. The stream died and we were left just looking, watching his pee slit, as if more would come. But it didn't. Except for a little drop or two, nothing more came. He rose. He was wet from the waist down and he seemed enraged by the spectacle he'd made of himself, as if only a good, immediate fuck would allay his anger. Miriam reached for him and caught his wrist. He was big and brawny, but her little hand twisted at his wrist as if he could be controlled like a small child. She guided him as he came down the steps from the pool. And she managed to put him back into the crowd. I stood amazed at her power. Would I ever control big men like that someday? Miriam called the next man forward. He sauntered up to the edge of the pool and casually stuck his dick over its edge. "This is stupid," the man said. He aimed his dick and stood ready to fire. Miriam slapped his ass. "Get in, you bad boy! I'm not about to have you pee in my pond like a men's urinal!" she scolded him. He jerked a little as she slapped him. He was so big and strong that even a good hearty slap like she'd given him barely annoyed him. His dick waggled. His big balls jiggled between his thighs. Seeing that honey would have to be used, since vinegar had proven quite useless, Miriam kissed his shoulderblade. "Plus, you need to chill your balls down," she said admiringly. I saw her hand disappear between his legs. He jerked, more responsively this time, as she gave his balls a prying squeeze with her fingers. Up the steps the man went. His cock and balls bounced like obscene Christmas decorations on the front of his body. He seemed weighed down by them, as if they were foreign objects stuck on by naughty elves to make him look ridiculous. I was still young enough that seeing a man, with all his equipment displayed, looked odd to me. What WAS all that stuff? A huge thingy sticking out in front, with absolutely noplace for him to put it, and giant balls hanging down like ripe fruit, except they had hair all over them! The man stepped into the pool. He slushed his way across the stone seat and dropped his wet feet down into the depths. The water came up almost to the tops of his calves. He plopped his bottom down. Sitting on the hard stone seat, shivering a little at the water's chilliness, he showed us his cock. He had a rainspout one just like the other man had, big and wide and long and totally hard. He eyed us, then smiled and let loose his pee. I heard myself screaming. Jennifer screamed too. It was so awesome! He'd found OUR eyes before peeing, looked right at us! He peed for us and we watched him breathlessly. I gasped when his pee stream stopped. I'd gone without air for at least a minute, so amazed was I by it all, watching him, he watching me. The man obviously wanted to cum but peeing was all that Miriam would permit. He stood up and climbed back onto the seat, not minding at all, I'm sure, the fact that he showed us his hairy ass and his ass crack as he mounted the seat. He swaggered to the pool's edge and then came down the stone steps. Miriam called the next man forth. Our hero, the one who'd found Jennifer and me in the crowd, waded through the people and came up to speak to us. His girlfriend, intercepting him, clung to his arm. She was 20ish, with shoulder-length blonde hair that she'd permed into a cluster of cascading curls. She shook her hair back and eyed us with cat's eyes; wanton, unremorseful. I felt like a little canary under her gaze. "Let's fuck," the man said to me. His words were blunt and direct. He placed his hands on my hips, eyeing Jennifer as he spoke to me. His thing stuck itself in my belly button. I was shorter than he was. "We want to party first," Jennifer said quietly. Her voice was meek, like that of a schoolgirl who hopes to be overruled by her teacher. "A quick fuck wouldn't hurt anything darling," the man's female lover chimed in. "It wouldn't take very long and it would make you calmer for the party." Jennifer looked at me. I could see in her eyes she wanted to. Did she need permission? Did she think her mom would appear and write her a permission slip? "That bra you're wearing. Don't those metal zippers scrape your bosoms?" the man's lover asked. I learned later her name was Colette. "A-A little," Jennifer replied. Colette's fingertips touched Jennifer's breasts. She hefted the cones and slipped her fingers protectively between the open zipper halves and Jennifer's bosoms. Then, removing her fingers, Colette reached around behind Jennifer and unsnapped her bra. Carefully, so as not to scrape her nipples, Colette lifted off Jennifer's bra. "Come," Colette urged. She reached for Jennifer's hand. Together they headed for a private bedroom. Colette's lover, whom I learned later was named John, turned me around. With my bottom bare, he made me walk in front of him, his eyes pasted to my ass and his cock bobbing behind me like a snake, ready to bite. We stepped into a hallway. Colette led Jennifer to a door and they peeked inside. "Ooops! It's a study," Colette sighed. She closed the door and we went on down the hall to the next room. It proved to be the kitchen. The next room, however, contained a bed, and we slipped inside. Colette closed the door and locked it. "Get on the bed," Colette said in a no-nonsense voice to Jennifer. My friend went to the bed, and turned down its covers. I could see she was scared. Her knees were quivering and almost knocking together with her fear. But at the same time her ass was gyrating in the most alluring little circles, all hot and bothered and eager. "Get in!" Colette said, and slapped Jennifer's ass. Jennifer yelped. She crawled up into the bed and immediately lay down and pulled the covers over her. Colette, having none of that, pulled the covers back down. "Let me see those fairy-tale bosoms of yours," Colette said hotly. She grabbed Jennifer's bosoms and squeezed them brutally. She lowered her face to them and bit at one of Jennifer's nipples. "Ohch!" Jennifer cried. Her eyes gaped wide as Colette snapped at each of her hard, upstanding nipples. The woman showed little appreciation now. She pried at Jennifer's nipples with her teeth as if they were bottlecaps that had to be yanked off of bottles. John tugged at the drawstring that held up my bra. It was tied in a neat bow upon my back. I clapped my hands to my breasts to save myself but I felt the drawstring on my back unravel under John's fingers. He put a palm to the back of my head and bent my head forward and loosed the drawstring that hid under my hair at the back of my neck. I found myself holding my bra. Clasping it to my breasts, all its strings undone. It was my last morsel of modesty and I didn't want to lose it. I stared at John with wide, frightened eyes. His face was implacable. He showed no feeling whatever, just an iron will. It seemed to concentrate itself in his eyes and in his penis. Both looked hard as steel. They demanded my complete obedience. Wildly I turned to Jennifer for help.But she was on her back on the bed, suffering already, Colette biting at her tits as if they were Christmas sweetmeats. "Bend over," John said to me. He didn't exactly give me a choice. I found my view of Jennifer's plight interrupted as he shoved me forward to the bed and, banging my thighs against it, made me bend over until my face was in the rumpled covers. I still held my bra to myself. I felt him pry my thighs apart. His cockhead stabbed at my moist cunny. He pierced it. "God, you're tight!" John said regretfully. I felt his shaft try to enter me. I seemed to close upon him and he could not get himself up me. He reached round and palmed me between my legs, quite roughly, as if manhandling me upon my spot would excite me enough to force me to open myself to him. Realizing that I'd saved my bra only to lose my cunny, I let go of it. I was in very hot water now. I had a man I didn't even know shoving his cock up my cunt. I fingered the covers of the bed and wondered what I could do. Was this the fate of all women? To meet a male and be bent over by him and forced, yes forced, to take him? It did no good asking permission in the end, did it? A girl did not want to be asked for permission. She wanted to meet her match, and to be outdone. I was undone, I realized, as my foe found me wet and ready. Slick within, my tightness could not save me from him for long. He shoved within me and felt me resist. But, at the same time, a new juicing of desire moistened within me and made the part of his cock that was in me all wet. I sensed I would lose our little battle and, enjoying my tightness now, he sensed I would lose it too. We communicated with our loins. Our faces couldn't see each other but our private parts touched, felt each other, communicated in tremors and in sprinklings of wetness. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" Jennifer meanwhile cried. Turning my head just a little, afraid for my friend even as much as I was for myself, I saw Colette reach under the pillow at Jennifer's head. She drew out a length of silk rope. It was white. I guessed that Miriam must have secreted it there, for partiers to use at their leisure.moderated or by e-mail: file.request@backdrop.com or via the Web: http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/ -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 - JOIN the world's greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership. NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder. -END OF 332 EMISSION -- +--------------' 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.

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Chapter One

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7235.txt

Herb Grinder

Boarding School Adventures Part 2

"Would you like us to play with you some more?" breathes Suzanne, licking her lips and running her dainty fingers down between my widely parted legs. Percy is beginning to respond again and the schoolgirl giggles with delight as she fingers a familiar growing hardness. "Girls, please!" I gasp as Sally's hand also joins in for a spot of cock squeezing. "Better lock the door Tracy," says Suzanne wickedly. "We don't want to be disturbed while we're having him!" The dull metallic click of the key turning echoes down the outside corridor like the gates of doom. "Girls no!" I shriek, trying to pull myself from under their clinging embrace but with little success. "I could get ten years for what you're thinking of doing with me." "Don't worry about that," says Suzanne grinning at my obvious discomfort. "No one will ever know. Besides that's what you're really here for!" "What I'm really here for?" I repeat foolishly. "Yes, your predecessor used to have some of us girls up here for, er, Private Studies," she explains, carefully choosing her words. "Private Studies?" I gasp incredulously. "Of course, he used to study our privates and then have us!" titters Tracy, blushing furiously at the temerity of her own joke. The girls break out into renewed fits of giggling and my mind reels with all the connotations implied in that simple sentence. While my mind is thus occupied, the girls take advantage of my distraction and I suddenly find my arms and legs gripped even tighter by Mandy and Suzanne. Squealing with delight, the girls renew fondling my balls and stroking my rapidly hardening cock. "Girls, please!" I implore, making a half-hearted attempt to release my arms and legs from their tenacious grip. "What's wrong Mr May?" giggles Suzanne with mock disappointment. "Don't you like the idea of screwing little girls?" The very thought of doing such a thing to these pretty girl guides causes Percy to rise like the bow of a schooner. The girls squeal in triumph as they overcome my feeble attempts to protect my modesty. My confused mind still shudders at the knowledge that what these girls intend to do is obviously illegal, not to say totally immoral. "Girls, stop!" I gasp. "No-oo-oo-OH!" "If you don't let us use you for our pleasure we'll tell everyone that you're a sex maniac who likes raping little girls," pouts Mandy, stamping her foot on the floor to emphasise her words. The enormity of their threat makes my head spin with its connotations. It would be their word against mine and I have a shrewd idea who the Sunday papers would believe most. There is nothing else for it. These randy little schoolgirls have me in a fix and they know it. "Ooooh! He's got a nice stiffy!" giggles Suzanne, licking her lips and running her dainty fingers along the length of my straining erection. Mandy slides herself back down my chest until she is straddling my stomach. She bends down, covering my face with hot, passionate kisses. Her tongue flicks hungrily inside my mouth and I feel my cock sliding between her bottom cheeks as her shapely young body presses against mine. Pinned to the carpet, I struggle under the combined weight of the four young girls. Mandy's short skirt rides up as she kisses me and I feel the base of my cock pressing against the entrance of her unfledged little slit. "Mmmmm - Nice," She breathes, rubbing herself urgently against my erection. As if by a prearranged signal, Mandy reluctantly disengages herself when Tracy and Suzanne step out of their short skirts and slip off their uniform blouses. I watch nervously as the girls divest themselves of bra and panties. Naked except for their dainty white socks and black shoes, the girls cast aside the last of their skimpy underwear. Their budding young breasts are very small but their jutting nipples stand out like little pencil erasers. Their legs are long and slender and their waists narrow with no trace of pubic hair to be seen between their girlish thighs. "Suzanne can screw you first, then me," giggles Tracy, lowering her eyes and blushing slightly as I stare up at her naked little body. "Oh Goody!" exclaims Suzanne eagerly, clambering over my prostrate form. "This beats mixed hockey any day!" With her legs parted on either side of my thighs, she shamelessly exposes the unfledged lips of her tiny girlish vagina to my growing lust. Her little breasts stand out as proud as pomegranates displaying their cherry-red nipples as she wriggles her bottom into a more comfortable position so the purple head of my penis is poised at the entrance to her vagina. Mandy opens a drawer and takes out a half-empty jar of vaseline. She passes it to Suzanne who holds it up to let me see the label. "Some of us girls might be a bit tight for you at first sir!" she smiles wickedly. I almost cream myself there and then as the giggling schoolgirl transfers some of the jar's contents onto her fingers and slowly rubs the slippery substance over my straining erection. Sensing my readiness, the naked schoolgirl stops her rubbing motions and reverses her position, seating herself on my stomach. Once again I feel my captive member forcefully inserted into a warm, moist place. "Ooooh! Ahhh! that feels good!" gasps Suzanne. Tracy decides to straddle herself over my face, sliding the pouting lips of her cunt over my mouth and nose. Suzanne's tight little bum cheeks pump furiously up and down and she utters little cries of pleasure as her petite round bottom pounds into my belly. I feel soft girlish fingers caressing my balls and my own gasps are smothered by Suzanne's little slit pressing hard into my face. My breathing becomes faster and more ragged, timed with each quickening thrust of Suzanne's shapely round bottom. While my thick cock makes soft slurping noises as it slides in and out of the schoolgirl's tight little cunt. With a deep groan, partly muffled by Tracy's pussy covering my mouth and with beads of sweat running down my forehead, I feel my lust once again squirting forcefully between a young girl's shapely thighs. "Oh sir, that was delicious!" sighs Tracy as she rolls over with exhaustion. But there is to be no respite. Sally has also stripped herself naked and promptly scrambles over my prostate body, trapping my limp cock between her warm little unfurred cunt lips. "No Sally, please!" I gasp. "Now my turn," she giggles. She begins to slide up and down astride my thighs, rubbing my penis with the soft lips between her legs. Exhausted, my abused body pinned to the floor by four naked schoolgirls, I groan as I feel Percy slowly renewing his former stiffness. This is going to be another busy day.

ffffM rel hum

Chapter 5

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16883.txt

Kristen 'Kathy' Becker

"Private Dancer part 2"

"Well... I don't know... I've never even imagined doing anything like this before." Kristen's resolve was breaking down, I could see it. I looked at Kathy, nodding toward her friend in a silent appeal. Kathy got the idea and piped up, "Come on Krissy, let's do it, I dare you to. I'll do it if you do, come on." "Well... I guess it would be something really different, but I don't have the faintest idea what to do?" I jumped up with a slight thrill running through my body, "Follow me, ladies, I'll take you backstage, and we'll go over the performance." And with that, I took the girls by the hand, and we quickly left the front room. I noticed some of the more experienced customers eyeing the girls, leaning their heads together to discuss the possibilities, knowing that they had been talked into doing a performance. We went directly to my room, and I buzzed Kurt and told him to stop in and see me, that I had a couple of beautiful women I wanted him to meet. Kurt being Kurt, was there in a flash. "Ah... yes, they are quite exquisite, Gretchen, I would like to perform with them very much. Hello, ladies, did Gretchen tell you about me?" Kathy said in a small voice, "We saw your last performance." "That is very good. Did you like our act?" Kristen jumped in saying, "Oh, you were marvelous. I hadn't even imagined that sex could be like that." Kurt looked a little taken aback at this and shot a glance at me, with a question in his handsome eyes. "Yes, Kurt, Kristen is a virgin, but she seems willing to perform." "We have never done it with a virgin before, Gretchen, is this wise?" Kurt asked, wonder sounding in his voice. "I'll take care of Kristen, you perform with Kathy, I'm sure she can handle you," I chuckled. "And if Kristen wants to do more, we'll let her, OK?" "Sounds fine, but you should get them ready now, our act goes on in 25 minutes. See you, ladies, a little later, I'm really looking forward to it." Kurt gave Kathy a long, smoldering look as he padded from the room. Kathy's eyes followed his body, with the look of a child in a candy store. With Kurt out of the way, I turned to the girls and said, "OK, now you need to strip for me." They stood there wide-eyed in front of me, but didn't move. So I walked up to Kristen and began to unbutton her blouse. She just stood there silently watching me undress her. I pushed her open blouse back off her shoulders and unclipped her skirt and let it drop. I was enjoying myself, knowing how she must feel having another woman undress her. I remember the first time it happened to me. I hoped she was enjoying it as much as I had. I smiled at her as I stood close and reached around behind her and unclipped her bra, stepping back with it in my hands. Yes, I liked her body as much as I knew I would. She stood there just panty-clad, with her arms at her side. That was a good sign, when they didn't try to cover the breasts. She had a little body, but well-muscled, very toned. I like that in women. So often they are just soft, and that does nothing for me. But Kristen stood there with excitement in her eyes, she just stood there looking into mine. I found myself wanting to touch her, but held back. "Kristen, you look beautiful, I really mean it. You're going to make a lot of people dream about you tonight." I turned to Kathy and helped her with her sweater. After I had pulled it off over her head, she unfastened her own skirt and took off her bra and panties. Yes, I thought, she's a brave girl, I don't know if I could have undressed myself like that the first time. The two girls stood in front of me naked. Kathy was a few inches taller than Kristen and larger-bodied. She was a size or two larger in the breasts than Kristen, but they were both perfectly proportioned for their individual body sizes. "Come with me, girls, we must take a shower, then oil our bodies, we are running out of time." I threw my French T onto the back of a chair and led them into the shower stall. Oh yes, this was really going to be fun... I started the water flow and stepped in, beckoning the girls to follow. Once we all three were wet, I started to soap Kristen's body. I had a reason for picking Kristen... To my amazement, Kathy joined right in, and as I soaped her front, Kathy did her back. I let my hands range all over her firm body; it was heaven. I soaped her up and massaged her breasts until her nipples were standing at attention. The whole time, she just stood there letting me do anything I wanted, eyes closed, feeling the sensations of our hands against her skin. Remembering my mission, I ran my hands down her flat stomach and knelt down in front of her and washed her thighs, and as I did that, I ran my hand over her love triangle. I kept the washing motion going over her light blonde pubic hair, then without telling her that I was going to, I sent two fingers deep between her pussy lips. As I expected, the girl jumped in surprise, but I had my answer. Although our little Krissy might be a virgin, she'd had something in there before, because her hymen was gone. That was very good, I was glad to know that. I apologized for the 'mistake', and Kristen and I turned our attentions to Kathy's lovely body. Once we'd all washed and oiled each other, and I enjoyed that very much also, it was time to go. "Well, girls, this is how it works. Kristen, you will be with me, and Kathy, you get Kurt. Don't worry, he'll treat you gently. And Kristen, you can join into the festivities as you like, no pressure, if there is something you don't like, just let me know." With that, I took both girls by the hand, and we walked out onto the stage. There was immediate applause. Of course, I always get applause, but I think there was a little extra expectation in the air. I knew the fact that Kristen was a virgin had gotten out to the audience. That's the one thing management's good for: getting the word out to the clientele. Both girls were nervous, they knew what to expect, but they didn't really know how to react. I was very impressed that they did not look awkward, just a little subdued. "Step to center stage, Kristen, and Kathy, walk over there, that's where Kurt will come in." The girls obediently did as they were told. I thrilled at the sight of them, knowing that this would be their first time. Kristen would be mine, and I had everything ready. To the fanfare of music, Kurt stepped on stage with his signature hard-on. I thought that he looked just a little harder than usual for a second performance, but I wasn't offended, because I felt the same way. Kurt moved swiftly to Kathy and took her into his arms, as I walked up behind Kristen and wrapped my arms around her, leaning my chin on her shoulder, to watch the other couple's performance for a few minutes. I didn't want to move things too fast. We watched as Kurt twirled Kathy within his arms so that they were facing each other. He looked so big next to her, like a Neanderthal and a fairy princess. Kurt knelt in front of Kathy and reached up to her shoulders with both massive hands. Then he ran his big paws down over her breasts, nipples, then down her firm stomach, to her legs. He did this several more times, as Kathy stood proudly and firmly in front of him, obviously enjoying his body massage. Then, as if overcome with lust, Kurt took hold of Kathy's shapely hips and lowered her to the floor as if in the ballet. But unlike a ballet, he immediately sank his face between her golden thighs. I was getting extremely wet watching them. Kathy was responding beautifully. Almost without thought, I started to play with Kristen's nipples as I rested my chin on her shoulder. We swayed slightly from side to side as we watched the hot action between Kurt and Kathy. I was surprised when Kristen's hand came up to my cheek and slowly caressed it as we watched. Kurt was putting on a great show now, the audience were getting excited, some of the more experienced men and women were on their feet now, so they could see better. Kathy was writhing under Kurt's face, and anyone could tell she wasn't acting. After a minute of this, Kurt slowed his actions and climbed up to Kathy's lovely face. He lunged at her and pulled her up from the floor into one arm, still kneeling with only one hand for support, and began to passionately French her. Kathy was struggling for air within a few moments, but Kurt wanted complete submission from her, so he kept up the suction. The little vixen with me had found my mouth and had inserted a finger.I was beginning to think that she might be a natural talent. That little move had taken me 6 months to think of. I became aware that Kristen was pushing back against me in a slow rhythm. I quickly began to lose sight of the other couple and become involved with my partner. I turned Kristen around in my arms and started to kiss her lightly on the lips. Then a little harder, and we started frenching. We stood there with our bodies pressed together, in the middle of the stage, with over 50 strangers watching as my little Kristen started kissing me in earnest. I was surprised at how quickly she had become aroused. Normally a new girl just lets things happen, but Kristen was obviously enjoying her little fling at being an exhibitionist. The crowd started cheering us on. I think they all knew about Kristen's virginity, and that this was a special event that wouldn't happen again for quite some time. I pulled away from Kristen and knelt in front of her. I planned on giving her some of my famous tongue work, but she did the unexpected again and knelt down with me, clamping onto my mouth again and giving me a little tongue herself. Finally, I pulled away and said in a soft voice, "Kristen, I want you to get on all fours, because I'm going to fuck you from behind. The audience will love it, and I guarantee you will too, trust me, sweety." Kristen looked at me with confusion written all over her sweet face, but complied with my request. She went down on all fours and waited for me. As I crawled around behind her, I admired her body. In the light of the club, her skin looked like it was glowing with an inner light all of its own. I felt moved by her beauty as I raised myself up to rest on her strong, smooth, athletic back, and reached under her to stroke her cunt slit, rubbing my knuckles against her clitoris at the end of each stroke. I wasn't surprised that she was wet, so was I... I was enjoying jerking her off more than I would have doing myself. Her body shivered every time my hand came into contact with her love-button, and I enjoyed that too. To know that this girl had never had anyone else's hands on her before, to know that the only pleasure she'd ever had before was self-induced, and that I was her first, really got me going. I signaled to the backstage hand, and he threw me my prop. I spoke softly to Kristen, "Sweety, I'm going to fuck you soon, please trust me, I won't hurt you, just stay loose and let it happen, OK?" Kristen just moaned softly in reply, and rhythmically thrust back onto my fingers. I forced my leg between hers and let her hump my thigh as I took my famous strap-on "manhood" and slipped one end into myself, and strapped on the support harness. Oh, it felt so good to be full. It always makes me feel powerful to wear a strap-on, I sometimes think I can use a fake dick better than most men use their real ones. But then I have an advantage, I know what it feels like to have a man penetrate me, and no matter how hard they might try to imagine it, men will never really know. With a little thrill, I realized that Kristen didn't know either...yet. I pulled my leg out from between Kristen's to accompanying groans of frustration, and leaned back on top of her wonderful body. I slipped my 'manhood' down between her legs and rubbed it against her very wet pussy lips. Softly I said, "Kristen dear, I want you to reach back and place me in you." She looked back through her legs and saw my beautiful life-like 10" cock. I felt her body jerk in surprise, and said, "Trust me, Kristen, this will be grand, you'll see." She slowly reached under herself to finger my 'cock'. After a bit, I had to say it again, "Kristen, place my cock at your opening, do it now, everyone is yelling for you to do it. Can you hear them, Kristen? They want me to take your virginity, do you want me to, sweety, do you?" My heart was pounding now as she took my fake cock and pulled it to her sex. I could feel 'my half' of the dildo moving inside me as she moved me to her. She placed it at her opening, and I gently rocked my hips to penetrate her pussy lips. Kristen cried out as I stretched her virgin pussy, but I didn't stop. Slowly I inserted an inch. She was quaking under me, I wasn't sure if it was in pain or pleasure, I didn't care, I was intent on doing my little American princess, so I rhythmically inserted another inch, then another. The crowd was going wild at this point. I could hear Kristen's breath coming fast and shallow, like a woman in childbirth using the Lamaze method. I thrust more into her stretched opening, and finally, I bottomed out. I had all 10 inches inside my little princess, and she wasn't screaming into the night. The audience cheered me on with a low rhythmic chant of, "fuck her, fuck her, fuck her..." over and over again. That's what I did, I started to move inside my new conquest, and she seemed not to mind my thrusting actions. Thrust in, pull out, thrust in, pull out...the rhythm started slowly, and built up. I know what a crowd likes - and that is a big dick fully viable, going in and out of a pretty wet cunt. I know that sounds crude, but then that's human nature, and I make a lot of money because I know this. And that's what I did to Kristen. I gave her a lot of dick, fake dick to be sure, but good dick. She was really starting to get into the thing. I could hear her groaning at the climax of each thrust, and I knew that she would reach the top this night. The crowd was going wild, but I think Kristen was in her own little world; I held her around the stomach as I kept up the pace. Then I felt her tummy muscles start to ripple as her body began to jerk underneath me. She started to scream, "OH yes! YES! OH GOD YES!" She was thrusting back at me, as hard as I was thrusting into her. Her movements pushed my half of the two-way dildo against my clitoris and gave me the most exquisite orgasm I think I've ever had. Just knowing that Kristen was coming from my efforts pushed me over. We shook and spasmed together as one, our juices and perspiration mixing as our lust overcame us both. Then all of a sudden, she lost her strength, and began to sag under me. I couldn't hold her up, and she fell to the floor of the stage, sprawled out under me, releasing my vinyl 'manhood' from her body. The audience roared with approval and excitement. I looked down at her sweet body and smiled. She had the look of utter satisfaction written upon her face, her eyes were closed, and she was breathing hard. I thought what a natural she'd be at this. I knew she wasn't acting, but then she didn't need to, like I said, she was a natural. I heard another part of the audience shouting Kurt's name, looked around at him, still on my knees above Kristen. Kurt was pounding into Kathy's pussy like a machine. From my angle, I could see his huge member pulling out, then disappearing back into her, like a snake into its hole. Kathy was oblivious to everything but the fine screwing that Kurt was giving her. I knew how that could be -- I'd been there a few times myself. I looked back at Kristen, she had curled up into a ball, knees to chest, facing the audience on her side, eyes still closed, then I looked back at Kurt. His bottom rose and fell, I knew that even if he had come in Kathy, he would keep up the rhythm until she had an orgasm; he could do that if he wanted...I felt like I should join in, I stood, holding my fake member and skipped over to the rutting couple and knelt behind Kurt. I looked at the audience with a questioning look on my face. They cheered me on, "Do him, come on do him..." I normally ask Kurt in advance if I'm going to do my reverse routine, but things were different tonight. All the warning I could give him was to bend over his back, touching my nipples to his rippling back muscles, so he'd know what I was about to do. He didn't seem to notice me, or didn't care, I don't know which. So I grabbed hold of my still wet and slick 'cock', placing the head of it at Kurt's rear door. I let him take me at his own speed. Every time he pulled out of Kathy, he was impaled onto my 'dick', then I'd sort of follow him down when he thrust back into her, until shortly, I was buried all the way inside his bottom's opening. I always like to do men. What a trip it is to turn the tables, and besides, the crowd loves it. Here we were, Kathy getting the screwing of her life, every time Kurt pumped into her, he'd pull off my 'cock', then every time he'd pull his out of her, he'd get mine deeply into his rear. We set up quite a show that night. It's not easy to maintain a rhythm like that, but Kurt and I knew what we were doing. Finally, Kathy started to convulse in her final orgasm. Both Kurt and I could tell that he'd used her up, that she couldn't take much more. Kathy was making unintelligible noises as her beautiful body flopped around in uncontrolled ecstasy underneath Kurt. Then to my surprise, Kurt started to come. I could tell because I had my hand down around his shaft, feeling him, and all of a sudden there was a large volume of hot fluids gushing out around his shaft. I smiled triumphantly at the audience, holding my dripping hand up for everyone to see. Kurt fell onto Kathy, pulling free from me, and then rolled off the prostrate girl. I was so breathless I just stayed on my knees, jacking my vinyl 'cock' in my hand, actually pushing it in and out of myself, but the crowd just saw what looked like a woman masturbating her dildo. I loved to do that, it was kind of my trade-mark. After a bit of that, I jumped up and pulled my strap-on off, holding it above my head as if it were a trophy I'd just won, and Kurt came to stand beside me. The music became louder.There we were, two blonde German people, standing in the middle of the stage, with our two American girls conquered, lying on the floor at either side of us, all used up. It was a very erotic scene, believe me. That night was so much fun for me that I have always kept an eye out for another virgin to take on stage. But I must admit, I've never found one like Kristen again. Both girls went back to Nuremberg to their skating competition, and did well. They went home a week later. I still get Christmas cards from them every year. Kristen has told me many times that if I come to America, I must stay with her. I have no idea where Oregon is, but if I ever do go to America, I will surely find out.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10778.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 had 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 had 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 "no," 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. "Yes!" 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 had 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/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14121.txt

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Sleep Over

"Well, here we are. You can just put your stuff anywhere," Willow said. Buffy looked around Willow's room. Computer, computer magazines, pictures of computer experts - Willow really needed to get some other interests. She dropped her bag on the floor and smiled at Willow. "Thanks for letting me stay here while my mom is out of town. It would have been pretty creepy staying in the house by myself." Willow grinned, "It's okay. We're going to have a great time! We can make s'mores and tell ghost stories, and fix each other's hair," she stopped when she saw the expression on Buffy's face. "What's wrong?" "Uh, nothing. You haven't had many sleepovers have you?" she guessed. Willow turned pink. "None, actually. But I read all about what people do at them." They were interrupted by Willow's mother calling them for dinner. Afterwards, they stayed up late watching old movies and talking. When they finally made it to bed, Willow asked, "You don't mind sharing with me, do you? I mean, it's more comfortable than the couch." Buffy jumped on the bed and patted it for Willow to join her. "This is fine. C'mon Willow, let's tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets." They climbed under the covers and turned off the lights. "Who goes first?" Willow whispered. "Me, I guess. Do you want to hear about the first time I did it?" Willow nodded, eyes wide. "Well, it was with my old boyfriend Pike. He took me for a ride on his motorcycle out to the beach. It was late at night. We sat down looking at the ocean, and well, one thing led to another." Willow was listening intently. "Was it... I mean, did you like it?" she asked in a squeaky voice. Buffy hesitated, then said, "Not really. It was all over before I knew what was happening. Pike wasn't really into foreplay." Willow put her hand over her mouth to hold back the giggles. Then Buffy joined her. The two girls lay on the bed for quite a while, helpless with laughter. Buffy propped her head up with one hand and asked Willow, "Have you ever done it?" Willow sputtered and shook her head. Buffy grabbed her and said, "Don't freak out! I'll take that as a no." "If I tell you something, will you promise never to repeat it to a living soul?" Willow asked. Buffy crossed her heart and said, "I promise, Slayer's honor." Willow leaned in close to Buffy, "I've never even kissed anybody before. If you don't count family." She blushed. "I'm not sure that I even want to, you know that tongue thing. It seems kind of gross." Buffy giggled, "Come on, Willow. You're kidding right?" She saw the serious look on her friend's face. "You're not kidding. Oh Willow, I'm sorry I laughed." She reached out and tousled Willow's hair fondly. "That tongue thing is not so bad. You'll see." The other girl sighed. "I'll probably never find out. Who would want to kiss me, anyway?" "Don't talk that way! A lot of people would be very happy to kiss you." Seeing the doubtful look on her face, she continued, "Tell you what, I could kiss you. Just so you would know what it's like." Willow's mouth refused to work for a few seconds, then she said in a small voice, "Do you think that would be all right?" Buffy nodded, "No one will ever know." She leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. Willow tensed at her touch. Buffy stroked her cheek and whispered, "It's okay. I'm your friend. I'd never do anything to hurt you." Then she kissed her again, gently teasing her lips until Willow opened her mouth. Buffy moved her tongue in carefully, trying not to frighten the girl. Willow slowly relaxed and began to respond. Buffy put her arms around Willow and pulled her close. They kissed deeply. When Buffy pulled away, she gazed into Willow's eyes. "Did you like it?" she asked. "Yes," Willow breathed, "Can we do it again?" Buffy smiled and took her mouth again. Willow's arms went around Buffy's neck. As they kissed, Buffy's hand slid down her flannel nightgown, until they reached her breasts. Willow sighed as Buffy massaged one through the material. "That's nice," Willow said. Buffy whispered in her ear, "It'll be even nicer if you let me take your gown off." Willow nodded and Buffy carefully pulled the gown over her head. Willow lay there, wearing nothing but a pair of lacy white panties. Buffy moved her head down to the small, pale breasts and licked a nipple. Willow gave a small cry of surprise and pleasure. Buffy kissed the nipple again, then put her mouth over it and began to suck. Willow shivered and held Buffy's head. Buffy's hand moved down to Willow's thighs, then between her legs. Willow gasped and said, "Are you going to do that?" Buffy looked up at her and said, "Only if you want me to." Willow closed her eyes, and opened her legs slightly, to give Buffy room. She stroked, enjoying the feel of the silky and increasingly damp material. With both hands, she slowly pulled the panties off. Willow's hands clenched the sheets, her eyes never leaving Buffy. Buffy dropped the panties on the floor and then started to kiss her way up Willow's legs. She stopped at the knee, and ran her hand along Willow's inner thigh. The girl trembled as Buffy's finger moved up. She stopped and then retraced her path with her lips. Buffy gently kissed the red hair. Willow jumped like she had received an electric shock. "Buffy, what are you doing?" she cried. Buffy just smiled, and began to probe with her fingers, until she found the warm, tight opening. She pushed a finger in very slowly, listening to Willow's cry of delight. She stroked slowly at first. When Willow began to move against her hand, she plunged in another finger and stroked harder. She lay her head on Willow's stomach and listened to her tiny moans. Finally, she moved her face down, and kissed and licked until she came to the passage. She slipped her tongue in. She got her first taste of Willow. It was warm and musky and she had to have more. She licked hard and deep. Willow's body began to move in rhythm to Buffy's strokes. Her cries increased in pitch, as the pressure built up inside of her, demanding release. "Buffy!" she moaned. She rocked her hips up and down into Buffy's face. Buffy grabbed her legs and pulled them around her neck. Willow caught Buffy's head and pushed it harder against her pussy, desperate for more. Buffy's fingers joined her tongue in the passage, stroking and licking until Willow began to shake uncontrollably. Willow gave one last cry and collapsed, shivering and trying to catch her breath. Buffy quickly moved up to her and gathered her into her arms. "It's okay, Willow. Everything's okay, now." When her breathing returned to normal, she looked into Buffy's eyes and whispered, "That was wonderful. Thank you Buffy." Buffy smiled. "Any time." Willow held Buffy tight again and whispered, "Do you want me to..." "You don't have to," Buffy assured her. Willow kissed her cheek and then started pulling off Buffy's clothes. Buffy gladly helped her. When they were through, they embraced, enjoying the feel of their nude bodies pressed against each other. Willow's hands moved between Buffy's legs and gingerly touched the area. Buffy laughed and said, "It's okay, I'm not going to break." Willow kissed her mouth and then began to work her way down. She stopped to run her tongue over Buffy's breast. Buffy gasped and said, "Willow, are you sure you've never done this before?" Willow said nothing, but continued her downward path, until she reached Buffy's pussy. She pushed her legs apart and then quickly kissed it. Then she hesitantly licked. Then she grew bolder, and stuck a finger into Buffy. Buffy wiggled approvingly. Willow pushed her tongue in, then pulled back surprised. "You taste good, Buffy," she informed her friend. Buffy laughed and then focused on moving her hips in time to Willow's increasingly daring tongue. A low moan escaped her as she rocked harder. She grabbed a handful of Willow's long red hair and twined it around her hand, as she felt her body grow white hot. She peaked in a blinding hot wave of ecstasy. She wasn't aware of anything until she felt Willow's head snuggling against her shoulder. "Did I do it right?" she asked."You were perfect," she answered. The end.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16280.txt

Parker

Doctor's Orders

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice." Jacqueline Astor just smiled and nodded, casually waving away the expression of thanks. "It was no problem at all," she smiled. "It's my job." Brushing back her shoulder-length brown hair, the doctor handed over the clipboard on which the patient registration forms had been laid out. Lisa Forbes took the clipboard and began filling out the forms. The doctor surreptitiously examined her new patients. It was difficult to believe that this woman was in her mid-thirties, and the mother of a seventeen-year-old daughter. With her long brown hair and trim figure, Lisa could have passed for a woman ten years her junior. In fact, Lisa and her daughter almost looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. They might even have been twins - they both had the same cute features and bright blue eyes - except that Anna's short, curly hair was a honey blonde. A "gift" from her father, Lisa had explained, grimacing. The doctor turned her attention to the daughter, who had remained silent during the initial interview. 'Shy', Lisa had explained. Shy or not, she was a beauty. Lisa finished filling out the forms and handed them over. "Thanks," Dr. Astor said, quickly examining them, "This should..." She stopped speaking and looked up. "There's no previous address or next of kin." Embarrassed, Lisa Forbes smiled apologetically at the young doctor. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that, well... with the move and... and everything..." She shrugged her shoulders, unwilling to complete the statement. She didn't have to; Jacqueline Astor knew all about the mother and daughter's recent move to the little town of Point Hope in southern California; she knew all about Lisa's messy separation and, ultimately, divorce from her alcoholic and likely abusive husband back home in Nebraska. All this information had come out during the initial registration. Nikki would doubtless have it all down on the computer by now. It was perfect. Jacqueline selected an understanding smile and carefully arranged it on her face. She had to play this just right. "Oh that's fine," she said, open and friendly. "That information's not vital. I understand." Lisa breathed a sigh of relief, relieved that it wasn't going to be a problem. She had been prepared to withhold the information, even if it meant losing this doctor. Still, it usually took weeks to get appointments with specialists, and with their insurance situation up in the air... well, they were more than a little lucky to have come across someone like Dr. Astor. "Just make certain to be on time for your Friday appointment," the doctor said, "We'll go over those test results and see what we can do about getting the both of you to a GP as soon as possible. I think I might be able to arrange something for you in that department." Lisa blushed. She really hadn't expected such kindness; especially on her first day in town! Back home in Lincoln, folks were warned about the kind of people one met in places like California. It seemed that the warnings were misguided. Stammering out a final round of 'thanks', she bundled her silent daughter out of the reception area.For the first time, Michelle began to feel frightened, but she pushed on. The screaming sound was louder now. She stepped into the shower and stepped through the door... ...and into a nightmare. Michelle had never imagined that the doctor - that ANY human being could be capable of such... such acts. The blood... the screams... that young girl, she couldn't have been more than sixteen years old - A PATIENT! (Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god) - lying strapped over the examination table, squealing in agony as the doctor - Dr. Astor? - stood behind her; thrusting... thrusting... thrusting... The world seemed to rush away from her and narrow to a pinpoint as she stood, fear-crazed and stupefied, struck dumb by the scene in front of her. It seemed like hours... it seemed like seconds... She must have screamed. She had no memory of it, but she must have done so, because she became dimly aware of a new wailing sound, rising up to join the screams and cries of the young girl. Unable to move, the receptionist watched as Dr. Astor pulled away from her young victim and turned in slow motion to face the intruder. It wasn't until she saw the huge dildo strapped onto her employer's crotch - large... black... red... brown... - that the wailing stopped, as if shut off by the throwing of some unseen switch, and the floor rushed up to caress her face black and blue... and then, finally, black again. She didn't know how long she had been unconscious. When she woke up, she found herself strapped down to the examination table, naked, with locked legs trapped and spread up over her head in the metal stirrups. Dr. Astor stood above her, gently stroking her face with the back of her hand. "There we are," she crooned softly, her voice soothing and gentle. "All awake now. All ready to play." Michelle struggled to talk; to scream; to beg. But it was no use. Something that felt like a large plastic ball was fastened into her mouth with a leather strap. "I've sent my little playmate off to her new owners," Astor smirked, noting her victim's panic. "Just like all the rest: break them in - have a little fun with them - and then off they go." She reached down and began playing with Michelle's exposed nipples, pinching and prodding. The girl tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. "Profitable perhaps, but it gets a little lonely sometimes. That's what you're for." Suddenly intense, Dr. Astor leaned down and put her face up close to that of her terrified prisoner. "The others will come and go, come and go, but you... you I'll keep. My own toy; my pet. We'll have such fun together, you and I." Smiling, she straightened up and reached over to the instrument tray. After a quick search, she picked up a small, silver-shiny scalpel. "Now, where shall we begin?" Breathless, Nikki Crawford dropped her keys on the kitchen counter and picked up the phone. There was no need to check a phone book for the number; she knew it well. "Hender, please," she said, fighting to keep the excitement out of her voice. She was a professional now and she would behave like one. "Tell him this is Special Agent Crawford." She waited impatiently. "Lance? This is Nikki. Yes... I think she's making a move. We have a couple of new patients that fit the profile... yes; I know. You were right about the stake-out, but... yes, but it's been over four months now... OK. Right. I understand; no moves until we find out as much as possible. Right. OK... No false alarms. I'll report in again when I know more." Sighing, she hung up the phone. Spending four months as a receptionist in a doctor's office had starkly underlined the reasons she had joined the Bureau in the first place. Her first job! She had expected things to be different. Still, it was just about over... In the now-dark doctor's office, the answering machine continued to run for a moment and then it shut itself off. The small red light blinked... blinked... blinked... indicating that it had captured a call to tape. Friday afternoon. Lisa and Anna had shown up right on time. They had the waiting room to themselves, as Nikki had cancelled all of the other afternoon appointments as per the doctor's instructions. "Doctor Astor will see you now." Nikki, smiling, led the mother and daughter into the fluorescent, sterile-white examination room. After seeing them settled in, she went through the back door into Dr. Astor's office. "They're ready," she announced, handing the doctor a clipboard with the relevant files. "Thank you." Dr. Astor took the clipboard, but appeared somewhat distracted. Shrugging, Nikki turned to leave. "That will be all for today Nikki," the doctor called after her. "I won't be needing you any more." Frowning, Nikki turned to protest. "But doctor..." "I said that will be all." All trace of distraction vanished as Jacqueline Astor focused her attention on her receptionist. "Do you understand?" "Yes doctor," Nikki acceded, all thoughts of disagreement melting away before her employer's anger. Without another word, she turned and left the office. A few minutes later, she was out on the street in front of the office, debating whether or not to call Hender. 'Better wait,' she decided. Hender had instructed her that the Bureau would not be acting until they had learned all they could about the doctor's operations. Special Agent Nikki Crawford decided that she would wait for a while and then head back into the office to check things out. If she was right about what was going to happen, the Bureau would learn plenty... Lisa opened her eyes. She didn't know where she was. She didn't even remember falling asleep. What had happened? "Mommy!" ANNA! Lisa tried to sit up, but found that she was unable to do so; she was fastened down on the examination table by what felt like some sort of chain around her neck. Her hands and the rest of her body were free, but she was effectively held down by the neck chain. "Anna," she cried, pulling uselessly at the chain around her neck. It began to choke her as she tugged at it. "Where are you?" "Mommy!" This time the cry degenerated into a scream of pain. Desperately, Lisa turned her head to see what was happening to her daughter. If she twisted and pulled - effectively cutting off the passage of air through her windpipe - the desperate mother was able to see her daughter at the other side of the room. Anna was naked, held down on the lap of Dr. Astor who was now wearing nothing more than an unbuttoned white lab coat. The teenager twisted and squirmed weakly, but was unable to pull away from the evil woman, who fondled and abused her. One hand held tight in the struggling girl's curly blonde hair while the other roamed free over her body: first fondling and squeezing the girl's small, well-formed breasts and then sliding down to her exposed crotch, pinching, prodding and then - impossibly; inevitably - sliding inside. Up until then, Anna didn't seem to have been struggling very hard - was she drugged? - but that got a reaction. "MOM!" "Anna!" Lisa thrashed about on the examination, struggling furiously to escape, but was unable to do anything other than watch helplessly as the woman - the doctor - casually took her young daughter's virginity. Anna started wailing as the doctor began sliding her finger roughly in and out of her dry pussy. "No!!!" This time, Lisa's cry of anguish brought a response. Dr. Astor brought her head up and looked over at the woman she earlier had chained down to the examination table. Lisa flinched back as she saw the strange, almost dazed, look in the woman's glowing green eyes. "Ah," the doctor smirked, "I see the BITCH is finally awake." She looked down at Anna, who had stopped fighting and was just sitting, limp and broken on her lap, and then back up at the mother. "Ready to join the fun?" At the word 'bitch', Lisa felt a warm surge of... of something - lust?? - flow through her body, starting in her pussy and spreading rapidly up through the rest of her body. What was happening to her? The doctor, noticing the confused play of emotions across her victim's face, smirked. "Did you like that you little SLUT?" she asked as she continued to rape Anna with her fingers. The horrified mother again felt the impossible surge of lust. She struggled to close her legs, to keep her hands away from her crotch - to do anything to reject the feeling in her pussy - but it was no use. Laughing, Dr. Astor jerked her fingers out from where she had been sliding them in and out of the Anna's bleeding pussy. Anna jerked in pain and started crying again. Pausing only to rub clean her bloody fingers on her sobbing victim's blonde hair, the doctor dumped the girl onto the floor and walked slowly across to the examination table, where the girl's mother was chained by the neck. Lisa struggled madly, both to break free and to fight down the waves of unnatural lust crashing over her body. She lost both battles. Smirking at the woman's futile struggle, the doctor leaned over and put her face up close to her victim's fear-crazed eyes. "You're enjoying this," she murmured, "aren't you bitch?" Another surge of sexual heat. Lisa shook her head. "No..." Dr. Astor slowly - excruciatingly - dragged one of her long, sharp, painted nails down the woman's trembling leg and onto her exposed pussy. Involuntarily, Lisa's legs closed on the hand, as if trying to suck it into her sopping cunt. The doctor obliged, sinking her finger deep inside and twisting it around. A few seconds later, she brought a shiny, wet finger up to the woman's face."Your pussy says otherwise," she whispered. "Have a taste." It was too much. Lisa clamped her mouth firmly shut and turned away. The doctor just smiled. "Have a taste," she repeated. "Slut." Lisa moaned in lust. 'Just one taste,' she thought. 'Just this once.' She had to do it! With a groan of defeat, she opened her mouth, her warm wet tongue lapping invitingly over her lower lip. Dr. Astor slid her finger in and Lisa was soon sucking avidly, now completely unable to resist the waves of lust that engulfed her body. "That's right, bitch," the doctor crooned in a mock soothing voice. "You have a nice suck while I explain a few things." Lisa moaned as Dr. Astor slid her free hand down and began toying with her victim's sopping pussy. "I'm not really a doctor; at least, not the kind of doctor you came to see. I am - was - a psychiatrist, specializing in hypnosis. I lost my license after a little... incident a few years back. You see, I have certain tastes. Tastes which my skill in hypnosis allowed me to indulge. It used to be just for my own pleasure, but since the college revoked my license, I've been forced to find a new career." All through this little speech, Lisa could feel herself becoming more and more aroused as the doctor fondled her body. She was now squirming on the examination table, sucking as hard as she could on the doctor's finger, trying desperately to come. Dr. Astor, however, knew what she was doing; every time Lisa started building towards an orgasm, she would pull her hand away. Lisa would thrust her hips forward, desperate for the pressure against her pussy. Eventually, her excitement would die down, and the doctor would begin playing with her again. "Now I'm a saleswoman," Dr. Astor continued. "I specialize in finding - and training - bitches like you for certain customers..." Lisa wasn't even listening anymore. She had to come. SHE HAD TO... "And, of course, there's always a market for a mother and daughter team." Lisa twisted and bucked under the doctor's expert hands... "So, I've spent a little time in your head, setting things up for your training. Every time you hear certain words - bitch, slut, whore, cocksucker and others - you will feel uncontrollable lust." The doctor paused and looked down in satisfaction as the young mother twisted and whined on the examination table. "But you won't be able to come - ever - until you hear one, certain word." "Please... please... please..." "Listen, bitch, will you do what I say?" "Please..." "Whore, will you help me train your daughter? Will you help her become the same kind of cumslut, bitch, whore, cocksucker as her mother?" "YES! YES! YES... I'll help you turn her into whore, a bitch, a cocksucker... anything... just let me..." Dr. Astor turned and looked over at Anna, who had been watching the activity on the examination table with wide, frightened eyes. Her pussy had stopped bleeding, but it still ached with the pain of the defilement. And now... what was her mother saying? "Please... please... PLEASE..." Dr. Astor looked down and smiled. "OK. You can come now. CUNT!" "Arrghhh..." Lisa twisted and thrashed on the table, screaming with release as the orgasm which had been building up in her body for so long finally exploded in full force, sending wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing through her body. Dr. Astor nodded in satisfaction. The suggestions and responses she had implanted earlier were working perfectly. The first time was always the most difficult; after that, it became easier and easier until, finally, the subject would be completely addicted. Soon, Lisa would willingly - abjectly - do anything she was told; anything at all in order to be allowed the release the orgasms would bring her. This was going to be an easy one... Nikki Crawford silently cursed herself for not keeping her service revolver with her. Over the months of surveillance, she had grown careless, leaving it at home rather than bringing it with her to her 'job' as a receptionist for the doctor. Now, when she really needed it, it was sitting at home, useless and forgotten in her desk drawer. The office door was locked. Strange, given the fact that no one had left. Nikki once again considered reporting in to Hender and calling for backup, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Hender had been explicit in his instructions that she wasn't to call in unless she had proof. Well, she'd get him his proof. She reached into her purse and pulled out the key. Not the usual office key, the one opening the receptionist's area in the front of the office, but Dr. Astor's key; or, rather, the duplicate she had gotten made up after 'borrowing' her employer's key. This one opened not only the main office door, but the other areas as well. She slipped it in and twisted. The lock turned over with a small click. Heart pounding furiously, Nikki Crawford pushed the door open. "Mom... NO!" Lisa Forbes, naked and unrestrained, stood behind her young daughter, her brown hair matted down over her forehead. She wore a large, black, strap-on dildo. Her hands worked furiously up and down the black monster, covering it with grease as she had been ordered to do by the doctor. "That's right, you bitch," Dr. Astor told her. "Grease it up real good." Lisa shuddered with obscene delight as the doctor's words triggered the hypnotic suggestion and the now-familiar - now fervently longed-after - wave of pleasure rocked her naked body. Nothing mattered now; nothing other than pleasing her mistress so she could hear those words again. She lived to hear those words. Those wonderful words... She didn't have long to wait. "Now, you stupid slut, shove it in. Ream your daughter's asshole until it bleeds." "Mommy..." Ignoring her daughter's cry for mercy, Lisa obeyed, shoving the glistening phallus into her daughter's virgin asshole. Anna was bent over the examination table, held down by a set of leather cuffs wrapped around her thin wrists and clipped to the legs of the table. Anna twisted and bucked, but her mother gripped the teenager's narrow thighs with a strength born of madness and shoved forward as hard as she could. Anna squealed herself hoarse with pain and horror as the invader slipped past her desperately-squirming sphincter muscles and invaded her ass. The pain was unimaginable. "Now fuck her, bitch." Lisa shuddered with pleasure and began sawing the dildo in and out as fast as she could, eyes vacant, drool seeping over her slack lower lip and dripping down onto her sweating, hard-nippled breasts. Maybe if she did well enough... maybe she would be allowed to experience another orgasm. Maybe... Dr. Astor leaned down in front of Anna's tear-stained face. The girl had stopped screaming now; she just stared straight ahead, her mouth wide open in a silent mask of shock and pain. But she was silent. Unable to resist, the doctor moved forward and pressed her lips against those of her young victim. Anna tried to turn her head, but was unable to escape. All she could do was lie there in silent agony as her mother raped her ass and the doctor explored the inside of her mouth with her tongue. Nikki heard the screaming, but couldn't make out the words. The noise seemed to be coming from behind the door to the examination room, but when she tried to open it, she found that it had been bolted shut from the other side. Shit. Then she remembered: there was another way in. Through the doctor's office; there was a back entrance. Maybe she could get in through there. Time passed... Jacqueline Astor let her head hang back as she enjoyed the extraordinary sensation of Anna's hard-working, if inexperienced tongue. Inexperienced because the poor girl had never serviced another woman's pussy before; hard-working because the girl's mother, panting and whining with the need to orgasm, was bringing a large paddle down on the girl's reddening ass, all the time urging her daughter to 'make the mistress come'. Jacqueline had told Lisa that when she came, she would say the word that would allow Lisa to orgasm. Lisa had immediately grabbed her daughter by the hair and shoved the crying girl in between the doctor's legs. She then began 'encouraging' her with the large paddle. Thus motivated, the seventeen year-old had stuck out her little pink tongue and begun work. "Little bitch... little whore..." The doctor kept up a constant string of verbal abuse. The words served both to degrade the girl - to teach her her new role in life - and to keep the girl's mother on edge. A light blinked on over the main door. "Fuck." Dr. Astor pushed Anna's head away. The young girl, eyes glazed with pain and face covered with pussy juice, sat back on her heels. "Get her to suck your own pussy, whore," Astor ordered, pulling the medical lab coat back around her body. She was angry at having her pleasure frustrated, but had a pretty good idea of what was happening. "When I get back we'll get serious." Lisa obeyed instantly. Once again, she grabbed her daughter by the hair, but this time pulled her young daughter around and jammed the girl's face into her own crotch rather than the doctor's. "Come to mommy," she burbled, half insane with lust. Anna - limp and broken - stuck her face in her mother's pussy and began licking. Dr. Astor left them there, going over to a drawer and taking out a hypodermic needle she had prepared that morning for just such an event.It paid, in her experience, to be prepared. Nikki froze, halted in her tracks by the sight that greeted her as she entered the doctor's private office (locked, of course, but susceptible to the copied key). It was a girl. She was naked, her pink flesh pocked and matted with criss-crossing scars. Mute testimony to innumerable sessions with the whip, the cane, the scalpel, the match... Stunned, Nikki moved slowly forward. Her horror grew as the details of the girl's present condition became apparent. She was bent over backwards, back arched and chest shoved forward, over a small stool. Her whip-stained breasts defied gravity, reaching straight up to the ceiling. They were held that way by two long strips of elastic which ran from the ceiling down to a pair of fishhooks stuck deep through the girl's nipples. The more she relaxed, the harder the elastic pulled. This was just the beginning, though. The girl's legs were pulled wide and fastened to the floor with leather cuffs, exposing her pussy; exposing what had been done to it. The flesh to each side of it had been pierced with large, silver rings. Elastic straps had been attached through these rings and ran through a D-ring on the base of a large dildo which jutted obscenely from the poor girl's pussy. These straps ran down through her ass-crack, under her body and across to her head, where they had been fastened to the long, brown braid of her sweat-matted hair. If she tried to pull her head up, this in turn would pull on the dildo, propelling the massive instrument further into her already-tortured pussy. As well, a tight strap from a large ring in her nose ran down her chest to the fishhooks in her nipples. Thus, if she moved her head forward, the dildo was pulled further into her pussy; if she moved her head back, this put pressure on the hooks in her nipples. A lose-lose situation. Finally, the girl's arms had been fastened tightly to her ankles, making it almost impossible for her to move. As if she'd want to. Breathlessly, tears filling her eyes and caution all but forgotten, Nikki rushed forward to help. Michelle felt her awareness being tugged from its accustomed niche in the haze of pain that was her existence. Blearily, she opened her eyes to see a young blonde woman, dressed in the uniform of a receptionist, bend over her, mumbling something about not being afraid. As if she could ever not be afraid again. Still, despite all that had happened to her, Michelle still had some spirit left. That's why - if she could have; if the ring punched through her tongue and threaded through the holes in her lips in such a way as to prevent her from ever pulling her tongue back into her mouth - she would have cried out a warning as she saw Dr. Astor appear from the examination room and bend over her unsuspecting rescuer. But she couldn't. The ring in her tongue had effectively reduced her powers of speech to an incoherent grunting and moaning, neither of which served as an effective warning. Michelle could do nothing but watch in horror as Dr. Astor plunged the hypodermic needle into her rescuer's arm. The woman turned and tried to struggle - she was strong and quick - but whatever drug the doctor had used was proving all too effective. Within seconds, the woman - the rescuer - was lying unconscious on the floor. Unable to prevent herself, Michelle began to cry helpless tears. It had been weeks since she had cried. Dr. Astor looked over at her and smiled. "Michelle," she said, "Feeling lonely?" The doctor walked over to the bound girl and opened the lab coat. Smiling an evil smile, she straddled her victim's face and ground her pussy into her mouth. "Let's put that tongue of your to work," she ordered. The pain was incredible as the weight of Dr. Astor's body pushed her head downward, tightening the pressure on the fishhooks, but Michelle stuck out her pierced tongue and began lapping at her tormentor's pussy. She knew - oh how she knew - that no matter how bad the pain got, it could always get worse. And, of course, it always did.It wasn't until after a couple of sessions with the cane and one memorable night with the tailor's donkey that her spirit finally broke. Now, with her shiny bright badges glittering on her chest and a vacant please-fuck-me bimbo-smile on her face, she was a huge hit with the customers, usually servicing a score of them nightly. The bartender kept her chained naked at the foot of his bed at night. On stage, the act reached its climax, the mother screaming out in uncontrollable ecstasy as her keeper said the magic word. The club, packed as usual, erupted into a cacophony of applause and catcalls, and the stage was showered with money. Still on her knees, the waitress crossed to another table and started work on another cock. Another good night at the El-Maceia. The bartender smiled again. And there were still two shows to go... ENDING B Nikki struggled to regain consciousness. She had managed to twist her arm away so that most of whatever drug had been in the needle had gone into the sleeve of her jacket, but the needle had still broken skin, and enough of the drug had entered her bloodstream to make her dizzy and confused. There was a distinct blackness around the edge of her vision, and she flirted with unconsciousness, but somehow she stayed awake. Unwillingly, the room wavered back into focus. Or did it? Nikki could only blink her eyes in disbelief at the sight which greeted her. Dr. Astor, naked under a white lab coat which was bunched up around her waist, was straddling the bound girl, brutally grinding her crotch into the girl's face. Every time she bore down, the bands pulling the girl's breasts upwards strained another few inches. Already, the poor girl's nipples were being pulled out from a good two inches from the breast. Nikki lay there for a few more moments, gathering her strength. As she focused on what was happening, and what she was going to have to do, she found it easier to fight off the effects of the drugs. She grew steadier and became aware of a shouting in the examination room. It sounded like a girl screaming something about... what, her mother? It must be the Forbes! Nikki gathered her strength and pulled herself to her feet. In her weakened state, she was unable to be as stealthy as she would have liked, but it didn't matter. The doctor was fully occupied with her pleasures. She was playing with her own breasts as she rode the poor girl's face, and her head was thrown back, eyes open... She never knew what hit her. Slowly, impossibly, Michelle felt the pain ease off. Despite being certain that this was just another trick of the doctor's, she was unable to resist fanning the tiny spark of hope that flickered in her heart. Please... It was true. Line by line; cuff by cuff; hook by hook, she was slowly released from her bondage. When she was finally free - FINALLY FREE!! - she was unable to do anything except hug her rescuer and cry. The nightmare was over. At least for her. Nikki, who had left to check on the examination room, returned, pale and shaking. Michelle didn't have to ask; she'd seen the results of the doctor's work before. She could well imagine the state Lisa and Anna Forbes were in. Wordlessly, the two women stared at each other with bleak expressions and then looked down at the floor where Dr. Astor lay unconscious. How could a human being... The phone rang. Nikki walked over and picked it up. The person on the other end - a man - spoke with a Mexican accent. When she realized what the man was saying, she almost hung up the phone, but - as she looked over the tortured form of Michelle Myers, and listened to the screams of young Anna Forbes as her brainwashed mother sexually abused her - an idea occurred to her. It wasn't legal; it wasn't ethical; and it sure as hell wasn't professional. But it was a good idea. A slow smile spread across her face as she began talking... EPILOGUE The bartender gazed sadly at the long row of glasses that needed wiping. Sighing to himself, he picked up a grimy towel and set to work. Really, though, he didn't know why he bothered. People - customers... gringos... whatever - they didn't come to the El-Maceia for the cleanliness or the decor. The only thing that saved the club from looking like a complete pest-hole was the fact that the lighting was usually kept low enough to shroud the general shabbiness of the place in a forgiving darkness. Likewise, they didn't come for the booze. Sure, they served all kinds of alcohol at the El-Maceia, but so did a lot of other places. And, if you didn't mind cheap Mexican beer, most other places were cheaper too. No, they came for one reason and one reason only: sex. Not only did the El-Maceia boast an infamous whorehouse - with, incidentally, a large number of white-skinned Americano girls from up north - but it also ran the raunchiest live sex show in all of Mexico. Or so said the rep. On the well-lit stage, the club's newest act - a dog & donkey show - entered its first performance of the evening. This act represented his latest shipment from the US. It hadn't been what he was expecting, but he had learned to make do with the tools at hand. Even if those tools happened to be an old business partner. Besides, he had always thought (privately) that the good doctor would make an admirable addition to his stable, with her thick brown hair and bright green eyes. Well... not so bright anymore. The current part of the "act" featured the woman - tall, beautiful and white - entertaining a dog from the club's kennel. The canine was a large German shepherd, nothing like the donkey featured in the last show of the evening, but still decent enough entertainment to start the evening. Dr Astor - or, Jackie as she was known - was presently on all fours, using one of her hands to feed the dog's large cock into her pussy. It had taken a little while to get her to do that - actively participate - but it had been worth the effort. It was somehow much more humiliating when the "performers" assisted in their own degradation. Still no co-operation with the donkey, but that would come in time. Or not; it didn't really matter all that much. Jackie's 'keeper' figured that she had a good six months in her before she would have to be 'retired' to a mining camp somewhere in the interior. Six months of packed houses and satisfied customers. The bartender - who also owned the club - smiled at the thought. Sure, there might be some difficulty in finding a new American "talent agent", but something would come up. There were always people willing to supply where there was a demand. On stage, the act reached its climax as the dog began to come inside the woman as she fucked back against him. As she had been trained to do, Jackie cried out in simulated ecstasy. The audience loved that. They went wild, erupting into a cacophony of applause and catcalls, and the stage was showered with money. Still on her knees, the woman panted and gasped for air as a thick wad of dog cum slid down the inside of her thigh. Another good night at the El-Maceia. The bartender smiled again. And there were still two shows to go... THE END

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11849.txt

Andrew Roller

Sum 20 Summer of Sin

"Put it away, Page," I said. He was playing with his Tamagotchi again. Well, that was the slang for it, since that's what the first one was called. In fact, it was called a "Palm Pet." It was only supposed to be for guys over 18, so naturally, Page had one, even though he wasn't 18 yet. He liked it. It featured a girl. You could make her do just about anything you wished. Page undressed her very slowly the first day he got her. Then, as he gave his sexual urges freer reign, he made her do other things. "Put it away," I told him again. "She's coming." "I know. She's cumming!" Page said. "Not here, numbnuts. The prosecutor," I told Page. "Oh." Page said. He fumbled with his Palm Pet, slipped it into his pocket. Together we watched the woman coming out of the courthouse. They said she was a "top prosecutor." She put a lot of men and boys in prison. We watched her crossing the street, briefcase in hand, her feminist lackey beside her. God knows what he was. "Junior top prosecutor"? Page stepped out first. Page. Fucking Page. I think he was going to do some kind of Mark David Chapman, John Lennon thing. You know, "Pleased to meet you, ma'am? I admire your work. May I have your autograph?" But my finger was like, you know, "This is it." At last. It had taken us two weeks to smuggle the gun parts into the center of the city, past all the guards. The first time we assembled it and tried firing it, we almost killed ourselves. My hands were still burned from that. Page put out one of his burned hands toward the woman, like he wanted to shake hands with her. Her lackey, sensing trouble, darted in front of her. His lackey eyes narrowed, and he pushed at Page. "Get back, Page!" I shouted. I wasn't much more experienced at shooting laser rifles than I was at assembling them. The lackey turned, looked at me. He reached into his jacket, fast. I fired. There was an eruption where his neck connected to his head, and the head just kind of popped up, like a ball, ripped neck muscles flaying uselessly at open air where the head had once been connected, where all those lackey thoughts had travelled down from his brain to the places that actually worked normally, like his asshole. (His asshole, give it credit, continued to function normally. At the severing of his head, his shithole made a nice big crap in his thousand-dollar pants.) The "top prosecutor" watched as her lackey's headless body crumpled backward and fell to the street. She seemed shocked. Her eyes looked past his body toward his head, rolling aimlessly down the street. I think in that moment of horror she actually, in locating his head, tried to say something to it, but then her higher brain prevailed and countermanded the order, realizing it was quite useless. She turned toward me. It's interesting how someone powerful looks when they're at the wrong end of the barrel of a gun. At first, there was rage in her eyes. Page was still trying to do something smart-ass, like ask her for her autograph. I felt like shooting his head off too, but I needed him. He was useful as a diversion if nothing else... Page's antics caused the woman to turn her glance away from me and look at him. At the same moment, she tore open her handbag and reached into it. I never found out whether there was pepper spray in there, or a real weapon. She focused on Page, I think, in her last moment of life, because he was nearer. Amazing how the primal instinct goes for things like that, isn't it? I have a gun, but since guns were only invented in the last 300 years or so, she goes for Page, because he's nearer. And weirder. But he was, you know, unarmed. A weird-fucking dude, a threat to the social order, probably somebody who needed to be prosecuted right away but, nonetheless, unarmed. I fired. The shot missed. The prosecutor dug around in her handbag, reaching for whatever it was she was looking for. Lipstick? I fired again. I hit her that time. Right in the chest. She had no tits to speak of, so I didn't consider it a loss of anything important. Her insides became her outsides, and her outsides just kind of disappeared. She fell backward, the blast knocking her a good five yards before she hit the street. I ran up to her, aimed at her head, and fired again. I didn't want to take any chances. Doctors are good these days. Especially with expensive patients, like her, who earn them a good return because of insurance. I aimed for the 'brain,' if you could call it that, given all the feminist crap that was clogging it. Her head blew open, and I felt a wave of satisfaction and relief. Almost at once I heard sirens. "Shit man, you did it!" Page said. He danced around me and the woman's body. He put a rolled-up fist to one of his eyes and pretended to film the whole thing, like he was going to put it on the 10 o'clock news. "Well, yeah. I guess I did," I said. My first kill. No, my second. The lackey was my first. I hadn't been sure, five minutes ago, if I'd have the guts to do it. Now I had two notches in my belt. Too bad I wasn't wearing one. "Shit, and I wanted to get her autograph too," Page told me. "Now you can have anything you want," I said. I looked at Page. I motioned towards the woman's purse. "No, man," Page said. "That would be, like, stealing. You know, desecrating the dead. This is for Liberation, right?" "Yeah," I said. "But we could use the money for the Cause." Page considered a moment. I heard sirens wailing louder. I thought I heard a gun go off, somewhere. Screams reached my ears distantly. It was like I was in a vacuum, even though I was standing out on the sidewalk, next to the street. "Yeah. For the Cause!" Page said. Then he leaped down on the woman's purse. Almost at once he got hold of some money, actual Benjamins, and he tore them out of her purse and lifted them up to me. "Let's go," I said, turning. I didn't want the money. I needed to be able to shoot and run. Page didn't have a gun. Let him hold the fucking money. Another gunshot. I think that one was close to my head. 'Do Unto Others As They Do Unto You,' you know. I guess the feminist lackey's "Junior Prosecutor" had some friends. Other prosecutors, cops, court clerks, who knows? Anybody authorized to carry a gun in the center of the city. And that was the whole fucking establishment, except for people like me and Page. Moving as if in slow motion, I broke from the vacuum that seemed to enclose me. I gaped with a kind of childlike innocence at the people nearest me. Yes. Nearest. My primal mind worked the same as the prosecutor's. I didn't know whether they were armed or unarmed. I fired. Once. Twice. Again. I heard more screams. Louder. More urgent. I saw blood but paid no attention. "Let's go, Page!" I said. He took one final camera-look at the prosecutor and her dead lackey through his curled fist. We ran out into traffic. Horns. Screeching tires. Someone cursed, and I fired in the direction the curse had come from. I don't know if I hit him or not. A Porsche stopped. "Nice car," Page said. "Too unique," I said. I saw a Ford. It was one of those big fucking vehicles families ride around in these days. It had stopped, near the Porsche, in the middle of the street. They always tell these people, 'don't rubberneck,' but they do it anyway. I aimed for the driver. BLAM! BLAM! Two shots. The side of his window shattered. His head flew off and bounced around inside the front part of his van and then plopped into his wife's lap. She was sitting beside him. I fired at her. I hit her head too. "Head shots," Page said, echoing G. Gordon Liddy. He yanked open the driver's door. He gaped at the interior. It was drenched in blood. "God, what a mess." "Get in!" I said to Page. I pushed him from behind."All this shit'll ruin my clothes!" Page protested. I shoved hard. He gave a wail and went sprawling into the body fat and blood that now soaked the whole interior of the vehicle. At the same time, the driver, headless, decided to come out for a rest break. His body slumped towards me. His arm dangled down into the street. It was as if he were reaching for the ground that would soon hold him forever. I climbed over him. Page threw the woman out the other side of the vehicle. I pushed the driver down onto the asphalt below. He made a sickening thud as he hit the street. "God dammit, there's a dog in here!" Page shouted. I heard loud barking. I turned and saw some big fucking monster trying to bite Page's head off. I fired. It burst into blood and bone fragments, and one of the fucking beast's bones, flying past my head, almost put my eye out. Imagine that. I've got cops and God-knows-what shooting at me, and I almost lose an eye thanks to some dumb fucking dog. I threw the laser rifle into Page's lap. I yanked the driver's side door closed. Page's door on his side of the Ford van was still open. I grabbed the wheel. The vehicle had begun rolling, or perhaps had never quite stopped, and now I hit the gas hard. We lurched forward. A gunshot hit the front windshield, and it caved in on us. I blinked, found I still had both my eyes from that mess, and shoved the glass toward Page. A clear view of the street presented itself through the broken-open front of the van's windscreen. I felt chilled air on my face. At the same time, I heard, softly, the purring of the interior heating system. The van was like a body half-blown away, but with the other half, unknowingly innocent of it all, still functioning normally. Like the prosecutor's shit hole, dumping a load in his pants after I'd already removed his head. "Shut your door, Goddamit, Page!" I shouted. I looked in his direction. He was tripping on the whole scene, the glass, the sudden possession in his lap of my gun, all the while the side door open next to him. I heard a slam. More gunshots. I careened around the back of a truck and looked over at Page again. He got the door closed. His side of the van struck a car a moment later. "Watch where you're goin'," Page grinned. He liked movies with wild car scenes in them. Now we were the stars of one. Dirty Mike and Crazy Page. Too bad we didn't have any Mary with us. Just some dumb, dead dog. "God, this is a mess," I said, looking briefly down at my lap. There was blood, human remains, glass, everything all over the inside of this (formerly) luxurious Ford van. The heating system warmed it all, combating the chill blowing in from the front of the shattered windscreen. "Where's the fucking Lift Bar?" I asked Page. I let go with one hand from the steering wheel and groped along the blood-spattered dashboard. "This isn't a lift area!" Page shouted to me. He grinned as we hit another car. "Damn Toyota," I heard Page mutter under his breath, still grinning. "God Dammit, I know this isn't a lift area! Where's the Bar?" I screamed at Page. I was feeling kind of desperate now. I was still hearing gunshots and they weren't far away. "We'll hit something if you Lift!" Page warned me. "We'll get our ass blown off if we stay Grounded," I told him. "There's no windshield! We can't do a Jump!" Page told me. Grinning, for we were still careening wildly down the street, he pointed at the shattered windscreen. "Hell, I know that! I just want some Lift!" I yelled back. "This isn't a lift are--" Page began. I found the Lift Bar and yanked on it. Suddenly, the van's tires drew in. Engines spiraled neatly downward from the underside of the van. We both heard a roaring sound. And then we went up. A hard burst of unfriendly fire scudded beneath us, just missing us. A moment more of being Grounded and we might have both been killed. I felt a hard bump as our van thudded into something overhead. There was a shower of sparks, and something, a sign I guess, tumbled past us and slammed into the street. "See? You hit something! This isn't a lift area!" Page said. But his grin widened as our van rose higher, and we topped a building's roof. A spectacular sunset greeted our eyes. Gleaming in the setting sun were the Sky Dwellings. Prime real estate. I guess at one time people could lie in grassy fields and look up and just see clouds. But now, with anti-grav technology, all that empty space in the sky was starting to fill up. "Let's go," I said. I groped along the dashboard again, feeling for the Lift Forward button. It was hard to find it in amongst the blood and bodily tissue streaking the dash. "Can't. There's no fucking windshield," Page said. "We can't Jump," I said. Meaning, of course, that we couldn't leave Earth's atmosphere. I wasn't sure if this model of Ford was built for it, anyway. "But we can damn well hit the gas." Meaning, of course, not the gas pedal, that was for Groundside. Rather, the Lift Forward button. I found it. There was a blast of air through the shattered windscreen as we lurched forward. Page screamed. The wind drowned it. The gunshots I'd been hearing faded away. "I can't see!" Page, his eyes narrowed to slits, complained through the wind. My eyes were barely open themselves. The Ford streaked through the sky, over the city below, making the air rush in on us. The Sky Dwellings loomed larger as we rushed toward them. "Don't worry. I can see well enough to know when to stop," I told Page. "You'd better," Page said. The buildings floating in the distance bulked larger in our windscreen. "I don't want to be a pancake," Page said. A burst of laser fire hit the back of our Ford. It careened wildly in response. I clung to the wheel. Somehow I kept the Ford from dipping into a fatal dive. Page turned, looked back. The next thing I knew the laser rifle was going off beside me. Page was firing. I glanced toward him. With a hand on the driver's side door, precariously gripping the window frame in the door, his upper body was completely out of the window. He was sitting with his ass on the bottom of the window frame. He looked like he was in a movie. Except he wasn't. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! "Fucking Page!" I yelled. "I almost hit one!" Page shouted. THHHWUNK! Our Ford careened again as a well-placed shot slammed into us. I didn't dare turn around. A quick glance in the rear-view showed what I most feared. Two gaping holes, near the back of the Ford. We had twin moon roofs now. But the engine showed in the dashboard that the damage done by the laser blasts was causing it to overheat. "Damn, they were quick!" I said to Page. Meaning, the skyborne police vehicles. I guess I hadn't counted on them being that quick. "They were quick, Page. Too quick," I said. I looked over at him. "We ain't gonna make it," Page said. He slipped back into the Ford. His face was pale. He was holding the laser rifle aloft. He pulled the trigger. I cringed. But nothing happened. Our gun was empty. We had no reloads for it. I gazed ahead of us. The Sky Buildings were coming up fast. I saw people standing on a terrace about midway up one of the nearer buildings. They pointed. "They're pointing at us!" I said. I had found a piece of the windscreen that was still intact. It was over in the leftmost corner of the (formerly) screened area. "Yeah," Page said. I glanced at him and saw he had a similar setup; a small corner of glass that he could hunch behind to see through, and keep the wind out of his eyes. (Actually out of only one eye; he had to close the nearer one. The wind was coming in too strong to keep both of them open.) "We're the life of their party," Page said. He shoved his rifle through the broken portion of the windscreen and pulled the trigger. Nothing. "Page..." I said. There was a sense of unreal coolness in my voice. "Yeah?" he shouted over the roar of the incoming wind. "We've got no chance against the cops," I said. He heard me, somehow, even though I didn't think I'd said it loud enough. "No chance! They came up so fast!" Page yelled to me. "So fast! But we got her!" I yelled to Page. "Yeah," Page agreed. "Page?" I asked. "Did you ever crash a party?" "Hmmm?" Page asked. He looked at me and grinned. It was all the permission I needed. We both knew what kind of people lived in the Sky Dwellings. "I've never been invited to a party, actually," I thought I heard Page say. As he said it, I instinctively looked down. Down at the seat. The Sky Dwellings were coming up very fast now. The people on the terrace had stopped pointing and were drawing back, beginning to run. I wanted to stare at them, at their horrified faces, as we shot straight into the middle of them, but instead I found myself gazing down at the seat, at Page's lovely Palm Pet. What did Page call her? Chloe, I think. Bye, bye, Chloe. THE ENDnet/~eli/erotica/assm/ - When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for: Jock Sturges' Radiant Identities and David Hamilton's The Age of Innocence. Support art! - JOIN the world's greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership. NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. - Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. - END OF STORY EMISSION Need a book? http://www.amazon.com

Chapter Twenty

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10384.txt

Hawk

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

"All right! Why don't you go call her? She should be back home by now, tell her how you feel, tell her that I want you to be with her. That I think you should be together! "Get dressed and go call her, I'll be up in a few seconds." "No, I'll call her only with you there!" "All right, get up and I'll dress as well." "I'll just call her from here, you stay here on the bed and I'll make the call." "All right," she told me as I got up and pulled on my T-shirt before sitting down into the chair in front of the vid-com terminal. I punched Sandi's number into the terminal and after a few seconds her image appeared on the screen as beautiful as ever but somehow different. "Hello...belch...who....Dick?" "Are you all right?" I asked her concerned after I realized that the rest of her was naked and her breasts were just in the vid pick up. "I'm fine..." she said before giggling. "Just a little drunk. What would you like Dicky?" "You! I want you Sandi, damn it I thought we talked about this." "I did what was in the best interest for you, or didn't your mother tell you...hiccup...that!" "She did, she also told me that we belong together!" "Dick, I doubt she said that...." "She did...." I said before the terminal was turned away from me by my mother's hand. "Sandi the two of you do belong together!" "I see it didn't take you long to find someone else," Sandi said sarcastically before it sank in that my mother hadn't dressed at all. "Sandi, no it's nothing like that," I tried to explain. "All I did was feed him," Christa said softly trying to convince her. "How could you Dick, it hasn't even been twelve...twenty four hours, and all ready you're fucking your mother." "I haven't Sandi I swear!" "Sure you haven't," she said before taking a swig out of a long alcohol bottle. "I've been here all afternoon, and I can't think of anything else...but you...my pussy is so hot I could fry eggs on it, my breasts are so swollen and aching for your touch, and you're going to bed with your mother." "Sandi, I swear, you're the only one for me, please come back to me." I begged as heartache filled my whole being. "Sandi, please...." "Good bye Dick!" Sandi said before terminating the vid-link. "What do I do now?" I said putting my hands on my face as steaming tears dripped down my face. "You've got to go out to her!" Christa told me putting her hand on my shoulder, then quietly linked up to the air-bus schedule and before I could do anything she had bought a ticket in my name. "Go get your bags, they're in your old room! I'll explain to your father, and everyone else," she said kissing my forehead. "Thank you!" "I love you Dick!" "I love you too Mom." "Now get going, your bus will leave in only half an hour, and I've got to drive you down there." "Are you ready?" Christa asked looking into my room. "I don't have anything to wear, nothing fits me in here." "Come here, I'll give you some of your father's clothes." I stuffed what my mother gave me into the top of one of my bags. "Now, you're sure you want this Dick? It's not too late for you just to come to bed with me, and forget all about Sandi." "MOM!" "All right, I thought I should just make sure that this is what you want." "It is!" "Then let's go it's a twenty-minute drive!" she said before ushering me out of the house and into her car. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself," Christa said as we pulled to a stop behind a row of parked cars in the middle of the journey. The whole drive she had been giving me advice on taking care of myself. "I promise, what's going on?" "I don't know, I can't see anything." "We've only got fifteen minutes," I said glancing at the clock set in the dashboard. "I know, we're not going to make it, we've missed every traffic light there is, and now a traffic jam." "I'll run it!" "Dick it's ten miles!" "It should only take me a couple of minutes." "But ten miles Dick?" "I ran from nearly Sandi's cabin to town here overnight, carrying her the entire way, and making love for half an hour a time after ten minutes of running. I can do it!" "All right, I love you honey," she told me with tears in her eyes as she leaned over and kissed me. "I love you too." "Oh I'm going to miss you Dick," she said hugging me. "Take care of yourself, and Sandi. She's going to be the luckiest woman on the planet in a few hours!" "Bye Mom!" "Bye...Dick," she said as tears started down her face. "Oh don't cry," I said wiping away a tear with my thumb. "I'm sorry I just can't help it. My son is leaving...." "I'll come back and visit real soon. I promise!" "I love...." "Good bye," I told her before kissing her cheek. "Wait, Dick, here," she said opening her purse and wallet before giving me some money. "Thanks...I love you Mom," I said before opening the car door and slipping out into the cold night air. The run was as I had expected only taking a little over two minutes. I waited ten minutes before they let me board. It took the bus four and a half hours to finally get to Toronto, the entire way I was bugged by a woman next to me that was thinking the entire way of fucking me. The things that she fantasized about doing with me were almost sickening. Every word she spoke was nice and proper, but the thoughts that lurked in her head were something else. I tried to ignore them, but when she laid her hand on my thigh I had to get away from her. But there was absolutely no where for me to go to, and when her hand slid up my thigh and touched my crotch she complimented "That's a big one, what are you doing when we get to Toronto honey, maybe you could come and visit my girlfriend with me." Then threesomes of me, her, and this girlfriend she was talking about filled her head. Threesomes where I was always tied up in chains and they were using whips on me. "I'm going home to my wife!" I told her flatly figuring that that would dissuade her. But it didn't, another woman joined in her fantasy who was also tied down, and she was between my wife's legs at her pussy. "Well maybe you can bring her along!" "No, I don't think so!" "Why not? We could make a regular party out of it. If not maybe the two of us could go back into the washroom here and have a little party of our own." "No, thanks. I'm faithful to Sandi!" "That your wife?" "Yes!" "Well, she's one lucky woman to have you lying next to her every night." "So, I've been told!" I said remembering the same words that my mother had said. "Maybe you could take me home and give me to her as a present!" "No, I don't think so," I told her more firmly. "We've only been married a couple of days and I don't think that either of us are really thinking at all of expanding our relationship to including anyone else." "That's a shame!" After that she finally left me alone for the remaining ten minutes. When we got to Toronto at first I was sort of overwhelmed by the actual size of where she lived. I had her address, but I didn't know how the hell I would ever find her, all I knew was that I was going to. I then remembered the money that my mother had given me, and I got the idea of taking a cab to her apartment, and if I was lucky I might get there before she woke up. The cab was loud and noisy, and the driver wasn't any better. Finally when we got to the address, I paid him the right amount, even though he was trying to con me out of more. I made my way up to her third-floor apartment, not finding the rest of her building very pleasing or a good place for such a beautiful woman. "Who the hell is it?" I heard her voice demand after I had knocked on the door. "It's me!" "Dick?" the voice questioned as I heard the sounds of locks being unlatched. "Yes, who else would it be!" "What are you doing here?" Sandi asked opening the door to look me in the eyes. "I came for you! Who the hell do you think you are leaving me like that," I said with a smile on my face as I entered her apartment closing the door behind me. "Dick, why didn't you stay at home where you belong." "Because my place is right here with you!" "What about your parents?" "My mother told you that we belonged together or don't you remember that?" "Oh...I don't remember it?" she said pressing her palm against her forehead."Not much after I got to the second bottle." "Dick, you should be at home, not here!" "I am here because I choose to be here, because I love you, Sandi, and I don't want you walking out like that again on me." "Dick..." she said, rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers on each side of her head. "Come here," I told her and pulled her close, kissing her lips and slipping my tongue into her mouth. I could feel the heat radiating from her thighs, and her scent was strong, so strong it almost overtook me. "Thank you, it's gone," she said after I released her. "What are you doing here?" "Have I not made myself perfectly clear? I am here for you," I said, not letting her go but picking her up. "Where's the bedroom?" "Dick!" "Where? I've been without you for a whole day. I want you, Sandi!" "Dick, I've got to go to work, and there's no rubber sheets on the bed." "How long?" "What?" "How long do you have before you have to be at work?" "Well..." she said, turning around and looking at a clock on the wall. "A couple of hours, I guess!" "It's been a long night. If you don't want to make love, can we just go to sleep for a little while? I just want to be next to you, to lie with you beside me." "Dick!" "Come on, where's the bedroom. Your husband wants to go to bed." "Through there, but Dick...I've got to tell you something." Without listening to anything else, I carried her through into the bedroom. Lying on the bed was another woman, laid out in the nude, watching us carefully. "Who is this?" "This is him?" she asked. "Daniel, this is Dick. Dick, this is Daniel. I tried to tell you," Sandi said as I set her down on her feet. "So is it?" "Yes, Daniel, it's him!" "I've heard so much about you," Daniel said, looking me up and down, unaware of her naked body. "What the hell are you doing with her?" "Dick, please let me explain?" "Then do it!" "Daniel is my best friend... No, Dick, I mean she's my friend and roommate. She picked me up at the bus port. I was upset over...doing what I had to you...we came home here...we started drinking...and I suppose you must have called...we spent the whole night basically talking, then we went to bed like we always do." "Dick, we've never done anything more than hold each other at night! Sandi's brought women home, but I'm strictly into men," Daniel told me, getting up on her knees, unabashed over her nudity. "Is that true?" "Yes!" "Not so loud!" Daniel said, holding her head in her hands. "Please!" "Sorry," Sandi said, a little more quietly. "Will you tell her to go to her own room so we can be alone?" "Dick, we've slept together for the last five years, sometimes even with the others' lovers, besides she doesn't have her own room! Let her stay, she won't do anything." "I promise!" Daniel filled in. "Would you mind sleeping between us, Dick?" "Can't I sleep on your other side?" "Dick!" "I'll take that as a no! Why?" "Come on, Dick, don't waste time like this, I've got under an hour left that I can sleep before I've got to go, now either you lie down now, or you can go out and sleep on the couch." "You're going to make me sleep on the couch, your husband?" "Well, what is it?" Sandi asked, letting her robe drop to the floor. Her beautiful body was once again in front of me, and I could feel myself stirring in my pants from just looking at her. "Well?" "I've got something for you first!" "Dick, I want my hour's worth of sleep!" "This will just take a second. Here!" I said, giving her back the ring that she had left with the note. "I think this is yours." "Dick! We're really going to have to talk later today!" "For now, would you wear it? I'll glue it on your finger later." "All right," Sandi said softly, putting the wooden ring on her finger. "Are you happy now!" "Not yet!" "Lie down, Dick." I stripped out of my clothes quietly, not taking my eyes off of Sandi. "Wow, you were right!" Daniel said, looking at my crotch before I climbed onto the bed beside her. "Come here," I told Sandi, collecting her in my arms as she lay down next to me. "God, I missed you!" "I missed you too!" "You feel pretty good!" Daniel said, rubbing up against my back and wrapping her arm around me. "I thought you promised you wouldn't do anything?" I said, holding Sandi tighter against me. "Daniel!" Sandi scolded. "So, I lied," Daniel said, kissing my shoulder. "With a man like this, I'm sure you don't mind sharing a little, do you, Sandi? I'm sure he doesn't mind!" "I don't care right now, I just want to go to sleep, so be quiet." "Sandi!" "Hush up, Dick, and let me go to sleep." I accepted my situation and went to sleep between my wife and her friend, who continued rubbing her breasts across my back and fondling my ass for a good half an hour before I finally managed to get to sleep. Half an hour later, I awoke as Sandi was trying to get out of bed. I let her up, asking her, "Where are you going?" "To work, remember." "God, you look gorgeous in the mornings!" "I look awful, I haven't even had my shower yet!" "A shower? I think I just might join you!" I said, slipping out from under Daniel's arm. "All right, come on then, but I've got to hurry!" She climbed into the shower first, adjusting the water to the right temperature as I got in behind her. "The most beautiful woman in the world," I commented, wrapping my arms around her waist and straightening her up as the water started pelting down on us. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down into her neck as she kissed the tip of my earlobe. "God, Dick, you feel so good, you always set my flesh on fire whenever you touch me." "I've missed you so much, Sandi," I told her as she turned around in my arms and kissed my lips. "Please, I don't want to be parted from you again." "What about your parents, Dick?" she complained as I lifted her up and lowered her down onto my shaft, creating a sigh from between her lips. "I told you, my mother's agreed. She'll tell Dad her decision, then everything will be all right, and we can be together, forever." Slowly, I began thrusting into her after I had her leaning against the shower wall. "God, you feel so good inside me, Dick!" "Let's never part again! Please say you want me to stay with you?" "Oh, Dick, I do so much," she said, wrapping her legs around my waist. "But you belong with your family!" "I am with my family, don't you understand that? You are my family, Sandi. The only family I need," I told her, kissing her face all over. "Dick, I want to believe that so much! Give it to me, give it to me!" "I love you, Sandi!" I screamed with my last thrust, spurting into her warm portal. She gripped my shoulders tightly as she continued humping against my shaft, bringing about her own orgasm. "Oh god, Dick, oh God!" she cried, digging her nails into my shoulders. "I love you, Sandi...I love you..." I continuously told her, stroking her cheek and hair. "I love you, Dick," she said softly, kissing my lips as I set her down. She quivered beneath my arms as her legs took her own weight. I kissed her repeatedly, each time drawing her into a deeper kiss. My heart was weak with joy at having her smiling and giggling in my arms, enjoying herself as I tickled and kissed her. "Can't you take the day off and spend it with me? So we can have at least a one-day honeymoon?" "Dick, I can't, I've got to go, but Daniel's got the day off, she'll show you the sites." "The only sight she wants to see is me in the buff. She promised she wouldn't do a thing, and for half an hour, she fondled me." "So, she wants to show her best friend's husband some affection, what's wrong with that? She's one of the few friends that I have out here, Dick, and she's a good one, so don't do anything that will give her any inclination to leave, Dick. "She's like a little sister to me, Dick, so please don't do anything that will...." "I won't, but I will not have sex with her. Only you!" I said before kissing Sandi's lips. When I backed away and she opened her eyes again, she smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. "You don't have to. Preferably, I don't want you to, I think I'd probably be jealous, like you were when you carried me into the bedroom this morning." "I wasn't..." I started to say before she cut me off with a glance. "Okay, I suppose a little." "A little?" she mocked, with her hands on her hips, making herself look even more attractive. "I'll see you at lunch, tell Daniel I'll meet you two at the cafe around noon, all right?" "I love you!" I told her as she opened the front door. "I love you too, Dick," she said before we kissed. Then she was gone, and my world once again felt empty. Quietly, I returned to the bedroom and stood there in the doorway, just observing Daniel. She looked like she was in her early twenties, her jet-black hair was long and straight and shimmered in the morning sunlight that was coming in through the bedroom window. Her breasts were small and not as beautiful as Sandi's, her back had a delicate curve and ended in a nice, tight ass. Her whole body looked strong and firm, and I couldn't see a trace of any fat. The ear that I could see was small and delicate, her brows were calm and peaceful, and overall, she looked as delicate as a hundred-year-old piece of fine china. I wasn't going to let her intimidate me from getting the few extra hours of sleep I needed. I put the robe Sandi had relinquished to me after she got dressed into the closet and slipped into the now-cold side of the bed and pulled the covers up over the two of us. A few seconds after I had got comfortable, Daniel's arm snaked over my chest, and she pressed up against me, kissing my shoulder. Her presence was making me a little edgy, but she didn't say anything and let me fall back to sleep.When I awoke a couple of hours later, her hand had lowered and was resting on my stomach, and she was nuzzled closer to me than she had been when I had fallen asleep, and she even had her head resting on my shoulder. It was an odd position to be in, but overall it wasn't too uncomfortable. She was quite an attractive woman, and Sandi's friend, so I guessed I could accept sleeping in the same bed with her, and I could tolerate the odd stroke and kiss from her. I lay there for a good hour thinking about Sandi and how I could convince her to stay with me while Daniel softly breathed on my skin. When she awoke, she did it slowly, like a cat waking. She was bleary-eyed and started by stretching her limbs. When she was finished, she looked at me, smiling, and her arm went back around my chest, and she kissed my lips. "Good morning! How did you sleep between two women?" "I slept fine!" "That's good. Has Sandi gone to work?" "Yes," I said, glancing at the clock, "four hours ago. We're supposed to meet her at some cafe at noon." "All right, what would you like to do today?" she asked softly, almost huskily, but definitely seductively. "Could you show me around town?" "So you want to see the city?" "Yeah." "Any particular area?" "No, just a general tour for a new inhabitant." "So you're going to stay?" "Yes, if I can get my wife to think straight for five minutes." "So she was telling the truth about getting married." "Why would she lie about that?" "I don't know, I just never figured Sandi was the type that would jump head first into marriage. Especially not after only a few days." "Well, she did and is!" "So you're Sandi's husband?" "Obviously!" "Well, she certainly won't lack in the loving department," Daniel said as her hand slipped down from my stomach to the front of my briefs. "No, she won't," I agreed readily. "Relax, Dick, I don't bite...unless I'm asked to, but you haven't asked, so I won't, okay?" "All right. I'm sorry, I just sort of feel a little uncomfortable." "With little 'ol me? Don't you worry, I won't jump your bones...unless I'm asked to. I promise!" "You promised last night not to do anything." "Well, this time I mean it. Even though you've got to be one of the most gorgeous...sorry!" "Don't apologize, it's better to tell the truth about the way you feel rather than try to spare someone's feelings." "You really believe that?" "Yes." "Then has anyone ever told you you have the most peculiar eyes? I have never seen gold eyes before in my life, till yours. There's something sexual...something primal. They almost look like the color of eyes the cat I had when I was young had." "No, no one's ever told me that, but then again they've only just stopped changing color." "What were they before?" "Blue," I stated coldly before slipping out of bed to start to dress. Daniel threw the covers off of her and just lay there and watched me dress. "How'd they change?" "They changed when I did. I don't know how, actually, they just did!" "What do you mean when you changed? A man of what...thirty, thirty-four didn't just go through puberty." "I'm younger than that," I said, trying to suppress a laugh. "Not much...maybe twenty-five, minimum!" "If you must know, Daniel, next month I turn fifteen." "Fifteen? Come on, who do you think you're trying to kid?" "No one!" "You're saying Sandi married a fourteen-year-old boy." "Almost, she married a fourteen-year-old man." "You sure don't look like no fourteen-year-old boy I've ever seen. Now how old are you, really?" "I told you!" "Dick...." "Fine, don't believe me, I don't really care what you think!" I left the bedroom, closing the door behind me as if to make a point. I stumbled my way around the small kitchen and managed to find enough stuff to fix myself a bowl of cold cereal. "Those are mine!" Daniel said softly, entering the kitchen dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. "What?" "The Fruit Loops are mine!" "Oh, sorry, I didn't know," I said, setting the box down. "It's all right, you have a bowl now, just next time remember, all right?" "Thank you!" "So you're really fourteen?" she asked, sitting down across from me with a bowl of her own. "Yeah." "Well, you're a hell of a handsome young man!" "Thank you!" "How long have you known Sandi?" "All my life...she's my aunt!" Some of the spoonful of cereal came out of her mouth before she started coughing. Then finally, after a few minutes, she managed to regain some of her composure, and she asked, "Your aunt?" "Well...step-aunt." "They let the marriage go through?" "Yes...we're not blood-related." "So? She's your aunt!" "I love her as a woman, not as an aunt. She was only around till I was two, and since then I've only seen her maybe once every few years." "Still...." "Look, I don't want or need another lecture about trying other women or any feelings questioned about her." "I wasn't going to suggest that you try other women, although I'm sure some other women wouldn't mind if you did, myself included...but if you're sure about the way that you feel, fine, I won't bring it up again, even though I think...." "What's there to see around here?" "What would you like to see? There are the museums, there are a few decent dance clubs. The prostitutes aren't anything worth looking at, neither are too many other things in this city. There are a few malls that haven't been overrun by one gang or another." "Gangs?" "Of course, you're in the city now...a big one at that, and not a very pretty one." "Why does Sandi work here?" "That's simple, because of all the gangs and everything, the crime rate's high, and as such, it makes Toronto one of the lawyer capitals of America." "Then why do you stay here?" "I don't really have anywhere better to go. It's certainly not Kansas, but...what is anymore?" "What do you do?" "I dance!" "Oh yeah, where?" "At a...a...." "A what? A strip joint?" I asked, seeing the images of the bar in her head. "Yes," she said softly, looking down into her bowl of cereal, pushing it around with her spoon. "It's all right," I said, lifting her chin up so I could look into her eyes. "Really! That's where you met Sandi, isn't it?" "Yes, we were both working one night. I was the new girl, she'd been there for a couple of months. She was trying to make some extra money so she could finish off her degree. We talked backstage...actually, more like complained to each other...but that doesn't really make a difference anymore, does it? Sandi moved on, I stayed there. Anyway, we went out after that and had a drink and talked a little bit more. I didn't realize it at the time, but Sandi was trying to pick me up. She was touching my breasts more than she should have, or rubbing up against me. It wasn't until when she kissed me on the dance floor that I finally realized what she was up to. I told her flat out that I wasn't interested in that sort of thing. She picked up a guy, he was really handsome too, and she took us both back to her apartment, and she shared him with me. He left, and Sandi hugged me close to her. At first, I was uneasy about it, but when she didn't do anything more, I got a little more comfortable, and we fell asleep snuggling each other. After that, it was pretty well all downhill. She invited me to move in with her, to share the rent and stuff. I agreed, and that was the end of it. So if you think you've got to compete with me for Sandi's affections, don't. She might have to compete with me for yours, though." I smiled at her, and she returned it. "Why don't we go down to the place you work? If you think I can get in without any I.D." "You could," she said softly, "like I told you, you don't look like you're fourteen, Dick. Maybe I can introduce you to some of the girls too. I don't think they'd mind." "Let's go then," I said, pushing back my bowl of cereal, almost untouched. It tasted disgusting, and it wasn't because of the cereal. I had liked Fruit Loops before, but all my tongue wanted to taste was some nice warm fresh breast milk. "Something wrong with the cereal?" Daniel asked, looking at the bowl. "No...I'm just not that hungry!" "Would you mind if I ate it? I've got kind of a weird metabolism. I can eat anything I want and not gain an inch." "You certainly look it," I said, smiling. "Thank you..." she returned, grinning, then her face straightened as it turned to concentration. "I think!" "You're welcome," I said, grinning after letting out a little chuckle. While she ate the cereal, I occasionally glanced at her breasts, wondering if she could feed me, then kept deciding against it, wanting only Sandi's milk. My mother's had tasted almost sour and had given me a little bit of a stomach ache, but I had drunk it anyway so not to make her feel bad. It had quenched my hunger a little, but not enough, and I was nearly starving for food. "Let's get going, we have to meet Sandi in a little over an hour and a half." "Anxious, aren't you, hoping to get a quickie in, in the bathroom." "Maybe," I replied, grinning, hoping that she couldn't hear the growling-pains in my stomach. "All right then, let's go," she said, tipping the bowl up to her ruby-red lips and drinking down the cold milk. When she set it down, there was a drop of milk dripping from them for a second before her tongue slipped out and licked it up. She smiled at me, and I poured myself a glass of cow's milk and drained it down, hoping that it would satisfy me a little. It did, but not very much. We walked down the street a little way before she linked her arm in mine, smiling up at me. She occasionally rubbed up against me, and I had to fight down the thirst each time. After we passed by an alley, I heard someone shuffle out from its darkness. "Give...give me your money!" a male voice said from behind us, just before I heard a gun being cocked. It was almost like some inner instinct took over. I spun around, snarling at the man, and was on him, knocking the gun into the air.He was scared shitless! Before a second was even up, I had thrown him thirty feet back down into the alley where he landed in a pile of cardboard boxes. "Dick?" Daniel questioned, surprised, as I turned to face her. I was angry, starving, and horny. The bulge in my pants stated the latter quite clearly. "Are you all right?" All I could do was growl a little, taking in the sight of her. I stood there staring at her breasts for a few seconds before she had repeated her question and it finally sank in. I pushed back the lust and dispersed the anger and adrenaline, but the hunger was still just as strong as before. "I'm fine," I whispered softly, looking at her. "Don't do that, not here. These guys won't think twice about shooting someone they don't know. It's best if you just give them what they want." "How can you say that?" "From experience, Dick!" "You've been mugged by a creep like that?" "Everyone has!" "Sandi?" I questioned, a sudden sense of concern overriding everything else. "I did say everyone, Dick." I looked around the streets aghast, with pangs of concern for everyone I saw, and then I scanned the apartment building windows above us, taking in the thought that everyone had been mugged, then anger. Anger at what two-bit thugs thought they could pull off, thinking they could hurt anyone they wanted. Daniel hooked her arm in mine and, as quickly as she could, pulled me along and finally into the bar where she worked. It was smoke-filled, there were a few men hanging around at the bar. And there was only one couple sitting at a table near the stage, and the man wasn't paying much attention to the woman he had brought. Disgusting, I thought, as I scanned over the rest around the stage where the woman dancing was just pulling off her bra, to expose her breasts. More hunger! "Come on, let's sit down!" "Is it always this busy in here?" "Oh no, later the place really fills up." "Hi, Daniel, who's your friend," a man asked, standing beside our table. "Eric, this is Dick, Dick, Eric! Dick here is Sandi's new husband!" "She got married? Hell's bells, what do you want, Dick? It's on the house. She was our best dancer." "You're one lucky son of a bitch! She wouldn't even go out with me, and you go and marry her." Eric said, sitting down after setting a tray with three beers on it. "So where is the lucky lady, anyway?" "She's at work. She asked me to show him the city." "Well, don't be getting any ideas, you leave her man here alone." I took a drink of the swill that was supposed to be beer, and even though I hadn't really ever had more than a sip of my father's every once in a while, I could tell it wasn't very good stuff. I sat there and absently listened to the conversation Eric and Daniel were having and watching the show that a new woman was putting on. She was a fair sight more attractive than the last woman, and it was obvious that I wasn't the only one who agreed, because one of the guys near the stage started hassling her. No one else seemed to notice; it was almost like everyone else thought it was a regular day occurrence, and in this city, I wouldn't have doubted it. Only when he started touching the inside of her thighs did a big man in the corner stir and move toward him. When he got there, he told the man something, and in response, the bigger man flung a punch. It was sloppy, but I knew it was going to make contact, and it did. The guy that must have been the bouncer was lying flat on his back, out cold. The man quickly went back to harassing a new girl. Eric stirred in his seat, but he obviously wasn't going to do anything, so I got up and started towards him. "Dick, don't! Let Frank handle it!" Daniel called from behind me, but I was already tapping the man on the shoulder. "Excuse me, I think you're bothering the lady." "She ain't a lady, sonny, she's a whore!" "Would you mind leaving? This place isn't meant for impertinent little fucks like you to simply feel a woman up, because you can't do it anywhere else!" "Why, you little shit!" he said, swinging one of his meaty fists at my face, which I easily ducked. Then, when he regained his balance, I knew he was going to punch again, but it was going straight for my stomach. I just let it come. When it hit, I didn't feel a thing, but he was grasping his hand in pain a second after he had pulled it away. As he was holding his hand, I grabbed him by his shirt collar and guided him out to the door and threw him out into the street. When I came back in, the music had stopped, and the whole place was silent, and everyone was just watching me, as if expecting some sort of an answer. I sat down back in the chair at the table, and Daniel wasn't any better than the rest of them; she was looking at me nearly open-mouthed. I took a swig from the mug of beer and swallowed it. Finally, the place started back up again. "Dick, that was Billy Bob Harris. He's the toughest man that comes in here. How the hell did you do that?" "I don't care how you did it!" Eric said, looking at me. "How would you like a job?" "A job?" I asked, not sure what the hell he was talking about. "Bouncing, except you're going to have to clean up that tongue of yours! What d'ya say? It pays seven fifty an hour plus a share in the nightly profits!" "I...I don't know!" "Say yes, and it's yours. If you can handle Billy Bob that easily, you'll find most of the rest of the job pretty simple!" "Well?" Daniel asked me excitedly. "All right, but you make the checks payable to Sandi." "Done!" Eric said, grinning and reaching over the table to shake my hand. "You start tomorrow, come in with Daniel here, and Frank will show you the ropes...if he's awake by then." Eric said before moving over to where Frank was recovering, leaning against the wall. "Wow, you are something else, Dick. Come on, and I'll introduce you to the girls." Daniel pulled at my hand and led me through a hallway into a backroom where she knocked on the door. "Come on in," a voice called from inside. Daniel opened the door and pushed me through it. There were at least eight women in the room, and greater than half of them were topless, and two were even bottomless. Hunger leapt from my stomach all the way to my throat as the thoughts of sucking on every one of those breasts filled my head, drinking from everyone. "Who's this?" the woman close to the door asked as Daniel shut it behind her. "This is Dick, he's Sandi's husband, and he just threw Billy Bob out!" "Him?" one of the girls asked skeptically as the door opened behind us, and the woman that had been out on the stage came in. "He threw Billy Bob out?" one of the fully naked women asked, eyeing me up and down. "I thought it was you," the woman that just came in stated before kissing my cheek. "Thank you!" "No problem," I said, realizing that it had been my first time ever in a room with so many women who were in various states of dress. "He's married, Dorothy," one of the women in a chair said, crossing her legs and laughing. "Too bad," the woman in front of me said, giving my jeans a stroke before moving around to her corner of the dressing room. "Dick, this is Sylvia," Daniel said, pointing to the woman on my left and slowly making her way around the room. "Nancy, Sydney, Lydia, Maxine, we all call her Max, and you've met Dorothy." "Are you any good in bed, honey?" Max asked me directly after eyeing me up and down. "Yes...." "Confident too...I'll take him!" Max said softly, eyeing me down with her green eyes. "'Fraid not, he's devoted to Sandi already!" Daniel said, grinning. "Then what are you doing with him, girl?" Sydney asked. "Showing him the city before we meet Sandi for lunch, which, by the way, we should be heading off to right now." "See you later, Dick," Lydia told me. "See you tomorrow, ladies!" I told them before Daniel and I left. "God, what I wouldn't do to go a few rounds with him," I heard one of them say through the door before we were out of range of a room full of giggles. "Where is she, she's late?" I said, looking up at the door for the hundredth time. "She'll be here, don't worry." "But there won't be enough time!" "Dick, you've got a one-track mind," she said, grinning over the menu. "Why don't you go ahead and order?" "I'm not hungry," I said grumpily, not bothering to mention that it was what wasn't on the menu that I hungered for. Finally, what I wanted came through the door, smiling at the two of us. 'Where have you been?' I asked her as she kissed my lips. "I got held up, sorry I'm late." 'I'm starving.' "Why didn't you go ahead and order..." she said, and then caught my gaze on her, and I could tell she knew exactly why I hadn't ordered anything. Before she could even get comfortable in her chair, the waiter was handing her a menu. "What would you like, honey?" Sandi asked me in front of the waiter. "Milk," I replied softly. "Anything else, sir?" "No," I said, turning and facing him. "Just bring me a half dozen glasses...your largest glasses...of plain milk, and warm it a little, will you." "Yes, sir, and what about you, Ms.?" he asked, looking down at Daniel, who was looking at me questioningly. "I'll have a hamburger with a baked potato, sour cream, bacon bits, and some herbs." "Very good!" "I'll have a chicken club!" Sandi said softly, not taking her eyes off of me. "You'll never guess what happened to us this morning," Daniel said, breaking the silence after the waiter had left. "What?" Sandi asked curiously, turning and looking at her. "Dick got a job! Not even a day here, and he's already got a job." "Doing what?" she asked, looking at me. "Bouncing!" Daniel said before I could say a word. "He threw Billy Bob Harris out on his ass, and Eric hired him right there on the spot." "You didn't, Dick," Sandi asked, more concerned than surprised. "Now will you believe I'm staying?" "Is that why you did it, to prove a point?" "No, I threw him out because he was hassling Dorothy." "Dick...."Sandi started to complain but stopped when the waiter stopped at our table and started setting the glasses of milk down in front of me. I was starving and I wasn't sure that what I had in front of me was going to be enough, even though I knew it wasn't going to be very good. Not taking my eyes off of Sandi, I drained down the first glass, at least they had gotten the temperature decent. Then the second, third, and fourth followed quickly after. Since it was cow's milk and not my wife's, it wasn't having the same effect on me, but my pants were full with myself, and Sandi realized it when she laid her hand on my thigh. I was having a very difficult time restraining myself. "Excuse me, ladies, I've got to go to the men's room," I told them before quickly getting up and leaving the table. I could feel Sandi's eyes on me the whole way, until I was out of sight. I found the bathroom nearly deserted, and I locked myself into an empty stall. The door opened and closed a few times before I heard a soft whisper calling my name. "Dick!" "Hey, lady, this is the men's washroom." "Don't worry, there's nothing in here that I haven't seen better of." "In here," I told Sandi, who quickly made her way into the stall I was occupying. "Hi." "Hi," she responded quietly, looking into my eyes. "You're not mad at me, are you?" "I could never be mad at you," I told her, silently edging a little closer to her, the throbbing in my pants increased. "You really want to stay with me, don't you?" "With all my heart!" I told her softly, our lips only a few inches away. "I want you to stay too!" "You mean it?" I asked her excitedly. "Yes, will you stay with me, husband?" 'Yes, God, yes!' "Are you still hungry?" 'Yes, but not for food anymore,' I told her after her fingers had moved to her blouse. "We probably shouldn't," she said, repositioning her fingers on the buttons of her dress pants and undoing them, letting her pants fall into a puddle on the floor. I stepped closer to her, cupping her pussy in my hand. Her panties were soaked, and after our kiss broke, she explained, "I've been thinking about you all morning." I stripped them off of her. 'Your probably right, we shouldn't!' I told her, slipping my arms around her waist and pulling her tight against me by pushing on the small of her back. "We shouldn't," she said softly, almost in a whisper, as I pushed into her. 'No, we shouldn't!' I said softly, kissing her neck while lifting her up from her buttocks. "God, I love you, Dick!" 'Can I stay with you?' "I said you could, didn't I?" 'I just want to make sure you meant it.' "I do," she sighed, kissing my neck as I withdrew from her and pushed back into her. "I do!" 'I love you!' I told her, pushing into her as far as I could before orgasm rippled through my whole body, warming me with her love. I held her close, staying inside of her the entire time, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her ears, her hair, her entire face. She returned as many of the kisses as she could, and I relished every one of them, before she finally whispered, "We should probably be getting back out before Daniel comes in here after us." 'Well, she's just going to have to wait until I'm finished eating,' I said, stroking Sandi's breasts. "So now you're hungry, are you?" she asked, undoing the buttons to her blouse. 'Yes!' "Well, I can't have my man going hungry now, can I?" she asked, sitting down on the toilet. 'No,' I said, nearly drooling at the sight of her nipples. "Come here, then!" I knelt in front of her and started drinking her delicious milk. It felt like it was burning a path down my throat and warming my stomach, quenching the hunger little by little. 'More!' I pleaded as I finished her second breast. "I can't..." she whispered "...there is no more!" 'I'm still hungry,' I complained. "Daniel..." she whispered hoarsely. "She'll do it." 'I don't want her...I want you!' "Dick...you haven't eaten all day...I don't have enough...I don't want you to have to use her...but...I'll go get her!" I didn't say anything as I watched Sandi move around the small little cell, straightening her clothes before she left the small cell. I pulled on my sweatpants and paced the small compartment like a caged tiger. Then Sandi returned with a distraught Daniel. Sandi closed the door behind them, and Daniel stood there waiting, looking between Sandi and me, then said, "What do you want?" Sandi moved in front of her and started to pull off her T-shirt. "What are you doing?" Daniel demanded of Sandi. "He's hungry," Sandi replied in broken words. "What are you talking about?" Daniel asked, letting Sandi take the T-shirt off. Then Sandi's hands fell to her breasts, cupping them. "Sandi, stop it!" Then Sandi removed Daniel's lace bra while she stared at me. I started Daniel's body, filling her breasts, and I hungrily moved her around to sit down on the toilet. "Give him what he wants!" Sandi said, upset, as I knelt in front of Daniel and took one of her brown nipples in my mouth and started suckling. She was surprised at first at the feeling of milk passing through her nipples, but by her scent after a few moments, it started to arouse her. She held my head tight against her breast and encouraged me to take all I wanted. I did. I drained each of her breasts sequentially. Her milk was warm and sweet, and tasted a little like fruit; it was good, almost as good as Sandi's, but only as a secondary source. When I was finished, I could have easily made love to them both, but I knew my wife had to be getting back to work. Daniel dressed, gave me a silent kiss, and went back to the table. I could tell just by looking at her eyes that she was near tears, and I brought her close to me, running my fingers through her hair, whispering, "I love you so much, Sandi!" Even though I knew I couldn't, I was still as hot as ever to make love to her, just being near her excited me. I pressed my forehead against hers affectionately and then kissed her. Her arms slipped around my neck and brought me down to her so she could kiss me. "I love you too, Dick," she said softly, with fresh tears in her eyes, only this time they weren't from sadness. "I can't wait till we have some more time to spend together. As soon as you get home...I'm going to have something special for you!" "What?" she asked excitedly. "It's a surprise!" I told her, thinking I'd figure it out after lunch. "God, you're so beautiful," I said, stroking her chin and nibbling on her bottom lip. "So are you," she whispered, stroking my neck. "Please tell me you'll stay my wife!" "I told you I would!" "Tell me again!" I pleaded. "I'll be your wife till the day I die!" she said and kissed my lips. "...and I'll be your horny husband until the day we die too!" I said, and she laughed before we kissed again. She was wonderful, more woman than I would have ever dreamed of in my wildest fantasies. Together, holding hands, we left the washroom and returned to the table. I pushed her into the table and kissed the nape of her neck. She looked so sexy. I watched Sandi and Daniel as they finished up their meals, then we left the restaurant and walked Sandi back to her office building. I held her in my arms and kissed her long and still wanting, needing her. "I love you," she whispered, smiling as she backed away, still holding my hands in hers. "I'll be back for you after you're finished work. What time should I come?" "Don't, you wait for me at home. I'll be there as soon as I can, hopefully before six, okay?" "I want to come and get you!" "Dick, I'll be home at six, honey. Please, wait for me there. I'll be there as soon as I can. I want you waiting for me with dinner, and then after a nice romantic dinner, I'm all yours. Think you can do that?" "For you, always," I told her and kissed her again. "I love you too, my wife!" "I better get upstairs, before they start gossiping about what I've been doing with my husband on my lunch hour." "You told them, huh?" "Of course I did, how could I not." "How did they take it?" "How do you think they took it, all the women were excited and wanted to...see my ring, and some of the guys groaned a little." "I'll get you a ring you can show off, I promise." "I don't want a new ring, I've got one," she said, showing me the ring I had made her. "I've got the best one there is in the world. It doesn't mean anything to me if anyone else doesn't like it; it doesn't make a damned bit of difference. I love it because it's from you! It's a symbol of our love, circular and eternal, just the two of us, forever." "Promise?" "I swear," she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Good," I said and kissed her again, "I'll see you when you get home then." She backed away from me, slipping from my arms. "And hurry!" "I will." Then she went in through the glass doors, and Daniel walked up to me from the discreet distance that she had given me and Sandi. "Well, what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?" "Can you cook?" "A little, why?" "Could you help me cook dinner for Sandi? I don't really know how to cook that well...well, truthfully, nothing beyond peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." "Oh...I guess I could, but what do I get out of it?" "What do you want?" "How about making...." "I only make love to Sandi!" "Is that what you think I was going to ask for?" "Wasn't it?" "No, how about making me one of those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? They must be something if that's what you got all those muscles from!" "Okay," I said, grinning, "I'll make you a sandwich." "Good," she said, wrapping her arm in mine. "But we can do something before then, how about the holo-coaster? It's going through Niagara Falls this week." "Fine, I've never been on a holo-coaster before. I was...never tall enough." "Well, then, we'll have to fix that little problem. There's one right around the corner from here!"We went to the theater, and I have to admit that those things are pretty stomach-turning, even if they don't go in loops like the ones that my mother had told me she had gone on. It was good - the ride started out at a port off the falls, we took off and skipped over the water, then went straight down following the water to the bottom and across the water, then we spun around and headed back towards the falls, then right into the granite. After the one-and-a-half-hour stomach roller was over, we went back to the apartment, and Daniel started cooking while I made her a sandwich. Then I had to feed it to her while she made dinner. At one point, she even managed to get my fingers into her mouth and sucked on them a little bit before I pulled them away. "Only two?" she asked when I had set the table. "What about me?" "I...I...." "You want the night alone, don't you?" "Yes, if you wouldn't mind." "I'll go dancing or something...if you tell me something." "What?" "Why do you drink breast milk?" It was the first time she'd said anything about what had happened in the washroom. True, it wasn't five years down the road like I would have hoped, but...it did deserve an answer. "Sandi and I were making love for about our fifteenth time that night. We were just both so tired and hungry, I took her nipple in my mouth, and I drank. It filled me up, made me feel like I was full of energy, and I've tried to stay away from everything else." "There's nothing else you eat or like the taste of?" "No, well there was one thing, one time when Sandi and I were making love, it was our first night together, but I shouldn't say anything about that." "Why, what was it that you liked, the taste of her pus...." "No, although I do love that too, but it was more primal--I'm not saying anymore than that." "Well, maybe someday you'll tell me." "Damn, I forgot something." "What? We've got the salad made, the potatoes are ready to be hydrated, and the fake-steak's ready to be cooked." "Rubber sheets." "What?" "Rubber sheets for the bed, you know the protective kind, the ones little kids have for...wetting the bed! You don't have any, do you?" "No, you don't wet the bed, do you?" "No, but Sandi and I have already wrecked one mattress from our lovemaking!" "You wore it out? She was only gone for a couple of weeks." "It was only one time, but we didn't exactly wear it out...we just wrecked it!" "I'm surprised you didn't notice last night, but we do have an aqua-bed, Dick! The mattress itself is basically one big rubber sheet." "That's wonderful, but what about the frame then?" "It's really that messy?" "Well, no...yes." "We can wrap it in garbage bags then...if it's really that messy." "It is, could you help me do that then?" "Sure, but I've really got to see this...mess you two make!" "You're going out, remember," I told her sternly. "I know, I know, you can't blame a girl for trying, can you?" she said, grinning. "No, I suppose I can't. But we're married, remember, and to me, Sandi means more than anything else, and nothing can come between that love, Daniel, nothing!" "Ok, ok," she said, laughing, holding her hands up in the air. "Let's go put the garbage bags in place, then I'll go, all right?" We did just that, then she gave me last-minute instructions on cooking the potatoes and the fake-steaks and left.I slipped my hands around her neck into her silky golden hair. So soft and sweet-smelling, I thought, pulling her mouth down to my lips. I held her still, kissing her lips, our tongues fighting each other, fighting to taste more of each other. I panted her name, not really noticing the difference between the actual change and reality. It felt heavenly just to be in her presence, to be inside of her, to know she loved me. It enthralled me with desire for her. Even as she sat up again with my fingers interlaced with hers, I knew I was too big for her, too big to be inside of her, but she kept up, and the blood flowed from her, but she ignored it. She didn't even look at it; she didn't look away from my eyes. She was so gorgeous, smiling at me while making love to me, but I could tell she was getting tired from doing all the work. I picked her up and laid her on her back, the whole time managing to stay inside of her. I kissed her lips again, cherishing the way she tasted, the way she looked at me, the way she moved under my touch. The way it felt to be inside of her, my wife, the most sacred woman on the planet. Eternity seemed to pass in too short a time. We continuously made love; neither of us had had a single orgasm. We filled each other more than physically. She was such a beautiful woman, inside and out. Her passions, her love for her father, even some for mine, but everything was paled in comparison to the way she felt about me, about us. She had her legs wrapped around me while I kneeled between her legs, helping her to meet my own thrusts. Time unraveled and twisted together again while her moans turned to squeals of joy, then screams of pleasure. We came together, clutching each other tight, riding the rocky, passion-filled waves of pleasure until we were so weak we were shaking in each other's arms. It was ecstasy, and even the sticky, expanding puddle that surrounded us could never disturb us. I held her so close to me I thought I would crush her, and she kissed me soft and gentle, wrapping her soft arms around me. "I love you," she whispered, kissing the side of my chest before pressing her face into it, snuggling as close as she could to me. "I love you too," I replied softly before kissing the top of her head. "If desert was that good, dinner must have really been something special." "Not as much as you," I told her as she climbed on top of me. "Dick," she said softly, sliding down me a little and taking me inside her again. There was no way she could have wanted more; I was exhausted, and it took more to tire me out than her. She kissed my chest and then my lips before resting her head on my chest. "Dick...." "What is it, my love?" I said softly, brushing her hair with my fingers. "I know we talked about this before, but...." "About what?" "Having kids. Dick, I don't want to wait. I want to have your children, before I'm too old." "Sandi, you'll never be too old!" "Dick, I'm thirty-three years old. I've wanted to have babies since I was fifteen. I want this; I want you to be the father of our children. I don't want to wait, Dick. I want to hold a little boy, your little boy, in my arms, or a little girl, our little girl, Dick, please!" "You want this that much, do you?" I asked her, studying the top of her head seriously until she looked up at me, and we searched each other's eyes. "Yes, Dick. God, yes, I want to have children, our children, yours and mine. Please, Dick," she said excitedly, getting up on her elbows so she could see me easier. "Please say yes." "If we do, this apartment's not going to be big enough, and what about Daniel?" "We'll get a family apartment. Daniel can come with us; my parents had a woman sleeping with them when I was young." "She'll have her own room, though?" "Dick, we've spent the last five years sleeping in the same bed, even when we had men over. Without her, I'd feel out of place." "Jesus, Sandi." "Dick, come on, we can make it work, I promise!" "Sandi, I don't want to have sex with her; I only want to make love to you." "Dick, we won't be able to when I'm pregnant, that's why your parents kept me around when Christa was pregnant, so Jake could have someone to make love to." "Well, I'm not my father, and I couldn't...I can't stand the idea of anybody using someone like that, especially you! I'm not going to use Daniel like that because I don't want to have sex with her. "Sandi, you're all I have, all that I want. I'm not going looking for someone to replace perfection. If we can't make love, we'll find other things to do...I love you! That's all I know, and that's all I want to know." "Dick, ple...." "How many more contraceptive pills do you have?" "Why?" she asked and looked at me before deciding to add, "enough for this month." "All right, you take the rest of them, and afterwards, we'll just see what happens." "I love you, Dick," she said and kissed me, "but why don't I just stop taking them now?" "Sandi, let's get the new apartment, let me get settled in here and into the job, and especially have some quality time with you alone for a little while." "Dick, what about school?" "What about it?" "You should have an education, Dick. It's important to your parents, to me!" "Sandi, have you looked at me lately?" "Not lately," she laughed, moving her hips and my member, which was still inside of her. "Smart ass," I said, cupping her beautiful bottom and pinching it in my hands. "But do you really think anybody would accept me for my actual age?" "No, I suppose not," she said softly. "But you still need schooling." "Sandi, I'd rather know that I was providing for you all I could, especially when you want children." "I want us to want children, not just me, Dick!" "I know, honey, it just didn't come out right. I want to have kids too; I just mean I'd rather know that my wife and children had someone to support them financially as well as emotionally." "You're going to make our kids a wonderful father, Dick." "Considering I won't be much older than they are," I mumbled, and she seemed to take it in stride. "Well, they won't know that; we'll just tell them you're twenty-nine...you look it." "And lie to our children, before they've even got to first grade?" "Fine, we'll tell them I robbed you from a cradle and made you my love slave," she said, laughing. "And I fed you all sorts of good things that make you look so old...and so good to taste and touch...." She kissed my lips and slid her tongue over them, and I flicked my own out after hers. "And I'll make love to our sons, and you'll make love to our daughters...." "No! Neither of us will do any such thing!" "Dick, it'll be good for them; they'll learn from people who love them!" "NO! Sandi, if you want us to have children, you've got to promise me right now, none of that. I don't want to fear having boys, and you making love to them. I couldn't stand the thought of you doing that with anyone but me, and I will not sleep with my baby girls, if I have any!" "But Dick...one of them will have to take...my place when I...die." "Sandi, don't talk like that. I'm not going to replace you; when you die, it will be my time to go too!" "Dick, I'm twenty years older than you; I will die first, whether either of us want to forget about it or not." "Sandi, when you die, I promise you I won't be far behind you. Having you...leave me would break my heart and kill me. Where would you get an idea that we should raise one of our girls to take your place anyway? It's got to do with you and your father, doesn't it? What happened back then? Did your mother raise you like that?" "No, she died when I was eight," she said, looking away from me out the window. "She was killed in a car accident, by a drunk driver. Bob went on heartbroken and stayed at work, trying to bury himself in it. He always treated me good, better than most girls are, but he was always lonely, no matter what I did to try and cheer him up. "Before he met your grandmother, it was like we were married, and I loved it. I cooked and cleaned for him, and at night, he'd make love to me; life was good for me, good for him! "I loved him as a woman loves a man, and I wanted to give him children, but when he found out that I had stopped using birth control, he was furious. Within the week, he had gone to the doctor and had a vasectomy. "I was devastated; I felt like he had betrayed me somehow, but in the end, we still made love, and I enjoyed it more than I have with anyone else," she said and turned back to look at me and stroked my chin, "except you." "It made me feel so lonely; I wanted to have a baby, his, that was when I was fifteen, after two years of making love, and after all the trust I thought we had built up, he did that. "For years, I thought it was because I wanted to give him a son, someone he could be proud of, someone that we could have been proud of together. But I was wrong; I didn't want a child for him, I wanted it for me, not because I wanted to keep him to myself, but because of all the years of love I gave him, I wanted more. I wanted a family, something that he never wanted to have with me. "Dick, I've been with other men, and some women, I've looked for someone to father a child, even if I had to take care of it all by myself. I've waited eighteen years to hold my child, a child I would help to create. At first, I wanted Bob to be the father, and if one of our girls wanted you to father her child, I would want you to do it. I nearly expect one of them to be your wife when they grow up, even if it's in secret!" "Sandi, I'm not taking one of my daughters to bed, nor am I going to marry one of them. If you die before me, I would make sure our children were looked after, then I'd follow you." "Dick, you're tal...." "Shhhh..." I hushed her, putting a finger over her lips, even though the look in her eyes said more than she could have ever said with words. "No more talk, no more pills, just love."I moved my finger from her lips, and before she could get a word out, I pressed my lips against hers and kissed her. After a second, she melted against me. "No more pills," she asked so quietly I almost missed it. "No," I told her softly, stroking her hair, before she sat up on me and stared straight into my eyes. She had a question in her eyes, and it took her a few moments to get the strength up to move her lips. "I-I'm-finally-going-to-be-a-mommy?" she stuttered, and I looked at her, proud that I had taken her as my mate. "If you want to be," I said, smiling, taking pleasure from the joy on her face. "What kind of a stupid question is that," she said, looking at me. "Of course I do, more than anything!" Then she leaned down and kissed me. "I love you so much, and our children are going to be beautiful, and they're going to take after their handsome father."

Part 4 of 10

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8051.txt

M2MNIPU8ME

The Complete Takeover

"So, Mr. Howe, why are you here?" "Please, call me Glenn. May I call you Patrick?" Wanting to keep his distance, Pat Erickson replied, "Mr. Howe, your reputation as a takeover pirate is well known..." "That is unfair. All of my, shall we say, acquisitions have been done with the blessing of the principals!" "...what you say appears to be true...on the surface. All I know is that initially, firms are ironclad in their desire to resist your overtures, but soon, somehow, for some reason, the CEOs and Powers that be become your..." Pat searched for the appropriate word. "...boys...?" Glenn interjected, wanting to get that word into Erickson's subconscious as early as possible. "...disciples..." Pat continued. "I can assure you, Mr. Howe, if that is your purpose for being here, to take over our firm...which my father has spent his lifetime building...you are wasting your time. In fact, my father is so adamant that he even refuses to see you. He asked me to see you ONLY as a business courtesy. So, in response to your question, Mr. Howe, I despise the name Patrick, my friends call me Pat, but you may address me as Mr. Erickson!" Inwardly, Glenn smiled. "Oh good," he thought to himself, "a defiant one. They always prove to be the most fun to manipulate and subjugate...and this one has such a nice firm body which I am going to enjoy having at my beck and call!" But to his prey, "I see. Then Mr. Erickson it shall be...for now. But then, to be consistent, I would like you to address me as Dr. Howe!" There was a hurried knock on the door, and before Erickson could respond, a young man rushed in. "Sorry about the interruption, Pat, but I thought you should see these figures!" As Erickson examined the document, Glenn carefully studied the intruder, whom he judged to be an inch shorter than his own 6'3" and weighing about 220...a very muscular 220. (With the proper training, Glenn thought, he would make a very good lure for other fish.) "Yes, yes...this is what I expected," Pat remarked. Then, remembering the visitor, Pat quickly changed the subject. "Forgive my rudeness, Mr. Howe, this is Mike Miller, our best salesman." The two men exchanged a firm handshake. "Well, Michael, I can see by your build that you must use your own products." Blushing, Miller replied, "I prefer Mike...(not another one, thought Howe)...but thank you for noticing. Actually, using our workout machines has two advantages...I am walking evidence as to what our machines can do, which helps my sales pitch...and when I turn on the charm, I can turn even the most religious of females into shimmying jello by flirting with my muscles!" "With those pecs, I'm sure you turn some male's heads as well," Glenn teased, causing the red in Miller's face to deepen. Howe continued, "Do I detect a Southern accent, Mr. Miller?" "Why yes, I got my MA at the University of Alabama..." "Ah, The Tide...you guys have been getting your asses beat by The Gators of late..." "That's only because they have been getting better Negro players than us." (The use of that "N" word did not go unnoticed by Howe. "So, Michael looks down on Blacks, does he!" he thought.) "Yes, WE have..." "You went to Florida?" "Yes, me and my number two man. I would like you to meet him someday..." "Stay away from my people, Howe...especially Mike...understand!" Erickson said with some irritation in his voice. "Tell you what, after he leaves your office, I won't set eyes on him again...unless you give your blessing...and are there in person." "Well, that will never happen," Erickson shot back. Then, turning to Miller, he nodded towards the door, indicating he was to leave. Miller got the message and, after another handshake, took his leave. "I mean what I said, Howe...stay away...now, where were we?" "I had just requested that you address me as Doctor..." "Doctor? There is no data in our dossier on you that you are a Doctor...but this is immaterial, however, as after your short presentation to me...what did I tell you I would allow...one half hour...we will not be seeing each other again! But you have me curious...just what is your degree in...Mr. Howe?" "Psychology...with a special interest in the subconscious. The fact that you were not aware is by my design. I purposely keep a low profile when it comes to my achievements in this field...except for those I choose." "And you have chosen me..." Pat asked in a mocking voice. "Yes...I have chosen you, Pat-trick..." (thinking of the tricks he would soon have this young muscular stud performing to fulfill his need for sexual satisfaction). "I told you I dislike the name Patrick, Mis...eh...Doctor." The fact that Patrick had, even in his anger, corrected himself and used the term he was instructed to use both pleased and excited Glenn. It showed that Patrick's subconscious was every bit as pliable and obedient as his profile had predicted. "Well, I am a very persuasive man...who's to say what I'll have you believing, accepting as gospel, agreeing to do, and wantoning before you've finished viewing my presentation!" (The use of the word 'wantoning' was a subtle trick...using a word which sounded similar to another but with a much more provocative meaning. Though Patrick did not consciously catch it, Glenn knew Patrick's subconscious would be excited by its use.) "I for one can...and I'm telling you you're wasting both your and my time. I shan't be swayed by any of your mind games! My willpower is as strong as yours. Now, I suggest you begin as you've already cutting into your allotted time, and I have a lunch date with my fiancée." ("Not only shall I have you swaying to my mental manipulations, my big hot stud," Glenn thought to himself, "but I intend to program you to my liking and needs as well! As far as lunch is concerned, I think you're going to break it, of your own 'free will' as well as canceling all of your afternoon appointments just so you can spend it here alone with me in your office!") "Very well. A moment ago, you referred to your father's refusal to see me. This is actually the reaction I expected and planned for. You see, Mr. Erickson, it is you whom I intend to convert. Your father is old and shall be retiring soon. It is a well-known fact that when he does, you shall be the big boy around here." "Now, just a minute..." Patrick interrupted. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhh," Glenn urged (since he had begun his mental attack on Patrick's brain, Glenn had been subtly lowering his voice, luring Patrick's subconscious into concentrating all the more on his every word), "this is my half hour...to give me the slightest chance, I want you to be a good boy by sitting there and listening...only speaking when I require you to...you will do that for me, won't you?...It's only fair..." As he spoke, Glenn wiggled his index finger in a side-to-side motion. To his excitement, Patrick's eyes followed the movement of the finger. "Only fair..." Patrick responded in a whisper as his head nodded while his eyes continued to follow the swaying finger. Glenn also noticed that Patrick's voice had lowered to match his own...another good sign that he was succumbing to Glenn's manipulative powers. Now to spin a sexual cocoon around this heterosexual caterpillar and transform him into a submissive, obedient homosexual butterfly. "Good boy," Glenn purposely used the phrase "boy" as often as possible to condition his prey to its sound. Glenn slowly moved his finger up to in front of his face so that now, as Patrick followed the movement of the finger, he stared unknowingly into Glenn's deep brown eyes. "Now, I have prepared a very special presentation for you. Take this disk and load it into your drive." He was talking almost in a whisper now, but Patrick heard him loud and clear as he obediently took the disk and inserted it into his PC. "Now, put on your earphones...we don't want to disturb your secretary who is sitting right outside the door...now type b:\takeover...hit enter..." Patrick again did exactly as told...never once taking his eyes off of Glenn's deep, seemingly bottomless brown spheres.As soon as he hit enter, however, a bright multicolored spiral began spinning on his screen. The pattern was so seductive that Patrick's eyes were immediately lured to it, and he was captivated. In unison, a combination of musical notes began to filter into Patrick's brain through the earphones. Anyone hearing these sounds over a speaker would judge them as a collection of unrelated notes. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, they were very specific sounds, designed for a very definite purpose. The sounds coming through the left earphone were different than those coming through the right. Each targeted the side of the brain that heard it. Glenn continued to observe Patrick's eyes. In them, he could see the mesmerizing dance of the sphere. The combination of the sphere and the music had their intended results as Patrick's eyes became completely dilated. "First the eyes, now the mind," Glenn thought. A soothing voice began to whisper directly into Patrick's innermost thought receptors. "Glenn is so handsome, so sexy, so desirable, so trustworthy. Glenn is my friend. Glenn is so handsome, so sexy, so desirable, so trustworthy. Glenn is my friend. Glenn is so handsome, so sexy..." This compelling chant repeated itself over and over again. It was not long before Patrick's lips first mouthed and then whispered this thought as it was drummed into him. The next phase of Patrick's enslavement began. Both the image and the sound changed, inducing stress in anyone watching and wearing the headphones. The stress became evident on Patrick's face. The voice on the disk (Glenn's voice) returned, "Feel the stress. Glenn can free you. Ask Glenn to rub you. Feel the stress. Glenn can free you. Ask Glenn to rub you. Feel the stress..." "Doctor Howe, please rub my neck!" "Of course, my boy, anything to please..." "Your boy, anything to please," repeated Patrick. Glenn loved this whole technique. To him, the seduction was so erotic. He moved behind Patrick, removed his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt, slowly pulling the shirt over the growing bulge in his pants. Though he still wore the shirt, Patrick's neck and muscular chest were now completely exposed to Glenn's manipulative fingers. Glenn did not miss his cue. He began to give Patrick a massage like none other he had ever received. He paid particular attention to the nerves at the base of the brain and to Patrick's well-developed pecs. Relax the brain, stimulate the body. As programmed, the screen image and sounds which Patrick saw and heard again changed, reinforcing in his now very receptive mind how safe he was when in Glenn's hands. Glenn's recorded voice now coaxed Patrick's eyes to close. "Your eyes are so heavy, tired and heavy, heavy and tired. You cannot keep them open. Try to resist, try to keep them open, to watch the pretty swirling spiral. The harder you try, the heavier your eyelids become. The harder you try, the HARDER you become (now as he massaged his nipples). Harder, HARDER, heavier, heavier, as your eyes close, you continue to see the swirling spiral. Sleep, sleep, sleep. Do you see the spiral, Patrick?" "...Yes..." Patrick whispered. Glenn now removed the headphones from Patrick's head as he aroused the pecs of his entranced prey. With his mouth now just inches from Patrick's ear, Glenn whispered hotly, "You like it when I call you Patrick, it turns you on. Patrick, hot, Patrick, horny Patrick, see the spiral and say it..." "...like you to call me Patrick, makes me hot, makes me horny..." "Patrick, hot, Patrick, horny..." "Patrick, hot, Patrick, horny..." "You like it when I call you boy, because that is what you are, my boy..." "...like when you call me boy, because that is what I am, your boy." "Patrick, hot, horny, boy..." "Patrick, hot, horny, boy..." "hot, horny, boy..." "hot, horny, boy..." "Patrick, do you have plans for tonight and the weekend?" "...Yes..." "Tell me what they are..." "...Picking out wedding rings with my fiancée, making plans for the reception..." "No, Patrick, you have more important things to do..." "More important things..." "Yes, you need to be with me, want to be with me, you want me. REPEAT!" "I need to be with you, I want to be with you, I want you..." "Again..." "I need to be with you, I want to be with you, I want you..." "Open your eyes, boy, gaze at the spinning spiral, pick up the phone, call your fiancée, cancel lunch, and all your plans with her for tonight and the weekend, tell her you have to work..." As Patrick obeyed, Glenn continued to whisper in Patrick's other ear erotic thoughts of submissive obedience. When he hung up the phone, Glenn asked Patrick what she had said. "She was pissed..." "It's OK, she was pissed, you know you NEED TO BE WITH ME. REPEAT!" "It's OK, she was pissed, I know I need to be with you..." "You NEED TO BE WITH ME." "I need to be with you..." "Good boy. You will come to me tonight. You will not make any other plans or tell anyone else where you are going. For the rest of the day, you will think of nothing else but your desire, your need to come to me tonight, to be with me tonight and for the entire weekend, all day, all night. Do you understand, boy?" "Yes, I understand." "Good boy. Tell me what you lust to do tonight and tomorrow and Sunday." "I lust to come to you, I need to be with you, tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday, all day, all night!" "Yes, boy, all day, all night, nothing matters except you, except me, especially me, and your desires to please me. REPEAT, boy!" "...all day, all night, nothing matters except you and my desires to please you!" "It will be our secret," Glenn whispered hotly in Patrick's ear as he daringly cupped the bulge in Patrick's pants. Patrick was now so completely under Glenn's hypnotic influence that all he could do was sigh erotically, "...our secret..." Stroking Patrick's hard cock through his pants, Glenn led him yet deeper, "You like having secrets with me, Patrick, tell me, boy!" "I like having secrets with you..." "We shall have many secrets, each will reinforce your allegiance to me, each you will find more erotic than the one before it. You like erotic secrets, don't you, Patrick!" It was a command, not a question. "Yes..." "Patrick, be a good boy and remove the disk, hand it to me!" "Now, Patrick, when I count to five, you shall awaken, you shall feel relaxed and refreshed. You shall be in awe of me from both a physical and business sense. You shall have no conscious remembrance of anything which has transpired, you will only know that we have more to talk about. The fact that your shirt is open will seem very natural, you shall stand up and dress yourself in front of me without giving it a second thought. You shall not feel awkward about the hardness of your cock, it will seem so natural. You shall look forward to being with me tonight. Do you understand?" "Yes." "Even when fully conscious, you will remain completely susceptible to my suggestions and commands. Say it for me, Patrick!" "Even when fully conscious, completely susceptible, your suggestions, your commands..." "Yes, susceptible to my suggestions and commands. You want to please me, say it!" "I want to please you..." "I excite you like no one you have ever known..." "You excite me like no one I have ever known..." (Patrick had slipped yet further under Glenn's hypnotic spell because he now repeated his master's words without being prompted. It just seemed so natural to repeat, and when he repeated, when he heard his own voice speak the words, it gave powerful credence to the meaning of the words!) "I excite you and you NEED TO PLEASE ME!" "You excite me, I need to please you..." "Whenever you hear me say the phrase 'Please me, boy,' your conscious mind will immediately sleep, your subconscious mind will replace it, and you shall be TOTALLY OBEDIENT to my will. Do you understand, boy?" "Yes, I understand..." "Good boy, you please me!" (Glenn observed how Patrick's cock visually hardened when he heard that.) Then, noticing the expensive Rolex watch Patrick wore on his wrist, Glenn added, "You desire to give me something of great value to prove your sincerity to continue our talks, don't you, boy Patrick!" Again, it was a suggestive command, not a question. "Yes..." "Very good, boy. One, two, three, four, FIVE. Well, that's my allotted half hour, Patrick. Oh, I forgot, you do not like the name Patrick..." "Patrick is just fine, Master, er, I mean, Doctor," Patrick said with a confused look on his face. "Nonetheless, thank you for your time. I guess we will not be seeing one another again..." "To the contrary, Doctor, I truly desire to continue our discussion. How about tonight, at your place?" "Tonight, my place? I don't know, you're not leading me on, are you, Patrick?" "No, not at all. Here, please take my Rolex watch as a token of my interest in seeing you again, Doctor." "Your Rolex? Well, if you insist..." "Yes, I insist. Until tonight, Doctor...""I'll call my lawyers and arrange for someone to come with me." "NO! .... no lawyers are necessary!" "But I will need someone to give me advice....." Howe made use of Patrick's susceptibility to his suggestions even when conscious..... "Lawyers are a bad idea .... I won't need one, and when you think about it, you do not need one to come with you, do you?" After a brief silence, Howe repeated, "You do not need a lawyer to come with you, do you?" "No, I do not need a lawyer to come with me." "But you need an ally... someone to give you advice, won't you!" "Yes..." "I would like you to bring Miller with you... just you and Miller." "But Miller is only a salesman..." "Yes, but your best salesman... your best... your best... who better to bring than your best, don't you agree, Patrick?" "Yes... best to bring my best..." "Michael is your best..." "Michael is my best..." "You shall bring Michael!" "I shall bring Michael!" "And you shall swear him to secrecy... no one must know, not even your father... he will be against it because it is your idea, do you understand?" "Yes... only Miller... secrecy... no one... must know!" "Not even your father..." "Not even my father..." "He is jealous of you..." "He is jealous of me..." "Good boy... you have pleased me!" Howe chuckled to himself as a wet spot appeared in Patrick's crotch. "Now... give me the token of your interest in continuing our discussions!" Until tonight, Patrick, my boy," Glenn said as Patrick took the watch off his wrist and handed it to the sexy male who stood before him. Something about the way Glenn said "...boy..." caused Patrick's cock to twitch. To be continued... suggestions and comments welcomed

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8260.txt

Chili Peeler

Peeler RP: HypnoWho

"Mmmm, Alec, I've been looking forward to this," Nicole whispered as her boss's hands encircled her body and gripped her breasts tightly through her blouse. She could feel his hardness press against the top of her ass as he stood behind her in the hotel room. She had no idea this was going to happen until he had led her to the elevator after lunch. He must have gotten the room key when he excused himself before lunch began. She liked the way he had planned things and taken control. "Open your eyes, Nicole. Look at yourself in the mirror," Thornton commanded his secretary-lover. He'd led her in front of a full-length mirror after entering the hotel room. He saw her look at the two of them in the mirror, and he began to unbutton her blouse. She leaned back against him and ran her hands up and down the sides of his legs as he slowly opened the buttons down her front. He pulled her blouse out of her skirt and finished the last button. His hands moved up the parted blouse to just below her neck, and he pulled the blouse slowly, completely off and then moved his body back against her. Nicole admired herself in the mirror as Alec pulled her blouse off, and she could see that she'd worn a sheer see-through black bra, and her hard nipples were clearly visible to her and her wonderful employer. She could see Alec's eyes in the mirror as they drank in her body. Nicole's pussy began to tingle as she thought of how Alec would react to her other club lingerie. It began to tingle stronger as Alec's hands gripped her tits again. "Mmmmm, yes. Feel how hard my nipples are," Nicole encouraged Alec as she brought her hands up over his. "God, that's it....squeeze them....aaahh.....yeah." "Such perfect little titties," Thornton said as he brought his head down over one of her shoulders. Her stiff nipples poked against his rubbing palms, and he grabbed them with his fingers and tweaked them. Nicole shuddered against him. "Take off your skirt for me. I want to see your pretty pussy, too." Nicole's hands left his and went to the side zipper, which she took down in one long pull. She shimmied out of the tight skirt and let it fall to the floor around her ankles. "Jesus Christ!" Thornton said as he saw Nicole's undergarments. Or the lack of them. He had assumed the fishnet stockings were just that, stockings. But now he saw that they were a skin-tight leotard garment that came up over Nicole's slender hips, completely covering her ass, hips, and crotch in a soft black mesh. And that was all she had on. She had not worn any panties, and Alec could see the swatch of her pubic hair nestled between her thighs. "I knew you'd like my club outfit," Nicole cooed as her hands ran down and rubbed the area between her legs. "The material feels so good against my pussy. I've gotten off once or twice wearing these." He watched as Nicole grabbed a bunch of the fishnet above her crotch and pulled upward. The small silky strings rode up into her labia, clearly defining her lovely sex. Thornton had seen enough. "That's too fuckin' sexy," he said as he pushed her toward the double-size bed. "Go over there and lay down." Thornton began tearing his clothes off as his once-demure secretary walked to the bed. She reached back, undid her bra, cast it to the floor, and crawled on the bed, moving to lie sideways facing him. Thornton pulled down his underwear and strode to the bed, naked finally. He liked the way Nicole hungrily eyed his bobbing, stiff erection. His cock jutted up in front of him, pointing at his secretary as she raised herself up on her left elbow. Thornton kneeled on the bed on his knees near Nicole's face. There was no need to speak any words; Nicole raised up on her left arm, reached for his cock with her right hand as her lover's fingers entwined themselves in her fine long auburn hair and pulled her head toward his waiting member. "Yeeeeeaaaahhhh!" Thornton gasped as Nicole's soft lips closed on his head and slid down his shaft. Her teeth lightly scraped his throbbing boner as it rode to the back of her hot mouth. She began bobbing her head, and the sound of her wanton slurping filled the hotel room. Her gripping fist at his base began slowly jacking him off as her delightful tongue swirled all over his hefty prick. "Yeah....suck it, Nicole......ahhhh.....jack it and suck it." Thornton reveled in the feeling of sexual adoration his cock was getting as Nicole expertly blew him. She was loving it with her tongue and lips like her life depended on it. Nicole ran her tongue up the underside of Alec's enflamed glans and pressed it into his cockslot, looking for more of the oozing pre-cum that she had been tasting since his hard fucklog had entered her mouth. Above her, she heard Alec grunt, and his fingers dug into her hair. Thornton held the redhead's head tightly as her lips swirled around the sensitive head of his cock. The previously faithful wife of another was giving him a fantastic blowjob. Her sweet mouth and jacking hand were traveling over every bit of his long dong. 'Christ, she was going to coax a mouthful of cum out of him soon this way,' Thornton thought. That wouldn't be fair to her; she needed a good fucking. Her programming had her in a very aroused state. Thornton slid his left hand down between their bodies, and his hand ran over her conical breasts. The nipples were stiff and jutting. He grabbed one of the hard nubs and pulled it up and down. He couldn't see past the top of her head, but he could feel her soft tit jiggle, and Nicole made a loud "mmmmmppfff" sound around his wet shaft. The vibrations of her moan almost set Thornton off, and he hurriedly pulled her off his ready-to-burst cock. "That's enough of that, baby," Thornton said as he pushed her down onto her elbows on the bed. Her long, fine reddish-brown hair fanned out on the bed underneath her, framing her beautiful face. Thornton leaned over and kissed her while his hand slid down the front of her torso. He felt the outline of the bottom of her ribcage, her satiny soft tummy. Thornton finished his kiss when his fingers hit the top of her fishnet lingerie. "These are great," Thornton said as his hand slid over the textured surface of Nicole's lap. "I would like you to start wearing more sexy items like this." He swung his right arm over Nicole and leaned forward so his face was over her lap. His hand slipped down into the juncture of her thighs, and Nicole spread her legs wider as his hand cupped her wet pussy. "Oh, yes, Alec. I've got some sexy underwear that you're gonna love." He felt Nicole's left hand reach up and stroke his hanging dick. She continued, "Let me take these hose off, and we can fuck again. We're both ready." Thornton loved the hose she had on. Too bad there wasn't a built-in hole for fucking. 'But then again, why let that stop us?' Thornton decided. He brought his other hand down into her crotch, gripped the material, and gave a pull. The flimsy strands of the fishnet tore easily enough. It parted like a spiderweb, the slight tear spread into a large gap in a second. "Oh, Alec!" Nicole gasped as she felt the encasing material part around her pussy mound. "I just bought those!" "Relax, I'll buy you another pair." "But, what will I tell Jeff?" Jeff, her husband. "Tell him they got a tear. Better yet, you can leave early today and buy another pair on the way home. Then he'll never know." Thornton ran his fingers down into the folds of her pussy, and Nicole whimpered in delight. All thoughts of her husband were washed away as Thornton teased her sensitive clitty. Her hand tugged on his dick like she wanted to tear it off. "Fuck my pussy! Ahhh, please, give it to me," Nicole pleaded as Thornton's fingers strummed in her slick folds. She yanked on his dick several more times, and it felt like a lead bar in her palm. She didn't try to analyze the newfound lust for her boss. She'd worked for him for 18 months without any feelings like she had now. 'God, I just want him to screw her with his big dick!' her mind reeled. "With pleasure, darling," Thornton promised as he stood up by the bed."Roll over and scoot your butt over here." Nicole readily complied with his orders. The turned-on secretary positioned herself on her hands and knees, facing away from Alec, with her lower legs hanging over the side of the bed. She swung her long hair to one side and looked back at him. He was eyeing her upthrust bottom lustfully while he stroked his mighty penis, that cock that she couldn't wait to feel up her aching cunt. She could feel the tear in her hose forming an oval opening from halfway up her ass to just over the top of her rectangular shaved pubic swatch. He was getting a good view of her ready sex. "Man, what a fucking dream you are!" Thornton said as he moved in closer. His hands grabbed her mesh-covered ass and he squeezed it lovingly. He pressed his legs against the inside of her shins and opened her legs wider. Her ass lowered further down so the top was just below his nuts. 'Perfect,' he thought. His thumbs slid into the top of the split in her hose and he pulled the material up higher on her ass. Looking down, he had a great view of her wet gash. Nicole had lowered herself down on her elbows and now she ran one hand back under her body. Thornton watched as her fingers slid into view and proceeded to part her pussy lips for him. Her pink tunnel was right there, just begging for it. "You're a bad girl, aren't you Nicole?" Thornton teased as he leaned slightly over her, watching as his fat cockhead slid between her splayed fingers and found her open notch. "I'm soooo bad," Nicole purred. "I don't know why. But I love it. Take me, right now!" Thornton flexed his hips forward and his knob disappeared down her snug hole. He saw Nicole's hand grip the bedsheets and her mouth open as she sucked in a deep breath. Thornton let go his grip on the mesh hose and he felt the material slide down to rest on the top of his cock. He leaned further over Nicole and grabbed her by her shoulders. He pulled them back toward him as he moved his hips forward and Nicole's lovely back arched as Thornton's fuck-arrow disappeared down into her love-quiver. Nicole closed her eyes and mewed in delight as her boss's thick prick filled her pussy to capacity. This was the feeling she had been thinking about since their first fuck in his office. Her quim felt stuffed and his cock radiated a heat throughout her loins. Alec began thrusting back and forth in her succulent cunt and Nicole began rubbing her clit and time seemed to fly by... Thornton heard his watch alarm go off and he stopped his thrusting and relaxed his grip on Nicole's waist. He'd screwed her to two good orgasms in the last half hour but his dick had yet to deposit his load in her juice-laden hole. He'd come awfully close each time her cuntal muscles had spasmed in the culmination of her climaxes. Her gorgeous body and the way he made her degrade herself would be a constant turn-on for him. Once unattainable, but now open and eager for anything he desired. Thornton ran his hands over the upper swells of Nicole's ass and down her back. Her face was turned sideways, pressed into the mattress as her body relaxed after their sexual exertions. Thornton looped an arm under her torso and pulled Nicole up off the bed until her sweaty back met his chest, keeping his dick buried inside her soupy crack. Nicole's hands came up over her head and ran through his hair as he buried his face in her long hair. "That was unbelievable," she murmured. "Yeah, fucking your pussy is like heaven," Thornton whispered as he ran his hands up her slender sides and cupped her delicate teats. "But I've been thinking about your hot mouth all the time. You sucked me so good, it's all I can think about. Does your husband ever shoot off in your mouth?" "Yes." "I bet he does. You swallow his cum?" Thornton was getting more excited by the minute as he asked his secretary the most personal questions one could ask. And the girl was willing to tell him all he wanted to know. "Yes," Nicole mewed. "I'll swallow it if he asks me. But sometimes I do something I saw in a dirty movie once." "A porno film?" "Yes, my husband likes me to do what a girl did in the movie." "I want you to show me, Nicole. Do me just like the porno girl." Thornton had no idea what she was talking about but he definitely wanted to get off in her sexy mouth. His hands slid down her sides to her hips and he pushed her away from him. His cock sprang from her well-screwed pussy as she slumped down onto the bed. "How do you want me, baby?" Thornton asked as he climbed onto the bed on his knees by her side. Nicole rose up on one arm and swept her long fine hair away from her flushed face. "Sit back against the headboard." Thornton leaned back on against the top of the bed and spread his legs. His beet-red member jutted straight up into the air from his matted pubic hairs. Nicole slid up between his legs and placed her left elbow over his right thigh. She rolled slightly on her left side, placing her weight on his leg, as she reached with her right hand and took command of his upthrust cock. She scooted further up until her mouth was hovering next to his flared crown. "God, your cock looks like the one in that film," Nicole commended Thornton as she kissed the underside of his glans tenderly. Thornton couldn't wait to blow his wad in her mouth. "Suck me off right now!" Thornton grabbed the back of her head and she craned her head further up and sank her mouth down around his waiting tool. She began sucking his peter hard and fast as her hand jacked him off. "Oh, Christ. Yeah, suck it, suck it!" Thornton encouraged his trampy secretary as he pulled her hair away from her face so he could watch her lips slide up and down his cocktrunk. Her eyes were closed as she worked her oral magic and she began making little mmmmmming sounds like she was really enjoying the hard meat lodged in her mouth. "Aaaahh, fuck, that feels great! Suck it, baby, aahh, aaahh, man, I'm gonna fill your mouth in a minute! Oooh, shit! Those fucking lips! Aaah, fuck!" Thornton could feel his balls begin to tighten as he headed for the zenith of a huge ejaculation. He began giving short hunches up into Nicole's busy mouth. Her hand stroked him harder in response. "Suck, suck, suck! I'm gonna come in a second, Nicole! Look at me! Yeah, aaah, look right in my eyes and jerk me off with your hand!" Nicole ran her lips up near the top of his phallus and her hand began to jack him faster and faster. Her green eyes stared up at his face as she beat him off. Thornton fought off the end as long as he could but the sensations became too intense and he let the flood gates open. Moaning loudly, he began filling Nicole's mouth with his pearly discharge. She locked her lips tightly around his shaft and her hand tightened around him, began milking him in perfect synchronization with his spurting. One...two...three...four...five big shots of Thornton's cum cascaded up against the top of her mouth before the torrent began to subside into weak jerks of the dregs of his cumload. Thornton brought his hand off Nicole's head and let his body relax as he watched Nicole finish up. But Nicole was just beginning her little trick she'd learned from the movie. She brought her mouth up off his cockhead and let her lips go slack and his jism spilled down onto his glans like syrup on a sundae. The sticky fluid ran slowly down his shaft to pool around the top of her fist. She dragged her hand back up near his glans and her mouth went back over his cock and he could feel her sucking his cum back into her mouth. She repeated the process a second time, looking up into his eyes as his seed leaked back down onto his rapidly restiffening member. "Shit, you nasty bitch!" Thornton thrilled as he hunched his cum-coated prick into her fist. "Keep playing with my cum, you cocksucker." Nicole kept it up until most of his seed was rubbed into his peter or on her lips and cheeks. Finally she was left with several long strands of jizz/saliva connecting her mouth with the top of his dick as she gazed down at it from about six inches. Thornton had never seen such an erotic sight. "That was outstanding. I think I found your true calling in life," Alec teased as he pushed her head down. "Clean me up, baby." As Nicole slurped up the remains of his sperm, Thornton thought about all the blowjobs he'd have Nicole give him in the office in the future. She'd give him one in the morning and maybe suck him off again before he went home. Although, with his wife and stepdaughter waiting for him, that would not be too often. Then that feeling of guilt came over him again. He became a little worried that this power he had was going to get in the way of his career. It seemed to be taking him away from work. He'd wasted several hours with Nicole when he could have been working. He thought almost constantly about other patients to gain control over. He was not one to become so obsessed. 'Why have I become the person I am today? Why can't I stop this?' he wondered. When they got back to the office, there were several messages on the answering machine. One of them was from Stephana. Thornton had Nicole call back the other parties as he went into his office and phoned his wife. "Hi, Stevie. You were trying to reach me?" "Yes, darling. I just wanted to call and see how your day was going. You had to rush off this morning and I did not tell you how wonderful last night was. I never thought touching myself like that, you know, with you telling me to finger myself could get me so excited. It was unbelievable, darling." "Yes, it was quite a show you put on.""We're going to start trying many different things. I know you will be open to some suggestions that I might make." "Now you have intrigued me," Stephana said sexily. "I can't wait for you to get home." Thornton decided to test the conditioning he had given his wife. "Stevie, hypothetically, what would you say if I told you that I was having an affair with Nicole? If that was a form of sexual expression that I wanted to try, how would you feel about that?" He emphasized the words 'form of sexual expression' as he had used them that night when he put her under. Stevie was silent for a moment, then replied, "If that was what you wanted, I could live with that. I know you love me." Thornton applauded himself that he now had a wife that would not feel unsettled about him screwing other women on the side. No messy divorce loomed ahead. As long as he was happy, she would be happy. He also knew that she would now be open to any sexual acts he could suggest. Their sex life had been full and varied, but there were things that she refused to try or he'd never wanted to risk asking her. There was one thing that he had always wanted to experience with her. "Stevie, put Lisa on. I want to talk with her a moment." When his stepdaughter came on, he told her he wanted her to go out with her friends that night. She was to tell them that she was going to be spending less and less time with them as she brought her grades up and spent more time with her family. He told her to be back in by 1 PM and she was not to have sex with any of her boyfriends any longer. She promised to be back in by her curfew time and she asked him if he might come to her room later, after telling him her mother was out of earshot. "Probably not tonight, but this weekend I'm sure we can find some time together." Tomorrow was Saturday and he was going to be picking up his daughter, Jenny, at the airport. Getting Lisa alone would not be an easy task with his unprogrammed daughter around. Stephana would be no problem; all he had to do was tell her mother to go shopping or to visit her friends or, hell, tell her to go stand in a closet for an hour. "Put your mother back on, honey. I'll see you tomorrow morning." When Stevie came back on the line, he told her that Lisa would be going out and it was OK with him. He suggested a quiet dinner together and then hinted at some romantic activities afterward. Stevie said she'd prepare everything. Thornton had Nicole place a call for him, and a minute later she came on the line to tell him the party he wished to talk to was on the line. He reached for the phone and spoke, "This is Dr. Thornton. Buttercup." "That was a great meal, Maria, thank you. After you've cleared the dishes, you can leave. We're having a guest over tonight." The maid began taking the dishes into the kitchen as Alec and his wife took their after-dinner drinks out onto the patio behind the mansion. Alec slipped his arm around Stevie's waist and hugged her as they looked out over the lake. "Who is this mystery guest, darling?" Stevie asked him again. He'd told her they would be entertaining someone, but had not told her who or what was the occasion. His wife was wearing a shiny silver evening gown with a low-cut neckline which clearly showed the upper swells of her augmented breasts. "You don't know her. But you remember the questions I asked you this afternoon? Well, there's no hypotheticals tonight, Stevie. I've invited another woman over to be with us. I want to experience both of you together. Upstairs. In bed." Alec felt her body tense. Even after being conditioned to want to participate with him in any sexual act he desired, there was still some deep hang-ups in her about either being with another woman or seeing her husband with another. "Are you sure that is what you want?" Stevie asked. "Definitely. And I know you want me to be happy, so you will join us. Imagine the hands and mouth of another woman pleasuring you while I watch." Stephana relaxed in his arm. "Imagine her mouth on your nipples while I fuck you." Thornton sat his glass on the patio balustrade and ran the palm of his free hand over the swell of her breasts and onto her tanned breastbone. Stevie's eyes were now full of desire, for him and for the other woman, whoever she was. He wouldn't have to put her under again to make her go along with the threesome. He kissed her tenderly as his hand slid down to squeeze a breast while his other hand slid down her bare leg exposed in the dress's high side slit. She molded her body to him as his hand travelled up under her dress. She was wearing a pair of thong underwear to minimize any lines in the tight dress, and Alec was able to feel her bare bottom. He was thinking about sitting her on the balustrade, hiking her dress up around her waist and using his mouth on her familiar womanhood. But at that moment, car headlight beams swept over them. A portion of the winding driveway in front of the house was visible from where they stood, and Thornton saw a red Porsche approaching the house. "It looks like our guest is here, darling. Let's go welcome her," Thornton said as he grabbed Stevie's hand and led her back into the house.

Part 5

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11103.txt

losgud

The Substitute

"Would you please get Anne out of my house!?" Rather uncharitable of my mother-in-law, I thought, but a perfectly understandable remark given the context. The whole of the afternoon, and all through dinner, Anne had been a total bitch to her mother. Barbara rolled her eyes. Time for my wife to play Ms. Mediator again. I could see her irritation level was up. When Barbara got angry, she flushed from the neck down. Even with the top several buttons on her blouse undone, there was no end in sight. The warm red of the rash was heightened by the cool light blues and greens of the cloth. I felt trapped there in the kitchen while all the pots came to a boil. It was like I wasn't supposed to be there, as though I was eavesdropping. But at least I had a sense of being part of the proceedings. "Do something, _any_thing! Say it's time for me to get some quality bonding time with my granddaughter! Tell her you want to keep your mother off Death Row for premeditated murder!" She moved her hand a little too close to the knife block. Barbara looked to me. "Care to hang out with me and my sister over at her place for a while?" I turned to my mother-in-law. "Am I correct in assuming that bonding will involve you and Stephie and Barney?" "And don't forget Baby Bop," she gave a dangerous grimace. That question answered, I answered Barb's. "Sure. Great. Sounds like fun to me." I did make note to know what the topic was if I was ever not a part of a whispered kitchen conversation. But Anne hadn't married into this. It seemed impossible that she could be unaware of the same. But when we all went back into the living room, she looked up from the floor with a bright oblivious smile. Maybe she was too caught up in play to have considered the huddle in the kitchen. I was surprised that Anne still had some patience left in the reservoir. While being a cute, quick and generally agreeable kid, Stephie was still at the age where she was convinced that the whole of the universe existed solely for her own personal satisfaction. They had all those goddamn plastic horses out, which, I supposed, held Anne in the trance of a flashback. It almost made me queasy, how clear an image I had of Anne-the-little-girl cantering her herd of yore around. I'd probably stolen the image from an old photo album. The only real difference was that age had filled out the knobby bare legs of her corral, and now they were sheathed in thin black cotton pants. The pants played nicely against her pull-over top, which I'd been admiring all day. It was a deep raspberry color I found intensely appealing. I would have killed for that shirt but for the feminine piping at the seams. Nor was the scalloped neck really my style. The question I dreaded the most: "Daddy, will you play horsies with me?" Think of Wayne-the-little-boy, surreptitiously biting the hooves off all his sisters' horsies. Given my lifelong love of horses, I really was the worst companion for such play. Of course Stephie would consign me the mangiest of the lot, and then get furious when I didn't play the way she wanted me to play. My horsies never wanted to go galloping across the plains performing dangerous deeds and heroic tasks. My sad lot were resigned to trudging slowly off to the dogfood factory. Evil of me, true, but it had earned me last-resort status. Whereas Anne was ready to romp for hours. She looked around wildly after Barb informed her the three of us were going over to her place. "What? Why? But I'm having fun!" "The ghouls from the glue factory are out on the loose, hunting in packs," I chirped in, ignoring the glowering glances I gathered. "Time for all good horsies to be back in the stable, fast asleep." _Shameless!_ Shameless as well, Barbara and her mother were furiously whispering while the pair of them looked askant down at Anne. Judgment pronounced, they traded big smug smiles. Anne still looked a bit lost. Lacking the blood ties, I wasn't lacking patience with her petulance. Not quite yet, anyway. I leaned down and intoned in her ear, "It's time for the arrival of the fat friendly dinosaur and all his evil friends." I quickly straightened up, trying to keep the surprise off my face. If she hadn't been sitting on the floor bent at the waist . . . and I hadn't been leaning from behind to whisper . . . I certainly never would have called the neckline of her shirt immodest. But there, in that brief flash, I clearly saw that Anne, like Barbara, didn't favor wearing a bra in an informal setting. "Not the Barney tapes!" she gave a mock shudder. Anne was immediately on her feet. "Stephie, thanks for letting me play horsies with you!" I glanced around to see if anyone had seen me seeing what I had seen. Several of the horses seemed to be grinning at me, but otherwise the indiscretion appeared to have gone unnoticed. In the next instant the three of us were crunching down the gravel walk to the driveway. I was left to provide the applause for my own genius since no one else would. Not only had I gotten us out the door and on our way in a flash, but it'd been accomplished before Stephie had had time to react. For the drive over I sat in the backseat alone. It was like some sort of futuristic mode of entertainment. There was the drone of the chatter in the front seat, the syllables of which never quite made it intact to my domain. The red and amber flashing of taillights in front of us, white headlights darting at us from the front and sides, the blues and oranges of the sodium- and mercury-vapor street lights, and the whole rainbow of lights from the stretches of businesses and institutions along the way; all these amazing lights distorted by the traveling fishbowl effect of the car windows. I particularly enjoyed the stroboscopic effect of watching Barb and Anne as they turned their heads to each other during the conversation, that low level hummy sort of buzz us backseaters overhear and call language. Once we got to the apartment, I quickly claimed the only real chair in the room, a modern ergonomic thing by the computer. It was a sensitive piece of machinery. In flopping myself down, I nearly wound up zipping across the room and crashing through the wall. Barbara and Anne were quite content to flop down on opposite ends of the collection of covered floor cushions that served as a sofa. I carefully scooted my wheeled seat closer but to no avail. Barbara and Anne continued their conversation, old family stuff in such a code I might as well have been in the backseat. I sat there smiling, listening vaguely, reminding myself that I was having a better time than if I'd stayed behind. Though if I had I would have retreated to the guest room with a book. Strictly to avoid interfering with the quality time, of course. Major on my mind was what a grand time I'd be having if I'd just stayed home. These weekend trips to the City of In-Laws were no nightmares, but still, given my druthers . . . much _much_ grander still if we'd run Stephie over, the two of us returning home for a weekend alone! From my vantage I realized I'd taken the wrong seat. I would've fit nice and snug between them on the ersatz sofa, or cuddled up against Barbara if she'd been in the middle. There she was, my lovely wife, slumped down in the cushions. The slope displayed her draped breasts to a fine advantage, and gravity had her legs casually splayed.Even encased in a somewhat dowdy blouse and relaxed-fit jeans, this was not a sight I needed to be seeing in the company of others. We were passing through a very busy month or so, and my affair with my own hand had grown rather tiresome. The more I stared at Barbara, the more the stash of cash in my wallet was burning a hole in my pocket. It was surely enough for a bed in a room at a low-budget chain. My wife, without a child by her side! Break her out of this maternal mode she kept getting stuck in. A few hours of good clean fun. And hey, the night's paid for. We'd be partners in crime again. Old reliable car trouble. Nothing like an overnight miracle to recharge a few batteries! _Let's ditch Anne and go fuck like crazy!_ My telepathic powers, per usual, were malfunctioning. I shifted my attentions to Anne to calm down. She was, when _she_ was calm, a genuinely likable person. But she was currently trying to fast-track a PhD program. Student-teaching, taking classes, roughing out her dissertation, plus odd-jobbing the freelance stuff that paid the bills. No wonder she was nearly crazy. I pitied my mother-in-law for living in the same town and thus becoming the sounding board for all of Anne's bitchy frustrations. Besides her mother, Anne's social life was her cat, a rather psychotic thing I'd seen once in a darting flash. As well, in my diagnoses--which I kept strictly to myself--I imagined that her sexual life didn't stray too far from the familiarity of her own friendly fingers. Which, as I well knew, could get to be quite a bore. I had to turn my attentions away from her! She lay there sprawled in nearly an identical position as Barbara. Anne was a slightly different flavor, but she was still basically the same genetic milkshake. I was ready to go back and comfort myself by slurping up the infantile images on the television screen! Right then the phone rang somewhere behind me. Both sets of eyes turned in my direction. Not looking at me, but there I sat in the line of vision. I sort of crossed my arms in my lap. I didn't have a raging erection, but there was definitely less blood available to my brain than usual. Anne got up to get it, passing directly by me to where it sat next to the computer. I swiveled and scooted in my wonderchair to give her less of a detour. In my sensitized state, I could smell her as she swished by. It wasn't an ornate or complicated odor, nothing innately sexual, just the good clean scent of a woman. Enough to nearly throw me from the chair. Down boy, down! The chair was nearly brand new and ridiculously well-lubricated. My tiny twist and push sent me almost to the sofa, twirling a full 180 degrees. I watched Anne on her trip across the room. My god! They can observe others, they can see themselves in fitting mirrors, but no woman can ever know how truly delicious she is to watch walking away. Quickly I caught myself and turned back to Barbara. A little smile was playing across her face. "I uh, wow, these damn chairs, they oughta put brakes on 'em!" Barb laughed. "I think you're supposed to put the brakes on _yourself_." I just stared. It seemed like a good time to keep my mouth shut. She leaned up and lowered her voice. "Hadn't you noticed before? You're hardly the first guy to realize what a cute ass she has. Don't worry! I'd think there was something wrong with you if you _didn't_ appreciate the view." Actually, I happened to be appreciating a different view at the moment. Barb guessed this without looking down; keeping her eyes on me, she reached and tugged the neckline of her shirt out and down even further. Nipple alert! "Stop it!" I hissed. She snickered and gave me a playful swat that sent me, literally, spinning in circles. After answering the phone, Anne's tone had quickly lost its brightness. She held the receiver out towards us, "It's Mom--something about Stephie?" Barbara and I exchanged high-browed looks of surprise. I was scared to try and get out of the chair; before I could, Barb was on her feet and walking across the room. There went another fine sight! But I couldn't really follow it. The air was fairly crackling with concern. And the way Anne was turned, she would have seen the smoke pouring out my ears. Barbara wasn't doing much talking, but her expression grew grave. Anne's arms started an agitated flapping, as though she couldn't stand not being on the phone herself hearing the whole story. The whole story seemed to take forever to tell. Barb backed up and settled her bottom against the desk while Anne took to canting back and forth on her hips. Eventually, Anne shrugged and walked across the room. She sank down in front of me, sitting on her heels and resting her hands on her knees. Her look was so serious as she whispered, "I wonder what's wrong?" I shrugged and dropped my eyes just long enough to see the danger of the situation. I didn't want to be rude and look at the top of her head, but her gaze was too intense for me to comfortably hold. Which didn't leave me many options. That damn shirt! I caught a glimpse of the formative swells of her breast, rapidly rising and falling with the excited pace of her breath. I settled instead on looking past Anne, around her, letting my gaze come to rest on Barb. I'd get to the bottom of this mystery using my profound supernatural powers. "Oh," I finally hazarded a guess to give myself something else to do, "Stephie probably spilled a nearly invisible drop of grape juice on her very favorite nightgown." If it wasn't that, it was probably something just like that. Whatever it was, I was glad for the excuse to get out of there. This dwelling on the physical attributes of the opposite sex was going to get me in trouble. My mind had many more than just the one track, but it wasn't willing to concede the fact when stuck in a room with two gorgeous examples of the gender in question. Anne looked stunned by my response. "It happens!" I asserted. "Sure, I thought trial-and-error was a tried-and-true form of learning, but this'll make the third time this week. She insists on using a grown-up glass too wide for her hand, she insists on pouring it so full the meniscus is floating above the actual rim, she insists on not sitting at a table, she insists on holding the glass in one hand while she uses the other for play. And she insistently--I mean _con_sistently--spills on herself. But only when she's wearing the only nightgown she'll wear. And it's always one drop so small you wouldn't even see it if she didn't point it out. Lucky for your mom she has that washer and dryer--the crisis will be over within an hour without leaving the house." How much more of a monster could I make myself appear? Why stop with one foot--hell, let me cram the entire leg in my mouth. Fortunately, Barbara saved me from further embarrassment by coming away from the phone wearing a very grim expression. "What's up?" I asked. "Your daughter." "What's wrong?" Anne demanded, getting to her feet. "A little girl wants her Mommy," came her curt reply. "What is it? what is it?" Anne wouldn't let off. "Stephie fell asleep in front of the tube, and then slipped into an intensely frightening nightmare." "Yeah, Barney does that to me all the time," I quipped. "It was an epic horror involving the slaughter of horses," she glared at me. Having the two of them standing there in front of me made me feel even smaller in my seat. "Oh boy," I replied, moving to get up, "I guess I better go clean up my mess." "A little girl wants her _Mommy_," Barbara stated in her sweetest voice. I knew not to be tempted. The tone was the frosting on a display window cake; one bite would break a tooth on the plaster. "Besides, I can just see you trying to console her. _It's okay honey, think how happy it made all the dogs._" "Well, it's the same as that Great Circle of Life crap all those cartoon animals are always spouting off about." I stood up to go, remembering that it really wasn't a simple matter of one of us going into the other room to play the Comforter. Barbara looked at me queerly. "Relax. Sit down. I'm going, _case closed_." "But, um, I thought, you know . . ." My hands dipped and twirled and shook in elaborate gestures that, really, clarified nothing. I was quite the master of inarticulation. "Oh? Oh, no no," she comprehended at last. "I plan to be right back. She'll probably be fast asleep by the time I get there." That explicated, I decided to sit back down. I chose the sofa. I was having no more of _that_ chair! There was that full minute where Anne and I both stared at the door after it closed. After that, we had to turn to each other. And then began the Great Deadly Lull. In departing, Barb had taken the certain dynamic of her presence that generally allowed us to have easy conversations. Anne slunk over and sat herself in the crazy chair. The damn thing barely budged. She swiveled my way, precisely. This was not good. I was stuck in the same place, and in the same mindset. The only changes were that the one woman--my wife--had left, and that I'd switched seating with the other woman--my wife's sister. And my mission--should I choose to accept it--was to invent conversation when I was quickly feeling very quiet. Matters were not helped by the fact that I was basically sitting on the floor. With Anne sprawled in the chair in front of me, my level-headed gaze fell right between her open thighs. "It could've been grape juice," I whined. "But it wasn't," Anne countered. True, true. "Nice weather we're having," I attempted, clasping my hands in my lap. "For winter," she shrugged. I gave up and studied my hands.I glanced up at the overhead fixture, then I turned my attention to the window in the adjacent wall. The minutes were dragging on like hours. Years later, Anne rolled back a bit, then stood up. "I'm going to make a cup of tea. Would you like one?" "Sure!" I grasped. And, I admit--secret shameless bastard that I am--I stared at her behind until the turn into the kitchen swallowed the sight. A cute ass indeed. _Calm down!_ I scolded myself. The potential for big trouble was definitely arising. Barbara might not have minded my helping myself to a little look, but geez! You're in your apartment with your brother-in-law while your sister is off comforting your sweet little niece, and the jerk can't keep his eyes off you. _What a creep!_ The creak of the old tap, the splatter of water, the rattle of the kettle and the clicking of mugs. _Bang_ on the stove, _clunk_ on the counter, _slam_ goes the cabinet door. A nice long medley of safe unsexy sounds. I was fast back in control, returned to the status quo. I had Anne placed back in the proper compartment. The kettle gave a scraggly old whistle, and nearly immediately Anne was back in the room. She was carrying the cat, not cups. "Look who I found." Anne's smile was broad and proud as she brought the cat over to me. "Well hi, sweetheart." I never could remember its name. I'd known the damn thing since Anne got it as a kitten, so it was years too late to ask. _Enna_, that was one name I'd given it. _Lunatic_ was another. The cat was a mutt, but some exotic forebear was definitely trying to show through. It really was a gorgeous creature, a silvery sort of white with smoky hints of markings. The eyes were this amazing iridescent sort of baby-blue with violet undertones. I reached out to stroke it. "Pretty pretty," I crooned. As usual, it flinched. "Wah!" "Oh, you big baby!" I tried again. I wanted it to cry again. I loved the color of its mouth combined with the blues and greys. _Princess Pink Mouth_ was another name. Anne knelt down and practically crawled between my outstretched legs, insisting that I hold the cat in my lap. She was beaming. _Love me, love my cat._ I grinned back, "Gosh, this is more I've seen of it than in all the past two years." The transfer was effected, not that the cat was at all happy about it. The thing was trembling in my arms. But this was not a good situation to be in. I had this squirming weight pressing against my crotch. A pretty face was hovering barely a foot from mine. And our hands, not touching, but so close together, stroking the soft fur. Petting a cat is a very sensuous experience, and sharing it with someone . . . well, it was like having some sort of unusual sex. The cat exploded! I didn't even see where it went. It just flew up in the air, and then Anne tumbled into my lap, the top of her head clipping my cheek. "Ow!" I shouted. She quickly scrambled up, rubbing her scalp, "Oh what? I'm sorry!" "Oh no, it's not that." I was staring at my arm. A trio of welts were forming, raising up, blushing, each splitting to bubble up a crimson line. "_Oh no!_" she exclaimed. Before I could react she was holding my hand in hers. She used the index finger of her other hand to trace lines parallel to the scratches, stopping to poke at my arm around the welts. Such a simple touch, but it was driving me nuts! "Those look angry," she declared, "we better do something about them." _Uh uh!_ I was not about to let Anne go into nurse-mode. "Oh, that's nothing, really, it's okay, they don't even hurt. Little soap and water maybe, paper towel or something to blot them with. Hey, what about that tea anyway." "Oh yea," she brightened. Excellent diversionary tactic! I followed Anne into the kitchen. It was a tiny, narrow space. There was barely room for us both to fit, me at the sink and her the counter opposite. Knowing Anne I should have guessed that the tea was a complicated business. The process involved tea-balls and loose leaf, an exact steeping time, then a pinch of another type of tea. A little lemon did not involve a quick squirt from that magic plastic one. The whole time I was washing my arm, rinsing with peroxide, and drying off, Anne was directly behind me. We were bumping butts every fifteen seconds. "Oops, excuse me." "Sorry!" "This really is an _intimate_ kitchen, isn't it?" Then she started exaggerating. "Boom-boom," she'd call out, and then _boom-boom_ it would be. But I was trying to press on the damn cuts. Otherwise they kept trickling. "Do you mind?" "Not at all!" _Boom-boom!_ "Come on!" I reached for another paper towel. "Okay!" _Boom-boom!_ "Anne! I'm doing that compression thing! Gentle, or I'll bleed to death in your sink." She answered with a very gentle little _boom_ indeed. Then she made a little sucking sound. "Mmm! Usually I don't indulge but sometimes I need some sweetness." What? Whatever! "Would you like a drop of my very special honey?" I about fell through the floor! "Would you like a taste?" She came around my side with a spoon of something thick and dark and barely liquid, then showed me the jar. Okay, honey to sweeten the tea. But not the runny stuff that comes in a plastic squeeze bear. A raw honey from the nectar of a special flower that grew only in one small patch somewhere on the other side of the world. One drop because one drop would be a full dollop. "Here," she flicked her tongue out at the spoon, "just the tip of your tongue. It's very strong." I'd been ready to open wide and say ahhh. Bad enough to be fed, but to have to expose my tongue--that implied something too sensual. "Go on, have a taste, it's really good." Eh, get it over with! Hey, good enough, strong yes, a distinct nearly smoky flavor. Funny honey. Hell yea, stir some in. It was going to be a cup of weird tasting stuff anyway. I rarely drank tea, and when I did it would be three bags of grocery brand garbage and two spoons of sugar let set for about fifteen minutes--ersatz coffee. I finally managed to staunch the bleeding. We took our cups back into the living room. Anne took the psycho chair, leaving me glad to have the faux sofa to myself. We smiled at one another over our cups of tea. The honey did help. The brew smelled sort of like--kindred in taste as well, I guessed--the water in a vase after you've tossed out the cut flowers you kept too long. To my health and my hostess! "Well?" Anne smiled. "Well?" I smiled. "The tea?" "Great! Really. Truly." "So?" "Yea?" This was awful! Fucking painful. I doubt I was the only one in the room wishing Barbara a swift return. "Would you like to meet some interesting people?" What? like she had a bunch of them stashed away in the closet? "Sure, sounds great!" Maybe I should flap my arms and fly home to my town, call up some friends? Maybe she was going to suggest I step out the door and keep walking until I found some? The awkward fault was entirely my own--I was feeling supremely dull. Anne was busy tapping away at the computer. "Come on," she called. I stood up with a groan, feeling old and weary, and went over. There wasn't a comfortable compromise between standing and squatting. I chose the latter simply because I felt less towering. She was apparently hooked up into some sort of fancy chat room--she tossed off some acronyms that made me think of dirty cows--that involved a castle setting and everyone parading around in period costumes bearing fake names and unlikely personas. "This is real time," Anne announced. Hardly the description I would have used. She led us through a bunch of noisy rooms out into a quiet garden, prattling all the while. Those in the know knew the proper commands. By looking under a forsythia bush she pulled out a hand mirror. Held up at the proper angle one would see a turret window. Look in the window. Then we were in the turret room, which seemed to be as cozy as a mansion. That's where all her friends hung out. "Oh look, there's Laura." I knew the name from discussions between Barbara and her mother. Laura was an old friend of Anne's from way back. _Princess Prescience_ I believe she was calling herself. _Princess Pretentious_ seemed more appropriate. They went chattering away. My mind drifted, focusing on nothing specific. _Always be polite_, I reminded myself, singing the refrain of a childhood admonishment. Suddenly Anne was poking at my shoulder. "Get on up here! Laura wants to say hello." The chair was not made for two, but she scooted over enough for me to sit down beside her. >"Hello Shrouded One! How goeth things with thou?" "Shrouded One? What's that?" "I had to give you a name." I was supposed to put my fingers on the keys and type out an answer: >"Well, here I sit with Anne's thigh pressed against mine >and it's sort of giving me a hard-on I don't really >want. And of course I'm allegedly talking to some >idiot pretending to be Princess Leviathan or whatever." All I could really think to say was: >"An old dog sitting here, learning new tricks I suppose." Short, to-the-point, and not at all encouraging. As well I ceased to exist. >"Ah, lucky Lady you! I see the Count approaching." >She slips away discreetly in slippered feet. Ah, the Count! I felt touched, and intensely saddened. Anne was showing me the extent of her social life. She didn't have one. I didn't have much of one, but at least when I was in a room with some friends the furniture was real. When they talked I saw their mouths move. >Count Samovar rushes Lady Lida into a darkened alcove. >She opens the spigot and fills her cup with his tea. "Lady _Lida!_" I exclaimed, "as in famed for close encounters of the swan kind?" Anne blushed, typing furiously."Not now you don't, George. Sorry, but I'm giving a tour at the moment." "This royal Russian tea urn and his spigot--what's he keep talking about anyway?" "His penis." She didn't bat an eye or miss a keystroke. "Oh." Oh. Oh boy. Oh my god. Her faux social life and sexual life were one and the same. It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "digital sex." Granted, I hadn't had an orgasm in over a month that wasn't the product of my five little friends, but at least they could concentrate on the business at hand. They didn't have to go wander away and type descriptions of what they were trying to do. For crying out loud! My mind was whirling. I was having to think about all sorts of things I didn't want to think about. The image of Anne sitting in this very chair creaking the casters. Did they concoct an entire torrid encounter, then kick back and get off while proofing it? Or did they really jump back and forth, Anne alternating cunt strokes with keystrokes? Pump pump, tickaticka, pump pump? Wouldn't that gunk up the keyboard? I was spared further thoughts by the ringing of the phone. Wait a minute--the phone, ringing? "How does that happen?" I asked. Anne looked at me as if I was a moron, which, of course, I was. "I have two lines." The phone was on her side of the computer, so she answered it. It was her phone, so she answered. "Hi! Oh yeah? Hold on." Anne handed the phone over to me. "It's Barb." She resumed talking away, typing away. "Thanks." Two lines and all this technology, but she didn't have a cordless phone. It was a delicate balance I was trying to strike--keeping the cord out of her way without falling out of my half of the chair. I gave it up and got to my feet. "Hey Barbara. What's up? How's Stephie? When are you heading back?" "Sorry, Wayne, I'm not. I won't be able to make it back tonight." "What? What are you talking about?" "Well, much as I'd like to be out having adult fun, and though it's not at all my fault, I seem to be stuck here with a very frightened and very awake little girl." "Oh, yeah, right, sorry." "A very clingy, demanding, exhausting little girl." "Okay, I take your point. But can't you leave her with your mom for a minute? Or strap her in the car seat?" "So clingy, demanding and exhausting that, sorry, I'm on my second glass of wine. Glass? Perhaps I should say tumbler." "Okay. How about your mom then. Can't she come get me?" "Well, I've got her blocked in the drive. And she was well into her second tumbler when I got back." "What am I supposed to do? Call a cab? Do you have the money for one?" "No." There were maybe half a dozen in the whole town, and they charged what they wanted. The last time I'd been along for the visit, we'd all been over there and Anne had taken one home. The ten-minute drive had run her well over twenty bucks. "Neither do I." Well, I did have that stash in my wallet, but from the brief thought earlier in the evening, I'd earmarked it for some future romantic interlude. Beating off in the backseat of a cab was not what I had in mind. "Hello? Barb? You still there?" "Of course," she answered with a trace of annoyance. "Sorry. Thought my wife the lovely lush had passed out on me. So what am I supposed to do? Walk home? If I get started now, why, I should get there in time for breakfast!" "It's not that long!" "No, not if you go in a straight line and foolishly don't avoid the projects." "Oh, they're not that dangerous!" "Listen to you! Who was reading the crime stats aloud this morning? What was it? One murder, two assaults and three armed robberies? Sounds like a fun place to be on a Friday night. Probably could use some fresh blood down there to liven up the Saturday night festivities." "Okay, Wayne, relax. Put the squirrels back in the cage. I mean, just stay there tonight. There's that couch thing, that thing called a couch. I'm sure Anne has a spare set of sheets around. What's the big deal? I'll pick you up in the morning." "Well, she seems sort of busy." "So I hear. Has she introduced you to the virtually unreal world yet?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah. But, you know, maybe she doesn't want company." "Wayne, you are hopeless. Let me talk to her." "Okay." I held out the receiver to Anne, passing on the baton. I got up to hunt out the bathroom. That half a cup of tea had turned to a gallon in my bladder. Anne was off the phone and typing like a whirlwind when I returned. "So is this okay with you?" She looked up as though she'd forgotten I was there. "Huh?" "Oh. Um, didn't Barbara say anything to you?" "Oh yeah, right. That's fine. But," she gave an apologetic squint, "you were right about how busy I am." "Oh sure, no problem. I'll stay out of your hair." "Thanks for understanding--I really do have a ton of work to get through tonight." "Obviously." She was out of fantasy-land and into the word-processing world. While I'd been in the bathroom, Anne had covered her desk with open textbooks and notepads and what looked like an odious stack of undergrad essays awaiting the arrival of a red pen. "That's cool. Don't worry about me--I'm the King of Self-Entertainment." Over by the sofa, I stopped to browse a small bookcase. Most of the contents were unfamiliar to me. I squatted down for a closer look. Finally, I selected a volume that looked promising. A slim collection of stories put out by a small press I'd never heard of. By the Blue Glow of the Moon, by Frances Dragon. The author name seemed bogus, but the title didn't scream "stupid." The blurb described her stories as little prisms, tilting the white light of the everyday . . . some fellow authors I didn't recognize praised her work as witty, elegiac, perfect, erotic. I settled down for a wonderful surprise. The superlatives on the dust jacket were not at all hyperbolic. The stories were tiny prisms carved from diamonds. But the weird thing was that each of these carefully constructed stories ended with the characters having vividly realized sex! The words were too graceful, literary, for the work to seem pornographic. But there was none of the wispiness I associated with erotica. The cunts got juicy and the cocks spurted high. It was all very puzzling, and not really the sort of thing I needed to be reading at the moment. "So what struck your fancy?" I hadn't noticed Anne had stopped typing. Never in my life had I been caught masturbating; I didn't need to have been to know the feeling. I just sort of waved the book. Why were my ears burning? Fuck, it was her book. "Oh!" she cried with delight, "you discovered Frances Dragon! Isn't she wonderful? I find her so inspiring." Inspiring? In what way? Anne ducked her head. "I mean, I sometimes write saucy stories myself," she waved an arm at her desk, "when I have the time." "It's just kind of strange," I ventured. "She could be getting ten thousand a pop from the New Yorker if she didn't get so graphic." "That's the point. She doesn't care about the money, she gets graphic, and her stories are better than almost anything in the New Yorker." True enough. "It's like some of the writers on the newsgroups," she turned back to the screen, talking and typing away. "Some of them are truly amazing. There's this one guy named Losgud..." What sort of name was that? A half-baked anagram for Loser!? "...his stories are far from perfect, but in a way they're entirely perfect. Terribly funny, these densely woven plots, you read along..." Yeah, yeah, yeah, I nearly shot out with a smug comment. Like maybe these people might actually have sex if they didn't spend all their time writing about sex. Fortunately, I didn't open my mouth. The implications regarding Anne would have been awful enough. But mostly I was slamming myself. Oh, so you're Mr. Superior?--in exchange for infrequent sex all you do is sit and stew about it! I put the book back in its place and pulled out an oversized sort of Art-Through-the-Ages survey. "...and then with a sudden jerk you find yourself immersed in these full-throttle sex scenes..." It turned out to be a history of erotic imagery. There were the expected modernist paintings and Greco-Roman statuary...I was having a hard time concentrating on Anne's prattle, some phrase about semi-incestual surprises jumped to the fore without making sense...but then some amazing pre-Columbian clay figurines from western Mexico. "Isn't that a great book!" she declared, suddenly on her knees in front of me. "Here, let me show you my favorite piece." She flipped through the pages to a full illustration of a roughly hewn hunk of jade depicting a man and a woman in a classic sixty-nine. "China, 6th Century B.C. The whole thing is so tiny. Check out the dimensions," she enthused. Anne held her thumb and forefinger correctly about two centimeters apart. "Amazing," she sighed, going back to the computer. There was a fin-de-siècle statuary of a nearly naked woman draped in despair over a headstone in a Viennese cemetery. Primitive but polished African wood carvings, viewed from the back, in which the elongated torsos rose to the heavens. I was an Impressionist observing a woman at her toilette from behind. I began thinking about how, in a more adventurous era, Barbara would sometimes roll us over, but then pivot around to face away as she rode me. It might not have been the most comfortable position, and there was the loss of eye contact, but it was always marvelous, while caressing her ass, to watch the pleasure rippling up from the base of her spine, her neck tossing and turning, the whole of her back in constant undulation. I turned the page and barked out a laugh.The photo was of a modern piece of public sculpture in a Midwestern plaza. The base was a pair of rounded forms clearly suggestive of a womanly behind. The only other element was a thick ship's chain, the links welded in a series of sinuous curves ending at nothing fifty feet up in the air. Anne came to a good stop. "What's so funny?" I held the book so she could see. "Not funny, I mean, isn't this great?" She smiled and nodded, then turned back to work. I watched her at work. The way she would hunch over in concentration, then pause, straighten up and flex her spine while rolling her shoulders. I was mesmerized. It didn't matter the medium, whether it was memory or reality, naked or clothed. How could something as utilitarian as a human back be so goddamn sensuous? Anne typed for a while longer, then stood up and went to use the bathroom. I stood up, stretched, then hurried over to the desk. The words on the screen mirrored the action of the pre-Christian Chinese piece, except the skin tones weren't green. I was back on the sofa before Anne returned. I filed the art book away, stretched again and yawned loudly. Enough for one night. I'd certainly learned some interesting things about Anne over the evening, but suddenly the full weight of a long day was crushing me. I yawned again, then curled up on the sofa. My next yawn came as the bellow of some great beast. Anne swirled around in her chair. "I'm sorry," I answered her look weakly, "but I think I'm taking the deep dive." "Oh? Well... I'll be up for a while yet." "That's okay. Should I find some sheets or something? I don't really care." "Oh no. I don't want to disturb you, but I've still got a lot of work to do. Why don't you go in and sack out on the bed?" I thought to protest, but I was too tired for any sincerity. "Okay." I stood up, gave her a feeble wave, and shuffled away, "See you in the morning. And thanks for everything." I pulled off my shoes and socks and pants and gladly crawled under the covers. I gave a glance at the door. I hadn't thought to close it, but I couldn't deal with it now. I didn't want to put in an appearance in just my underwear and a t-shirt, but struggling back into my pants seemed like too great a chore. Even in my exhausted state, I knew it'd take me ages to fall asleep. The big bright yellow oblong of light from the living room was bad enough news. But mostly it was that irritating _ticka-ticka-ticka-ticka_ of her fingers on the keyboard. Not to mention the strangeness of the situation, of lying there in her bed, enveloped in the smells of her, while Anne sat in the next room resolutely typing away at a piece of high-falutin' pornography. Obviously, though, I was wrong. Next I knew, something had jerked me awake. I lay there in the dark on my side sleepily trying to figure it out, finally deciding to just skip it. Barbara lay on her back barely a foot away, and my inclination was to snuggle up to her warmth. I'd quit believing in miracles when I was a child, so I had no expectations of arousing any middle-of-the-night reactions other than the soothing way stroking the smoothness of her thigh always helped to send me quickly back to sleep. Just before I moved to scoot over, an epiphanous cloud burst, drenching me with understanding. A security light somewhere outside sent a set of glowing panes through the darkness of the room, illuminating the unfamiliarity of it. Then I remembered being at Anne's. Her hospitality hadn't extended to spending the night herself on the cushions in the living room. That was just as well--I would have felt awful in the morning, and really the bed was built for two. Then I became aware of what had disturbed me. There was a slight jiggling motion to the mattress, I could see some movement from under the covers, and Anne's breath was coming in ragged little gasps. I put a hand to her shoulder. "Are you okay?" She instantly grew stiff. "Huh?" she replied after a moment. "I must have been dreaming." The arm closest to me moved from wherever it had been. The back of her hand came to rest most lightly against a part of me that I hadn't noticed was stiff. I, too, must have been dreaming! There was a minute of awkward silence during which I realized I had to get her hand out of the way. I reached down and pulled it up. Just as I did, Anne rolled over towards me apologizing, "I'm sorry if my tossing and turning woke you up; I've been having a hard time falling asleep." "I thought you said you were dreaming." "Dreaming of dreaming," she replied right as the smell from the hand I held in front of my face hit me. The full realization was so embarrassing I had no idea what to say or do. It wasn't a problem for Anne. Her free hand crept over and down, barely brushing the length of the bulge in my underpants, turning the tables completely. "Sorry to have disturbed your pleasant dreams." In the light from the window, I could see Anne's face distinctly. Hers was studying mine. I felt her arm shift in my grip, the wrist turning as she bent her head, giving her fingers a brief sniff. Anne looked up at me gingerly from under her lowered brow as she shyly moved the fingers to my mouth. There could be no refusal. My lips parted slightly as my tongue slipped out to give the offering a tentative lick. I took just the tips of her fingers into my mouth, lapping them lightly. She inserted her fingers further, and I welcomed them in, bathing them with my swirling tongue, sucking at her taste. When she withdrew her fingers, I felt unstoppered--all the air came out of me in a disappointed sigh. Some shifting of natural forces had occurred. Our mouths were magnets of opposite polarity. Now they slapped together with the distinct _clack_ of meeting teeth. The abrupt contact raised a couple bruises of brushing lips. Soft supple lips. Wet licked hungry lips. Desperately greedy lips. Her tongue pushed out to play. My tongue was ecstatic to have a companion. Our tongues were a pair of lonely moping dogs meeting by chance when turned loose for a romp in the park. Anne furthered her response by rubbing me all the more firmly. I answered in kind, sliding my other hand down into the dampness of the fabric between her legs. She pulled her face from mine while her hand slipped lower still, cupping the pouch containing my balls, massaging them with an exquisitely tender pressure. Her pelvis started thrusting against the touch of my hand. "Are we really going to do this?" she whispered. It wasn't really a question at all but a statement dressed up as one. Was it even possible for us to come to our senses and simply roll away to our respective sides of the bed? We'd already crossed the line. While we perhaps hadn't reached a point of no return, even if we did turn back, there was no denying that we had danced well beyond the established border. "I see nothing but a long avenue of green lights ahead," I demurred. "_Good!_" Anne cozied up firmly against me. "But if you think you see one turning red, I'll put on the brakes," I felt obliged to add. "Uh uh," Anne shook her head, "the lights are all stuck. And my brakes gave out about an hour ago." The time frame seemed all wrong to me. Surely it had been only five or ten minutes since I'd stirred. "One hint from you," she flicked the tip of my nose with her tongue, "and you wouldn't have gone to bed alone." Always the last to know! Anne freed her arm from my grip, then sent it slinking downward. The hand wedged its way under my other one; I could feel it like a small animal burrowing beneath the surface of her panties until it was positioned directly under mine. Her hips began to gyrate to her own touch. "I was hoping I'd accidentally wake you up. If I hadn't, I would have woken you up anyway, on purpose." "How?" I rasped, immediately thinking of a dozen delightful ways. Anne turned coy. "I'll leave that to your imagination." "Don't do that," I exclaimed. "I'll have to go back to sleep just to find out." "Do you think I'd let you go back to sleep now?" she giggled. With that she pulled completely away and sat up, leaning over to turn on a little lamp perched on the bedside table. It had a mercifully low-wattage bulb so the moment of blinding blinks was short-lived. The light had the nice effect of countering the glare of the security sun outside while covering us and the surroundings in a luscious patina. I unconsciously licked my lips. Anne's skin had the golden glow of fresh baked bread. My appetite for her did nothing but grow. She was a full meal all by herself. As if I wasn't drooling enough, she reached to the hem and pulled off her nightshirt. I couldn't help myself. I stared and stared and stared until she finally waved a hand in front of my eyes. I lifted my eyes to her face. She was smiling, amused by my reaction. "I take it you like my breasts?" Breasts are breasts the way apples are apples. There are dozens and dozens of varieties, and within the varieties none are exactly the same. It's hard to find a healthy apple that isn't lovely to behold. Likewise, very few breasts don't inspire the invitation to be held. While there was a genetic similarity, Anne's breasts possessed their own unique beauty. And of course I was mesmerized by a common thread--the thrill and thrall of seeing a particular pair of breasts for the very first time. Anne put on a slow show, her hands reaching up to cup her breasts, placing herself on display. She lifted them, formed them, kneading and squeezing and massaging them. Her fingers traced secret glyphs around the nipples, drawing closer across the aureoles. The nipples puckered and stiffened, thrusting out to be touched.Lightly, she brushed them, stopping to give gentle tugs, rolling and tweaking them to satisfaction. All the while, her gaze never left me, even as her eyes glazed into squints, her breath growing shallow and distracted. Anne could have left it at that, and I would've been quenched. She could have graced me with not another touch. She could have turned out the light, rolled over, and gone to sleep. She could have left me alone with my lust. She could have just stopped cold, and still I would have counted the night an unqualified success, seeing the future, knowing it would become a well-thumbed section in the book of my memory. She could have done all that, but she didn't! Instead, she leaned over me, biting her lower lip, and grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt. She began roughly wrestling it off me, not waiting for my assistance. Damn near tore my head off in doing so! She paused right as she was getting the twisted bit of cloth up past my forearms, lightly locking my arms above my head. This left us in a position where her breasts were swaying directly over my face. I was getting cross-eyed trying to keep tabs on the both of them! Once she stopped struggling with my shirt, they settled down, centrifugal force giving way to gravity. My god, I thought, two breasts hanging scant inches above me--why can't I have one in my mouth?! Although Anne had left me free to escape, I was enjoying the sensation that my wrists were somehow bound by the loose tangle of sleeves. I wouldn't claim that my telepathic powers had leapt beyond zero, but at that very moment, Anne twisted slightly and gave her back a downward arch. There wasn't a moment of fumbling. A nipple descended into my waiting mouth, my lips closing around it in an airlock seal. I thought of a module docking flawlessly at a space station, the entire crew at Mission Control standing in unison, spontaneously, applauding the perfection. I suckled my enthusiasm until Anne swiveled the other way, trading me one breast for the other. Back and forth she went, until I wanted some hands-on experience. My shackles were but nominal, and my arms shed the last of my shirt like a snake finally done with an old skin. With my fingers outstretched, the neglected breast fit perfectly into my hand. Briefly I wished against the symmetry inherent in nature, so that I could have a pair of handfuls plus a spare for my mouth. But my hands were restless fellows anyway, and soon they departed for a long journey. Starting at her shoulder blades, they then swept down the long luscious curve of her back before coming to rest on the plush hillocks of her buttocks. There they greatly enjoyed the contrast between the natural smoothness of her flesh and the slick slices of her panties, grabbing whole handfuls of both and squeezing. One hand wandered some more, trailing over around a hip, defying gravity to travel across her tummy and down between her legs. Anne was so wet that the fabric surrounding her crotch felt like it had melted away. There was just enough of a barrier to keep my fingers from slipping inside her. My other hand kept grabbing and squeezing her ass. My tongue continued entertaining the nipple, trying to distract it from the fact that the rest of my mouth was trying to swallow the breast whole. I thought we were having a nice round of play until suddenly Anne gave an unworldly shriek, her whole body shrinking up and stiffening for a full quivering minute until she collapsed completely, loosely, on top of me. I lay there beneath her, unminding of her dead weight, feeling, in a word, proud. Happy. So incredibly pleased. Anne could have fallen asleep on top of me, and again the erotic memory would have been complete. But, again, she didn't. Eventually, she raised herself slightly and studied me with heavily lidded eyes. "I want you in my mouth," she muttered, "I want to _suck_ you!" This involved a bit of squirming around, and in the end, my legs were pointed towards the heavens in a _V_ for victory as she pulled my underwear away from my bottom. I thanked all the deities I could think of that I'd thought to put on a pair of colorful bikinis that morning instead of a greying pair of BVDs. Once loosened, she held them to her nose, then rubbed them all over her face. "These are mine now," she declared. "I'm going to keep them under my pillow." My face, I suppose, was a big question mark. Anne answered, "Girls aren't the only ones who leave the smell of their excitement in their underthings." That was news to me, but I wasn't going to argue! The unveiling done, she focused her attention on that which had been revealed. I wound up tempted to wave _my_ hand in front of _her_ face. I'd long since given up the notion that I was hung like a super stud. My hammer measured just a little longer than the norm, but the majority of my successes were determined by taking to heart the adage that the most important consideration was not the size of your tool, but how you chose to wield it. But there she squatted, staring at it as though it'd been dropped by Thor himself. Anne then grasped it in both hands, murmuring, "Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful," until she lowered her head and made further words impossible. I'd never met a blowjob I didn't like. But Anne didn't simply stick me in her mouth. She bent down to _worship_ my cock, to _lavish_ it with praise. Every little nibble, every stroke of her tongue was an homage. I'd never really considered my penis in such a perspective, as standing upright as some sort of holy scepter. This approach, I suppose, was what kept me from blasting away at the first opportunity. Anne wasn't hovering there to get me off, but to give me thanks in advance. Finally, I squirmed away, and we tussled a bit. At some point, I rolled off the bed completely, landing on the floor with a vague thump. Anne scooted over to check on me. When I looked up, she was seated on the edge of the bed. I grasped her ankles and reared to my knees, tossing her to the bed on her back. What lay before me was exactly what I wanted, on full display, covered by a drenched stretch of satin. I had her panties off in a flash. "And _these_ are _mine_," I answered before tossing them onto the piles of our clothing scattered beside the bed. I too, I suppose, stopped to gape and gasp at the first sight of her. Anne's cunt, in the full flush of arousal, presented itself as a shrine to me. The sight, the smell, and very quickly the taste, had me convinced that my trek to the holy land had finally ended. I reached under and grabbed the cheeks of her ass in both hands, then leaned down to plunge in. I ate her as a condemned man would his last meal. My tongue seemed to have freed itself from its roots in my mouth. My lips became alien creatures beyond my control. Anne came like a madwoman, and I let off long enough to just rush back in. I wanted to be smothered in sex, and at last, it nearly came to that. Eventually, her thighs released their grip on my head. Ah, fresh air! Not that I so terribly minded the dank stale air I'd been confined to. That intoxicating musky air! I rubbed my face all around against her soaking crotch. Anne gave a great shudder, and then I stood up. A salacious lick of my lips! "Mmm, what next? Would you like more of that? Or . . . " I gave my hips a randy twitch, "would you like a little bit of this?" Anne's eyes darted back and forth between my face and the jutting display of my other offering. She exploded in the giggles of a little girl in a doll store. "You expect me to make a decision?!" Anne's hands drifted down between her legs, her fingers delineating the great divide. Slowly she parted the lips of her sex, pulling them wide to the sides, transforming her cunt from a pulpy fruit of passion to a crimson and coral colored butterfly. A stray finger sank into her exposed hole. "What do you think I would like?" "Uhm . . . for me to go in the other room and give you a little privacy?" "Guess again, goof." I wasn't in the mood to play Twenty-one Punchlines. I refused to speak. Anne rocked her pelvis, gave an emphatic nod of her head, then declared enthusiastically, "Cock now, please!" I grabbed my arrow by the shaft and stepped forward, the bull's-eye clearly in sight. We locked eyes as the head slipped inside. We held ourselves at that level of penetration, giggling together as twenty fingers danced all over our genitals. After a long spell of that play with no forward motion, Anne's expression turned questioning, and she began issuing tiny throaty mewls, "Mmm? Mmm? Mmm?" "What?" I feigned puzzlement. "Didn't you want a _little bit_ of this?" Her hands slid up my forearms and latched on like leeches. "No-o!" she whimpered, "_I wanna lotta bot!_" Anne started pulling me forward, but hey, I'm human--I bend at the waist! With a determined expression, she rocked her hips and swung her legs into a lock behind me and began squeezing me towards her. I tried to resist, but the pressure was too great. So I quit and slid quickly all the way inside her. Her eyes slammed shut, then sprung wide at the end of the journey. "_Oh-h-h-h_, much better now, thank you!" "_Oh my_," I fairly groaned, "much better, _indeed!_" There was something about standing there by the side of the bed, thrusting away. Maybe it was the angle of my penetration, the depth allowed. Maybe it was my enthusiasm at the newness, of the position and the pussy. Maybe it sprung wholly from Anne, her response to laying there at the edge of her same old chaste bed with her legs held up like columns, while I pillaged her pavilion. She was gone, chanting obscenities describing the pleasures that kept wracking her body. Did I like her hot juicy pussy? Man, that just made me pump all the harder!Which made her come all over again! Eventually, Anne squirmed and scooted away from me, leaving me with a hard-on bobbing and begging in the open air. But not for long. She crawled to the middle of the bed, then stopped, plumping her bottom up in the air. As if the invitation wasn't obvious enough, she crooned, "Do me like this." I'd never considered myself as an ass aficionado until I first wound up in bed with Barbara. What Anne was presenting was a vivid reconfirmation. That rounded pair of lovely white flesh, with the dark damp treasure tucked in just beneath. I clambered up on the bed and gathered myself behind her with the greatest of pleasure. We sang a low song, a long sweet duet as I slid back inside her. From that point on, my hands didn't know what to do. There was the whole of her wonderful ass to consider, but just as easily, I could reach under and grant them her breasts. My fingers could play with her pussy if I wanted. But really, nothing was more erotic than for my hands to run up and down the slow slope of her back. The triangles off her shoulders leading down to the swell of her hips. The line of her spine surrounded by so much marvelous flesh. Every thrust I gave, Anne matched me, shoving back. I thought we had a small audience slowly applauding, the clapping the slapping of our meeting skin. And the other sounds we made, the surging slurps defining each stroke. "Listen to us!" I marveled. "We're fucking like a pair of animals," Anne grunted back. I leaned down, "We _are_ a pair of animals, _fucking_." I nipped the nape of her neck. She gave a squeal. I immediately started licking the spot as Anne tried to buck against me all the harder. But having me draped over her like this hampered our movements. Which was good for me for a couple of minutes. Once the tension had ebbed, however--my footing regained--I was ready to get active again. I straightened back up and enjoyed the sight of my universe. The naked vistas of pale female flesh. This vision of womanly nudity, naughtity, giving and taking pleasure. The lovely lushness of a stuffed cunt, its seizing squeezing of a long plump cock. And that cock was connected to me! I was fascinated watching me going in and out of her. I pulled almost all the way out, until her lips were just puckering and kissing my crown. "God, Anne, you should see this--it is _so-o sexy_." With a contented sigh, she lowered her front to the bed. This pushed her rear up even more. Anne gazed back at me with nearly closed eyes, her mouth in an open grin as her tongue darted around the perimeter. Her hands crept up beneath her, surfacing between her legs. She made little chuckling sounds as her fingers swarmed all over me, tapping and touching and rubbing and pinching. I was going blind with pleasure! Anne backed up and slipped me in a little further and then began to swivel her hips. It wasn't until she grasped me firmly, one hand gripping the base of my cock while the other reached to cup my scrotum, that I understood she intended to get me off right then and there, just like that. "Oh please," I groaned, "not quite yet!" My plea simply set her all the more resolutely to her task. Well, if that was the way things were going to go . . . I lunged back in full force, leaving her hands behind. Anne drew a sharp breath, then let it back out as a howl. It was like watching a film of a building in an earthquake. The tremors shook her to the foundation; she wavered for a minute, then completely collapsed. There I was again, cock bouncing in the breeze. I nearly bit my tongue in two to keep from shooting into the open air. Slowly, Anne managed to roll over. She was clutching herself, legs in a tangle. Did she ever look dazed! Her head was wobbling as though it might fall off. Then I realized she was trying to shake it. "Boy," she _formed_ each word, "that sure took me by surprise." She looked up at me with a fuzzy smile, squinting as if I was a great distance away, a barely visible apparition. "I'm sorry, I can't do anything. You turned me to jello. I'm all fucked out." I wasn't quite sure what this meant for me. Anne straightened out. "But don't stop." She reached her arms down and manually parted her legs, then ran her hands back up her torso before extending them towards me. I briefly balked. Well, self-serve sex, that's not high on my erotic list. But the only option would be an insult, and hell, I wouldn't be able to last but another minute or so anyway. I lowered myself over her and slid back inside. There now, not so bad, eh? Almost immediately, Anne burst into a fit of the giggles. "Such a serious face," she mimicked. Then back into the giggles. She was nearly in tears. It made for some rather interesting sensations down there! "_I'm sorry!_ I can't help being silly. It's your fault. You're the one who fucked me silly." I decided it best to just plod away and get things done. "No!" she turned serious. "Don't move. Just stay still." Anne may have run out of gas, but she had a reserve tank somewhere. She started squirming like she was on a swivel stool. That brought a smile to her face. Mine too! Then she stopped. "Like that?" "Yes ma'am!" "_Good!_ Now, hold that pose." She closed her eyes, then squinched her face into a grimace. Such concentration, and to what effect? She gave a grunt, and then _my god!_ Her cunt grabbed my cock at the base, and then gave it a squeeze that seemed to ripple up its length. Anne was beaming at my reaction. But before I could say a word, she did it again. Instead of grasping for words, I was left gasping for air. "I'm going to milk every last drop of come out of that big fat cock of yours." She had hardly set herself to a difficult task! After the next cunt hug, there was no doubt it was the penultimate one. I was hanging by an unraveled thread. Anne was looking very pleased with herself. "Almost got you on that one, didn't I?" she giggled softly. "Okay. Here we go." She shifted us slightly so she could palm my balls. My cock lurched at the touch! "Ready?" Then rocking her pelvis with the count, "Three . . . two . . . one . . . " My eyes grew wide as I felt my cock swell. Her eyes grew wide as she felt my cock swell. Then I saw nothing but the darkness of outer space, stars swirling all around. At last, I returned to earth, my eyelids fluttering open weakly. Anne was still fondling me, her pussy kissing my slowly softening cock, coaxing me through an endless series of contractions while she whispered in my ear, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." I opened my mouth and answered with a long groan. Anne smiled up at me, murmuring, "Sweet, so sweet." Thinking I had to be crushing her, I started to roll to the side. But she wrapped her arms and legs around me. "No, don't go!" she spoke with a pout, "let's linger." Linger we did, kissing longly, gently. Her hands traced patterns all across my back, then dipped down to massage my ass. She hunched her crotch lightly against mine, reliving the memory. "That was so fantastic!" her face glowed up at me, "I was _so-o_ full of you, and then you got even _bigger!_ I could feel every surge of your release. I can't even describe how exciting it was . . . watching the intensity of the pleasure playing across your face, and . . ." she gave a cozy shake, "and knowing it was all because of me. That I was doing _that_ to you!" Her mouth grew into a cocky little smile. "So what do you think? Was I right? Did I get every last drop, hmmm?" "Are you kidding?" I nuzzled her neck and nibbled her ear. "I don't think I even have balls anymore. It felt like you completely liquefied them." Anne reached around and rubbed them. "Oh no, they're still there. A lot lighter than they were before. But, mmm, hard at work making me another big load!" "W-w-well," I stuttered, "it might be awhile." "No problem," her eyes glittered. "We got all night, baby. You're mine 'til the morning." "Well, if you happen to, you know, wake up . . ." "Don't worry, I will! And when I wake up, you'll be the first to know. Better believe it!" She gave a little shimmy, and the movement made me slip out. Anne gasped and quivered with an involuntary shudder. "There," she gently rolled me off of her, "that's what I was waiting for. The cherry-on-top!" Mine was a puzzled look. "I don't know. I just really _really_ like that sensation, when it pops out all by itself. You slide into me so big and hard and full of desire, and then you slip out so small and soft and satisfied." She reached down and petted me. "It's difficult to explain to someone who doesn't have a pussy. It's like, _Goodbye Mr. Penis, hope you had a good time, come back and visit again_ real _soon!_" "Oh, with hospitality as warm and inviting as yours, Ms. Vagina, we'll be back before you know it." My fingertips brushed her wetness. "We had a most wonderful time in your company. You are truly the hostess with the mostest." Anne gave me a loving squeeze, "You need to get some rest so I can wear you out again." She reached over and turned off the lamp, then curled up around me. "Don't be drifting over to the other side of the bed. You stay right here with me." She slung a leg over me. I ran my hand up the length of her thigh, then dipped down, lightly fondling her mons from behind. "Oh yea," she cuddled up tighter, "in case you happen to wake up with a hard-on before I wake you up, just roll me over and stick it in. I'm sure I'll still be plenty juicy." I wasn't sure if I answered Anne or not. The motion of my hand was soothing and hypnotic. Her breathing was lulling in its regularity. I was trying to think of a clever reply, but with each possibility, I sank another level into sleep.The next I knew, the room was washed in the hesitant grey-blue of very early dawn. I probably would have rolled over and fallen back to sleep, except I couldn't. It was a physical impossibility. I couldn't say if I had first stirred from the insistent pressure of my erection, or the insistent pressure on my erection. I lay there flat on my back, cock straight up, fully enveloped in Anne's slippery warmth. She raised her haunches up a bit, then gradually settled back down, her pussy caressing my whole length. I knew it was going to be a great day. No way would anyone be able to say I'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed! I sent my hand running up her thigh. "Hi?" I whispered weakly. Anne placed a hand on mine, rubbing it in answer. When I started to say something more, it moved to my mouth, fingers pressing my lips closed while hers faintly shushed me. I nodded my understanding, my agreement. She lifted herself again, then sank back down, drawing the motions out. A long, slow, sleepy, silent ride... fine with me! Whatever she wanted to do was exactly what we would do, and with no complaints from me! What complaint would I possibly have? Watching Anne leisurely lifting herself up and down on my cock--it was like watching a dream. It was living a dream, the sexiest dream I'd ever known, come true. I tried to assist, thrusting back up her, but Anne pushed my hips down flat while shaking her head. Apparently I was just going to have to lie back and suffer the sweetest fuck of my life. I snaked my arms around her hips and fondled her ass, careful to only accentuate her motions, not modify them. I seemed to have found a happy medium. Anne pressed against me instead of shrugging me off. The room reflected the world, so silent, magnifying the hissing intakes of her breath. No birds were awake to compete with the sloppy song of our flight, the slurps and smacks as she soared and plummeted. There was just enough light for me to see that she kept her eyes closed, rising and falling in blindness. Her pacing had no urgency to it, none of the desperation of not knowing the destination. Anne knew exactly where she was taking us, and how she wanted us to arrive. Gradually her inhalations grew sharper and shallower, released in stuttering sighs. She would stop briefly, then start up again. She was shivering constantly. My crotch was soaked from hers, her juices in a tickling trickle across my scrotum, seeping down to wet the sheet. I was unsure if I should indicate my state once my tensions started rising to the peak, but then she stopped to give me a rest as well. She opened her eyes to smile down at me before resuming. After several maddening rounds of this, I slipped and let my hands convey my impatience. Anne reached back and removed them, bringing them around and placing them on her breasts. From that point on, she would draw forward and down, offering a breast to my mouth in the interim, my reward for sticking around for some more. It got to be ridiculous before too long. Strictly for my benefit, we were having to stop after every other stroke. I was riding the edge, writhing on edge. Then she made the mistake of going a few fast strokes too far. She rose nearly full on her knees with just the head of my cock caught in her cunt. I tottered, reeling with vertigo. Anne looked down at me from that great height, paused to catch my attention. She had it, every bit of it, what little I had left! One word from her, the only word she'd spoken. "Now!" I ditched the passive mode for one thrust, right as she dropped in freefall. The bump as we met was a big jolt, and with that final spark, we exploded. The entire bed rumbled with our trembles. I held Anne in a shaking embrace, holding her tightly as our orgasms slowly subsided. Then she turned into dead weight on top of me. There wasn't much I could do about it, though, because I was dead weight beneath her. I lay there happy and stunned, reveling in a glow I came to realize was not wholly from within. We must have been at it for a good hour! That was worth a marvel, but mostly it was the evidence of it that amazed me. With my senses restored, I noted how much lighter it was in the room--the sun must be fully up. Billions of birds were all a-twitter. Dogs off barking in the background of backyards. Cars driving up and down the street. I could hear a kid somewhere shouting about something. All the sounds and sights affirming life. The charming enchantedness of life. The loveliness of a new day washing over me. We must have dozed for a while, for the room was flooded with the bright light of full morning when next I opened my eyes. Anne was still sprawled on top of me. I lay there idly stroking her back. A car honked somewhere out on the street, and the sound made me realize that that was what had woken me up, that I'd heard it moments before. Jerks and their car horns. Bastards too lazy to get out and walk up to the door. Then the hackles rose on the back of my neck. I could identify the make and model and color and driver of that car by the sound of its horn! "Oh my god!" I shouted, sitting up, dumping Anne awake on her back. "What? what? What's going on, Wayne?" "Beep beep--it's time for me to go!" "No way!" "Try the driveway!" We were bumping heads and banging elbows pulling on our shirts. I was grabbing blindly and pulling on whatever my hands fished up. Socks, shoes, no wait, the shoes come last. I reached for my underwear, but Anne got there first, snatching them away. "I told you these are mine!" She bent away from me across the bed. "Skip slipping them under your pillow," I slapped her bottom, "slip this sweet ass into some pants." "Ow!" she squirmed, shifting her butt up in the air. The sight was a fine reminder. Though the circumstances were skewed, our actions in the night left nothing to regret. "Anne, if we had two minutes to spare, I'd lavish them on you." I could see she knew I meant it. She started to... melt. Anne rolled up and sat beside me on the edge of the bed. She took my hands in hers with a smile. "And if we had two hours to spare, I'd ravish you... again." I started hopping up and down trying to get my pants up. I was never very good at physical comedy. Or maybe I was very good. I'd gain some ground getting them up, just to lose it by falling down. Finally, I got my feet forced through those denim legs. Just in the nick of time, before the time of nick, my privates hollered out mind that zipper! I cringed at the thought, jutted my butt back, pulling the metal tracks together without snagging something painful. Anne took advantage of my posture, grabbing a handful and giving a firm squeeze. "Ow!" "Hey, nice ass to you too!" I sat down and busied myself with my shoes, muttering, "Would you please get your pants on?" I figured at least I would be dressed and by the door in time for the first knock. I stood up and glanced back at Anne. She did have her pants on. "Good girl!" I nodded my approval. "Tell me how good," she murmured in a sultry voice while moving up behind me, swinging her arms around my waist and locking me against her. "Too good for words, and you know it!" I tried to get moving. "Hold on a sec. Here! Don't forget these!" She wedged her hands into my front pockets and went groping away. How could I ever forget them?! But when she withdrew, there was still a lump in my pocket. I reached in and felt the silky crumpled ball of her panties. Ah, those! How could I have possibly forgotten? I stood there lost in the unforgotten possibilities as she swung around me. Anne was nearly out of the bedroom. She was certainly moving with a strange-looking gait! I quickly caught up and gave her ass a quick heft. "Why are you walking so funny? You look like you just got a real good pussy pounding." She whipped around, "Wayne! Well, as a matter of fact, I did! And I am a little tender down there, but in a very nice sort of way." Anne leaned up for a kiss. There wasn't time for a big delicious kiss, but a little sweet one would suffice. Her lips landed gently on mine, and then all of a sudden, she stuck her tongue halfway down my throat. Caught me well off balance! Giggling and casting me a wicked gleam, she gave my cock a fast rub. "But that's not the reason I'm walking so funny. It just feels sort of strange." Her eyes opened very wide. "I've got all this come dribbling down my legs!" We stood around in the living room. The door remained silent. That seemed like a good thing, something worth taking advantage of. "I guess I better go ahead and go." "I know," Anne answered with a forced smile. Her face was one big question mark. Either answer would be fraught with complications. I took the step to close the gap between us. I went for the intimate but casual, the familiar and funny. I felt through her shirt for her nipples, then twisted them lightly. "Come in Tokyo, come in Tokyo, do you read me?" Anne put her hands on mine to remove them, a wan look of disappointment on her face, "I guess you don't read me. Don't worry though, our secret is safe with me." I wouldn't let her take my hands away, spreading my fingers to fully cup her breasts. "I read you loud and clear, Anne. Don't you worry. Our secrets will always be safe with me." I dropped my hands, still held in hers. We squeezed our intentions. Anne gave her head a tiny hesitant questioning nod. My answering nod was hearty and enthusiastic. "I don't know how, I don't know where and I don't know when. But I do know what. And I certainly know why!" Anne tucked her head and blushed. I reached for her chin and lifted her face, then kissed her."After all," I paused at the door, "I have your promise in my pocket." I opened the door, and there was Barbara coming up the walk, striding briskly in a skirt. I was momentarily confused. _Barbara coming home from work?_ Dresses were like bras, or pantyhose--not weekend wear in her book. She stepped inside, greeting me, "What, are you deaf?" "I heard you the first honk, but I didn't know it was you." I fumbled on. "The second time I said, _hey, I can name that car in one note._ I looked out the window and saw the car, but I had two cups of tea in my bladder that I really needed to leave behind in the toilet. _Sorry_ to keep you waiting." I wanted to backtrack immediately, hoping instead that she couldn't see the lie. I could see the car out the open door, and from where it was parked that it was not visible from any of Anne's windows. The two of them chatted for a few minutes while I stepped out on the stoop. I didn't pay them any attention, until their tones dropped and the conversation went giggly as all get out. Then my spine stiffened. I felt distinctly as if they were in the kitchen, and I wasn't. But that was ridiculous! They wouldn't be discussing me. Why would they be discussing me? Well, they could possibly be discussing me, but they couldn't really be _discussing_ me. Of course not. Before that line of thought went far enough to make a complete wreck of me, the two of them were exchanging hugs and good-byes and see-you-next-times. Anne followed Barbara outside and gave me an innocent hug. "Hope to see you again soon, Wayne." "Oh yeah, surely." I turned back to give a weak wave as Barbara and I went down the walk. I was a little shaky going out to the car. The weight of the guilt on my shoulders was so great it was making my legs bow. And then there was the giddiness at starting to think that my lapse had gone undetected. _Never again, never again!_ I was silently panting. _Never again?_ another part of me was challenging. Well, maybe never again. That seemed like a good compromise for the moment. Given the opportunity, how could I not compromise myself again. But who said such an opportunity would ever be repeated? I whipped out my keys, Mr. Mollification at work. "I'll drive," I offered. We'd driven several streets away before I ventured, "Is Stephie okay?" Barbara gave me a blank look. "I mean, after all the hubbub of last night." She turned away with a smile that didn't seem entirely appropriate. "Oh sure, she's fine." I prodded, "Well?" "Oh you know Stephie. Right as rain. Takes after her father. Change the context and she goes with the flow." Huh? Was she trying to insinuate something? I turned to Barbara, but she wasn't dispensing explanations. I looked back at the road a moment too late. I ran a stop sign, and then to make up for it braked so sharply for a changing light only the shoulder restraints kept our heads from turning the windshield into a million shiny cubes. We sat there for a full minute of the yellow light, with horns blaring behind us. Once we'd begun moving again, she remarked, "Did you sleep okay last night?" I couldn't think why Barbara should care. "Well," I hesitated, "not too bad, though those floor cushions she calls a couch aren't particularly comfortable." My lie tripped the spring, and only then did I see the trap. "Really? It didn't look to me like anyone slept on that last night. No sheets, and really Wayne, the throw pillows were in the exact same positions as when I left last night." Nothing I could do but give a silent gulp, which just prolonged the silence. "Wayne," Barb began in a threatening tone, "did you screw my sister last night." The gig, as they say, was definitely up. I lowered my head and began massaging my temple. "Eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel!" she barked. Yes ma'am! "So, did you or didn't you?" "I did," I mumbled as miserable as mud. "Good!" _Good?_ Well, it had been very good, but it made no sense for Barbara to be pronouncing that same judgment. "Good?" I cautioned. "Definitely!" Barbara was emphatic about that. "That girl _definitely_ needed the silliness knocked back into her." My brain was flaming. "What are you saying?" "Wake up, Wayne! I set you guys up." "What?" "Anne definitely needed it, and you too." "But how?" "Easy. I left you two alone knowing the sparks would fly." The call _she'd_ made made sense, but... "But Stephie?!" "She fell asleep, with nothing but the sweetest of dreams." "But... what made you leave?" "Well, Mom practically suggested the whole thing earlier in the day. Nothing like a good fuck to straighten Anne out." "_She didn't say that!_" "Well, not in quite those words. But I didn't mind doing the favor." "_You didn't mind?_" "Oh, come on Wayne. As if you did!" I flashed back to the giddiness Barb and Anne had been sharing right before we left. "So... you, your mother, your sister, and I'm the last to know?" She gave me a puzzled look, which broadened into a wide smile of comprehension. "Oh no, not quite. Back there, you mean? I was just sounding her out. And, may I add, she sounded well-fucked to me." "But, but, how did you know... it would work?" "Oh, right! Horny girl like her, all alone with a cute boy overnight... she wouldn't be my sister if she'd paused to consider the consequences. And with her in charge I figured you'd be easy--you haven't gotten any in three weeks." "Four and a half," I interjected. Barbara smiled, "So you can count. Anyway, I knew you'd be overwhelmed. You'd shoot first and ask questions later." Which, true enough, was exactly what I'd done. All the questions in my mind at the moment made me think back to the moment of the shootings. _Pretty cunt. Luscious cunt!! Juicy, eager, talented cunt!_ My brain screamed at the memory. My cock chimed in. Fuck, I was still supposed to be trying to drive! Barb scooted over towards me, straining the seatbelt. She clicked the button and freed herself. Then she had a hand rubbing the swelling in my pants. "So did you have a good night?" I thought to stop her, but before I could she had my zipper down. With minimal work my cock sprung free. Barbara leaned back in genuine surprise. "Since when do you go without underpants?" "She, she, Anne, she, she _wanted_ them!" "Hmm, interesting. I can see her point." She could more than see the point. Barbara held it firmly in her hand, pumping it up and down. "Honey, please! That feels wonderful, but I'm trying to drive." "What's this bulge in your pants?" she asked, ignoring my imprecations. The usual punchline was of course poking out in plain evidence. Before I could think to stop her, Barbara had her other hand down in my pocket, and then Anne's panties were in her hand. She waved them around gleefully, like a flag of victory. "How _precious!_" she exclaimed with a snort. "This is just _too cute!_ You guys exchanged underwear." Then she held them up to her nose! "Oh, my. I bet Anne was whining by the time you got these off her." Barbara lifted her hand off my cock just long enough for a sniff and a snort. "I thought you felt sticky! Didn't even take a shower? Too lazy or not enough time? Did I yank you right out of bed? Did I yank you right out of her? That's right! Of course not. The look on her face! She got full measure. First morning of her life she wasn't a big grump. She'd definitely had her fill." Barbara's face was shimmering with spilled tears. To anyone else, a casual glance in the car would have shown her crying her heart out. I knew different, having been cooped up with her hoots of laughter. "But Wayne, I'd advise you against taking up adultery as a serious hobby. You're really not very good at it. If you'd been stepping-out under your own steam, I'd be insulted! Do you think I'm stupid? And I'm not talking panties-in-the-pocket." She hung them from the rearview with a chuckle. "Boy, one whiff off you and it's obvious what you've been doing. Gone out prospecting and sunk your shaft into a gold mine. You reek of sex!" I was tired of being teased. I squealed the tires turning into a park along the way back. The place was, as far as I could see, absolutely deserted. Early on a Sunday morning--everyone was either in the bed of church or the church of bed. The road wound slowly through the place. It was a large bucolic park, with lots of obscure little picnicking spots off the main drive. "This is ultimately--you do realize--the long way home." I gave her a glance and said nothing, searching ahead for the perfect turn-off. I found what looked to be a good spot. After turning, I checked my judgment as best I could in the garlanded rearview mirror. There was a clear view down the lane back to the road, but otherwise the little paved patch at the end was hidden from general sight. I made a show of switching off the ignition. "Parking in the park--how romantic!" Barbara reached over and resumed tugging on my cock. "Maybe Waynie wanna blowjob, hmm? Is that what you want? You want me to wrap my lips around that big luscious hunk of meat and suck you off? Does that sound nice?" Barbara gave a quick smirk that nearly stripped me of desire, then she leaned over and went to it. Sure it sounded nice. Felt rather nice as well. But I wasn't in a nice sort of mood. "Oh Wayne," she chortled, coming up for air, "do you want to come in my mouth?" Her beaming eyes caught mine. I gave her a blank stare. "No." "_No?_" she sat up abruptly, looking genuinely confused. I unfastened my seat belt, then reached over, yanking the lever to send the back of her seat flying flat. Barbara glanced back quickly at the loss of support, then leveled her gaze on me. Her eyes and lips drew tight."You don't think you're going to get to do _that_, do you! Not when you're covered with Anne's juices!" I leaned down and traced my tongue around her lips. "What are you talking about? You already licked every drop off--I can taste her on you!" Barbara squirmed and turned over, trying to escape into the back seat, but she wasn't fast enough. I locked my arms around her hips and dragged her back. "You're not going to fuck me, are you?" "Better believe it!" I announced with glee. I ran my hand up under her dress to caress her mound. The crotch of her panties was soaked. "Feels like that's exactly what you want me to do," I taunted. "No!" she groaned. "Those lips up there say _No_, but these down here say _Yes!_" I rubbed the fabric further up into the wetness of her cleft, then pulled my hand away. Barbara fairly screamed. "No! I mean, yes! Good god Wayne, _touch me!_" Just the words I wanted to hear. "You mean . . . like _this_?" I lifted the dress above her hips, then resumed touching her while nibbling and kissing her ass through the silky material. "Hmm," I wondered with a chuckle, "I wonder if you'll be whining by the time I get these off you?" Barbara wiggled her behind. "_Whine, whine_," she declared, "now _get them off!_" "Pronto! Posthaste!" She scooted forward to help me out, nearly tumbling headfirst into the back seat. But instead of ripping them off, I pulled those panties down at a pace designed to inspire moans of impatience, kissing every lovely inch as it was revealed. Once they were down to her knees I could see the full flush of her flower. Woo boy, did she ever look ripe and ready! I continued, trying to negotiate the bend of her knees. "Knock it off! Forget about that." She thrust back, nearly pinning me against the dash. "Hey! No backseat drivers! You think I'm going to miss out on a chance for a matched set? No way!" I got them off! It was in my best interest to get them off. Had to get them off before we could get off, right? "Barbara?" "Yes-s," came her reply through gritted teeth. "I know I've said this before, I've said this before many times, no doubt I'll say this many times again, but I don't think I've taken the time to say this very recently..." "Yes-s-s-s-s... and...?!" "Barbara," I grabbed two nice firm handfuls, "you have got one gorgeous ass." There was an exasperated sigh that immediately went away when I positioned the head of my cock at her glistening gates. Hardly needed but a nudge to slip in that doorway! "Barbara? Ready to take the long way home?" I asked innocently. She reared up and roared back, "Shut up and fuck me already, will you?!" Her words were still echoing when I slammed all the way in. Barbara instantly melted beneath me into a quivering yowling puddle of satisfaction. Quickest orgasm on record that I knew of! I had to reach down and grab her hips to pull her ass back up to keep going. Keeping on going was what I surely had in mind. It'd been ages since I'd last had sex in a car. I couldn't imagine why. I'd done it in smaller cars, though this was still a bit snug. I was greatly enjoying that snug sort of feeling. There we were, in our own private room with a view, and I was determined to make the most of it. Barbara didn't seem to complain. Indeed, she didn't seem to have any control over her level of enjoyment. But then she shoved back at my thighs, slid forward, and rolled over on her back. The motion popped my cock free and there I was, kneeling on the very edge of the seat, staring down at this long glistening monster jutting out from between my legs. This was getting to be a common occurrence! "Put it back in," she instructed in a delirious slur, "and I mean _right now!_" As if I had any other plans at the moment! From then on, Barbara had the accelerator stuck to the floor, screaming down Pleasure Highway on cruise-control. I didn't know if it was the angle of the flattened seat, or that she hadn't had me inside her for long, or whether the inspiration sprung from the fact that I hadn't been inside her for so long. The guesswork hardly mattered. The results remained the same. I couldn't begin to tell where one orgasm left off and the next one began. Barbara was definitely reaping the harvest of what she'd sewn. Third time for me in less than twelve hours--I had bushels of control. I was ready to stay there and fuck all morning. But I could hear we weren't alone in the park anymore. There was starting to be some traffic down on the main road. I paused just to make sure, raising up to glance out the back window. We were still safe, but sure enough, passing below were carloads of church clothes bearing bagfuls of donuts. I settled back to work, getting our bed-on-wheels rocking again. Barbara groaned below me. "God Wayne, much more of this and you'll have to carry me into the house. Not that I'm complaining, just giving fair warning." I brought the proceedings to a standstill. "Damn you!" she grabbed my ass and started the car shaking herself. "I wasn't saying to stop. I was telling you to get going!" I joined back in and we went at it like maniacs. We got it going, all right. That car was _bouncing!_ And within minutes we were _bursting!_ As I lay there in the warmth of her womanly cradle, Barbara started giggling. "What?" I asked. "Oh, I was just thinking." "Hmm?" "Oh, just that I think I'm going to have to pick you up at my sister's more often." I gaped at her with astonishment. "Well..." she began, "it seems to be an effective attitude adjustment for Anne, and... I can't say as I don't garner my own rewards!" Her eyebrows shot up, threatening to merge into her hair line. "Though, I don't know, maybe next time there won't be a phone call to carry me away!"

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8633.txt

Ann Douglas

Scarlett's Cove

"Could you at least smile and pretend that you're having a good time?" Arlene Taylor leaned over and whispered to her companion across the table. "It's only our first night here and people are already beginning to stare." The slightly morose expression on her friend's face faded to be replaced by the sought-after smile. In the same quiet voice, she answered her dinner partner. "I am enjoying myself," Jeanette Randolph replied. "I was just thinking how much this little trip is costing you." "That's right, costing me, not you," the 37-year-old blonde quickly agreed. "I wanted you to come along and have a chance to unwind. Get a little crazy. Have some fun for a change." "I have fun," said the 34-year-old brunette. "Sitting at home night after night making up new lesson plans isn't what I'm talking about," Arlene said in a corrective tone. "That's why I wanted to get you away from all that." "Well, that you certainly did," Jeanette finally agreed. It was something of an understatement. Actually, the small dinner table they were sitting at was in the near center of a large dining hall. The hall was the main room of a 72-year-old mansion that had housed four generations of its owners. The house itself was on the far edge of a tropical resort that could easily accommodate five hundred guests in delightful style. Finally, the resort was situated on the southern tip of the tiny Caribbean island of San Cristobal, some three thousand miles from the two women's home in upstate New York. The resort was known worldwide as Scarlett's Cove and it catered to a small, select clientele. As lavish as any of the nearby Club Meds, its purpose was much the same. The one major difference was self-evident as Jeanette again glanced around the large room. It was a resort for women only, specifically lesbian and bisexual women. This, of course, was no problem for either Jeanette or Arlene. Jeanette Randolph had been aware of her preference for women since she was 16 years old. It was not, however, a preference she had ever been comfortable with expressing publicly. Even today, the history teacher from Arrow Lake couldn't escape the fear that someone would see her in such a place. On the other hand, Arlene's attraction to her own sex had only developed rather recently. Up until two years ago, she had been married to a rather successful and influential member of the community. It was almost ten years into their marriage that she discovered that her husband had a long history of extra-marital encounters. When confronted, Collin Taylor had told her if she didn't like it, well then she knew where the door was. Any real love for each other had faded halfway through their marriage when it was evident that she wouldn't be assuring the Taylor Dynasty with an heir. Unable to turn to any of her so-called friends who cared more about social standing than anything else, Arlene had drifted into an affair with a woman she met at the local health club. To her immense delight, she discovered that sleeping with another woman brought out in her a passion that was never evident in her relations with Collin or prior lovers. The affair hadn't lasted long, but it had changed the course of her life. After a few months, she had finally gotten the courage to seek a divorce from Collin. Arlene realized all too well that despite his history of infidelity, Collin still held all the cards. If ever knowledge of her own lesbian affair came out in a court hearing, she could be left with nothing. It wasn't fair, but it was the way it was. Then, out of the blue, Collin did the most considerate thing he'd ever done in the fourteen years they'd known each other. The 45-year-old businessman suffered a massive coronary one Friday afternoon while "humping" one of his new 20-year-old secretaries. While she never really wanted Collin dead, just out of her life, the now widowed woman was more than willing to take her freedom any way she could. And if nothing else, she could take some small comfort knowing that Collin had left this life doing something that he enjoyed. Since neither had actually initiated divorce proceedings, Arlene had inherited the bulk of the Taylor Estate. It wasn't considered good manners in polite company to discuss just how large that estate was, but it turned out to be much more than Arlene knew. Secure in her financial future, she had set out to enjoy her life. At a charity function at the local high school, Arlene had rekindled an old friendship with Jeanette. They had been close friends during their last two years at Washington High, despite the difference in their ages. Quickly reestablishing the confidences they once shared, Arlene had confessed her new sexual preference. She was greatly surprised when Jeanette responded that she'd been aware of the delights of lesbian sex since the days of their first friendship. In another reality, the two women might have now become lovers in a passionate but brief affair. But in the here and now, Jeanette was involved in a relationship now going into its fourth year and not the type for casual infidelity. Arlene, on the other hand, delighted in the constant thrill of new and casual encounters. So the two women had become even closer friends instead. "I still can't get over this place," Jeanette said as she finished her panorama of the room. "Who ever came up with this place?" Jeanette had never even heard of Scarlett's Cove until they switched planes in Jamaica and Arlene sprung it on her. Originally, she'd thought they were going to Jamaica. "Take a look at the painting over on that wall," Arlene said in response as she pointed to a large portrait hanging over a fireplace. Jeanette followed her friend's direction until she focused on the image. The young woman in the painting appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Long flaming red hair that stretched down to her waist was the first thing you noticed, framing a creamy white complexion that in turn was set off by dazzling emerald eyes. The gown she wore was low-cut, revealing a healthy bosom that was just as soft white as her face. "That is Miss Scarlett McMurphy," Arlene said. "And this house and just about everything around it for twenty miles belongs to the McMurphy family. Back in the twenties, her grandfather came to the Caribbean to seek his fortune and like so many others, he found it. Unlike most of the families that established incredibly profitable enterprises on the islands, Sean McMurphy was a man of conscience. From the very beginning, he put part of every dollar he made here back into the island. He built the first hospital, then the school. His son continued the tradition, sending the best and the brightest of the island's young men and women off to colleges in the States. By the time most of the Caribbean Republics had degenerated into petty dictatorships in the 40's and 50's, San Cristobal was the jewel in the lake with a healthy, well-educated population." Jeanette listened, fascinated. She had a degree in history yet had never heard of this island until yesterday. "That's just to give you a little broad background," Arlene continued. "The story of Scarlett McMurphy began in 1928 when she was born right here in this house. Her grandfather was so taken by her that first time he looked at his newborn heir that he immediately christened this cove - Scarlett's Cove. Back in those days, few people said no to Sean McMurphy." "But what's that got to do with this resort?" Jeanette inquired. "Patience, I'm getting to that," the older woman continued. "Michael McMurphy only had two other children, an older son, Sean Michael and a younger daughter, Mary. Sean died in combat during World War II, so Scarlett was now the oldest and heir apparent. By the early fifties, Scarlett had already attended some of the best schools in the world and took control of the day-to-day operations of the family business."While it quickly became obvious that she had inherited both her father's and grandfather's business sense, it was also apparent that she had a spirit that really didn't fit into the somewhat conservative 1950s. Even more so, it was noticed more and more that she spent most of her time in the company of other young women and there was a definite lack of male companionship in her life. This wasn't for lack of offers, as you can see from that portrait she was a beauty. Rumors began to circulate, but not too loudly and definitely not within earshot of "Big Mike" McMurphy. A story went around that some cheap tabloid was going to do a story about Scarlett that all but called her a dyke in print. Legend has it that the owner of that magazine was visited late one night by some friends of "Big Mike". No one really knows what happened, but the story never saw print and the company went out of business within six months. Scarlett continued to run the family business until the mid-1970s when she suddenly turned control over to her two nephews, the sons of her sister, Mary, and retired to the island. A year later, she opened Scarlett's Cove, a place where women like her could come and be themselves for a week or two, away from a prying world. "That's incredible," Jeanette said. "She must've led one interesting life." "Led?" Arlene asked. "Sweetheart, she still runs the place." Arlene didn't answer, she just turned her head back to the nearby portrait and took another long, hard look. Again scanning the room, Jeanette suddenly stopped when she saw a familiar face. It wasn't that she knew the woman personally, but her beautiful face was recognizable the world over - Courtney Austin, the black pop diva. She again leaned over to Arlene and quietly pointed her out. "I know," she whispered back. "This is my third trip here, and you'd be surprised who I've seen here. That's the beauty of it all, no one ever talks about this place." Arlene then recounted that last year, a reporter from one of those supermarket tabloids had come to the island and had somehow gotten pictures of a senator's wife who was also there. The senator was planning a run for the presidency that year. All it took was a simple phone call to the editor of that magazine, who incidentally had also been a guest at one time, and the story simply disappeared. Arlene then delighted in pointing out two more celebrities that Jeanette had missed. One was C. K. Lane, another popular singer who was no surprise since she had long ago publicly declared her lesbianism. The second was a great surprise as Arlene pointed out Bonnie Cheng, the nationally known news anchor. Jeanette never would have guessed. "Can I get you ladies anything else?" a sweet voice said from behind Jeanette. "Some dessert, perhaps?" The schoolteacher turned about to find a young island woman standing at her shoulder. Richly tanned olive skin gave her an exotic look, which was only added to by her long black hair. What set her apart from many of the women there was that she was topless. All she wore was a piece of white material wrapped around her waist like a skirt. Nudity was perfectly normal there, but few of the guests practiced it outside of the beaches. Jeanette couldn't help but admire the dark nipples only a few inches from her face. Arlene had explained to her that none of the employees were under any obligation to fraternize with the guests, but at the same time, there were no rules against it if they wanted to. Money never entered the picture because none of the guests carried any, and any employee that tried to solicit it was immediately fired. "No, not right now," Arlene said as she gave the young woman a broad smile. "Maybe later... Mae," she added as she read the girl's name off the small plastic name clip she used to keep the makeshift skirt in place. Mae gave a similar smile in reply that suggested that dessert was definitely a possibility. "You're incorrigible," Jeanette noted with a laugh, ignoring the fact that she was looking at the young woman just as admiringly. "This is true," Arlene smiled back. "So it's a good thing I don't have your job." "How so?" "Oh, come on now," came Arlene's reply in a tone that was half serious. "Every day you have a class full of sweet young things hanging on your every word. Just by the law of averages, a few of them have to be interested in, how shall we put it, a little extracurricular exploration in alternate lifestyles. Don't tell me you haven't at least fantasized about it? Especially when the weather turns warm and so much clothing comes off." "I've learned to keep my personal and professional life separate," Jeanette said in a flat voice. "I think I've hit a nerve," Arlene shot right back. Before Jeanette could answer, a tall black woman stepped to the small stage podium at the front of the hall and picked up the microphone. "If I can have your attention, Ladies," she began with a clipped British accent. "The auction is going to begin in about 15 minutes, so if you could just finish up so the kitchen girls can clear the tables." The announcement brought a fresh murmur of voices across the room. There was obvious excitement in the air. Jeanette forgot her previous thought and instead asked Arlene what this was all about. "Well, it's pretty simple," she began. "Ever see one of those charity bachelor or bachelorette auctions, you know where they auction off dates?" Arlene nodded in agreement. "Well, basically, it's the same thing. We don't carry money, of course, but anyone who wants to participate can, and then settle up when they check out. The money goes to the college scholarship fund, and it's all really a lot of fun." "You've done this before," Jeanette asked. "Last time I was here," came the reply with pride. "I went for $450, pretty impressive if I say so myself." "You never cease to amaze me," Jeanette said. "I never cease to amaze myself," came the reply. A small commotion at the large entrance to the hall suddenly drew everyone's attention. At an unseen signal, two tall women standing by the wide double doors pulled them open. "If you were really fascinated by that story about Scarlett McMurphy, then here's your chance to meet her," Arlene said as she spotted a familiar procession. Jeanette sat riveted as the small group of women moved across the room. The crowd parted in front of them as they moved, and to both women's delight, their path would take them right by their table. About ten feet away, the last of the crowd stepped out of the way, giving Jeanette a clear, unrestricted look at Scarlett McMurphy. She was tall, 5'10", something that was impossible to judge in the painting. Her long red locks were long gone, replaced by short but full white hair that had been woven into an artistic hairstyle. Her stride was still that of a powerful, confident woman. Of course, her body no longer resembled the full-figured 20-year-old of her portrait, but it still wasn't that of a 68-year-old woman. If Jeanette had to guess her age, she wouldn't have gone past mid-fifties. Round gold-rimmed glasses framed bright green eyes that had lost none of the fire or intelligence of her younger days. It was only when they were a few feet apart that Jeanette realized that they were stopping at her table. "It's so good to see you again, Arlene dear," Scarlett said. "You must find time to stop by my office tomorrow afternoon, and we can discuss the new school." "Of course," Arlene replied. While aware that Arlene regularly spent a large portion of the fortune she'd inherited on schools and such, Jeanette never knew her interest extended this far. At the moment, she was more interested in the two young women who accompanied Scarlett. Both wore outfits identical to the waitress from earlier, and both were as amply endowed. What set them apart was that neither was a native. One was tall, blonde, and blue-eyed, the other Hispanic and brown-skinned. Both appeared to be in their early twenties. Their brief conversation over, Scarlett bade them to have fun and continued onto the stage. Once they were out of earshot, Jeanette mentioned the two young women and asked if they were some sort of honor guard. "In a way," Arlene answered. "They're her bedmates for this week." "What?" "From what I understand, Scarlett's slept with two women a night since she was 30 years old. It's considered a great honor, I've heard the waiting list is almost six months long." As soon as Scarlett and her escort took their place on the stage, the auction began. The first contestant was a pretty young blonde in her twenties. She went quickly for $300. Next up was an older woman who Jeanette guessed to be in her early 40s. The schoolteacher quietly remarked that the woman had a lot more guts than she did, getting up there in front of everyone like that. Surprisingly, she went for only $40 less than the young blonde. As the next participant walked up to the stage, Jeanette jumped up in her seat. The resemblance was uncanny. It took both a second and third look for her to finally conclude that the Asian girl wasn't who she'd first thought she was. Enthralled as the girl strutted her stuff back and forth on the stage, Jeanette listened as the bidding went on. A bid of $200 was quickly replaced by one of $250, and that in turn by $300. The young woman was beautiful, there was no disputing that. In the brief time it took her to acknowledge that, the bidding had passed $350. If she had both the nerve and the money, Jeanette would be tempted to bid on her. Then, with a smile and a laugh, the young woman whose name the auctioneer had announced was Keiko Nugora, pulled off the small sarong she'd been wearing and now pranced in the nude. The bidding immediately shot to $500. Watching her little dance, Jeanette's mind began to wander to a time just a little less than a year ago and to the woman Keiko reminded her of so."Emi, I'm home," Jeanette called out as she closed the apartment door behind her. "You wouldn't believe the stunt my class tried to pull on me today; it was old when I was a junior." The sound of running water from the bathroom sink told her that it would be a minute or two before Emi was out. Picking up the mail from the small table by the door, she began to flip through it as she stepped into the small living room. "Bills, bills, junk mail," she mused as she dropped onto the well-worn couch and tossed them onto the coffee table one by one. "Where does it all go?" she asked herself. Sometimes it seemed that they were just getting by. She made a decent salary as a teacher, especially since she'd gotten tenure, and Emi was doing OK as a teaching assistant. She'd do even better once she finished up those last few credits she needed for her teaching certificate. Emi and Jeanette had been together for almost 5 years now, and it had been with the 25-year-old Japanese woman that she'd found contentment. It seemed like every day brought something new and exciting. "San Padre School District, San Padre, California," she read off the return address of a long white envelope that was addressed to Emi. "I wonder what this was?" she mused as she looked into the empty envelope. The brunette didn't hear the soft footsteps of her roommate/lover as she came up behind her. She suddenly felt a pair of familiar hands on her breasts, and she arched her head back to meet Emi's kiss. The pressure of the younger woman's lips against her own was enough to bring a pleasing tingle between her legs. "Hi, babe," she said as they broke the kiss. "Hi, lover," Emi said as the short-haired woman swung her body over the arm of the sofa and landed right on Jeanette's lap. "I missed you." Emi kissed Jeanette again, this time pressing her tongue against Jeanette's. The kiss lasted a long time, followed by a second and third. "My, you're in a playful mood," Jeanette grinned. "What's brought this on?" "I missed you, that's all," Emi whispered into Jeanette's ear, kissing it as well. "And I've been wanting to give you something all afternoon." Emi again cupped Jeanette's firm breasts and squeezed them gently, massaging them. She could feel the large pink nipples begin to stiffen under the plain white bra her lover wore under her conservative school attire. She again kissed Jeanette lightly. "Nice," she asked. "Nice," Jeanette agreed. Soft fingers quickly moved down the starched white blouse the teacher wore, undoing buttons as they went. As it fell open, Emi slid her hand alongside the smooth skin of Jeanette's stomach and then up under the elastic strap of her bra. "Emi...." Jeanette moaned softly. "Shhh," Emi replied, touching her love's lips with an outstretched finger. "Just lay back and relax, I'm going to take care of everything." A practiced touch undid the front clasp of her bra, freeing access to the large soft mounds beneath. Emi took the erect pink nipples between her fingers and tweaked them. Then she leaned forward and kissed each one, lightly caressing the tip of each with her tongue. The short-haired oriental took a step back off the couch and pulled her oversized blue T-shirt up over her head. The shirt had been all she was wearing. Bringing her hands to her chest, she briefly stroked the small round orbs that protruded there. Her small nipples were a dark brown but the nipples no less erect. Between her legs was a tiny black triangle, almost the only hair on her entire body. Although 25 years old, the woman still had the body of a teenage girl or, as Jeanette had remarked many times, a wood nymph. Emi returned her attention to Jeanette and eased her down onto the couch. Her mouth now sought out her breasts and began to suck on them. Her roving tongue covering them with wetness. Jeanette shivered at the touch of Emi's lips on her smooth flesh as her tongue once more teased Jeanette's large nipples. Each lick bringing them to a new hardness. Then her lips closed on them, and every bite and nibble sent waves through Jeanette, causing her to emit soft moans. Moans which brought great joy to Emi. Emi reached down between Jeanette's legs and under her skirt, tracing her finger against the panty-covered outline of her mound. Then she pushed aside the thin material, ripping it in the process, and moved to the center of the mound, rubbing against it. As her soft finger became lubricated by the wetness there, she slowly slid it between the folds. A louder gasp escaped Jeanette's lips as Emi slid the finger in and out, soon following it with a second. Emi licked each nipple a final time and then moved her head down Jeanette's stomach, pausing to kiss and lick her way, pausing only long enough to pull the short blue skirt up around her waist. Lower and lower she kissed her way until she reached the edge of Jeanette's wetness. Then the dark-haired woman kissed one thigh, then the other. Finally, she kissed the center of Jeanette's ecstasy. "Oh yes...," Jeanette said as she reached down and guided Emi's head. "It feels so good...." The smell of Jeanette's crotch made Emi lightheaded; she'd waited all day for this. She reached out and parted the wet lips with her fingers, moving her tongue between them, driving it deep inside. She closed her eyes as she savored the taste, a taste she knew would be hard to do without. "Oh God, Emi," Jeanette said as her body jumped at the touch. "I can't remember the last time it felt so wonderful." Encouraged, Emi moved her pulsating mouth closer and sought out Jeanette's clit. She alternated between her finger and her tongue, driving Jeanette wilder with each stroke. A rhythm quickly developed as Jeanette reached down and held her younger lover's head between her legs, then lurched forward with each movement of Emi's tongue. Unable to use her hands any longer, Emi reached behind and grabbed Jeanette's ass cheeks. Never missing a beat, she slid a cum-lubricated finger into her anus. Jeanette let out a loud moan as she felt it penetrate. Then Emi withdrew the finger and reinserted it, finger-fucking her ass. Jeanette began to gyrate faster as she felt herself nearing climax. Emi could taste the increase in girljuice and opened her mouth while at the same time she drove it deeper. The small Japanese woman was soon rewarded with a gusher of girljuice, so much that her face was soon covered with it. She held Jeanette tight as the teacher screamed out loud and thrashed about in ecstasy. It'd been a long time since she'd had a sexual release of this magnitude. Emi continued to lick Jeanette's pussy and slowly finger-fuck her ass, stopping only when her lover finally laid still. She then withdrew her finger but continued to lick between her legs, but softly now, taking the time to clean her thighs of delicious girlcum. "That was wonderful," Jeanette said in a breathless voice. "I feel so alive...so exhilarated." "I'm glad," Emi said as she brought herself up to a sitting position. "I've wanted to do that for so very long." Jeanette reached out and pulled Emi close to her. She kissed her, tasting her own cum in Emi's mouth. She found it intoxicating. She continued to kiss her for several minutes, licking droplets of sweet girljuice from her face. "I love you, Emi," she whispered as she kissed her softly. "I want every day to be just like this one." So lost had Jeanette been in the euphoric afterglow of their encounter, she failed to notice the way Emi's body had shuddered when she had said that. It wasn't until the next day that Emi mentioned the empty envelope Jeanette had found the day before. She'd been offered a job in California. The San Padre School District was more interested in the fact that she was proficient in both Japanese and English than the fact that she was still a few credits shy of her certificate. They were in such desperate need of teachers with that ability, due to the influx of new Japanese families in the area, that they were offering her a full teacher's salary while she worked as an assistant. In addition, they'd give her time off to finish school. The offer was just too good to pass up. She'd never get another chance like this one. Emi had suggested that Jeanette come with her and try and get a teaching job out there as well. At least that way they'd be together. But she knew Jeanette wouldn't go. Her life was here; she just couldn't leave it all and start over. Emi had moved out that Monday. Over the intervening weekend, they hadn't made love again. Over the next few months, they'd spoken to each other on the phone a few times and exchanged letters as well. Then in March had come the letter that said she had met another woman. Jeanette had stopped writing after that."Are you nervous?" the announcer asked as she took her place on the stage. "Yes," she said awkwardly. "Well, don't worry, just have fun," the dark woman said. "And remember, it's for the kids." "Ladies, before I take the first bid, I just want to take a moment to acknowledge Jeanette's courage in coming up here," the announcer said into her microphone. "Up until we called her name, she didn't know her friend had entered her in the auction." That brought another round of applause, ended only when she called for the first bid. "$100," Arlene called out. "$125," called out her friend, Kate. "$150," called out a third woman. "$200," Arlene bid as she smiled, glad that at least someone else was bidding. "$250," came a bid from a new voice. "$300," shouted a voice familiar to Arlene. What Arlene didn't tell Jeanette was that she had more than one ringer in the bidding. Even before they had come down to the island, Arlene had found someone who she believed would be the perfect match for her friend. In the ten months since Emi had left, Jeanette hadn't gone out on a single date. In fact, her only sexual release had been her own left hand and the half dozen occasions when they'd slept together. Sex with Jeanette had been truly great, there was no denying that. But it was the mark of an enduring friendship that made Arlene want something more for her friend. She had set up this whole trip to get her together with Diane. "$350," Arlene bid. The plan was for the three of them to drive the price up to $450, the price that she had told Jeanette that she had been sold at, and then have Diane bid $50 more. "$400," called out Kate. "$450," Arlene countered. There was a long moment of silence, and then Diane called out. "$500." "Well, I guess that's it," Arlene said to herself in a pleased voice. "$600," called the voice of the woman who had first bid $150. Diane looked over to Arlene, who was trying to see past the crowd for the unseen bidder. The bid was too high for her to continue without it seeming suspicious to Jeanette. She nodded to Diane to keep bidding. "$650," Diane waved. "$800," came the other voice. "I don't know who that woman is," Arlene thought, "but she's screwing up all my plans." Catching Diane's eye, Arlene held up her index finger. That should knock the mystery woman out of the bidding. "$1,000," Diane shouted as a murmur filled the room. The echo of her bid didn't even have time to fade before it was superseded. "$2,000," called out her rival. "And I'll match any bid after that." Dead silence gripped the room. People shifted position, and Diane lost sight of Arlene. Without specific instructions, there was no way she was going to top that bid. "Anyone else?" the amazed auctioneer asked as the still calm continued. "Going once, ...going twice...Sold!" The room erupted in thunderous applause. "I thank you, and the Sean McMurphy Memorial Fund thanks you," she added. It took a few minutes for the room to calm down, and the next contestant to make her way to the stage. Jeanette was stunned by what had happened. How could Arlene have done this to her? How could she have embarrassed her so? "Well, I hope you're happy?" she said with a trace of anger in her voice as she got back to the table. "You just had to put in the winning bid, didn't you. Couldn't resist showing how much money you could bid!" "What are you talking about?" Arlene said. "The winning bid, you just had to drive it all the way up." "Well, I have news for you, girlfriend," Arlene replied, realizing now that Jeanette couldn't tell who was bidding what from up on stage. "That wasn't my bid, and it didn't come from anyone I know either." "What?" Jeanette said in astonishment. "Are you telling me that was for real? That someone actually bid that much money for me?!?!" "You got it!" With that, Jeanette fell back into her chair in shock. "Excuse me," said Mae, who had suddenly appeared at their table. "Yes," Arlene said, again returning the young woman's smile. "The lady who put the winning bid on Ms. Randolph here said she had to leave suddenly," the young girl said. "But she asked me to give you this." Jeanette hesitated a moment before taking the offered note. Carefully, she unfolded the small paper and read the carefully printed words. "What does it say?" Arlene asked. "It says, 'Please meet me by the waterfall pool at 11:00.' It's simply signed 'E,'" Jeanette read. "Are you going to go?" asked Arlene. "How can I not? The woman paid $2,000 to meet me," Jeanette said as she folded the paper back into a square. "I have to go if only to find out why." "Do you want me to go with you?" Arlene suggested. "No, I'll be OK. Besides, I'm sure you have other plans," she added as she looked again at Mae. "It's just like any other blind date," Jeanette said to herself as she walked along the shoreline. "Except that I haven't been on a date in seven years and never a blind one." The warm evening had given way to an equally warm night, and a clear sky revealed an ebony blanket sprinkled with stars. If nothing else, this place was certainly romantic. In the distance, Jeanette could hear the music of the disco still going strong. It would go on that way until 1 am. Checking her watch, Jeanette saw that it was a quarter after ten; she had plenty of time to walk over to the falls. She took a look at herself in the water's reflection. Smiling, she had to admit that the image was still as physically attractive as a few years before. It was only her self-image that had suffered, and that was mostly in the last nine months. "Damn it, Arlene is right," she said to the gentle breeze. "I've got to put Emi behind me and get on with my life." Undoing the top two buttons of her blouse, the brunette opened it up enough to give a view of her ample, braless breasts. "Might as well make a good impression," she laughed. "Wearing my blouse like this, I really should wear my locket," Jeanette thought. It was originally her grandmother's, and she had always worn it for luck. "If I hurry, I could stop by the room and pick it up." The area around the small living rooms was pretty deserted, most of the guests were still out having fun. The quarters Arlene and her shared were on the second floor, and she quickly moved up the outside stairs. Once in the small three-room apartment, she quickly got her locket and was already on the way out when she heard a noise from Arlene's room. Curious, she decided to take a quick peek. The scene that greeted her wasn't unexpected, but it still surprised her. She'd seen Arlene nude a good many times, after all, they'd been occasional lovers. Yet the sudden sight of her with another woman was incredibly exciting. Arlene was on her knees with her back to the door. Standing above her, equally nude with her arms and legs spread wide, was Mae. Her old friend had her face pressed hard against the young woman's pussy. After having been on the receiving end more than a few times, Jeanette didn't need either the look of rapture on Mae's face or the soft moans she was uttering to know how enjoyable Arlene's darting tongue could be. Jeanette had never really been interested in voyeurism, but found the scene fascinating. If she didn't have a pressing appointment, she'd be tempted to stay and watch. As sexually charged as she felt at this moment, she might even have thought about joining in. Quickly and as quietly as she could, Jeanette backed out of the room. Reaching the top of the stairs, she paused and looked back. "Have fun, love," she whispered. 11:00 came quick enough, and Jeanette stood at the edge of the waterfall pool. She hadn't felt this nervous since she was 16. A minute went by, then two and three. Then suddenly, a voice from behind. "I'm sorry I'm late," said a soft voice from the shadows. Jeanette turned to the sound of the voice, but couldn't make out the speaker. It was another few seconds before she stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the nearby torches. "Hi Jeanette," the blonde woman said, a warm, friendly smile on her face. The woman was an inch or two shorter than Jeanette, as well as about 8 or 9 years younger. She had a slim, tanned body, graphically illustrated by the same loose skirt Mae had worn. The only difference was that she wore a bikini top which barely contained a 36C chest. Jeanette didn't recognize the woman, but something about her seemed familiar. "It's nice to see you again," the woman said. "Again?" the older woman asked. "You mean again after the auction, right?" "Well, that too," she replied. "But I was thinking more of a long time ago." "I'm sorry, but I don't know you," Jeanette said. "Are you sure you don't have me mixed up with someone else?" "I don't think so," she said as she came closer. "Jeanette Ann Randolph, you teach history at Washington High School in Arrow Lake, NY and you've been there for the last 11 years." "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!" Jeanette's mind raced. It was her worst nightmare come true. Someone who knew her from back home. "Relax, I'm a friend," the woman added when she saw the sudden look of panic on the teacher's face. "Who are you?" Jeanette demanded. "This isn't funny anymore." "Do you remember Elaine Gluszczak?" she asked. "Elaine Gluszczak..." Jeanette repeated as she rolled the name over in her mind."Just wait a second, I know that name." It took a little while for her to make the connection, then it came like a bursting dam. "Six years ago, honors history," Jeanette said triumphantly. "I remember her now, a very intelligent young girl. If I remember right, she went to MIT on a scholarship." "You still have a good memory," she replied. "I still don't get it, are you a friend or relative?" Jeanette asked. "Good on memory, short on deductive reasoning," the woman laughed. "I am Elaine." "You're Elaine?" the teacher said in disbelief. "Yes, I'm Elaine," she said, now only a foot away. "Elaine, I apologize, but I really didn't recognize you." "Few people who knew me back then would," Elaine laughed again. "Not unless I put back my glasses and then also put back on an extra 60 or 70 pounds." The mental picture of the younger Elaine abruptly filled Jeanette's mind. She was a short, plump girl with few friends but a brilliant mind. Jeanette had made it her business to become her friend and help her explore the potential of her mind. She hadn't really thought of Elaine in years, there'd been so many students since. Yet at the time, she and the young girl had almost been as close as Arlene and her had been in her younger days. "Elaine, I don't understand all this," Jeanette said. "Why all of this auction stuff? If you wanted to say hello, why didn't you just come up to me and say hello?" "I guess I wanted to make an impression," she answered. "But $2,000 to make an impression!" Jeanette said in amazement. "If I recall, you went to MIT on a scholarship, your family was barely making ends meet." "That's right, a scholarship you helped me get. But don't worry about the two grand, I was planning to donate five to the scholarship fund anyway." "Five thousand?" Jeanette repeated. Despite her friendship with Arlene, she still wasn't used to dealing with sums like that. "Let me explain it quickly. Have you ever heard of a company called Startech?" "That's one of those software companies, isn't it," she answered. "I read about it in one of those articles about the Internet in Time." "That's the one," Elaine replied. "Well anyway, I formed that company in my senior year at MIT along with two of my classmates. When it went public last year, my share of the stock added up to just a little under twelve million." "Well, that certainly explains the how, but not the why." "That's pretty simple too," Elaine continued, her voice wavering for the first time. "There were two things I never told you back in high school. The first, since I'm here at the resort, should be pretty obvious." Jeanette nodded in understanding. "The other thing is that ever since I was 17, I was and I guess still am, in love with you." There was a long pause before Jeanette could manage to say a word. Even then, she simply said, "We have to talk." Over the next half hour, Jeanette sat on one of the beach benches and listened to Elaine's tale. It was both the most incredible and at the same time tragic story she had ever heard. "After my first year at college, I came back to Arrow Lake to see you," Elaine continued. "All through high school, I was certain that you had an interest in women, but I never had the nerve to find out. By the time I was 19, I'd found that nerve." Jeanette listened intently, it was like hearing a replay of her own life. "I stopped by your house one day just before you got home and waited outside. When your car finally pulled up and you got out, I became certain about three things. The first was that yes, you were a lesbian. The second was that the oriental girl you were with was your lover. And finally, the last thing was 'why would I ever have thought that you or anyone else was ever going to be interested in a fat ugly girl like me.'" "Elaine, the first two were definitely true," Jeanette interjected. "But the third was never, ever true. If I never realized your interest in me, it was because of your age, never because of what you might have looked like." "Well, true or not, I believed it. Thankfully, I turned that anger into a positive thing. I learned to spend as much time developing my body as I did my mind. Not a bad result, huh." "No, not a bad result at all," Jeanette said. "In fact, I think you're beautiful." "I've waited six years to hear you say that," Elaine said. "It was worth it." "So now what?" the older woman asked. "All of my life, I've been a great believer in the concept of divergence points. That you have certain points in your life where different elements come together and you can change your destiny. If I hadn't waited for you that afternoon and seen you and your lover, I wouldn't have started taking better care of my body. If I hadn't pulled over one night to help a couple of students stranded with a flat tire, I wouldn't have met John and Sally, my partners at Startech. The key is to learn to recognize those turning points." "And can you?" "Not with certainty, but sometimes too many different things come together to just be a coincidence. I was already leaving the banquet hall when they called your name. When I heard it, I was intrigued enough to come back in to see who also had that name. I never expected it to actually be you. Then when I asked one of the waitresses about the woman you were with and found out that she was just your friend, I knew that I had an opportunity to again change destiny. The rest you know." "Which leads us to where?" "Well, if nothing else, it finally gives me the opportunity to do this," Elaine said. With that, she pressed forward and kissed Jeanette on the lips, bringing with that kiss, a half dozen years of unrequited love. Elaine was prepared to have all it all end here, her hopes, her dreams, a thousand nights of fantasy. All she wanted was this moment. The kiss was oh so very brief, but enough to give Jeanette the option of continuing or pulling away. When it ended, Elaine paused for a moment, then kissed her again. Sensing no resistance, Elaine slid her tongue between her lips and pressed it against Jeanette's. Excitement ripped through her as she felt the other woman's lips part to admit it. When their tongues met, a jolt of electricity passed between them. More kisses followed, alternating between quick soft kisses and long soulful ones. Their hands slid up and down each other's bodies, delighting with each other's touch. Softly rubbing her hand against the moist mound between Jeanette's long legs, Elaine began to match the action of her fingers with that of her tongue. Soft expressions of delight began to issue from the older woman. Taking the quiet moans as encouragement, Elaine reached up with her other hand and undid the buttons of Jeanette's blouse. The small buttons quickly gave way, exposing the large pale pink breasts beneath. Jeanette sighed even louder as Elaine reached out and placed her hands against her melon-sized mounds. The nipples were rock hard, and the touch of her slender fingers sent shivers through the older woman's body. The younger woman experimentally ran her fingers back and forth across them, delighting in the sweet sounds emanating from her former teacher's throat. Elaine reached back and pulled at the small bow that held her bikini top in place. It instantly fell away, revealing firm round globes as deeply tanned as the rest of her body. It only took another touch to undo the clip that held the skirt. Even in the moonlight, it was apparent that Elaine made a habit of sunbathing totally nude. Elaine looked into her mentor's eyes, quickly losing herself in their depth. She couldn't resist kissing Jeanette one more time. While their tongues slid back and forth, Elaine cupped Jeanette's breasts. Then she bent down and replaced her hands with her mouth. The caress of her warm mouth sent a string of encouragement running from Jeanette's lips. Her speech was so low that Elaine couldn't understand everything she was saying. The tone, however, was unmistakable. That and the slight pressure against Elaine's head as she was again guided to the hard dark pink nipples. Elaine nuzzled at each breast for a while longer, running her tongue in circles around the wide areola. Then she began a slow journey downward. A light film of saliva marked the trail of her tongue as it moved down Jeanette's stomach and across her belly button. Lower she went, nibbling her way to the precious prize below. Her fingers gripped the elastic of Jeanette's shorts and pulled them around her ankles. Without conscious thought, Jeanette stepped out of them. Reaching the now thoroughly saturated panties, Elaine took a moment to relish the aroma. An aroma she imagined on countless lonely nights. She kissed each thigh, again and again, before moving on to her prize. Her fingers slid under the sides of the plain white pants, gliding across the priceless pearl with a gentle reverence. She kissed the object of her desire though the thin wet material, then slowly eased off Jeanette's panties. It began as a flicker. Then a touch. Finally a long loving caress. She could feel Jeanette's body react to each stroke as she ran her tongue across her clit over and over. Jeanette began to buckle and spasm as Elaine increased the intensity of her tongue's attack. She slid her free hand down between her own legs and slid first one, then two and finally three fingers within herself. She quickly matched the tempo of her fingers to that of her tongue. Sweat ran down the older woman's body as she shook with each new ecstatic jolt. She could feel the rising crest within her and knew that her first orgasm in so many months was near. Elaine darted her tongue in and out of Jeanette's tunnel of love, causing the waves of pleasure cascading up and down the older woman's body to double.The harder Elaine moved her tongue, the faster the waves repeated. Faster and faster the waves washed over Jeanette, each bringing her closer to an explosion. Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to delay the fire within her so that she could enjoy each second. With a yell, the history teacher climaxed as she hadn't since that last night with Emi. Her body shook for endless seconds as she took in every aspect of her rapture. Elaine followed with her own much smaller orgasm seconds later as her fingers covered with her wetness. "Oh my dear God," Jeanette panted as she collapsed against Elaine's kneeling form. "I've missed that so much." What she didn't say as she hugged the younger woman was that it was the fulfillment of her most forbidden sexual fantasy - that of having a sexual encounter with one of her students. Arlene had been so close to the mark earlier that evening it had scared her. She was afraid to even talk about her fantasy. Both women collapsed to the ground, entangled in each other's arms. Silently they laid there, caressing and kissing each other's body. Finally, after what seemed an immeasurable span, Jeanette lifted herself on top of Elaine and softly whispered, "My turn." She hoped Elaine would forgive her for ignoring her beautiful breasts, but she would make it up to her later. All she wanted at this moment was to lose herself in the fragrant scent of her womanhood. Elaine seemed to sense this and reached down with her own hands and spread her pussy lips apart. Without hesitation, Jeanette dove in. She lapped at the young and sweet thing, moving her tongue quickly and deeply into Elaine. Then she brought the tongue up and hit the clit, causing sparks to fly through Elaine's shaking body. Jeanette ran her tongue against Elaine's clit again and again, striking it with a feverish feeling that made her once forbidden lover feverish too. Feverish with desire for more from this talented woman's tongue. Jeanette knew she was driving the tanned girl insane with orgasmic feelings. Looking up, she studied Elaine as she sucked. Her protege was feeling her own breasts as she moaned, tossing her head back and forth on the sand. Then in a burst of fire, Elaine began to come with sighs and squeals. As she came, she took her hands off her tits and put them on the back of Jeanette's dark hair, pressing her head deep into her pussy, telling her dream lover not to stop until she had come with all her fury. And come she did. With an orgasmic fury that superseded Jeanette's explosion of only a short time before. Never had she reached such a plateau with any previous lover. Not even in her wildest dreams had she imagined it would be this wonderful. Where Jeanette had shouted to the stars, Elaine simply moaned in quiet satisfaction, the tone of her voice not reflective of the bodyquake assaulting her. Behind her closed eyes, bursts of starlight blotted out the heavens. As the ripples of passion began to fade, her only fear was that it would never again be this good. "Are you all right?" Jeanette finally asked when the young woman failed to move after a few minutes. "I have never felt so right," Elaine said as she lifted herself up into a sitting position. "I thought we were going to talk about this," Jeanette said as she pulled up along her. "I seem to remember you telling me once that actions speak louder than words," Elaine replied. "And if I really wanted something, I should reach out and grab it." "I always knew my big mouth would get me in trouble some day," the teacher grinned. "I hope we have this much trouble every night," Elaine added. "We have six more nights here." The statement hit Jeanette like a brick. The last few hours she had been living in a fantasy world. She didn't have Arlene's passion for casual flings. The thought that this had been one of them now troubled her. "And then we go back to our lives," Jeanette said, a touch of sadness in her voice. "I guess so, but you never know what the future will bring," Elaine responded. "If you say so," Jeanette said, her elation already started to pale in the light of reality. "Remember what I said before, that I was a real believer about divergence points and how some things just seem to fall in place?" "Yes," Jeanette answered, feeling more let down with each passing moment. "Well, you might have noticed that new building they've been putting up about a half mile from your apartment complex in Arrow Lake, the one by Lake Drive." "I've driven past it," the now confused woman replied. "Well, I guess you've never looked at the sign in front." Jeanette just looked more confused. "Future home of Startech," Elaine smiled. "I made the decision to move back home months ago. See what I mean about things coming together at the right place and the right time?" "I....I don't know what to say," Jeanette said, her face lighting up once more. "Well, even after the building opens next month, I still have to find a place to sleep. Think you can help me with that?" "I think that together we could come up with something," Jeanette beamed, suddenly feeling a warm glow fill her heart - a glow too long absent. "Good, now that we've got that settled, shut up and kiss me. We've got a lot of lost time to make up for." And in that moment, the student became the teacher, and the teacher the student.

Part One

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8104.txt

Seurat

RP Seurat's Twighlight Zone chapter 4(j-last): Art Critic

"Put the manacles on." I wrapped the restraints on and fixed them in place, and she pressed another button. Immediately the straps retracted into the ends of the horse, pulling my arms apart and forcing me to my knees. The chains retracted into the horse, forcing my chest even further into the horse. In a few seconds, I went from standing free to kissing the leather in front of me. The zebra-bug-woman walked around behind me, the clicking of her heels echoing through the chamber. "Have you enjoyed your little escapades, Mr. O'Neill? Do you like the clothes, the women, your big dick? Have you enjoyed the kinky fucks every week while your wife lives in ignorance? If you were my husband, you wouldn't have to go to work. We would fuck and suck all day long. You could be my little sex slave, and I would punish you when you were bad, pleasure you when you were good. Maybe you like being a bad boy. Well, Mr. O'Neill, bad boys get spanked. Would you like to be spanked?" She pulled the dress up to my hips, exposing my dildo-filled ass, and began to hit my ass cheeks with her open hand. As she spanked, she again asked me, "Have you liked your little escapades?" "Yes, Mistress." "Are you a bad boy?" "Yes, Mistress." "Do you like being a horse-dicked she-male sex-slut pussy-whipped slave?" "Yes, Mistress." Utter defeat could be heard in my voice. Even so, I almost laughed at the fact that she could say that last sentence without getting tongue-tied. After about thirty smacks, none of which caused me any real discomfort, she walked around in front of me again. "Not much of a reaction from you. Maybe your punishment should be a little more severe." She pressed another button on her remote, and two of the mirrors opened up, one on either side of the room. From the opening on my left stepped a female dressed head to toe in a VRskin body suit, black in color at her feet but fading to white at her head. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled through a hole in the top of the mask covering her head. Mirrored sunglasses on a stretch strap were pulled tight over where her eyes should be. The only exposed flesh that I could see were a set of bright red lips. From the other side came two similarly dressed females, only with dark brown hair, and both made their way towards me, their unshod feet making no noise on the floor. They stopped in front of me, so that I might better see them, and then turned to face the zebra woman. "Mr. O'Neill, since you so enjoy fucks and sucks with women other than your wife, I've decided to give you a chance to experience our ultimate blow job. These are my three helpers for the night, and they will get the two of us ready." The dirty blonde padded over to the wardrobe, opened it, and took out a wooden box about a foot long. The zebra woman opened the box and took out a tube of the gel. Squeezing a generous portion into her hand and put the tube back into the box. All three received generous portions on their crotches, and one brunette had some smeared on her lips. What remained in her hand the zebra woman rubbed on her own crotch. The dirty blonde then took something from the box and with both hands pressed it to the zebra woman's crotch, then the four turned to face me. I had a raging hard-on from watching these four walk around, but nearly lost it when I saw what was now attached to the zebra woman; eight inches of rock-hard zebra-striped cock pointed at me from across the room. Six-inch black cocks protruded from the crotches of each of the brunettes. A sinister laugh began to fill my ears from the speakers around the room. "Well, little girl, see what dressing like a leather slut gets you?" She motioned to the three women with her, and they moved towards me. One brunette got down on all fours in front of me, and even though I couldn't see her because of the horse in front of me, I felt her gel-covered lips encase the head of my cock. The dirty blonde moved around me, lifted my ass into the air so that my legs were straight up and my body was horizontal to the horse, and I felt her grab my hips as she ground her hips into the dildo in my ass. The other brunette stood at the end of the horse. The laughter started again, and I saw her press a few buttons on the remote. As the humming started, I felt a mouth engulf my shaft until it was at the base, swallowing the entire eleven inches, while the blonde ground into my ass even harder. Beep. The cock on the zebra woman sprang to life, and from my genitals, I started to get a very strange sensation. The dirty blonde was now evidently attached to the dildo in my ass and to me because of the straps running through it and around me, and began to fuck me with a slow rhythm. The brunette was now a part of my cock, and it felt as if she were sucking and licking the entire length of my cock at once. After a minute or two of their separate attempts, they began to move in sync, one pushing my orgasm out from behind while the other tried to suck it out from the front. The prosthetic sheath on my cock was preventing my release. Zebra-woman walked towards me, the cock slapping obscenely against her legs making my fear rise. "Ask for it nicely, leather slut. Tell me you want to suck my cock. Suck it like you want your wife to suck yours if she could make your wet dreams come true. You be the wife, and worship this thick cock the way you've always wanted it done to you. Now, TELL ME YOU WANT TO SUCK MY COCK!" The mechanical voice reverberated throughout the room, its echoes fading so the only sound was the grunts from my ass-fucker and the slurps from my cock-sucker. I knew I had lost. Whatever shred of dignity I might have had left after the past weeks faded. My voice came out high and womanly due to the collar. "I want to suck your cock." "No. Like your wife would say it, the way she does when you fantasize about her while jerking off. Like there is nothing else in the world that matters, just sucking cock, my little wife. Tell your husband his wife wants to suck his cock." She moved closer, the cock bobbing in front of my lips. Of all the women I had encountered in the past few weeks, this was probably the craziest. I could hear the hysteria in her voice. "Give me your thick cock. My husband. I want to be your wife, and I want to suck your cock. I want to suck it, to kiss it to experience it. I...I want it. I...I..." In a quick motion, I bobbed forward, taking the phallus in my mouth, swirling my tongue over the glans, sucking as though I knew nothing else. I bobbed my head up and down, sucking all the while, doing to the zebra-woman what I wanted done to me. Her left hand came to rest on the back of my head, helping the movement of my mouth-stroking. Below and behind me, the other girls had worked my body into a frenzy. My whole body started to go numb, and I knew I was going to come regardless of the prosthetics. I heard the soft tap of the buttons as the woman behind me approached orgasm. I looked up at the zebra woman, and could feel her evil smile even through the mask. "That's it, baby. Yeah, suck it. Oh yeah." Her comments sounded like those in a bad porn movie. "Oh god, yes. Oh yeah, baby, suck me. I'm gonna cum. Yes, suck me. Yes. Yes! YES!" The phallus in my mouth started to convulse, and she drove my head down further on the shaft. In what I can only call an explosion, the cock began to spurt cum down my throat, and as she backed up, it filled my now gagging mouth. "Swallow what you can, wifey. It took us the past six weeks to collect all this cum from you." She was laughing; I tried to swallow it all but couldn't, and zebra woman backed up another step, spurting cum on my face and in my hair. A minute later, I felt the woman behind me shudder for a full two minutes, BEEP, and she was able to pull away from my ass. She grabbed my shoulders and pulled up, the straps holding my arms releasing from the horse. The brunette continued to pump my aching shaft. I couldn't take much more without passing out. Zebra-woman walked over to me, disconnected the clamps, and stood to my side. "Fondle her." I reached over to the dirty blonde's crotch and gripped it in my right hand, and began to squeeze and stroke it. "Now me." With my left hand, I grabbed her cock, and proceeded to do the same to her.A bright light flashed in my eyes, and the brunette below me sucked even harder. I exploded in her mouth as the light went off again, each spurt met with a flash. BEEP. With an audible pop, her mouth came free from my shaft, and I collapsed to the floor, the three women standing over me. I was so dizzy I could hardly think. My flaccid horse cock retracted as I lay there. The brunettes pulled me to a kneeling position and wrapped my hands around their phalluses, pushing them towards my face. Zebra woman was hard again. "Seems you haven't satisfied all of us yet. This time, I want you to suck like you really mean it. And show them what a good hand job you can give." This time, my hands pumped away on the cocks to either side while I sucked on the one in front of me like some porn queen. In a few minutes, I heard a muted beep as all three exploded; one filled my mouth while the other two showered my face in my own cum. "Lick them clean, you fucking whore." I did as I was told, a strobe light going off the entire time. "Now get my slut-wife out of here." The two brunettes picked me up under my arms and proceeded to carry me out of the dungeon. They unceremoniously tossed me in my car and dropped the controller on the other seat, along with a handful of twenties. "That's for services rendered tonight. Better hurry, cum-sucking bitch. Wifey should be home soon." My tires spun as I pulled out of the driveway. I nearly made it to the halfway point when I realized my gas tank was almost empty, even though I had filled it yesterday. I pulled into the local mini-mart, hobbled my way to the cashier, and shoved one of the twenties at the gape-jawed clerk. "Fill it up." He stared wide-eyed at me and slowly pulled in the twenty. I got out of there quick and raced home. I pulled into my driveway, the toe-down ballet-style boots making the drive all but impossible. I clicked off the ignition and grabbed the controller. Best to get inside before I started to disrobe. I got out of the car and stumbled to the house. My aching feet and dildo-filled ass made walking very difficult now. As I fumbled with the keys, I saw headlights turn into the driveway. I rushed inside, grabbed the handrail, and pulled myself upstairs. Once there, I moved to the master bathroom and locked the door. I turned on the shower and breathed a sigh of relief. Downstairs, I heard my wife come in, then start to putter around. In the bathroom, I was met with an unusual sight. The reflection in the mirror showed a leather-clad slut, dried cum around her mouth and in her hair and all over her face, make-up mussed, looking and smelling strongly of sex. Oh yeah: an eleven-inch dick hanging out of the bottom of her dress. No wonder the clerk gave me such a strange look. I undid the dress and did my best to get out of it, finally dropping it to the floor, but not before losing my balance and falling to the floor. The dress off, I picked up the controller and took a seat on the toilet, pushing the now familiar feeling dildo further into my sore ass. My huge cock started to spring to life again. "Honey? Is that you?" My wife's voice was close; the shower I had turned on had masked her approach. "Who..." My woman's voice cracked. I tried dropping it a few octaves, and it almost sounded normal. "Who else would it be, dear?" "I've got the most incredible news! I did it. I mean, we did it! The lottery! We hit for nearly twenty million! I tried getting you at the gym, but they said you weren't there. I called the realtor and confirmed a buy on that house we were looking at, and then went shopping, and I bought some things, and I hope you're not upset with me." I could hear the excitement in her voice as it all bubbled forth. Meanwhile, I was trying to get out of my predicament. I tapped the release code into the controller and waited. BEEP. Immediately, the dildo in my ass started to vibrate, and my cock began to really harden. Wrong code! I tapped it in again, taking a little more time. BEEP. The corset shrunk again while my bust expanded, and the sudden change in weight distribution made me topple over. "First, I got some new clothes, and I got this picture you just have to see...Honey, did you fall? Are you okay? Honey, do you need help?" "No!" I had a hard time keeping my voice masculine. "I'll be out in a few minutes." "Imagine it! We'll never have to work again. We can lounge about our house and do whatever we desire all day long!" My cock stood out a full eleven inches from my body, and my already sore ass was going numb from the vibrator inside. My nipples ached. "There is one thing I bought I really think you should know about." "What's that, dear?" The door kicked in, the latch splintering the wood as it swung wide. Before me stood the zebra woman, bug mask gone to reveal my wife's face beneath. In one hand, she held a 3-foot by 4-foot framed and matted picture of me as a woman, my mouth wide open and filled with cum, a huge zebra cock shooting more cum on my face and in my hair. On either side of my head, I gripped another dick, each shooting cum onto my face. "I bought new codes for your controller, wifey, when I renewed my membership. Bring that horse cock of yours out here where I can properly fuck it. We can watch some of your movies while you tell me how much you've enjoyed the past few weeks." Epilogue I lay on the silk sheets covering our master bed, staring up at my reflection in the mirror above me, my thick ten-inch long cock dribbling cum into my bellybutton. My feet are locked in spike-heeled boots which are in turn locked in the stocks which make up our bed's footboard. My hands are encased in leather mittens and locked in the stocks that are our headboard. Around my twenty-six-inch waist is a heavily boned leather corset which supports my double-D cup breasts, done in the zebra skin which denotes the clan my wife controls in the society. My bright red lips are wrapped around the rubber ball gag stuffed in my mouth. I can't remember when she last let me be just me. I can't remember what is actually me. My wife came over, dressed in a zebra-striped fur cat suit, and lifted my cock to her mouth. "I'm so glad you've accepted our new life. I missed my sorority sisters so much, and now we're all together again. I am sorry about the show; but you needed to be taught some humility. I was beginning to think you'd leave me for a life with the other girls." My shaft slid between her lips into her hot wet mouth, and she began to suck and lick. She paused and looked me in the eyes. "Do you mind if I have some of my old friends over tonight, honey? Tara says she has some new ideas she wants to try out, and you are *so* accommodating. After all, I know how you like something a little kinkier than what we normally do. Then we could go over to the Twilight Zone, and I could show off my new personal servant. No objections? I just knew you wouldn't mind." She turned on the vibrator in my ass and finished the blow job. Addendum - the following May I don't know what to think of the changes in my life. The first few months with my wife in our new life seemed to be nothing but opportunities for me, both at work (which I continued to go to) and in our marital relationship. We limit the full-blown costuming to once every two weeks, but often put each other into bondage during the week. We've both learned to explore our sexual needs more, but have agreed to keep the relationship primarily monogamous. Why? Seems the entire model/runway scene was her way of getting back at me when she thought I was having too much fun. She had wanted to hurt me, but when she realized just what effect it had on me, she apologized. She still won't tell me if it was her or not, though. As I said, our sex life couldn't be better. I've accepted my status as her personal servitor within the organization and have learned quite a bit because of it. One thing has been nagging at me, though, and that is a few fantasies I have that weren't touched upon during my training. When I think about it, I learned a lot about myself: what my limits are, what turns me on, and that pleasure in a sexual context can be enjoyable from a submissive position. What I was missing was a scene with me as the dominant. Make that scenes, with my wife as the submissive. Maybe it should be my wife who takes a course in pleasing men, with me as the instructor in each scene. I'll have to talk to Tara.

femdom, bondages, etc.

(j-last)

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12145.txt

Tom Bombadil

Angie Baby

"Angie! Angie!! Turn that music down!" yelled Dan down the hall towards his daughter's room. The volume dropped by a dozen decibels, which made conversation in the front of the house possible, but he knew the respite would only be temporary. When Angie was in one of her moods, nothing could long keep her from blasting out the music. He and Janice, his wife, exchanged pained looks, knowing each other's thoughts almost perfectly at that moment. Slowly, over the course of years, they had come to realize that their daughter was not fully sane, and there was nothing anybody could do about it. Counselors had talked and listened until they went practically nuts themselves trying to crack through her shell. Psychiatrists had hemmed and hawed and tried all their neat tricks and puzzles, and failed to penetrate her outer mask. Doctors had poked and prodded and scanned and run test after test, finally deciding that Angie was, in fact, in perfect health. Everyone agreed, though, that she was just a little strange. Everyone except Angie. She had long since given up trying to have anyone else share what she knew of reality, things she had discovered as a child, things that others knew to be impossible. So she learned to wear a girl-mask, and then a teen-mask, until the day Gary Planchett had cornered her, alone, in an empty room at school. Nobody believed her when she said he was trying to do more than just kiss her, even though she told him no. He was a model student, a member of the school council, and was a top performer in baseball and soccer. He had a girlfriend already, one of the cheerleaders, so he didn't need to force himself on her. But he had, and she had stopped him. Plastic surgery had repaired most of his face, but couldn't fix his damaged eye. Nobody believed her. Her bruises didn't matter to them. She was taken out of school. Angie had no friends there anyway, so she considered it no great hardship. By that time, she believed that she knew everything they were going to teach her. When she wrote tests, she got everything right. Always. The answers were always available to her if she didn't know them already. Nobody ever caught her cheating in a normal manner, and nobody ever believed her when she told them how she cheated, so they called her brilliant, gifted, a prodigy. They also said she was on the wrong side of a certain fine line, speaking as though she wouldn't understand the reference. That was another barrier between her and the normal world, especially between her and anyone in school who might have been brave enough to try and make friends with her. She retreated into songs, music, rock and roll, and the radio. Music had always been there for her, and she had always loved listening to the melodies and the stories. She began to live them. They became her life. Just more proof that she was crazy. Dan and Janice both heaved a sigh of relief when the music suddenly stopped. Silence filled the house, sounding very strange after three hours of songs played at a very high volume. Slowly, other noises came to be heard - the ticking of the kitchen clock, the hum of the refrigerator, the honking and roaring of distant traffic. "Mom, Dad, I'm going out for a walk!" Angie shouted, as she made her way towards the back door. Dan nodded, then watched his little girl stroll through the yard, out the gate, and down the lane. "She looks like a normal fifteen-year-old," he thought to himself as he stared out the window. "She sounds like a normal fifteen-year-old too. Why can't she be a normal fifteen-year-old?" His eyes caught sight of her again part way down the alley. At five feet five inches, she wasn't terribly tall or terribly short. At ninety-five pounds, she was probably a little thin for her height, but she was still blossoming. Her light brown hair was shiny and clean, slightly curled, and was just a little more than shoulder length. It was worn loose, as usual. Green eyes, already looking large in her small, elfin face, were made to seem absolutely huge and luminous with just a touch of makeup. Smiling was a thing she did often, usually because of something in her private little world. Her perfect white teeth, which had never needed braces, were almost all put on display by her generously wide mouth. Lightly tanned skin, a faint, natural blush, and features that were regular and even, combined to create a budding sensuality. Despite her youth and lack of full development, she was proud of her body. Breasts the size of small apples, hips starting to spread, a very narrow waist, long legs, and slender thighs and calves gave her a look of youthful innocence with that hint of wantonness so many older boys and men found attractive. She was becoming beautiful. Another pair of eyes watched her as she walked down the alley. There was no bemusement there, no love, no tenderness. Lust and desire filled them, leaving no room for anything else. Bob, their next-door neighbor's son, was staring out of an upstairs window. His thoughts were far from pure. Bob was not a nice guy. He was a senior in high school, got very good grades, was the star quarterback, and had himself a scholarship to a prestigious college. He also collected notches on his belt. Being a tall, good-looking blond hunk, well-muscled, and a suave, debonair kind of smooth talker, he had a regular string of girls that put out for him.He used them, but they weren't enough. They were too easy. He liked collecting notches. At seventeen, he was both worldly experienced and hardened. There was an extreme lack of normal morality or conscience inside his person. He'd already been into the panties of every loose girl in school. All the girls that weren't so easy, but liked to party, he'd had too. Slipping a Mickey Finn to a girl he wanted was perfectly acceptable, in his eyes. His favorite memories were of the sixteen-year-old Fawsey twins. Both were out at a senior party for the first time. Both went with dates. Both drank the special rum and cokes he made. Both were virgins when he had them. He left them lying in bed together when they started recovering. Both blamed their dates when they regained their senses. Any girl that was rumored not to scream when cornered, he'd also had. Willingness was not a prerequisite for his conquests. One girl, Stacy, had learned not to bother struggling whenever he wanted her. All she did was cry, turn around, and drop her pants and panties. Neither was age a barrier to his desires. Anything growing breasts was fair game for his lusts, young or old. One fourteen-year-old girl that he seduced, then raped, was just barely pubescent. By the time he finished playing with her mind, she believed everything was her fault and her idea. She was his willing sex toy, pretending to enjoy his vaginal, oral, and anal attentions. He grew tired of her after two months and gave her to a couple of his football buddies. His thirty-four-year-old math teacher was his oldest victim. He blackmailed her into having sex with him. He had her at least once a week for an entire school year, and he insisted that it be without any protection whatsoever. She gave birth the following August, then moved away. They never saw or spoke to each other again. Bob was definitely not a nice guy, and he was watching Angie with that same gleam he had when starting his other conquests. He had seen her naked many times, as he stood outside, in the dark, watching through her bedroom window. He believed that she wasn't concerned about being careful, since her window was ten feet above ground level, but he was resourceful. He had watched as her flat breasts swelled out to small handfuls, as her hips changed from vertical to slightly curvy, and as her bottom grew from little girl to rounded woman. His favorite times were when she played sexy or romantic songs. 'Only You' was a song that she danced slow to. 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' was one she danced to like a crazy person, her small breasts swinging all over the place. Anything by Dr. Hook had her lying on the bed, hands between her legs, bouncing up and down. Watching her jerk off, seeing her teen breasts rolling around, absorbing all the looks of passion and ecstasy that ran across her face, always had him hard as a rock and jerking himself off right then and there. He always imagined himself in the room, laying on top of her, pumping his seed into her belly, impregnating her with his child. Those were always some of the best climaxes of his life. He even used that fantasy sometimes when he was with one of his normal girls. He liked what he saw, and he had finally decided to take her. A plan had formed. The idea in his head came from overhearing Lyn, his mother, and Janice, her mother, having another of their talks about Angie. "She's definitely a bit touched. Still talks about all kinds of wild things. Things that just never happened." "One day she swore that Meatloaf came to her room and made love to her. She played 'Paradise by the Dashboard Lights' over and over and over again until Dan took the record away from her." "What else?" "How about Jerry Lee Lewis? She told us she went to the movies with him, and they kissed and petted in the dark on the balcony. She said he was circumcised." "You've got a ... very strange girl." Lyn paused for a moment before continuing. "What's her wildest one so far?" "Oh, she claimed that the school's entire soccer team abducted her from the middle of the park and took her to a secluded glade. They then stripped and danced with her for hours, all in the nude. Then they all kissed her on the lips and the nipples and the pussy, got dressed, and took her home. Only when we pressured her did she admit that it was her ghosts doing the deed, not the real team. She's going to drive me batty with her wild fantasies one day." "You poor dear. Here, let me get you some more tea." Bob had his plan. He thought there would be no danger, since nobody would believe anything she said anyway. The next Friday, Dan and Janice left town for the night. Naturally, Lyn, and therefore Bob, knew all about it. Angie, despite her strangeness, had long since proven that she could safely be left on her own. Lyn also went out for the evening, on a date with a guy she was involved with. Those dates usually lasted until the following afternoon. Bob had his opportunity, and his plan. He thought there would be no danger, since nobody would believe anything she said anyway. "Hi, Angie. How'ya doin'?" He watched her face very carefully, seeing what he took to be nervousness, awe, and a touch of fear in her eyes. "Fine," she said. "Can I come in? I forgot my keys at school and I'm waitin' for a friend to bring 'em over. He said he'd be here 'bout ten or so." Bob figured five hours alone with Angie ought to be plenty of time to do anything he wanted, regardless of how she reacted. "I guess. As long as you don't make a mess, and you take off your shoes, and you say 'please,' and you promise to do as you are told." He smiled warmly and with apparent sincerity. "I promise." Bob stood there for a few seconds, looking at her, waiting for her to finish opening the door. Finally, he grew impatient. "Well?" he said, looking at her with his eyebrows raised. "Well?" she replied, with a sour look on her face. After another short pause, he came to realize what she was waiting for. "Please, may I come in?" She smiled brightly, pulling the door wide open for him. When he walked inside, she stopped him with a hand on his chest before he could take two steps. "No, no, no, you naughty boy. What did I just tell you?" It took several more seconds for him to remember what else she had said. Only when his shoes were off did she let him proceed. "Have a seat on the couch. Would you like a drink? Koolaid? Orange juice? Ginger ale? Milk?" "You got anything a little, uh, stronger, maybe?" "Oh, you're one of *those*, are you? Someone who doesn't like the world as it is, who needs the edges removed, the barriers lowered. Here, I'll sneak some of my Dad's vodka. He'll never miss it." She got him his drink - vodka and orange - a double at least, by his estimate, and he watched her face and body as she moved around the bar. His cock got hard, imagining her without the t-shirt and jeans she was wearing. He didn't recognize the music she had playing, but then again, he didn't know or care much about music anyway. The words seemed appropriate, at least to him - "... all in all you're just another brick in the wall." Bob grinned in anticipation, crossing his legs to hide the bulge that was forming. "Aren't you gonna join me? After all, it ain't polite letting your guest drink alone." "No, I don't think so. Reality flows and changes enough for me already. I don't need depressants or stimulants to make things even weirder. You'll be drinking enough for both of us. Besides, terrible things could happen if *I* were to lose control!" She laughed, as though what she had said was uproariously funny. Angie sat on the other end of the couch, sipping from a glass of ice water, watching him. Bob was a little nonplussed by her words and actions. They weren't those of any fifteen-year-old he'd put the make on before. "I guess she is weird," he thought. "This might be too damned easy." "I heard that your folks are gone for the night. Is it for somethin' special?" "Sort of. Dad says it's for business, but I know better. They just want to get away and be *alone* together. Mom doesn't like doing *it* with me in the house. She thinks I'm spooky." He thought hard for a few seconds. "Are you spooky? You seen them doin' *it*? Or do you even know what *it* is?" With a wicked and wanton grin, she replied. "Yes, and yes, and I know all about the birds and the bees and making whoopie." Bob grinned back. "So you know all about it. You've seen and done it all. You're an experienced woman. I got just one question - how many real guys you done it with?" A wistful look chased away her grin. "I've only ever done it with the ghosts and spirits I conjure up. They aren't very satisfying, because they only ever do what I can already do myself. And I have all these dreams ..." "You ain't never done it for real then. You ever kissed a guy? You ever even had a real climax?" "Kissing. The act of pressing lips on lips. If tongues are exchanged, Frenching is the proper term. Only once, a few years ago, with a boy I didn't like, who forced me to French him. It was disgusting. I've wondered ever since what it would have been like if he had been nice." "Hmmm. Y'know, kissin' someone nice is somethin' you gotta be taught. Then you gotta practice. It's like playin' a piano. Anyone can play with one finger, but you gotta have lots of trainin' and practice to sound like Mozart." That was a line he'd used, successfully, several times before. "Taught. Practice. Piano. Mozart. I wonder if he ever tried playing with his lips. Then again, he being a he, he probably didn't have the right lips to play with!" She laughed again, almost maniacally, at her own words.The young man didn't know what to make of her conversation. "Bob," Angie said, speaking in a soft, little-girl voice, "do you know how to dance really well? Can you teach me?" Her look of innocent pleading prompted a new surge in his manhood. Events were not unfolding in any way, shape, or form like he had envisioned them. The script was being followed, rather loosely, but he felt like his and hers were written by completely different people for completely different plays, and they were only superficially appearing to mesh. His hormones and lust overrode any reservations running through his brain. "Yeah, I could, on one condition." "What? What do you need for dancing?" "I'll teach you to dance, if you'll also let me teach you to kiss. Deal?" Bob had also used 'dancing' and 'the deal' as a seduction ploy a few times. The reality of pressing body to body, with hands free to roam at will, had turned on many of his dates beyond the point of no return. He thought it a fortunate coincidence that she wanted to learn how. "Kiss. You want to dance and ... kiss. Okay. Deal, for now. Wait here. I'll go find the right mood." Ten minutes later, Bob was getting quite antsy and worried. That's when the classic voice of Tom Jones started up. As Angie walked into the living room some few minutes later, he stood to greet the new her, lust and amazement fighting for dominance on his face. Gone were the jeans and white socks. Gone was the t-shirt. Gone was the bra she'd been wearing. A black velvet minidress hung from spaghetti straps crossing her flawless white shoulders. The upper half concealed enough of her breasts to keep her legal, at least in most states. Her chest was revealed right down to the bottom of her breastbone, and the sides of her dress swept down the outside of her body, beginning their rearward journey only when they reached the bottom of her ribs, ending just above the beginning of her bottom, revealing the dimples in the small of her back. The hem sat several inches above mid-thigh. She twirled to show herself off. His eyes kept travelling of their own accord, as they lacked any guidance from his higher brain functions for a moment or two. Black patent heels, sheer charcoal gray nylons, a silver necklace, silver quarter-moon earrings, and one wrist full of bangles completed her apparel. Her hair, which had been down, was done up in a complex braid of some kind, leaving several wisps of light brown hanging in a frame around her face, a face which he couldn't quit staring at. She was beautiful - young, innocent, and vulnerable, like one of those waifs seen in the fashion magazines. Green eyes, large and luminescent, blinked a few times as she watched his reaction. Bob began drooling, in two places, as he envisioned his cock being sucked on by those pale, innocent, lips. His imagination supplied him with several different expressions for her, from wanton lust to outright fear and revulsion. In all cases though, he was buried to the hilt in her throat. He had to shake his head to clear it of the images and toss back the rest of his drink before he could say hello again.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11084.txt

Dark One

Hired Help

"So, Miss Brooks, why are you applying for this job?" Jennifer looked down at her hands when she replied. "Mr. Hane, I think that I would be very good at this job." He stared at her, and Jennifer met his gaze for a moment before looking away again. "Did you understand all of the requirements that I have for this position?" Jennifer fidgeted with the sleeve on her blouse. "I think so. You are looking for a maid to work in your household. To cook and clean and that sort of thing." There was a short silence. "Is that it?" Jennifer swallowed hard. "W... what do you mean?" Mr. Hane sighed. "If you had not figured that out from my letter, I think that we should end this interview now." "No! Please!" Jennifer said, raising her voice for the first time. "I really need this job! It's the only one with a decent enough salary..." "So it's just the money you want." Jennifer's chin quivered as she spoke. "What else do you want from me?" she said, looking him in the eye. "Does it have something to do with that little notecard you put in the envelope?" She saw him nod slightly. "I really haven't been out on my own very long. If you could just explain it to me, maybe I could understand it." Mr. Hane sat in thought. He slid his chair back away from the desk and stood up. "You've put me into an uncomfortable situation," he said. "Please, Richard," she said, using his first name, "give me a chance." Richard Hane looked her over closely. She was a young woman, probably no more than twenty-one years of age. She had medium-length curly brown hair that framed a soft, round face. Two green eyes looked out from it, meeting his eyes briefly before darting away. She wore a pretty pink stitched white blouse with a light brown skirt. Her matching shoes had inch-long square heels, and her feet were twitching, nervously. "If you are indeed serious about this..." "I am!" she said. "I should tell you that there is a reason for the high salary that I am offering. I am looking for something more than just a housekeeper. I am looking for someone to do more... personal services." "What?" Jennifer said, confused. "What kind of personal services?" After a few seconds, another thought crossed her mind. "I'm not a hooker!" she said. "I never accused you of that," he said, as he walked over to her. "If I allowed you to take the job, when could you start?" "Right away!" she said. A slight smile came across his face. "What if I said that I would like you to start immediately. Right now." She looked up at him. "But my things are still at my apartment..." Richard did not say anything. "I... guess that I don't really have much there, come to think about it. Except my clothes..." "That will be taken care of." Richard gestured for her to get up. "I have a contract ready for you to sign." "A contract?" she said, as she stood up. A smile was forming on her face. "You're going to give me the job?" "If you want it, after I explain a few things." He went over to his desk and took out several papers from a drawer. "You can read the contract first, of course, before signing anything." Jennifer started to read, then shook her head. "This is gibberish. It looks like a lawyer wrote it. Can you just explain it to me?" "Certainly. Pages one and two describe the length and terms of service, and the compensation. In essence, the length of time is one year. The payment is $150,000, payable in full at the end of the time. During this time, all of your expenses will be covered and room and board will be provided. Should you choose to break the contract, the payment will be greatly diminished, only $2000 per month worked. However, should I dismiss you early, without you breaking any of the conditions of the contract, you are entitled $12,500 per month worked. Oh, this position is considered to be a salaried position." "One hundred fifty..." she said in a low voice. "Pages three and four describe the duties that are to be expected of you. Failure to perform these duties is grounds for your dismissal, with the lower compensation being given to you." "What are the duties?" Jennifer asked. "They include all of the typical duties of a housekeeper. Cooking, cleaning, making the beds, and the like. You will be considered to be on duty 24 hours a day, seven days a week, though of course you will be given time to yourself. Additionally, there is a dress code associated with this position, and the uniforms will be provided." "Dress code? That doesn't sound like a big deal. Where do I sign?" "Right here," he said, handing her a pen. She signed the four sheets of paper without reading any more of it. "I will make copies of this for both of us," he said, as he put the papers back into his desk. "Let me show you to your room." There was a stairway up to the second floor, but Richard led her to a doorway that was on the first floor. As she followed him, she had a chance to examine his walking profile. He seemed to be in good physical shape, and she decided that he had a very cute butt. "This will be your room," he said. "Your first assignment is inside. You will find a tape measure and a sheet of paper. Please measure yourself as indicated on the sheet, so that we can have your uniforms made up. After that, you can have the rest of the day off to yourself. Just report back here first thing tomorrow morning. Oh," he said, opening up another drawer of his desk. "Here is a five hundred dollar advance on your salary." Jennifer took the offered money, with a bit of disbelief in her eyes. "Really?" she said. "Really," he replied. "Just be back here at nine o'clock in the morning." Jennifer looked at the outfit on the bed in disbelief. "This is a dress code?" she said aloud. Richard had left her alone in her bedroom to prepare for the day. Jennifer picked up the first item and examined it. It was a pair of black patent shoes with a black stiletto heel that were easily five inches long. The other one was still on the bed. There were two straps on it, one an ankle strap and the other was a mid strap. Both had small buckles on them. A pair of fishnet pantyhose was also there.She walked around the bed and picked up the last item. It was a one-piece French maid uniform. It was made of a shiny black vinyl material and still had a strong plastic smell. The sleeves were long, and the skirt had a very full crinoline sewn right into it. Jennifer thought about walking out right then and confronting Mr. Hane. But then she remembered the five hundred dollars that she had just spent the night before. "Oh, god, what if I had to give it back?" she whispered aloud. She did some mental math and mumbled as she did it. "If I leave, I get $2000 a month. That's about $500 a week. So I just have to do this for a week, and then I can get out of here." With a sigh, she took her clothes off. First, the fishnet stockings. The feeling was a bit odd as she slipped them on. She couldn't remember ever having worn fishnets before. Next, she unzipped the vinyl maid's outfit and put it on. It fit rather tightly around the waist. She had some trouble zipping it up. Last, she sat down as she put on the shoes and buckled the straps. As she stood up, she had to grab ahold of the bedpost to balance herself. "God, how am I going to walk in these things?" As she walked over to the door, she saw herself in the full-length mirror that was attached to the back of the door. The dress was form-fitting around the waist, and the skirt was extremely full. But it barely came down low enough to hide her privates. In front, it was cut so low that it barely covered her nipples. "If I bend over, everyone's going to see me!" she said. She saw her own ankles wobble as she tried to balance in the heels. Slowly, she opened the door and stepped outside of her room. She heard the sound of a voice from the kitchen, so she slowly walked towards it, making sure to stay near a wall. Richard was there, talking on the phone. When he saw Jennifer enter, he ended his conversation and hung up. "That will do," he said, walking over to her. Jennifer's face was flushed with embarrassment as she stood there. "What should I do?" she said to fill the silence. She was almost expecting him to fondle her or say something lewd. "I'm in the mood for a late breakfast," he said. "Ham and cheese omelet with just a few onions. You should find everything in the refrigerator, and the cookware is in the cabinets below the microwave." She was surprised by this. But then again, she didn't know what to expect. "Mr. Hane?" she asked as she slowly walked toward the refrigerator. "Why do you have a dress code... like this?" He smiled a bit at this and looked at the ceiling as he thought of a reply. "Well, I'm a rich man. I know what I like to see. And, to be quite honest, I like the way that you look when wearing that." She opened up the refrigerator and started to hunt for ingredients. There was the butter, the eggs, the cheese... "Am I going to have to dress up like this every day?" she asked. "No, definitely not," he said, and she let out a sigh of relief. "This is just what we could get on short notice. More will be arriving." More? she thought. More what? Her mind took a different turn as she remembered him calling himself a 'rich man'. "Are you married?" she asked as she closed the refrigerator door. "Actually, no," he said. "I haven't met the right person yet." She slowly walked back into her room and closed the door behind her. "My feet are killing me," she said. She tried to kick them off, but was reminded of the fact that there were straps keeping them in place. Jennifer sat down on the bed and unbuckled her shoes. She sighed in relief as she threw the shoes across the room. Her hands massaged her feet and ankles for several minutes. She took some time to survey the room. She had not paid much attention to her room before, as she had had other things on her mind. There was a stereo system, a television, a huge dresser, and the king-sized bed that she was now sitting on. As she fumbled with the zipper at the back of her outfit, she noticed that there was a door ajar that led to a private bathroom. She slid her hot, sweaty body out of the vinyl maid's outfit and took off the fishnets. "A bath!" she said, and raced in the nude to the bathroom. All of the fixings for a long bath were there, which included a huge whirlpool bathtub. After filling the tub, she slid in and let the swirling hot water take the tension out of her body. She thought back to her day. Richard was with her most of the day, showing her the house as he had her do chores. It was just cleaning, dusting, cooking, and the like. Every time that she bent over, she could feel his eyes on her buttocks. But he never said anything about it, and he never touched her once. She had to conclude that Richard was an attractive man. He was a touch over six feet tall, with dark brown eyes and a full set of hair. From what she could gather of his phone conversations, she concluded that he was some kind of investor, making his money by moving stocks and bonds around. As she relaxed, she thought about her own situation. She was in the house of a rich, perverted voyeur, walking around in an embarrassing outfit for his eyes only. Rich, single, perverted voyeur, she reminded herself. He should be able to afford more servants, she thought, but she had not seen anyone else in the huge house. There must be at least thirty rooms, she thought. Then there was the money. She had been out on her own for almost six months, but had lost her job a couple of months ago. With unpaid bills everywhere, she was about to lose her apartment. Then, the only place she could have gone is back to her mother's house. No! I'm not going back to live with that witch! she said. She realized that she wouldn't have to move back if she stayed here. This was a live-in position, and she had used the advance to pay some of her back rent. The woman at the desk had given her another month to come up with the rest. Wouldn't it be nice to move everything in here? a part of her thought. I wouldn't have to pay any rent, there would a big check at the end, and I would work for cute boss! Then she looked out into the bedroom and saw the shoes on the floor and the black vinyl maid's outfit on the bed. "Let's make a decision after a week," she said out loud. When she got out of the bathtub, she could not find her street clothes anywhere. Out of habit, she put away the maid's outfit and shoes in the huge but empty walk-in closet before going to bed. She awoke to the sound of a knock at the door. "Who is it?" she said loudly. "It's nine thirty," came Richard's voice from the other side of the door. "You should have been out here a half of an hour ago." Hurriedly, she left the bed and went to the door. Then she realized that she was completely naked. With a moment of hesitation, she turned and went to the closet. "I'll be out in a minute!" The fishnets, black vinyl maid's outfit, and five-inch spiked shoes were on in a couple of minutes. When she emerged from the room, still wobbly on her heels, she saw Richard waiting for her just outside her doorway. "Late the second day on the job," he said. "We'll have to do something about that." I can't lose this job yet! she thought to herself. Is he going to fire me? Richard shook his head and said nothing more of it. "Move along and get breakfast started," he said. "I'll be there soon." She saw Richard pick up a large cardboard box and walk into her room. She was about to ask him about it, then thought better of it and headed for the kitchen, still unsure in the high stiletto heels. As she cooked, she thought that she heard the sound of power tools. She had finished breakfast for two and was still waiting for him. She was hungry, so she sat down and started to nibble on her toast. Richard walked in and stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. "I see that you're sitting down on the job," he said. Jennifer quickly jumped to her feet, and had to grab the table for support. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." "That can be remedied," he said. She looked at him, but he offered no explanation. He sat down next to her and started to eat. "If there were guests, you would be expected to serve us and then eat privately later. But as there are no guests, we can be informal here." Somewhat calmed, she sat back down. Breakfast went quickly as both of them wolfed down their food. "As you might have guessed yesterday, your uniform is incomplete -- something of a stopgap. I apologize for this. Your first complete uniform is now here. If we could go to your room?" "I guess so," she said, with less than full enthusiasm. If this was a stopgap, what is the real thing going to be like? As she walked beside him, she suddenly lost her balance on her heels. Almost instantly, Richard grabbed ahold of her by the arm and waist and steadied her. "Are you all right?" he said, releasing her. "I'm fine," she replied. Between the slip and his touch, there was a wash of energy going through her. She wasn't sure what to make of it. "Out of curiosity," she asked as they entered her room, "where are the clothes that I wore here?" "In storage," he replied. "I don't think that you'll be needing them anytime soon." She saw that there had been changes to the room. There was a similar yet subtly different outfit laid out for her on the bed. And on one of the walls to the room, there was now a solid block of metal attached to it. From it emerged a long metal chain with a keyring attached to the end of it. There were a dozen or so keys on the keyring. "I will leave you alone to dress after I have explained it," he said. "The stockings are essentially the same.The shoes, however, are slightly different," he said as he picked up one of the two shoes. It was also a black patent leather shoe with, if anything, a higher heel than the ones that she was wearing. There were two straps, one of which ended with a D-ring, but no buckles. "If you would sit down?" She sat down and allowed him to take off her shoes. She noticed that on the bed there were several small padlocks, as well as a black satin object with lacing that took her a moment to recognize. A corset? Jennifer flushed suddenly as she realized that Richard had a clear view of her crotch. He did not comment and put one of the shoes on her. "These straps work like so," he said, demonstrating them. He wrapped them around her ankles, then around the middle of the foot. He joined the two straps right in front of the heel underneath the shoe. "And this ring goes through this slot," he said. "But won't they just slip off?" she asked. Richard reached up and took one of the small padlocks. He put it through the ring and snapped it closed. "It won't come off until it's unlocked," he said. "Why?" she asked. Richard took the other shoe and put it on her foot. "Because I like my hired help to be in uniform, at all times while on duty," he said. "And in the contract, it states that you are to be in uniform at all times that you are outside of your quarters here." She wanted to voice an objection, but couldn't seem to get it out. As he locked the second one on her foot, she asked, "Where is the key?" "Right over there," he said, pointing to the keyring on the chain. "When you are through with your duties, you can take them off at your leisure." "I see," was all that she could say. He picked up the corset and another maid's outfit. This one was also constructed of shiny black PVC with long sleeves and a very full red crinoline was sewn into it. But the outfit continued all the way up to the neck. The zipper was in the back, like the one she wore now, with a large loop pull on the zipper. At the top of the outfit, in back, there was a metal ring sewn into the fabric next to the zipper. "You should put on the corset first," he said, "and snug it up. Then, when you put on the maid's outfit, use one of the padlocks to connect the zipper to the metal ring." So I can't unzip it, she finished mentally. "Is the key also there?" she said, pointing to the keyring. He nodded. "I'll leave you now to change," he said, and left her there. She stood up and was even more wobbly than before. "These are even *higher*," she said aloud. She had never worn a corset before. This one had front busks and back lacing. It had built-in support for the lower half of each breast and extended down well past her bellybutton. With some struggling, she managed to get the front busks closed. She remembered that the back laces were for tightening it. She hoped that she didn't have to use that. Jennifer unzipped the maid's outfit, stepped into it, and tried to zip it up. The zipper barely moved. Jennifer saw that the only way she could get the shiny black maid's outfit on was to lose at least three inches of waistline. Jennifer struggled with the pullers on the corset for a good ten minutes. She pulled herself to what she thought was very tight, only to have the zipper on the maid's outfit jam. Frustrated, she tried it again. This happened six times, and she nearly came to the point of tears. There was a knock on the door. "How are you doing?" came Richard's voice. "I can't get this thing on!" she said. "Would you like some help?" he said. "Yes!" she said, before thinking about it. As Richard opened the door, it was too late for her to change her mind. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked. "I can't get this tight enough," she said as she waved the corset string in front of her. "Let's see what we can do about that," he said. "Turn around and grab ahold of one of the bedposts, please? And keep ahold of the strings, if you would." She complied, and felt him tightening the strings all along the top and the bottom of the corset. Then, with a strong pull, she felt her waist constricting. Jennifer struggled to breathe against the corset, but it was only with difficulty that she could seem to get enough air. "Let's try it now," he said. He pulled the black maid's outfit up on her and she put her arms into it. It was a tight fit, but he managed to get the zipper all the way up. "And the lock," he said, taking a padlock and locking the zipper in place. Jennifer looked at herself in the mirror. She saw a woman with flushed red cheeks, but what caught her eye was the figure. Her breasts were much more prominent than they ever had been before, which was accentuated by the narrow waist that she now had. Wow, do I look sexy! she thought with surprise. It was lunchtime, and the two of them sat down to eat. Jennifer had prepared potato salad and sandwiches. Jennifer found herself being full in spite of the lack of breakfast. It must be the corset, she thought to herself. "Mister Hane," she said. "You can call me Richard," he said with a smile. "Richard," she said back, also smiling. "I was wondering when I would be able to get all of my stuff out of my apartment?" she asked. "Tonight, if you would like," Richard said. "You should be able to after supper tonight." Jennifer finished up the last of the dishes. "I'd like to go get my things," she said, as she headed towards her room. "Where are you going?" he asked. "I was going to change..." she said, her voice trailing off. She stopped and looked back. "Could I have my clothes back?" Richard slowly shook his head. "It clearly states in the contract that you are to be in uniform at all times except when you are in your room here," he said. "I'm afraid that I cannot make an exception." "I'm supposed to go out like this?!" she exclaimed. "You don't have to go out at all," he said. "That's your choice. But the rules are the rules." "Let me see that contract!" she exclaimed. "Certainly," he replied. The two of them walked to his study, and Richard took the contract papers out of his desk. "Right here," he said. With horror, she saw that he was right. Additionally, she saw in the paragraph above that the definition of uniform was essentially whatever kinky outfit that he chose to provide to her on a given day. What have I got myself into? Jennifer wondered. Jennifer did not quit. Instead, she waited until nearly midnight before leaving for her apartment. When she had asked for her keys, Richard has calmly complied. Trying to walk on the sidewalk at night in nearly six-inch heels was not easy. And when she got to her car, the rigid corset prevented her from bending her waist, and she nearly banged her head on the doorway of the car trying to get in. With the heels, she had trouble using the pedals of her stick shift car as she pulled out of Mr. Hane's driveway. Once she was on her way, it became easier. She saw a parked police vehicle on the side of the road and quickly looked at her speedometer. "Six over," she said. "Aaah! And I don't have a license on me!" She clutched the wheel in terror and brought her car back to the speed limit. In her rear-view mirror, she saw the police car pull out and start to follow her. "Please don't pull me over," she whispered. She could just imagine what the story in the paper the next day would be like if she was brought in looking like this. It was twenty minutes of terror as she made her way to her apartment. The police car followed her all the way to the parking lot of her apartment, but did not turn on his lights. Jennifer parked her car and waited. The police car did a circle around the parking lot, but then exited and drove off. Whew! There was no one else around, so she left the car with her keys in her hand and headed for her apartment. She was on the second floor, and she found out that climbing stairs in the shoes was not easy. She fumbled nervously with the keys as she tried to open her door while also keeping a lookout for any late-night travelers. She entered and closed the door behind her. A flip of the light switch revealed a rather bare one-bedroom apartment. For living room furniture, a single ratty recliner faced a small beat-up television. There was a smell from the kitchen that she knew was from dirty dishes left unwashed. She headed to her bedroom and went to the closet. "What to bring, what to bring..." She saw that there were very few clean clothes in the closet. Most of them were dirty and in the hamper or on the floor. She took one of the few clean blouses, a skirt, and a pair of pants. Then she walked over to her dresser and selected some underwear and a nightgown. Her feet were really starting to kill her. She sat down on her unmade bed and tried to massage her feet. But with the corset on, she couldn't quite reach her feet. With a sigh, she laid down on the bed and rested for a minute. It felt so good to lay down and get the weight off her feet... Jennifer woke up to the warm feeling of sunlight on her face. It took her a moment to understand the significance of it. "Oh, god! What time is it?" Her bedroom clock showed that it was five minutes to ten. She couldn't go outside like this in daylight! Jennifer rolled over and picked up the phone. It was very awkward to do that in the corset. She needed to call Richard Hane and tell him that she couldn't come in today. The silence of a dead phone greeted her ear. She realized that she had not sent any money to the phone company in several months.There was no way she could call Richard and explain what had happened. Panic and indecision gripped her. If she headed back now, she would be late. He might fire her, and then she would be up a creek without a paddle. But if she stayed here, with no explanation, she would be fired for sure. She'd be left with no income source and a pathetic little apartment. With unwilling resolve, she got out of bed and took a few seconds to readjust to walking in the locked-on stiletto heels. She dumped out a clothes basket full of dirty clothes and put last night's selections and her keys into the basket. Jennifer went over to her door and cracked it open, looking and listening for anyone in the hallway. No one was around. With difficulty, she opened the door and walked outside. She had to take the stairs down very slowly. With each tentative step, she grew more and more worried that someone might see her. Finally, the first floor. Now, if there was no one in the parking lot... The sound of a door opening up behind her sent her heart pounding. Her breath quickened and her chest fought against the confines of the corset. Making a quick decision, she walked forward and tried to ignore it. She could not see where she was walking, and she felt one of her shoes land on something slippery. With limbs flailing and clothes scattering, she fell forward. She landed with her rear in the air, exposing all to whomever was behind her. She struggled to right herself. "Let me help you up!" came the voice of a familiar male voice. God no! Don't let him see me like this! She turned and looked up into the familiar face of Eric Kaller. He was only a couple of years older than she was, and lived on the first floor. They had gone out on a few dates, and she kind of liked him. There was a look of shocked recognition on his face. "Jennifer?" he said. "What the... why...?" She could feel a hot flush on her face. "Help me up, please?" she asked. He took her hands and helped her to her feet. She was surprised to find out that she was actually taller than him in these shoes. "What are you doing dressed up like that?!" he asked, loudly. "It's May. A little early for Halloween, isn't it?" "It's a long story," she said, lamely. She tried to bend over to pick up one of her nightgowns, but couldn't manage it in the corset and heels. She nearly fell over again in the process. "Let me help," Eric said eagerly. He bent over and quickly threw her things into the clothes basket. She noticed that he had missed her keys. "Could you hand me my keys?" she asked. Eric fetched her keys with alacrity. She heard the sound of another door opening up. "What's all the commotion out here?" came a female voice. Jennifer turned her head, and saw yet another familiar face. "My god!" said the older woman. Jennifer lost her composure and panicked. As Eric was picking up her clothes basket, she ran for the door. Incredibly, she did not fall while doing this. She pushed the door open and headed for her car as quickly as her spiked heel shoes would allow. There must have been a dozen people in the parking lot that witnessed her. As she ran, the skirt of her shiny maid's outfit bounced up and down, revealing her crotch and buttocks to all that cared to see. She nearly fell over trying to stop. Her keys were still in her hands, and she managed to shove one of them into the lock and open up the door. She banged her head getting into the car, but shook it off in a moment. She saw Eric running towards her, with her basket. "Your stuff!" he said. But she didn't wait for him. Jennifer jammed the key into the ignition and almost ran him over on her way out of the parking lot. She was panting furiously as she drove out of the parking lot. The combination of strenuous activity with the corset was almost too much for her. For a long moment, her head started to swim, and a part of her wondered if she was going to pass out and get into an accident. Fortunately, she did not. She calmed down, and in less than a half of an hour, she was back at the Hane household. I've never been so embarrassed in my life! she thought to herself. I can't go back there!

MF bd ds M-dom span anal enem toys

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Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11975.txt

Sven the Elder

Revelations

"Sven dear," Pam called out, "you haven't forgotten that you're going over to see Francis later on?" "No. What was it you said she wanted?" I responded. "I'm not sure. She did say to wear some old clothes and take your tools with you. It's probably that job you said you would look at in the kitchen," Pam replied. I grumbled inwardly, although I liked being in Fran's company. Who wouldn't? She had been widowed nearly thirteen years before and had never remarried. Her children were grown up and, though they still lived at home, both led their own lives. Her daughter, Anita, taller than her mother, was stunning and had a brilliant brain. She was finishing a University course in Astrophysics or something. Frank, her son, was not so academically gifted, but was making his way as a golf professional, a good one as well. Fran was a bubbly natural blonde, with a sound head on her shoulders. When Tim, her late husband, had contracted cancer, she had been a pillar of strength. I had never seen her resolve waver, even though Pam had once told me that she had had her black moments. Pam and Francis had met through our children; hers were the same age as our own two boys. The friendship had lasted ever since. Even now, nearing fifty, Fran was a very attractive woman. She had taken care of herself, never letting her standards slip. She was always very friendly to me. Hugs and kisses were the order of the day. Like Pam, she was a tactile person; she would put her hand on your arm when she talked to you, or brush your face gently if she kissed you. Lovely, natural, with a body to die for. For a long time after Tim's death they had lived a few doors up the road, but eventually Francis decided that she needed to move, to get away from Tim's shadow. Her brother was a financier and he had made sure that the payments following Tim's death had been wisely invested. Francis did not need to work, but she did. She was an office manager at a large local Law Practice. Having started there as a receptionist, it was a measure of her own capabilities that she had been promoted and now had a staff of seven working for her. She had moved into a new house about twelve miles away, and as I neared the house I reflected that I no longer had an excuse to drop by as before. I wondered why she had asked me to come by now. Frank normally looked after things round the house; perhaps he was away. I backed the car into the drive and got out. As I turned, Fran was already coming out to greet me. "Hi, Sven. Nice to see you. Good of you to come on your day off. I don't know if Pam told you, but this is one thing that Frank could not manage." Fran bubbled as usual as she busied round me. Then as we got into the sanctuary of the hallway and shut the front door, she put her arms round me and gave me a great kiss as a welcome. None of the halfhearted 'air kisses' that seem to have become so popular; this was a full-blooded smacker, mouth to mouth, and, to my surprise, just the merest hint of tongue. Jeez, she had never done that before! In addition, following the pressure of the hug, I was almost certain that she wasn't wearing a bra. Inwardly I shook my head and told myself not to be so silly. I followed her into the kitchen, trying to ignore the wonderful bottom in front of me. If she had the usual effect on me, I would be half hard for the next hour or so. It could become quite uncomfortable. Once I had even had to use her bathroom and take care of myself. The only reason that I had never tried to hit on her in the past was that, well, it would have seemed almost like incest. Damn! Fran was like a sister almost. Fran turned and said, "Go and sit down in the living room. I'll just pour the coffee and be in in a second." I welcomed the respite to my senses and went in to the empty room. Fran called from the kitchen, "Make yourself at home, 'Nita's gone to a special weekend school, and Frank's at a competition down in the West country. That's why I asked Pam to lend you to me." "Ok," I said, as she came in with the tray. "What was it you wanted me to do?" She bent forward and put the tray on the table, and my libido moved up a notch to the next state of readiness. Fran was definitely not wearing a bra. As I took in the view of her cleavage through her blouse, her dark nipples were aroused and plainly evident. I started trying to think of something, anything, to take my mind away from a rapidly burgeoning and uncomfortable erection that was getting beyond control. Fran, appearing not to notice, was chattering about Anita's latest boyfriend. I crossed my legs and tried to calm myself as I lifted my coffee and took a sip. This situation was getting beyond my grasp very rapidly. Fran seemed not at all concerned as she sat down opposite me. Looking straight at me, she leaned forward to get her coffee from the table. As she did so she parted her knees and I was treated to the view, the very plain view, of blonde and pink pussy. I choked on the sip of coffee I had just taken. As I spluttered and tried to remain calm Fran came across laughing, using the serviette to mop me down. "Oh, yes!" she said, "What have we here?" I almost came in my pants as she squeezed my penis through my jeans. "Christ, Fran, what are you doing?" I said. "I'm trying to be a gentleman, and you're making it very hard." As soon as I had realised what I had said I could feel myself blushing deep scarlet. I knew the situation had got out of control, totally. Fran giggled, squeezed me again, and said, "Right, first time. Did Pam not tell you what I wanted to borrow?" "No," I said, trying desperately to ignore the hand still stroking me. "Pam, Pam..." I gave up. "I know," said Fran. "Pam always told you not to hit on me. Pam wouldn't let you. Pam is not this way inclined. Pam is very staid... "Sven, Pam is none of these things. Last time we went out and had a meal together, we decided that we needed to get out of a rut, both of us. This is part of it. Last time Pam was over here she had a full-body massage. I lent her my masseur and went out for the afternoon. Did she tell you that?" "Nn-no!" I managed to stutter. "OK - she'll tell you about that later. That is also part of it." As Fran had been talking, she had taken my coffee mug from me, put it on the table, pushed me gently back in the settee, and undone my belt and jeans. I felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an approaching car, or under the gaze of a ferret. I felt powerless to stop what was happening. Fran eased my penis out of shorts and into her mouth. She pulled back the foreskin gently then licked and kissed the head. My groan of pleasure seemed to bring her back to earth. "Come on," she said, gently pulling on me; then, as I stood up, she led me upstairs, still holding my penis. I followed, trying to recover some, any, vestiges of dignity while still clutching at my jeans and trying to follow her. She pulled me into her boudoir and, letting go of my aching erection, she kissed me full on the mouth, burying her tongue in me as deeply as she could. We came up for air and she looked straight into my eyes and said, "I have wanted to take you to bed for a long time now. Now I've sorted Pam out, it's cleared the way." "Sorted Pam ou--?" I started to say, but she hushed me by kissing me again and starting to undo my shirt. As we broke for breath again, Fran said, "Yeah, Pam knows what we're doing; she'll tell you the other half of this tale later. Now are you going to join in, or am I going to have to do this all on my own?" As she was now peeling my shirt off, I thought 'Oh, to hell with it' and stopped trying to pretend I wasn't enjoying myself. Fran ran her fingernails across my nipples and was almost purring at me now. I undid her blouse and slid it off her shoulders. She shrugged it off, and, catching it, put it on her dressing table stool. I closed in behind her and, putting my arms around her, cupped her breasts gently, rubbing her erect nipples.She covered my hands and pulled them tighter to her, pushing back against me. I took a step back to steady myself and, getting my feet tangled in my trousers, overbalanced backwards onto her bed. As I fell, I held her to me. She twisted and kissed me again as I undid her skirt snap and slid it down over that wonderful ass. She wriggled out of it, then stood up to put that down neatly as well. "These are in the way," Fran said and, grabbing my shoes, took them off and followed them with my jeans and shorts. As I sprung free, she gave a little sigh of pleasure and once again held me, this time in both hands. Her hands, cool against my heat, felt exquisite. I felt my erection tighten and get even bigger as she gently licked the dew drop from the end. Fran may have been widowed for well over a decade, but she had forgotten nothing in how to arouse a man. She kissed her way down to my left knee and then back up the inside of my thigh to my balls. She slipped her mouth round my whole sac and gently sucked me in. I felt as if I had died and gone to heaven. Then she licked her way down my thigh to the other knee. Breaking off what she was doing, she kissed the base of the underside of my penis, then gently licked all the way to the tip, somehow sliding my foreskin up and down as she did so. The intensity of feeling almost hurt as she slipped her mouth over and sucked my glans like a lollipop. I heard a moan as she slurped gently and, realizing it was me, I put my hands gently on her head and eased her away. "Now," I said, "I want to be inside you now." She slurped me one last time and left her saliva on me to be able to ease onto me. Straddling me and holding my arms down with both hands, she looked down and entrapped me with her lower lips; then, with her eyes closed in the ecstasy of the moment, she slid slowly down and onto me. "Oh, God, I'm coming already!" she said, starting to twitch violently in orgasm. I bucked my hips once, twice, and the dam broke as I arched my back, forcing myself up into her in a long spasm of pleasure. I held her to me, pulling hard on that beautiful ass as I poured a torrent of semen deep inside her. We fell back onto the bed, her bed, and she clung to me as we came down from somewhere high beyond the blue moon that must surely be in the sky. We lay together, breathing like marathon runners at the end of the race, and slowly came back to earth. I slipped out of her as I shrank back to a more normal size, and she whimpered gently in loss as I did so. She slipped free of my arms and went down and, taking me in her lips, cleaned our juices off. I turned sideways and pulled her blonde mons towards me and returned the favor. Sweet and sour, our combined taste was an aphrodisiac to us both. The whimper turned into moans of pleasure as I licked. I half-opened my eyes and realized that there was a naked pair of legs standing at the bed edge. I jumped in shock at Pam's voice saying, "Hello, am I forgiven yet?" Fran hardly moved from finishing licking me clean, but I could tell she was laughing. Finally, she gave up and laughed out loud. "No, dear Pam, I haven't told him yet, I thought it would be more fun if I could watch his face when you told him." "Excuse me," I said, "Tell me what? In fact, what the hell's going on here? I feel ganged up on." Fran laughed again. "Well, to a degree, that's true, and I have to admit it's my fault. You see..." Pam stopped Fran from speaking by putting her hand on her arm. Before she could speak, I said, "How long have you been here?" "Oh, dear Sven, long enough to see that beautiful climax you both just had; long enough before that to quietly get undressed and then watch, waiting for a point where I could join in." "Pam," I said, "What happened to the repressed desires? What happened to Pam-the-prude-of-this-parish?" I was still trying to come to terms with the changes that appeared to have occurred overnight, changes that I had tried to bring about over twenty-five years of married life, changes that apparently had eluded me until about three minutes ago. I was shaken rigid. "Wait," said Fran, "I've got some wine downstairs. Wait for me Pam, I'll get it and be right back." I held my hands out and Pam came toward me, very naked and rather self-consciously, and sat on the edge of the bed. I pulled a pillow up and leaned back against the headboard. At least Fran kept the heating at a decent level. A moment later Fran appeared with a bottle of wine and some glasses and poured us one each. "Now," she said, "Fire away Pam." Without looking at me, Pam took a sip from her wine, and then, with a little shake of her head that I knew so well, looked at me and started. "Well, love, you know a couple of months ago I was very tense and had a stiff neck and shoulders?" I nodded; it had seemed to go away quite quickly of its own accord. "Fran suggested that I book an appointment with her visiting masseur. She told me he was very good and would sort me out in no time. In fact, she went a step further than that. The next thing I knew, she had booked him here - she told me it would be easier - and had given me a short course with him as a birthday treat." Fran looked up and said, "Well, I didn't know what to get you Pam, so I thought it would be a change." "Oh, it was that!" said Pam, "You didn't tell me it was a full-body massage. Huh!" She laughed, "I should have guessed, I suppose. Anyway, I got here, and Fran told me that she had to go out for a couple of hours, and that nobody was due in and that we wouldn't be disturbed. Just after she had gone, a car pulled up and a nice-looking man in his early thirties got out. I opened the door for him and he asked if I was 'Pam.' I told him yes, and he said, 'Ah, good; I'm Ben. If it's all right with you I prefer to use first names; I find it easier.' I nodded to him and he said he would just bring in some things from the car. "When he came back, he had a low folding table with him and some kneeling pads. He explained that he preferred to work at a lower level rather than on a high table; there was less movement in the table, which meant that his clients were less anxious. As he set himself up, he gave me a toweling bathrobe and asked me to get changed. He also asked if I had any objection to being totally naked. I suppose that's when I sort of crossed my Rubicon, because I took a deep breath and before I could answer he said 'It's rather easier to maintain the flow of the massage, and I see the house is nice and warm. Overall it enables me to do a better job.' So I said Ok. "As he set things up in the spare room, I used Fran's room, as she had told me to, and got undressed. It felt odd, I have to say. I put the toweling gown on, thinking to myself that, outside of the medical profession, no-one but you, Sven, has ever seen me totally naked." As Fran and I listened, Pam went on, "I tried not to shake as I went back in and watched him finish getting ready. He had a special sort of small bath with hot water, and he was using it to heat the oils he was going to use. Ben smiled at me as I came back in and said, 'I'll be ready in a moment, don't worry.' Then he added, 'The house is a little warm, and as I do this I get quite hot, so if you have no objection I'll just wear shorts as I work.' What could I say? I agreed that it would not be a problem. "Ben then said, 'Ok, I would like you to lay on your front, and I'll start there. Francis has booked a full-body massage for you, so it will be quite comprehensive; I'll be taking about an hour. I have some gentle music I shall put on in the background. Is there anything you're not comfortable with, anything you would rather than I didn't do?' Well, love, I didn't know what he was going to do anyway, so I just said 'No.'" Pam took a sip of her wine and then continued as Fran and I listened, enthralled. "He asked me take off the dressing gown and lie down, but he turned away so as not to embarrass me. Then, when I was lying down, he carefully covered my butt with a nice fluffy bath towel. He poured a little oil into his hands and started in at my shoulder blades, working slowly down my back. Then without letting go of me he moved around so that he could work on my legs. It was great; he found knots and lumps of muscle in my calves that I didn't know I had. Then he moved up around me to my knees and onto my thighs. His fingers were wonderfully strong and soft, all at the same time. As he moved up, I eased my legs open so he could work higher on the inside. I thought 'Oh, he's getting an eyeful!' but then thought as well that he must have seen it all before. In any case, it was too late now." Fran laughed and said, "You know, Pam, I thought much the same my first time as well." Pam gave me a shy sideways glance and said, "I hope you're not upset, dear?" I nodded and said, "No, why should I be?" Pam glanced again and said, "I haven't finished yet. He worked his hands up either side of my thigh, right to the top, right up to my pussy lips. In fact, he brushed them with the back of his fingers. It was like an electric shock. The trouble was that I was getting aroused, and it was lovely; it was just an extension of what he was doing. I think I may have moaned a little; I certainly gave him more room. At that point, Ben asked if I was Ok and still comfortable. I must admit, I said yes. I wanted him to continue. However, he moved back to my feet and started on the other leg. "This time, as he got to the top, he made no pretense; my pussy was included in the massage. I was dripping wet, and his fingers caressed me inside and out. I had guessed by this time what a full-body massage was probably going to include, and it was great.""I wanted it to happen. Does that shock you, my love?" I smiled and leaned across to kiss her gently. "Pam, after what Fran and I were doing when you walked in, I can't say very much, can I? In any case, he's voting for the case." They both laughed as I nodded towards my penis, now very hard again and passing his vote by pointing somewhere in the direction of the ceiling. Fran laughed that rich deep laugh again and said, "All part of the plan, I'm afraid, Sven. By the way, Pam, I haven't given him back to you yet; I might still have a use or two, if you have no objection." My wife nodded and then carried on. "I was at the boiling point now, pushing back against his fingers. My God, but did he know how to wind me up! Finally, release came. It was so intense I think I actually blacked out for a moment. I came round to find that Ben had lifted my hips and put a cushion underneath my tummy and was licking and eating me, drinking my juices. All thoughts of massage or of decency gone now, I rolled over to give him better access and realized he had stripped his shorts off. His cock was hard and ready, and I wanted it as deep in me as he could get it." At this point, I was almost dribbling with desire, sitting naked as I was with two attractive nude women with me. Almost absentmindedly, Pam had slipped a finger inside herself and was gently keeping up a rhythm with it. Fran was massaging a nipple with one hand and her clit with the other. The smell of sex and the air of sexual tension was more than I had ever been aware of. Fran groaned and leaned forward to start sucking the end of my penis again and then moved up. Straddling me, she lowered herself gently onto me, coming to rest with me deep inside. Pam leaned forward and kissed me gently and then continued. "Ben stopped and looked at me, and I said 'Yes', to that unspoken question. He eased himself forward and then slipped in and all the way home in one relentless movement. He started fucking me gently, and I started to come almost right away. It was frightening in its intensity, and I could hear myself begging him to 'fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.' It was a chant in time to his movement. Then he leaned forward and bit the end of my nipple gently. I just exploded totally at the same time that I felt him arch his back and stretch deep inside me." As Pam spoke, Fran had been contracting her muscles on me, and then, in time with Pam's retelling of the events, she moved up and down on me, and we both exploded in our own, incredible, breathtaking orgasm of fire and ice. As we collapsed in a heap, both of us reached out and pulled Pam into and alongside us, as we literally throbbed in the tension of the moment. Slowly, we returned from that incredible high, and both Fran and I kissed Pam's tears of passion, fear, and joy away. Passion in watching Fran and I; fear, now gone past, of what I might think; and joy for the pleasure of the moment. Fran went on kissing Pam's breasts and caressing her gently, and I kissed my way to her beautiful nether lips. I could feel Pam shudder as I fastened my mouth over her opening and then ran my tongue round before sucking gently on her 'little man.' It quivered against me as she came again, sudden and hard in intensity. Rather later, we washed and tidied ourselves up, bade farewell to a still grinning Fran, and drove home in our respective cars. When we got home, I kissed Pam and, in response to her anxious question, reassured her that all was well and no harm was done. What we had spoken about and agreed in the past, about the possible broadening of our relationship, had now moved to the next phase. Pam smiled at me and giggled a little. "I'm glad you approve," she said. "While you were putting the cars away, Fran phoned to say that she's booked a massage for you with Ben tomorrow evening. We're going to remain discreetly out of sight and watch the action." For once, I was speechless, totally gobsmacked. When we've recovered a bit more, the rest of tonight promises to be interesting; but tomorrow... The End

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9488.txt

PleaseCain

The Gentlemen's Society

"What's the long face, Hampton-Davies? Were the links untoward?" Hampton-Davies exhaled in disgust and pulled his hair back. He sat abruptly down in a lounger in the circle with the others. "Aye! Cruel fortune!" He leaned to the table, and a long arm plucked a cigar from the cup. "What is one to do?" the young man exclaimed in barely suppressed frustration. He snipped the cigar tip decisively. "Here, here, chum," consoled the older Spillsworth. He shook an open tin before the youth; its contents rattled within. "Go on, lad, have you some vagina." The sullen Hampton-Davies looked at his mentor a moment, then finally reached in and dropped a couple of pieces into his mouth. The corner of his mouth turned up as he crunched at the bits. Spillsworth heartily slapped the younger's knee. "That's the stuff!" he bellowed triumphantly, and leaned back into his chair with satisfaction. A chorus of "Well dones!" and "Good shows!" traveled around the circle of seated gents, as did the tin of vagina. The men giggled in escalating giddiness and gusto, as the pieces crackled in their mouths and their eyes swept over each other in good-natured camaraderie. The ruckus was such that they did not see the Texan until he was upon them. Over his shoulder kicked a young woman in a short yellow dress. He slapped his big hand across her bottom. She shrieked laughter. "Hey y'all!" he piped over the din, "anybody want some pussy?" The girl beat her fists playfully on his broad back. "It's Bunny," she squealed, "Not Pussy, you big galoot!" The congregation of men fell silent. Silent. Her laughter withered into nothing. "Whuh?" the Texan shrugged. They could only stare at the spectacle. Roguesford shook, beet-red. A vein grew from his temple, and he shook his fist from his perch. "You... will... take... that, that, behavior... far away from HERE!" The men chimed in: "Here, here!" "By the gods!" "Really!" "Gees." The hoss was crestfallen. He dropped the girl to her feet, and they walked away forlorn. "Good show," congratulated Leicester-Shanks, holding forth the tin. Roguesford snapped up a piece, well-pleased, grinding it with vigor. Spillsworth noted to Hampton-Davies, "I shall propose a sanction barring such indecency at the next meeting. We shall draft said proposal tomorrow, you and I." "Aye!" approved the others, crunching industriously.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17705.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 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. Malinov <http://www.gslink.com/~dcain/xanadu/erotica/> Power belongs to those who dare. . . Sapere Aude

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/18197.txt

Parker

Stacy's Senior Year

"We're going to play a game," Gary said, his voice light and mocking. He had shoved his hands into his pockets and was staring off into space. "You can win it; it will have rules and an object. If you do win, we will give you all copies of the video tape and pictures. If you lose..." Stacy sat in stunned silence. The whole world - her world - had changed dramatically in the last half hour. Nothing was the same. That morning, she had woken up an intelligent, free young woman. No clouds on the horizon; nothing to foreshadow the impending danger. It had been almost a week since she had been forced to have sex with Neil, and she was finally beginning to feel clean again. She had passed all of the recent tests at school and was still a part of the most influential, exclusive group of students at Greenwood. Moreover, Neil seemed to have kept his mouth shut, both about her cheating on the English test and the disgusting exercise she had been forced into at his apartment, and he was now safely relegated back to the periphery of her privileged existence. Stacy had even shelved her plans for getting him thrashed by one of her friends on the football team. The whole incident was receding into the past, and she was unaffected. Still one of the best and the brightest; one of the winners. Then came the note in her locker. This note was handwritten, not in block letters like the previous one, as if the need for disguise no longer existed. It simply ordered her to show up at Neil's apartment at 1:00 PM the next day: Saturday, exactly a week after her last visit. Her stomach had gone cold and her hand trembled as she read the note. Was he going for a repeat performance? If he was, that little bastard... Just then, Ashley and some friends happened by her locker, and she quickly stuffed the note into her jacket pocket. It was not the sort of thing she wanted her friends to know about; particularly Ashley... She greeted them with a smile. "The game will last for the rest of the school year," Gary continued speaking. "If you win before the last day of classes, July 2, we will return all of the material to you, and never bother you again." Stacy heard Gary's voice speaking the words, but it was as if he was speaking at her from a long distance away. She understood him, but didn't feel any connection with what he was saying. Was he even speaking to her? She knew that what he was saying was important, but she was unable to focus on his voice. Her mind continued to drift... She had arrived that Saturday afternoon prepared for the worst, but what had happened turned out to be much more terrible than what she had expected; than she could have expected. Neil wasn't alone when she had arrived. Gary, his creepy friend, was there with him, as was Sharon, Gary's cow of a girlfriend. Gary had just looked at her as she entered Neil's bedroom, his eyes huge and expressionless through the thick, magnifying lens of his glasses. He was sitting on the couch beside Sharon, who had giggled obnoxiously when Stacy had entered the room, and flicked ashes from her cigarette onto the floor. The ashes sunk into the thick shag carpet and were lost from sight. The room seemed a lot darker than Stacy remembered it. "What's going on? Why are they here?" Stacy turned as if to leave, but Neil, behind her, had already closed the door. "What are you doing?" Stacy was beginning to panic. Neil didn't answer; he just smirked at her as he stood in front of the door. "We have something to show you," came a voice from behind her. It was Gary. "I think you'll find it interesting." He stood up and pointed to the space on the couch beside his chubby girlfriend. "Have a seat," he invited. "I don't think so," Stacy answered angrily, pulling herself together a bit. She didn't have to take this. "I'll stand, if you don't mind." Sarcasm. Gary just smiled at her and repeated his gesture. "I think it would be better if you sat for this," he told her, his voice mild. "Besides, the couch has the best view of the TV." Stacy noticed for the first time a TV and video machine set up opposite the couch; they hadn't been there last week. "We wouldn't want you to miss anything," Gary continued. Stacy giggled again. Overcome by a vague feeling of dread, Stacy was forced to fight down an impulse to flee; not that it would have done any good with Neil standing in front of the door. Sharon sat up and crushed out her half finished cigarette in the ashtray. "C'mon, babe," she called, patting the seat beside her. "I don't bite." Stacy had looked around at the three of them - Neil smirking by the door, Sharon leaning back on the couch with her arms stretched out, and Gary looking at her with his queer, empty eyes - and then began walking slowly towards the couch. She realized that she had no choice in the matter, and there was no use in protesting further. A small part of her mind began to understand what might be on the tape, and started wailing uselessly inside her head, but she was able to repress this as she sat back on the couch. 'Don't panic' she told herself. Sharon immediately slipped her pudgy arm around Stacy's shoulder and squeezed. "That's more like it," she laughed. "Just relax and enjoy the show. You're among friends." Neil chuckled as he moved away from the door. Stacy tensed - she hated this bitch - but did not pull away. Neil flipped off the lights as Gary moved forward to turn on the TV and start the video. "If you lose," Gary continued, "well... I can't really say; we haven't thought that far ahead. I must say, though, I really don't expect you to lose; I have every confidence that you will meet the conditions for winning." Somehow, the small part of Stacy's mind which was still listening to his voice was not much comforted by this expression of confidence. Her mind continued to drift... The tape! That awful tape... They had made her watch the entire thing through from beginning to end, even though she had tried to jump up out of the couch before the first thirty seconds were up. Sharon had kept her seated, her arm surprisingly strong. Stacy had even tried to keep her eyes shut, but was unable to tear her gaze away from the scene which played itself out obscenely on the TV screen in front of her. The sound started first, while the screen remained blank. "Please," came the voice over the TV speaker - HER VOICE! "Please let me fuck you. I want to fuck you." The picture faded up, with her - Stacy - clearly visible in the centre of the room, looking over at some unidentifiable person on the bed. "Please," she repeated. "Please let me fuck you. I want to... I really do. I'm sorry I was mean to you before. Please let me fuck you?" It was at this point that Stacy tried to jump up off the couch, but Sharon had been expecting it, and her encircling arm held the panicking girl down. Gary moved over as if to help his girlfriend, but stopped as he saw that no help was needed: Stacy went limp and relaxed back into the couch, her eyes wide as she stared at the TV screen. She was watching herself slowly strip off her own clothes. First the tee-shirt... then the bra (Stacy began to cry on the couch as her TV image fondled and rubbed its breasts; her hand fluttered up to her face, as if to shield her eyes, but it dropped back down to her lap when Gary frowned at her)... then the pants. Finally, she was naked on the screen. "Please." The girl on the screen (Stacy could no longer believe it was herself saying and doing those things; she started thinking of her image on the screen as someone else) seemed to be almost panting in lust. "Please fuck me. In need it so bad. Please fuck me." The naked girl ran her hands over her erect nipples. "Please... I want it now..." "Come here, bitch!"The figure on the bed, only visible in the corner of the picture, spoke (Stacy knew it was Neil, but her mind refused to put a name to him - surely what was happening on the screen had nothing to do with her). The naked girl responded quickly; breasts bobbing, she ran over and kneeled at the side of the bed. After remaining in this position for a few moments, the girl reached for the man's crotch and fumbled with the zipper. "Oh yes," she breathed. "Please let me have your cock." The viewpoint shifted suddenly, to a shot taken above and behind the man lying on the bed. (A second camera, Stacy realized; there had been two cameras.) From the new point of view, the girl's actions between the man's legs could be seen clearly. First, she handled the cock with her fingers; then she kissed it, long slow kisses with lots of tongue; finally she enveloped it completely within her mouth. The girl's head bobbed up and down and she made loud slobbering sounds as she worked on the cock, sucking and licking. The man reached down in front of her and began to play with her nipples, which were plainly very hard. Finally, he leaned back and pushed her away. She quickly pulled his jeans off and, after he lay back on the bed, climbed on top of him, straddling his naked thighs. The camera switched back to original point of view, as the girl began to play with herself while kneeling on the bed. It zoomed in and panned slowly down her body, from her slack, lust-glazed face, down across her panting chest and, finally, down to her pussy, where her fingers worked frantically. She was visibly wet. Then it slowly pulled back, revealing her entire body, just as she leaned forward and impaled herself on the man's stiff cock. Slowly, she moved her hips down until the cock was stuffed fully into her pussy. Then, moaning slightly, she began to grind her hips up and down, fucking herself silly as the man played with her bobbing breasts. Once more, the camera zoomed in, and played down her sweaty body, perfectly capturing each detail on video-tape. The girl's excitement began to increase as her moans became cries and then threatened to become screams. The camera pulled back just as she hit the crest of her orgasm, and held the shot as the man pulled the girl down to his chest and climaxed himself. The picture slowly faded on this shot, with the girl collapsed sweatily on top of the man, panting and gasping for breath. "Anyhow," Gary was still speaking, "we won't worry about that for now. The important thing is to set out the rules of our little game and get started. The details can be worked out later." Stacy just stared across the room at the now-dark screen, in a daze. Gary, who had begun pacing the room during his little speech, came to a halt beside the TV. He looked down at her. "In order to win the game," he said mildly, "you are going to have to fuck fifty different guys at school before the end of the school year. That's all." Finally, his words began to register on the stunned teenager. Had he said "fifty guys"? Fuck fifty guys? "Nooo," Stacy cried, leaping suddenly off the couch. It was too much! Sharon grabbed after her, but the pudgy girl was too slow. In a split second, Stacy was on Gary, swinging wildly with both hands while swearing and cursing at him. One of her swings caught him across the face, sending his glasses sailing across the room. Before Stacy could feel any satisfaction, however, she was grabbed from behind and pulled away. Neil had run up and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides. "You bastard! You fucker! You asshole!" Stacy spat and cried, struggling frantically as Neil dragged her back, but it was no use. She was thrown back onto the couch, and Sharon once again held her down. This time, Neil also stood beside the couch, ready for any further trouble. Stacy brought her hands up to her face and began to cry. Gary walked over and picked up his glasses. After examining them to make certain they were not damaged, he slipped them back on his face and looked across at Stacy. "That's fifty-five, now," he said mildly. Stacy just stared at him with tear-filled eyes. "You're crazy," she sobbed. "I won't do anything like that. I can't... you can't make me." "Let me tell you the alternatives," Gary answered, resuming his earlier pacing. "If you refuse, we will send copies of that tape to every guy at school. We will post the still pictures - you haven't seen them yet, but I can tell you that they are every bit as revealing as the video - at suitable places around the school and the town. We will even try to sell them to some magazines, if we can." Stacy sobbed on the couch as he continued his litany of threats. "Then, we will release the cassette tapes of you buying the stolen test papers from Neil. In particular, we will see that Dr. Grossman will get a copy. I'm sure he will know what to do with it." Stacy knew too: expulsion if she was lucky; criminal prosecution if she was not. "On the other hand," Gary continued inexorably, "if you play our game, no one will have to know about these tapes and pictures. There are thirty-two weeks left in school; fifty fucks... fifty-five, rather, is barely more than three guys every two weeks. Easy. And no one would have to know; you could do it as discreetly as you liked." Stacy began to control her sobbing, and started listening seriously to what Gary was saying. "What's more, you don't even actually have to fuck every time. As long as they ejaculate somewhere in your body, we don't care where it is: cunt, ass, mouth... whatever." Stacy sniffled loudly. How could he talk so calmly about such a terrible... "Besides," he continued, "there are other rules. Other rules which should make it a little easier for you to reach fifty- five." "O-other rules?" Stacy couldn't believe that she was beginning to consider playing along. Sharon squeezed her shoulder, as if in some bizarre form of encouragement. "Teachers are worth ten," came the answer. "There must be at least one teacher. Female students are worth three each, and there must be at least one female student. As well, there must be at least one student fucked in each grade." Greenwood was a full high school, and thus held grades eight to twelve. The grade eights were only thirteen or fourteen years old. "The grade eight, nine and tens are worth two each." Gary finished speaking and looked directly at Stacy, who had begun to cry again. "Do you understand?" he concluded with a question. Stacy nodded through her tears, unable to speak. "What will you do then? Play along, or do we release the tapes and pictures?" The room fell silent, the question hanging in the air. Stacy was momentarily unable to form an answer. On the one hand, she would have to do all those awful things, but the alternative... the alternative was too terrible to contemplate. She would be ruined in Bakersville, both as a person and as a student. The only way out was to play along with their little game, and hope to pull it off without anyone finding out about it. 'Oh god,' she thought, her heart sinking. 'Fifty-five guys.' Mutely, she looked up at Gary and nodded her assent; she would do it. Gary felt a wave of relief flood over him as she nodded her agreement, but only permitted a small smile to show on his face. Neil, on the other hand, laughed out loud, as did Sharon as their tension dissipated. There had always been the chance, however unlikely, that Stacy would refuse and then go to the police. Now, however, they had her; she would do as they ordered. This was going to be an interesting year. Gary looked down on her as she sat forlorn on the couch, staring at the floor. She looked so upset and vulnerable sitting there. To Gary, she looked far more appealing in tears than she did when she was in her usual arrogant position at school. All those bitches needed to be taken down a peg or... That gave Gary had an idea. It was time to test their control over her. As well, there was the small matter of her slapping his glasses across the room. "Before we accept your agreement," he told her, "you should be punished for attacking me. We will not permit that from you." Stacy looked up at him, drawn out of her private misery. "W-what do you mean?" "I think you need a spanking," Gary told her. "Teach you a lesson." Stacy stared in disbelief. "You must be joking." Even after everything she had just heard, she couldn't believe what he was saying. Gary shook his head. "You say you're going to play along with our game, but a couple of minutes ago, you attacked me. How do we know you won't do it again? Why should we believe you? Your choices are simple: obey us, and take your punishment, or leave now and let us get on with the business of sending out the tapes. It'll probably take most of the weekend to make enough copies." Stacy started crying again - was there no end to her tears? - but inevitably nodded in submission. "Good," Gary told her. "Stand up and pull down your pants." Trembling, Stacy obeyed, exposing her sleek, muscular legs and plain white panties. "Now go lie over Sharon's knees. She will administer the spanking." Stacy flushed red at this order, while Sharon laughed in delight. For a moment, it looked as if Stacy would refuse, but eventually she began to move around so she could lie across Sharon's legs as the younger girl sat on the couch. She moved slowly, taking small, awkward steps because of the pants which were bunched around her ankles, but eventually, she fell to her knees and stretched herself across Sharon's pudgy legs. Her ass was completely exposed. Sharon needed no instructions. She put her left arm across the small of Stacy's back, and began vigorously spanking the exposed bottom.Before long, the air was filled with the sound of Stacy's cries and sobs, punctuated by the regular, merciless slapping sound of Sharon's hand being brought down hard on the now red flesh of Stacy's ass. Gary tore his eyes away from the scene and looked at Neil, who was watching the action with his mouth wide open. There was a conspicuous bulge in his jeans. Well, Gary thought, why not? He instructed his friend to pull down his pants and take a seat beside Sharon on the couch. Neil did so, and was quickly in place. Stacy's face was now on his lap as she lay parallel to the couch across Sharon's legs. The crying teenager turned her head and squirmed to avoid Neil's engorged cock as it stood upright from his lap. Sharon had momentarily stopped spanking and was looking over with interest. Gary reached down, and yanked Stacy's blonde hair, pulling her tear-stained face upward. "I think you know what you're going to do, here. We'll be generous and call this number one. Do you understand?" Stacy squirmed on Sharon's lap, but nodded. "Good girl. Sharon will keep spanking until Neil comes. When he does come, you take every drop." He released Stacy's hair, and her face fell back down onto Neil's lap. Gary gestured towards Sharon, and she began spanking again. Stacy pulled her arms forward, and propped herself up slightly. She took Neil's cock in her mouth and began to suck and lick it. It was difficult not to jerk around with the spanking, but Stacy had a pretty good idea of what would happen to her if she were to touch Neil's cock with her teeth. Frantically, she sucked, moaning and gasping as her head slid up and down on Neil's penis, and Sharon laid into her ass. The pain from the spanking was getting more intense, but she was quieter now, as Neil's cock served as an efficient gag. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Neil jerked his hips upward and came, spurting wave after wave of hot, salty sperm into her mouth. She struggled to swallow it as ordered, her throat working frantically, but some of it leaked into her windpipe, causing her to cough. A wad of sperm was sent up into her nasal passages, and dribbled out of her nose. When she finally pulled her sweaty face up off of Neil's now flaccid cock, there was sperm trailing out of her mouth and nose, leaving a long strand connected to Neil's penis. Her ass was bright red and shiny where Sharon had been spanking. "Smile," Gary called over. Dazed, Stacy moved her head to the right - pulling the strand of sperm along with her - just as Gary snapped a picture commemorating the event. That was NUMBER ONE.

blackmail, humiliation, D&S, non-consensual sex

Part Three

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9263.txt

Lord Malinov

Lament of a Failing Zero

"The best revenge is writing well." - Faust Erotically writing a tale to share, Amusing, arousing, with genitals bare. Teasing fast flashes of creamy white thighs, Civil men growling as they feel their cocks rise. I typed verbiage with flourish, one-handed albeit. Six hours I labored to see the thing writ. I came seven times as I narrated the facts, Roundaboutly converging to a sloppy climax. I dashed my fresh prose off toward erotic venues To feed my friends fodder for their night-alone blues. Jots of lettered excitements became my well-earned prizes: "I'm still wetly throbbing having read those sweet lies." But as I reveled in my tale's untarnished glory, While the effusive few offered thanks for my story, Writing's treacherous adepts of the critical art Sharpened fierce talons to claw out my heart. For the sake of the readers, we submit to this trial, Bear nitpicking outbursts of sedation and bile. Feel the harsh sting of a rogue's knavish wit, Endure coarse banalities typed by some ruffian's mitt. The Reviews deemed celestial took the first shot, Degrading my prose as a mountain of rot. Deriding some old text to prove she knows more About juvenile tastes than the expositive core. The voice of the Annex fell low as she leveled her bead, Called my imagery flat, cast of words we can't read. "Much too long where the orgy should clearly be brief," Another ship rent asunder on the shoals of her reef. The polyandrous one joined the fray with light fire, Condemned arcane words to a grand funeral pyre. Damned grammar quite dead with fragments misspelled, Derision ironic crushing wordplay un-yelled. Now Rosemary jumped at the chance to insist No credit be granted for the chances I'd missed To beguile mystery, feed her bloody good fun. "Stand yourself ready!" while she aims her keen gun. Though deflated by critics, I sit back again To spend my frustrations with my virtual pen. I'll revenge my harsh critics, let them slowly burn On the spit of their too-brutal tongues; Then they'll learn, Gnashing their fangs, of the morsel I'm crafting - A bawdy old lovely with foreplay and afting. A tale, quite scrumptious, glowing bright on my screen, A piece d'resistance carved in each sordid scene. ~A smiling blonde motions me, quick, get inside ~Between the full racks of petite clothes I glide. ~In a bare dressing room, check the mirror to reflect ~While her unzipped skirt slips down-thigh direct. ~White pantyhose shroud her best shadowy sights ~As her sapphire sweater lifts to expose rich delights. ~Succulent breasts, lush ripe melons, thick dark nipples ~Barely encased in a black satin bra, divulging in ripples. ~She sits while she looks in the mirror, her eyes gleam. ~Thumbs in her waist, she pulls the nylon downstream. ~Beneath the gold bush spreads soft lips of wet pink. ~I lick my lips hungered, while she teases her mink. ~"Is this too short?" asks some girl's voice from above. ~"I love to go shopping," my friend purrs, "and I love ~The way you've been watching me, out there and in here. ~Now I want you inside me; my mouth, cunt and rear." And though my critics search to black-hearted content, Write demanding that these folios be forthwith sent, I'll steadfastly deny scoundrels all the joys of this draft, Leave the masochists to spread wide for the critical shaft. Rest assured that my ditty, quite enduring in paces, Will soon become famous in all the right places. And in the dying last echoes of this praise unrestrained, We'll hear wails in the desert, critics unentertained. Lament of a Failing Zero by Lord Malinov <malinov@mindless.com>

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/15014.txt

Andrew Roller

FUCK DECENCY 397 Passions Playpen NND g2

"Hey, yowch!" David said. He had not noticed what Sherry was up to. Sherry ignored him and softly rubbed his penis with the steaming hot towel. David jerked for a moment but then settled down as the towel's moisture compensated for its heat. "There, you're nice and clean, sir," Sherry said seductively to David. "No, you may NOT put your penis in her mouth, David," Marie scolded. Sherry, quite innocently, or so she hoped it appeared, had widened her mouth and let her tongue protrude as she finished her sentence. She let her face remain tantalizingly close to David's newly polished equipment. David, sticking himself up more, arching his hips at Sherry, aimed to fill her wide-open, offered mouth with his manhood. Marie's words stilled him. For a moment Sherry remained wide-mouthed, gazing at him, while David's penis stuck lance-like at her face. Sherry put both her hands softly upon David's cock. She seemed to hold him back from her, like a frightened child. But then, still showing him the inside of her mouth, still gape-faced, she began to stroke him in hopes of making him spurt. "Sherry, you are NOT to make David shoot in your mouth," Marie scolded. "Fie, I have the wrong person over my knee!" she swore, throwing up Nancy, who gratefully reclaimed possession of her own bottom by clapping her hands to it. Standing once more, Nancy did a little jig as she attempted to assuage the sting of her spanking. Her bare feet leapt in little hops on the floor. She was a female leprechaun, dancing amidst clover. But a tossing up of her head showed that her fanny, at least, had not been lucky this day. She rubbed it quite earnestly. "Sherry!" Marie called. Striding to the girl, she bent and yanked her up by her hair. Sherry did not let go of David's cock, and he yelped as he was drawn penis first up by her clutching hands. In a moment, both she and he were standing. Still, she rubbed him, and she tried to kneel in front of him so that she could keep her mouth where the action was.Kate crossed the room and stood hopefully with her yogurt cup, waiting to make use of David's penis as a spoon. She batted at Sherry's fingers and tried to pry them loose from David's cock. Marie, meanwhile, gave Sherry's soft warm bottom a slap. The girl, surprised, lost her hold on David. "Yum, time to eat!" Kate said. Quickly, she knelt before David's hard-on. She took hold of it in her small hand and plunged its length into her yogurt cup. Drawing him up from the cool moist interior, she presented his manhood to her waiting lips. It was coated with vanilla yogurt. David, not caring now at the loss of Sherry, strove to control himself as Kate licked him clean and then stuck him back into the cloying yogurt. For a moment, Kate thought he might shoot his jism into her cup. He seemed excited at seeing himself used this way, put into a creamy substance and used to stir it and spoon it. Sherry, meanwhile, broke into tears over the loss of her toy. She'd liked having a man in her hands. Now, with Marie angry at her, she was dumped unceremoniously over the woman's knees. Marie began spanking her. Sherry was still close enough to childhood to feel humiliated at such treatment. She blushed and kicked her feet, and Rod had to hop down and hold her, lest she spring up and run away. Nancy, meanwhile, who'd been relatively compliant in her punishment, never actually preventing it, stood watching with her hands on her bottom. Kate licked and sucked David. She used his big sausage to clean out the inside of her cup when she'd eaten all the vanilla and all the drippy blueberries at the bottom. Mike was put to a similar use. Lynette made him serve a cupful of cherry yogurt to her, with his penis. Cindy, still lying on the table, was offered a cup of banana yogurt. Jim helped her eat it, standing before her table refuge, offering his penis as a spoon. She ate her yogurt greedily, exclaiming how hungry her pregnancy made her. When she had emptied her cup, she said she was still hungry. Jim, not waiting for orders or permission from Marie, offered her sexy little mouth the contents of his testicles. She accepted. She sucked him like a straw until he shot himself into her hungry tummy. Amidst this carnival of carnality, there was a knock at the door. It had a distinct pattern to it; three knocks, slow and regular, followed by two more in quick succession. Beth went to the door and opened it. Out of the side of her eyes, Kate noticed a man enter. He was tall, dressed in a tailored suit that looked both fashionable and quite expensive. Beside him entered a woman in a long dress. It held itself against her figure as if it had been glued on. The fibers were handwoven, Kate guessed, for they had a natural quality to them. The woman had an imposing manner and kept her hair up in a bun. Her face was like ice; white but expertly carved. Kate laughed as she felt David's hot penis thrusting into her mouth. Would the woman's face melt if she had such a fine young man between her teeth? Eagerly, almost to show off, Kate yanked on David's cock and urged him to the floor. She had no idea who these newcomers were, but she felt seized with a desire to impress them, particularly the man. To show him what a REAL woman like herself could do, instead of the ice-statue he was currently with. David plopped onto his behind and watched with hungry eyes as Kate knelt over him. Wantonly, opening herself to admit him, using her two hands as pliers to open her sex up with, Kate got herself up on David's hard-on. Fitting his head into her labia, she waggled her bottom at the man in the tailored suit who stood behind her. David thrust up. Kate screamed happily as his powerful tool split her tummy like a drill shaft. "This one seems particularly lively," Kate heard the woman comment. She felt the sharp toe of the woman's booted foot jab her hiney. It was not polite. It found her anus on the first kick, and Kate howled at the contact. "She has the perfect bottom for it," the man said casually. Kate felt she were livestock and he was the meat inspector. He tapped her right bottom cheek with a walking stick that he carried.

Chapter Six

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14949.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 took 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."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. Any comments, especially from any Lady Catherines out there, is wanted and appreciated. Please send comments to FESSELN1.aol.com. Other parts to this story will be added as time permits.

Chapter III - "Of Hot And Forcing Violation"

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16896.txt

Andrew Roller

Summer of Sin

"Well, you have been opened fore and aft, and fed upon by some of the glitterati of Paris," Rebecca laughed to me the next morning. "What shall we do for an encore?" I hugged my pillow. I lay in my bed, defensively. We were home again. Rebecca was up early, decked out in her broad-brimmed hat and a bikini. She was lithe, graceful. She tossed back her brown hair in a carefree way. She gazed down at me. She put her hands on her hips. She was intent on catching the morning rays of the sun out by her pool. "I don't want to have an encore," I said testily. I knew she wished for me to join her. But I was still sore from the night before. I put my thumb in my mouth. I sucked upon it and closed my eyes. "Very well," Rebecca said. I heard her heels click upon the floor. She turned and left. I drifted gratefully back into sleep. That afternoon we went shopping downtown. A collection had been made at the party the night before, in appreciation of our boldness. I enjoyed spending the money. "Does this make us--" I asked Rebecca, pausing over the word in French, not sure how to pronounce it. "No, darling," Rebecca assured me. "We are adventurous, but we are not that," she said. "I hoped we were not," I said, gulping. We were in a hattery. I put a broad-brimmed straw hat upon my head. It was similar to the one Rebecca owned. She adjusted it for me. She tied the ribboned chin strap under my chin. "You look adorable," Rebecca said. A young man put some boxes down in a corner of the store, near to where we were standing. We both turned and looked at him. He looked at us. I judged him to be about 19. He smiled. I found his figure extraordinary and couldn't help but smile back. He had broad shoulders, long legs. His hips were trim. There was a bulge in the front of his tight jeans. He wore a plaid shirt, but it was undone down the front, displaying a muscled chest and a flat belly. He had hair growing up his belly and over his chest. "Oh, sorry," the man said. He put his fingers to his shirt and began buttoning it. "It's hot out today," he said. The proprietress of the store circled back between the hats to where we were standing. I blushed, seeing her, for I knew my eyes betrayed an admiration for her stockboy. She glanced at me, my hat, which was still her hat, for I had not bought it yet. She looked at her boy. She was Rebecca's age. I guessed the young man meant more to her than just someone who labored over her boxes. "I hope he is not bothering you?" the woman asked. "Oh, no," Rebecca replied. I remained silent. I lowered my face, letting the hat's brim cover my eyes. From under it I peered at the boy's crotch, surreptitiously. How could he be so big there? Was it just the tightness of the pants? Or had he become excited, seeing me in this hat? I felt guilty looking at his thing but I couldn't help myself. "We shall take the hat," Rebecca said. "Yes, of course," the proprietress answered. "She looks darling in it." "Thank you," I whispered from under my hat, still keeping my eyes lowered, looking at the man's crotch. "Anything else?" the proprietress asked. "No. The hat will be fine," Rebecca said. "It is how much?" She began to open her purse. "You needn't open that," the proprietress said. Her hand darted out and caught at the top of Rebecca's handbag. Gently she closed it. Her hand remained atop it, lingering, an unspoken question in the air. "Oh, but I must pay you," Rebecca said, and tried to open her purse again. The proprietress' fingers kept it shut. "There are any number of ways to pay for the necessities of life," the proprietress said. "And money is, I think, the most boring of all." "Oh!" Rebecca said, gasping a little. The proprietress forced her purse closed. She did not try to open it again. "I live on Bourbon Street," the proprietress said. "Number 25. I should be honored if she would wear the hat to tea. Three o'clock, perhaps? Tomorrow?" She glanced at the boy. "Johnnie, do you have classes tomorrow?" "Only in the morning," Johnnie said. "Good," the proprietress said. "You will report to my home after your classes. Call Maria and have her tend the store." "What do you think?" Rebecca asked. She turned to me. I lifted my eyes. I wondered if I was still blushing. My eyes met the young man's and I smiled. "I want to see all the different things in Paris," I said coyly. My eyes dropped to the man's crotch and then lifted quickly, guiltily, and looked into the face of the proprietress. She smiled. "I shall expect you both at three then," the proprietress said. "My name is Helene. And yours?" she asked, turning her face to Rebecca. "Rebecca," my aunt replied. "And this is Chloe." "Ah, a lovely name," Helene said. "Johnnie, do not put the boxes there. Put them up front, by the register," Helene said, turning to the stockboy. He nodded. He bent over and I watched his buttocks tense in his jeans. He had a broad back and it spread over the boxes. His muscled arms scooped them up. He turned, grinned at myself and Rebecca, and then sauntered through the racks of hats up to the front of the store. "Is he your boyfriend?" Rebecca asked Helene. "He is quite gorgeous." Helene nodded. "Yes, I just met him," she said. "He is from the Czech Republic. I invited him to claim my address as his own so he could attend the University. At domestic rates," she said. "Oh," Rebecca said. "That was kind of you." "Yes," Helene said. "Your friend. She is an American?" "Yes," Rebecca said. "She is staying with me just for the summer." "She looks lovely in her new hat," Helene said. "Thank you again for letting us have it," Rebecca said. "She was made for it," Helene said. "Tomorrow, then?" she asked, for the store's bell rang at the front door, announcing the entry of a customer. "Yes, of course," Rebecca said. We continued our shopping. I enjoyed my hat. It kept the sun off my face. I bought a ring with a diamond at another store. We ate a late lunch and then went home. That night we went dancing. We did not stay out late. When we came home we both went gratefully to bed. I was glad to be sleeping by myself. Yet as I drifted off I wondered about tomorrow's tea. I felt a strange excitement. I guessed I might fall asleep tomorrow evening somewhere else, perhaps at 25 Bourbon Street. He met us at the door. Rebecca and I were outfitted in short dresses. My own fitted me like a corset. It hugged my middle. It was elaborately tied in back. Bra cups covered the lower curves of my breasts, just barely containing my nipples. The jellied mounds of my breasts bounced in the cups, their tops bared. The white flesh of my mounds caught Johnnie's eyes as he opened Helene's front door. I blushed. He smiled. My shoulders were nude, as was my back, down to where the dress hugged me with corset-like firmness. I was slipped as if into a vise, bare-legged, bare-shouldered, with my dress crossing behind the small of my back and covering my flat belly. Twin spaghetti straps tied behind my neck kept the cups over my breasts from falling away. A very short skirt, flaring out from the bodice of my dress, just managed to cover my bottom. I wore no stockings. But I did wear my new ring that I'd bought, plus a pair of high-heels. Around my ankles, the same color as my black dress, were two leather ankle straps. On my head was my straw broad-brimmed hat. Rebecca was dressed like me. She wore her straw hat. The sun glared down on us, excusing our skimpy attire. It was summer. We could dress salaciously without making a scene. Johnnie, for his part, was nude, save for a pair of Speedoes.I guessed he must have been swimming or, since his hair was dry, about to. I wondered at this, for were we not to have tea? I hoped he would join us. Johnnie grinned. He invited us inside. We stepped into a parlor. It had ornate decorations. Johnnie closed the front door behind us. As soon as he had, he put his thumbs in his swimsuit. He yanked it down off his hips, exposing his cock. He stepped out of it. He hung it on a peg on the wall. "I have to wear that to answer the door," Johnnie said to us. We blushed. We gazed at his thing. It was huge. It quavered stiffly on the air, in time to his pulse. "I hope you don't mind," Johnnie said, glancing from us down to his cock. "It's not my idea, going nude. Helene insists. 'Mistress' actually, is what I call her, in her home. She takes care of me and I perform various... services," Johnnie said. He looked at us. He offered his brawny arm to Rebecca. "May I escort you to tea?" he asked. "I am no slouch in good-mannered gallantry, even if I am required to walk around without any clothes on." "Yes," Rebecca said, putting a hand to her lips. "Yes," she said again. She let Johnnie take her arm. "Come, Chloe," she whispered to me. Johnnie's cock bobbed in front of him, like some obscene fleshy log, as he led Rebecca by her arm to the back of the house. Helene was there, sitting on an enclosed porch. Big trees in her back yard kept prying eyes from seeing Johnnie's display. She sipped tea from an ivory teacup. "Hello, girls," Helene said. "My, you dress wonderfully. And such nice hats! Please sit down. I hope Johnnie didn't scare you? I prefer him naked in this summer heat. It keeps him cooler," she said. I wondered at that. Her home was air conditioned, though the porch, being screened in, let in some of the summer heat. The glass doors leading out to the porch were drawn back, letting the air conditioned interior of the home cool the porch as well. It was wasteful, but elegant, I thought. The porch would have been too hot with the glass doors closed. The day was too fine to have tea inside. Johnnie seated Rebecca at the table, then myself. He had to be careful not to let his cock jut against our bottoms. I put my hands under my seat to get my dress under me, but it was too short, and I found myself sitting in my panties directly on the chair. Its seat was made of wrought iron, painted white. "Johnnie, get some cushions for them to sit on. The seats are too hard," Helene said to our escort. "Really, I told you to do that earlier," she scolded. "Yes, mistress," Johnnie said. He went into the house and came out a moment later with two lace cushions. He put them on a side table, where flowers stood in a vase. Then he picked up one and bade me lift up my bottom so he could get it under me. I complied. Blushingly I admired his naked cock as his strong hands fitted the cushion under my ass. I sat down too quickly, sitting on his hands. I let out a small cry and lifted my seat again. He adjusted the cushion, removed his hands out from under me, and told me to sit. I did. The cushion was soft. There was lace trimming around its edges. Johnnie placed a cushion under Rebecca's fanny. She smiled. She adjusted herself on her new seat and tossed back her hair. Helene poured her tea, then me, passing the cups to us. "Mmm, it's good," Rebecca said. She sipped her tea. "Orange Pekoe." "Yes, it's perfect for summer, is it not?" Helene asked. "Johnnie, dear, why don't you have a tie on? Go put on a tie for these young ladies here." "Oh, there is no need," Rebecca said. Johnnie left, then returned a moment later. A black bow tie was tied skillfully round the base of his cock. The bow part of it faced up, toward his chest. I gasped. Rebecca, beside me, gasped. His thing was extraordinarily long and, despite the tie at its base, it still stuck out usefully a good ten inches or so, providing plenty of meat for a girl who wished to pleasure herself with it. "It is nice, decorated that way, is it not?" Helene asked us. "And there is so much of him, one does not compromise its essential functions, doing it." "No, one does not," Rebecca agreed. She gulped at her tea. "It is essential that I see the male penis displayed," Helene said. "For my business." "Your business?" Rebecca asked. "Oh, I did not tell you?" Helene asked. She drew Johnnie toward her, clasping at his cock with her fingers. Instinctively he knew, somehow, to refill her cup with tea, and when he had, using a big silver pitcher on the table, he picked up a pitcher of cream and added a dollop of it to her cup. Then she took his cock and dipped the tip of it in her cup. She stirred her tea with the big knobby head of his dick. Mostly just the pee-holed tip of his cock touched her tea, for if his whole head had been plunged in it would have spilled all the tea from her cup. "Give me a bit of your pre-cum, Johnnie," Helene said. She squeezed lightly on his veined shaft. Johnnie tensed his bottom cheeks. He uttered a slight groan. "Yes, that's it," Helene said. She lifted the tip of his hard cock out of her tea and watched as a big dollop of pre-seminal fluid oozed out of Johnnie's penis. It plopped into her cup. "Mmmm," Helene said. She brought the warm tea to her lips and sipped it. "He has such fine control," she said. She let go of his cock. "Give our guests some, too," she told Johnnie. "Oh, I--" Rebecca said. But Johnnie took her cup and, not allowing her to let go of it, drew it to his crotch. He dipped his cockhead into it. He winced slightly at the heat of the tea, then stirred her tea with his knob. "Pre-cum, madam?" Johnnie asked. "Yes, please, if it doesn't take too much out of you," Rebecca said. She regarded him with awestruck eyes. Helene stood. She walked round behind Rebecca and put her fingers through Rebecca's hair. She touched her neck. She loosened the ties there, the ties that held up the front of Rebecca's dress. "Oh!" Rebecca gasped. "He must be inspired a little," Helene said. I watched in amazement as Rebecca's bra cups were loosened. They were part of her dress, yet separate, in a sense, for loosening the cups did nothing to lighten the tightness of the corset-like bodice of the dress around Rebecca's middle. The cups fell away. Rebecca's breasts spilled out. Their tips were cherry red, and hard, in contrast to the jellied mounds themselves, which were white and soft. Johnnie gaped at Rebecca's breasts. They were quite lovely, and the sight of them caused his dick to deposit a droplet of pre-cum into Rebecca's cup. "You also," Helene said, coming round the table to me. "Oh, I do not want--!" I blurted, my tea cup hovering at my lips. I held it delicately. I wished to be ladylike. "Do not protest. It is summer," Rebecca smiled at me. She watched approvingly as Helene undid the strings at my neck, causing my bosoms to pop from my dress. They jiggled freely. I felt the warm air upon them, cooled by the outflow of air from the house, and their tips stood up. Johnnie was brought round to me and I was forced by the intervention of Helene's hand to offer my cup to him. We held it together as he drooled a droplet of pre-cum into my tea. "It will add to its flavor," Helene assured me. "And provide a taste of what is yet to come?" I asked, lifting my eyes to her. I asked innocently, though it caused Rebecca and Helene to laugh. "You are wearing panties at the moment, my dear," Helene said. "Perhaps you should take them off if you wish to enjoy Johnnie more fully." "Oh, no. I do not wish to," I said, quickly sipping my tea. "It is hot," Rebecca said. She put down her tea. She lifted her hips. She slipped her hands within the abbreviated folds of her dress and pulled down her panties. "Yes, it is," Helene agreed. Standing behind me, she did the same, pulling down her own panties and stepping out of them. They were white. Rebecca's were black. "Put them on the table so he can see them," Helene said. "It will inspire him more." The two women placed their panties on the table as if offering silky gifts to Johnnie, though he was only our servant, an immigrant from the Czech Republic. He stared at them. I saw a quiver of a smile pass across his lips. Then it faded. A slightly haunted look came to his eyes. I wondered at it. Wasn't he delighted to have three females at his disposal? Helene returned to her seat. Rebecca settled back into hers. Helene tossed back her head. She had long hair, fetchingly curled so that it formed a mane of loose curls that tumbled round her face and down over her shoulders. There was a blue ribbon tied into the back of her hair, in a bow. She wore no hat, as if hats were reserved for younger girls, like myself, to make me look sweet and childish. She had on a blue silk shirt with a high collar. It had long sleeves. Through it I could just make out the areoles of her breasts. They perked their nipples into the fabric of the shirt now as she sat sipping her tea once more, regarding our naked bosoms and Johnnie's bare cock. She wore a miniskirt round her waist. Her legs were encased in white silk stockings that gripped her thighs, not needing garters to keep them aloft. Between the tops of her stockings and the hem of her skirt, her legs were bare. She opened them, not wearing panties anymore, her muff free to rub itself on the lace-trimmed cushion upon which she was sitting. Rebecca, also without panties now, wiggled a little on the deep cushion on which she sat. "It is pleasant, is it not, going without panties?"It is very pleasant, yes," Rebecca said. "And cooler too." I looked again at Johnnie's eyes. He glanced at Helene's tummy. It was bare, flat. Her shirt was purposely too short to cover it, though her sleeves were too long for her arms, the cuffs of them covering her hands out to her knuckles. Helene smiled. "I work him hard," Helene said to Rebecca. The two women shifted their legs wider apart, letting the cool air from the house find their moistening slits between their legs. I longed, suddenly, to be without my own panties. I wanted to expose my quim. How delightful to sit bare-bottomed upon the expensive lace seat cushion! To let it moisten with my pussy's juices. I reached within my dress. I waited for Johnnie's roving eyes to move away from me. He was admiring us all, as any male would, yet I sensed still that haunted look in his eyes. He looked from Helene's tummy to my breasts, then to the breasts of my aunt. I lifted my bottom and slid my panties down my thighs. "Oh, she is doing it!" Helene said. All eyes darted to me. My privacy disappeared. I blushed, my panties ringing my knees. I contemplated, briefly, pulling my panties back up. I did not have to undress. Then the sinfulness of the moment, the feel of the pretty cushion pressed to my naked ass, got the better of me. I succumbed. With a glance at Johnnie's big cock, I drew my panties down over my knees and let them drop to my ankles. "Take her panties, please, Johnnie, and put them on the table, where we can see them," Helene said. The young man strode over to me. Despite the haunted look in his eyes, his cock bounced jauntily. He bent down. I gave a small cry as he grabbed the panties ringing my ankles. He forcibly picked up my feet. He disentangled the panties from my spiked heels. He walked over to Helene, holding them in his hand. He gave them to her. She held them up and admired them. They were small, pink. They had pretty red ribbons along their sides. "Yes," Helene said. She looked at me, then at Rebecca. She smiled. There was a vengefulness in her eyes. She tugged at the panties, hard. "Oh, do not rip them!" I cried. I heard a tearing sound. They were expensive panties, made without the gusset. There was no extra layer of lining where my pussy lips pressed against the fabric. I watched as the crotch of my panties ripped open. Then, still pulling, biting her lip slightly, Helene ripped my undies even more. I felt tears spring to my eyes. Helene dropped my ruined panties on the table. Her nipples were quite stiff now, pushing into the fabric of her shirt like twin bits of coral. I feared the stiffness of the tips might put holes in her shirt. My own nipples, I realized, blushing as I felt tears on my face, were just as hard. Did I like being denuded, my panties publicly torn apart? I looked at Johnnie. Perhaps I hoped he would somehow rescue me from this indignity. Instead I saw a flicker of a smile cross his lips again. Then he licked them. Pre-cum drooled from the tip of his cock and fell on the floor of the screened-in porch. Rebecca, surprised by Helene's violence toward my panties, now let herself relax once more and smiled at me. "You will not need them, dear," Rebecca said. "But when we go home?" I asked. Rebecca looked into her teacup and said nothing. After a moment, she sipped her tea. "It is delicious," she said to Helene. Our hostess reached across the table to where Rebecca's panties lay. She plucked them from the table with her fingers. They had long nails. Rebecca gulped. Her own panties were without a gusset and Helene stressed them now, pulling at them, until the crotch of them ripped wide apart. Then Helene dropped them on the table and picked up her own panties. Despite the expensiveness of the fabric, she pulled at them until they tore open at the crotch. Then she pulled on them some more, until one of the frilled sides gave way completely, leaving her panties a stringy, useless wreck. She dropped them back on the table. "There," Helene said. "Now we are all bereft, and can enjoy the freedom of our pussies. Is it not nice, to spread one's legs and let the air intrude between them?" She looked at Rebecca. She put her hand between her legs and diddled her cunny with a pointed finger. Rebecca watched, wide-eyed, as Helene masturbated. So did I. The table hid the indecency of the act but there was no doubt at all where Helene had put her hand, for almost at once she gave a convulsive shudder. Then she sighed. "Ooooh," she said. "That feels so good. It is summer and a girl should be able to sit outdoors, bare-bottomed, and give herself a bit of pleasure if she wishes, don't you think?" Helene asked. "Yes," Rebecca agreed. She was, I think, trying to be polite, agreeing with our hostess, but Helene took her at her word. "Then do it yourself, my dear," Helene said. "There's no reason to be shy. No one can see. And we needn't feel like lesbians, for we have a man with us, to admire our suffering." Rebecca glanced at Johnnie. I watched as Rebecca put down her teacup on the table. Then her hand left the table. It slipped, I knew without seeing, down between her legs. Rebecca jerked, her breath catching, as her finger touched her aroused slit. "Oh, yes!" Rebecca said. "It is pleasant, yet it makes you wish for even more, does it not?" Helene asked Rebecca. "Yes," Rebecca agreed. "That is why I call it suffering," Helene said. "It is sweet to suffer this way, playing in one's slit, especially with a man so near." "Yes," Rebecca sighed. I gazed at them both, wide-eyed. I held my teacup aloft, too surprised to drink from it, or to put it back down on the table. Helene looked at me. "You too," she said. "Oh, no!" I answered. For I knew the moment I started, I would be unable to stop. I would shiver with ever-increasing need until I begged to be taken. "Yes," Helene said. Her eyes looked at me with a hardness in them. I shuddered. I felt myself wanting, between my legs. I dropped my hand to the cushion, between my thighs, and flicked a finger toward my nest. "Touch yourself," Helene ordered. "Oh, please don't make me!" I cried. Yet Helene sat across the table from me, unable to reach over to where I was sitting. Her eyes alone commanded. "Please don't make me," I said again. "Chloe, be a good girl," Rebecca told me. "By being bad?" I asked. Rebecca smiled. "Yes, by being bad, dear," she said. Then she emitted an involuntary sigh as her own doings caused her to suffer the pangs of desire. I looked at Johnnie. First at his penis, then up at his eyes. Now I knew why they looked haunted. He was never free from Helene's sexual plottings. She worked his cock like this every day, teasing him, making him use his tool again and again to serve her pleasure. And it was perverse, the way she used him, making him be naked, using his dick to stir her tea. I had no doubt there were many other tasks she had him perform, every day. And always, if it could possibly be done that way, she made him perform his jobs with his penis. This in addition to the normal round of fucking I knew she must demand from him every night. He was a walking dong, in her house. Always he had to keep himself erect and vulnerable. The rest of his body, though it was gorgeous, mattered little in comparison to his cock. Helene smiled. "Johnnie, have you watered the plants?" she asked. "No, mistress," Johnnie answered. "Not yet." "Please do so," Helene said. "Yes, mistress," Johnnie replied. There were plants on the porch and Johnnie turned and walked to the nearest one. It was a rose bush. He put his hands on his hips. He thrust his cock carelessly into the mass of thorned branches that made up the bush. I watched, my breath catching, fearing he might pierce himself on a thorn. But he did not, thankfully, and a moment later, as I watched his buttcheeks tighten, I heard a hissing sound. Johnnie peed on the bush. We all watched. Helene licked her lips. Involuntarily my finger found my dell and massaged it. I heard myself gasp. "That's enough, Johnnie," Helene called out. I heard the flow of urine stop, abruptly. Johnnie's asscheeks squeezed hard. He flexed his torso. I guessed he was flinging spare drops of urine into the plant, so they would not fall on the floor and be wasted. Then he turned. His big penis, still tied with the bow, presented itself to us again. "Do the others," Helene told Johnnie. "Yes, mistress," Johnnie agreed. He walked over to a poinsettia and began peeing anew, into the pointy leaves. After a bit he stopped the flow of his urine again, squeezing his buttcheeks tightly. Then he walked over to a spray of narcissus flowers, growing in a clay pot. He aimed his cock at them and let his pee on them. Finally he turned and walked over to a cluster of tulip blossoms. He filled the flowered cups with his pee, overspilling them, making them bend under their newfound load and droop toward the earth. "I have no more... in my bladder," Johnnie said to Helene, turning toward us again. I gazed at his balls, bulging with virile firmness between his legs. Would she make him jerk himself off on the remaining plants? I shivered. I felt my finger intruding in my dell but had not the will to stop it. I dithered it over my clitty and let out a moan. "Come here, Johnnie," Helene commanded our servant. He walked over to her, his cock a big sausage of flesh that bobbed freely with his every step. Droplets of urine flew off the tip, the last errant remnants of his watering.Helene clutched at the head of his cock and inspected it. She put her teacup to it and gently submerged the tip in the hot tea. Johnnie tensed at the touch of the warm fluid to his cock. Helene bathed the end of Johnnie's cockhead in her cup of tea to cleanse it of pee. When she lifted the end of Johnnie's cock out of her cup, she waited until all the tea had dripped off it. Then she put the big knobby head to her lips and sucked briefly upon it. Johnnie groaned. "I shall expect you to service our guests as eagerly and thoroughly as you serve me, Johnnie," Helene said to the man, not looking up in his face, however, but keeping her eyes on his cock, addressing his pee hole. "Yes, mistress," Johnnie said. "You must make every effort to satisfy them," Helene told the man, still looking at his cock as she spoke. "Yes, mistress," Johnnie said. The haunted look returned to his eyes, though he smiled, slightly. Helene looked at me. I gazed at her, my finger between my legs under the table, diddling my slit. I gave a sigh as my finger, paying attention to my nubbed clit, made it hunger for even greater attention. "Stand up," Helene said. I drew my shoulders together. I crouched a little, recalcitrant, for I did not want to stop playing with myself, and did not want to be seen doing it, either. "Stand up," Helene told me again. With a great sigh I leaped to my feet. I plucked my hand from my dell, only to put it back again, so great had my need suddenly become. With my pussy above the level of the table, I freely fingered myself, uncaring that they all could see what I was doing to myself. At the same time, I told myself that I was hiding my cunt from their view, for my hand was over it, though one of my fingers was inquiring up within it. "Turn around," Helene told me. I gave a sigh of relief. Of course! If I turned around, they would see only my too-short miniskirt, just covering my bottom, and not see the front anymore, where my hand, intruding in my dell, caused my skirt to rise and display my furred mount. I turned on my spiked heels. As I offered them a view of my bottom, I frigged myself more freely. I didn't have to worry about hiding my nakedness now. I sighed as my questing finger delved deep in my lips. Helene's next words shocked me. "Lift her skirt in back," she told Johnnie. "I want to see her ass." The man strode over to me. I glanced over my shoulder at him, still too hungry for something up my twat to spare it the touch of my finger. As I diddled myself, he gallantly lifted the back of my skirt, baring my bottom. Helene, sitting across the table, nodded. "It is a sweet tush," she said approvingly. "It has still the pertness of a child's bottom, the cheeks sticking out, while yet having the bell-shaped fullness of a woman." Helene looked at Rebecca. "It is especially lovely that, even with the filling out of her hips, her ass is still small. I have a taste for spanking small bottoms. May I do hers? I promise I would soothe it afterward." "She would look quite salacious wiggling it all about under the lash," Rebecca agreed. Then she bit her lip and gasped as her finger, playing in her slit, brought her a new tremor of pleasure. "Yes, it would be delightful," Helene said. She too gasped, thinking of paddling me as she played in her dell. As for myself, despite the wickedness of the proposal, I couldn't stop frigging myself! "What... implements would you use?" Rebecca gasped to Helene. "A good sturdy paddle," Helene answered. "She would have to be tied down, of course. I wouldn't want her running around the house. She might break something." "Of course," Rebecca said. "You both arrived wearing ankle straps," Helene said. "They're quite sexy looking. Did you intend just to tease, or...?" "Perhaps not just to tease," Rebecca replied with a fevered sigh. "Good. I had hoped not," Helene said. "If the moment is right, perhaps you both will get to use them for their intended purpose," Helene said to Rebecca. "Not just for decoration, but for their utility in rendering one immobile." "Yes," Rebecca gasped. She was quite excited by the playing of her finger in her cunt by now, as was I. We no longer had the good sense to say no to such silly ideas. I felt the air upon my bare bottom and shivered. "Tear off her dress," Helene told Johnnie. "No!" I cried. But before I could think how to save myself, Johnnie, who was very strong, ripped the skirt of my dress off the corset-like bodice. A moment later I wore only the middle part of my dress, the cups of it undone from my breasts, the back torn away to permanently reveal my bottom.

Part 4 of 4

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/6919.txt

[removed at request of author]

Keri's request ch 2

"Boy Meets Whore" "You don't even cum?!? you ask. There had better be a reason..." What a trip! It's about three to four hours of winding state highway up through the Cascade Mountains to reach the ski lodge. There are friends in cars in front and behind, music on the radio, and frequent stops to piss. But there's still hours of time to just talk with a girl you KNOW loves sex. "Five bucks says she blows me on the ride up." "You're on." So I lost five bucks, but as Keri said later, "I should have just asked". What a girl! We talked about her reputation. So what if a girl just likes to fuck - don't the guys?!? Numbers of sex partners, different places, etc. She later said that all of our talking during the ride had made her so fucking horny. I had an inkling. Maybe it was the way she kept pressing her legs together and squirming in her seat, even though we had just had a potty break. So by the time we hit the lodge, we were both pretty worked up. A few beers, a loaded, "you wanna take a walk outside?" and the next thing you know, her tongue is down my throat and my hands are up her shirt. The walk turned into a drive up into one of the deserted logging roads. "Oh God! Yeah, yeah, yeah!" I think I had found what she liked. After peeling off her sweater, pants and underwear in the steamy cab of my pickup, I stayed clothed and started to work on her body. I was in the passenger seat, half-lying back, and she was curled on my lap with her tits square in my face. After a half-hour of slowly mauling her tits; first lightly sucking and kissing all over, then a more rough squeezing and pinching of one breast while I forced the nipple of the other breast against my upper teeth with my tongue, slowly grating it back and forth. By this time she is really bucking her hips. My hand trails its way down her trim little runner's tummy, and my mouth along with it. While I tease her belly button with my tongue, one hand begins to knead her ass cheeks and thighs as the other continues to pinch and pull her nipple. Finally, I start to work on her flooding pussy. My mouth returns to her tits, this time light and caressing, only little nips around the nipple, along the sides, underneath. She spreads her legs even farther when my fingers lightly trail around her thighs, softly sliding my fingernails across the inside, ever nearer. My left arm is under her, cradling her lower back and my hand is squeezing her tight little backside. My right hand is circling and circling her pussy lips. Now and again I let my fingers graze up that little channel made between her fat outer lips and the inside of her thigh. Never directly down the center of her cunt - never touching her clit. She shivers. I make it worse. I leave the rest of her tit alone, concentrating on the nipple, again working it between my upper, front teeth and my tongue. I slowly apply pressure as my right hand's index and middle finger start to work up and down the far outside of her pussy. Every once in a while I roughly grab a pinch of her lips between my thumb and finger and pull it up and away from her while increasing the pressure on her nipple and causing pain. This is always replaced by slow, casual sucking and light strokes to the inside of her thighs. "Please, please put your fingers in me. Please." You want me in your life? Beg me, accept pain from me willingly, and do everything I command. Am I so hard to please? These three little acts are so basic to my nature. And here she was on step one so early... A few more requests and I just had to oblige the lady. Slowly working two fingers up and down the lips of her pussy, I slowly flowered it open. Spreading it, I used two fingers to hold her open while my middle finger teased in and out, never passing the first knuckle. A little more begging, and well, you get the picture. She finally came, and when I say cum, I mean CUM. She shook, cried out in gasps, and jerked her whole body as I worked her. My left arm was under her ass as my left hand worked her cunt. My index finger and pinky spread her wide open and my middle two fingers were in as deep as they could go. My right hand was busy between flicking her clit and then roughly pinching it. I was sucking her tits and biting them so hard she must have been sore for days (which she says she was). Afterwards she couldn't stand more contact with her cunt. I would lightly blow across it once in a while and she would squeeze her eyes shut and push me away by my shoulders. So what's in this for me? Nothing. Not even my pants came down. But the hook went in...

Chapter 2

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9497.txt

T.S. Fesseln

The Trick And The Treat

"So when are you going to take these things off me?" Tonya asked in her sultry voice, displaying her handcuffed wrists to her husband as he drove their Toyota pick-up. Grant smiled his lopsided, 'I-got-something-up-my-sleeve' smile, "I left the keys at home. . ." "WHAT!" Tonya nearly shouted. "I didn't think we would need them at the Halloween party tonight, Tonya-love, so I just didn't bring them," Her husband said, knowing full well that one of the pair of keys hung on his keychain. "Great, what if we get pulled over or something, Grant?" "Well, it'll save the officer time in cuffing you, huh?" Grant grinned, taking his eyes off the road briefly to look over at his wife in her Arabian harem-girl's costume and taking delight in how her rich, dark African skin complimented the reds and golds of her outfit. Tonya just growled and sat back in her seat. Their costumes this Halloween had been her Grant's idea. He had dressed as the sultan Schariar and Tonya was dressed as his wife, the exotic Scheherazade. Tonya had spent many hours behind the sewing machine to create their costumes and by the stares they received at the party, their outfits were worth her efforts. Grant's costume was a tapestry of whites, golds, and blues. His vest, which just covered his muscular chest, was done in white and embroidered with gold and blue thread and had glass jewels for buttons. His deep blue, billowy pants were held in place by a long white and gold sash in which he stuck a cheap scimitar he had bought. Tonya watched him and thought how wonderful her husband looked wearing it had decided he was worth her efforts also. It complimented his swarthy, Italian looks and his grinning blue eyes. He had even grown a Van Dyke beard for the occasion, making him look even more devilish. Grant glanced over again at his wife. Tonya could see the boyish mischief in his eyes and crooked smile. She wondered what he was up to. The handcuffs that she wore were not part of her plans for her costume. They were snapped on just before they went into the lobby. Grant just asked her to close her eyes and hold out her hands for a surprise he had for her. Tonya, of course, did and felt the cold manacles click around her wrists. She was very surprised and before she could utter a single word of protest, her husband just ushered her into the lobby filled with Halloween partiers that found the ballroom too noisy. Tonya was still fidgeting with her cuffs when Grant wrapped a leather collar around her neck and fastened it. "Grant!" Tonya growled under her breath, "take these off NOW!" "You don't want to make a scene, do you?" He grinned as he kissed her cheek, "you are supposed to be my harem slave. . ." "WIFE, Jerry, Wife! Scheherazade was the sultan's wife, not prisoner," Tonya said, holding up her cuffed hands. "A minor detail," he whispered, kissing her lightly behind her ear, "besides, it could be fun. Besides, all you have to say is our secret word . . ." "But the collar. . ." Tonya's resistance to the handcuffs was dissipating as her thoughts of what they might do after the party flowed through her like a warm aphrodisiac. "I need you to keep close to me, Tonya-love, I wouldn't want you to escape with another man now would I?" Grant then snapped the chain lead onto Tonya's collar, pulled her toward him, and gave Tonya a deep, lingering kiss. All during the party, that is how Tonya stayed, handcuffed and leashed. She learned quickly to gracefully drink her wine and hold her veil up at the same time. She also let Grant feed her the hors d'oeuvres from the buffet. Occasionally she would see herself in the long mirrors which graced the ballroom, a slim dark-skinned woman with long, raven tresses and a costume that did not leave much to a man's imagination. The handcuffs and collar added much to the sexual mystique of her character as Grant led her around and talked and joked with the other couples they knew. Even dancing slow, her husband embracing her as smoky jazz numbers swirled about the room as they swayed back and forth, the handcuffs sparking a forbidden kind of wantonness in Tonya that made her feel like the most desirable woman in the place. The magic of the Halloween party seemed to drift with them into the parking lot and into their Toyota truck. Grant even helped his wife fasten her seatbelt. Now, driving home, her hands still locked in front of her and the warm Florida winds caressing her skin even through the diaphanous silk of her costume, the erotic memories and fantasies of the evening seemed to keep her temper about Grant and the keys at a minimum. It was reckless of him, but also very daring in a sexual way. It was the thought of being like this, the danger of it, that somehow got Tonya's libido moving into high gear. "I love you," She said, looking at his profile as he concentrated on the road ahead. "A moment ago I thought you were going to trade me in on a better husband." "I thought about it, but breaking a new one in would be a lot of work. I think I'll just keep my old, worn husband around. He's broken in and comfortable." "Like your old bunny slippers at home?" Tonya smiled, "Yes, like my old bunny slippers." "Well this old, comfortable husband has cooked up a wonderful dessert just for you." "So that was what you were doing in the kitchen while I was getting ready." "Yep," he grinned, "fixing you up a gourmet delight." "I don't know, Grant," Tonya said, "I had a lot to eat at the party and I need to keep an eye on my figure. . ." "I'll love to keep an eye on that figure of yours tonight, Tonya-love. Besides, you WILL have to eat this dessert. I made it just for this evening." "What is it?" Tonya asked, her curiosity piqued. Grant smiled that same wicked smile, "You'll see soon enough. It's a surprise." "I remember your last surprise," Tonya said with a smile, jingling her handcuffs. The streets on their way home were empty save for a few cars passing them. Grant laid his hand on Tonya's thigh and let his fingers brush up and down it, gently caressing her leg as he did so often at home when he laid beside her in bed. Tonya knew Grant loved her long, lithe legs and she loved the attention they got from him. Grant's fingers lightly traced little circles on Tonya's inner thigh and she unconsciously parted her legs as his fingers drew closer and closer to her silk-covered quim already damp from this evening's games. Tonya closed her eyes and let a little moan out as his fingers began to caress her sex through the silk. Tonya's sounds of pleasure always turned Grant on. The more noise she made, the more driven he would become. Her moans were an aphrodisiac that he could not get enough of. Now, as he felt his wife's pussy slowly thrusting into his hand, he found it hard to concentrate on driving. It was with great reluctance that he withdrew his hand from between Tonya's legs. "No, Grant, please?" his wife asked in a wounded voice. "Soon, Tonya-love, soon. We're almost home." It seemed like hours before they pulled into the parking lot of their townhome. The embers of bliss burning between her legs needed more attention, but Tonya was always uncomfortable pleasuring herself. Her mother had caught her once and the embarrassment of that moment had stuck with her to this day. Tonya needed the ministrations of a man's touch to get her off. The parking lot was deserted save the darkened cars that filled it. Grant pulled their pick-up right underneath one of the parking lot lights and switched off the engine. He took his time, methodically turning off the headlights, setting the parking brake and easing his seatbelt off, letting Tonya's anticipation fan the desire that Grant knew was smoking inside her. Grant took his time going around the side to open Tonya's door. He was constantly amazed by this woman; his wife. The cards had been stacked against them. He could still hear his mother warning him that mixed marriages don't work and that it wouldn't last a year. From what Tonya said, her parents felt the same way. It took time, but the love and passion they held for each other won over both of their families. They had now been married five wonderful years and the flame had not died. Tonya was a bank teller when Grant had met her. He would go in daily to make deposits for his small vacuum-cleaner business and he would always make sure Tonya was his teller, even if she wasn't attending the commercial accounts counter.After some time, Grant finally asked her out, and Tonya agreed. It was a wonderful evening of pasta, wine, and dancing, and by the time Grant kissed her goodnight, he knew he would marry her. "Come on, Grant," Tonya complained, then in a hushed voice only Grant could hear, she said, "I want you." Grant leaned forward and kissed her lightly through the open window before opening her door and unfastening her seatbelt. Tonya could have done that, but she wanted to feel her husband's hands on her as he unbuckled her out of her seat and helped her out. Tonya still had her leather collar on, as well as the chain lead dangling from it. After Grant held his wife out of the car, he nabbed the chain and pulled his wife towards him, put his arms around her, and kissed her deeply. After a moment, Grant felt his wife pull away a bit. "Why don't we continue this inside," she whispered. Grant grinned and led his still-bound wife through the parking lot to the door of their townhouse on the other side. Amazingly, they found their carved pumpkin still intact, and its eerie, orangish eyes were still scrying any trick-or-treaters that may have tried their door. Grant took his time finding the right key and opening the door, just as he had in the truck. But soon, the lights to their home were clicked on, and Grant was leading his wife toward their kitchen. "Ready for dessert?" He asked Tonya. "I was hoping for a large appetizer first. . ." Tonya trailed off. "Soon enough, Tonya-love, soon enough." Grant clicked on the kitchen light, and Tonya saw that her husband had been busy while she was getting ready for the party. One of their kitchen chairs had been placed in the center of the room, and lying beside it in neat piles were several coils of rope. "I see that I am going to be your captive for a bit longer now, hon." "Uh-huh," he said, pulled his wife towards himself by her lead, and embraced her tightly. Their lips met, and their kisses were slow and tender at first, but soon their tongues started their heat dance of passion around each other. Tonya's manacled hands began to caress her husband's chest, easing underneath his vest. She could feel his erection against her thigh as she began rubbing herself against him seductively, enjoying the attention his warm hands were giving her. Grant's hands explored her curves beneath the mist-like silks of her costume; the small of her back, the curve of her hip, the swell of her breasts. His thumbs played with her now stiff nipples through the thin fabric, sending little whirlwinds of pleasure to fan the wanton embers already glowing in her womb. Soon, his fingers untied the knot holding the front of her halter together, and his warm hands cupped and kneaded her breasts until little purring moans escaped her lips. Her husband's kisses left Tonya's lips as he kissed her neck and played at her earrings with his teeth and tongue. Grant's lips moved lower down her neck and started between her breasts. Tonya lifted her cuffed hands over his head and cradled the back of it with her confined hands. His tongue and lips began to kiss between her breasts as his fingers began to pull at Tonya's dark nipples. Grant's kisses travelled still lower as his hands now settled on her hips and began to play with the straps of her bikini, slowly pulling it down, inch by inch, until the black curls of her nest were revealed. "Now I think you are ready for a treat this Halloween," Grant said, helping his wife step out of her bikini and pantaloons. Her husband led Tonya to their oaken kitchen chair and helped her get seated. Her chocolate-colored skin now glistened as if her body was made of polished walnut wood. Grant admired her physique as he looped the soft nylon rope around Tonya's slim ankles and bound each to the back legs of the chair. This made his wife sit on the edge of the chair, her dark nest open and her natural incense beckoning to Grant like opium to an addict. His wife's thrusting movements towards him did not help either. It took a lot of will to not take his wife right then and continue with their Halloween bondage game he had planned for weeks. Tonya was comfortable with their bondage games that Grant sprinkled into the love-making to keep things all the more passionate. When Grant tied each of her slim ankles to the back legs of the chair, she felt as if some gasoline had been dumped onto her inner fires. Her sex was now open to him to do as he pleased as she sat on the edge of her chair. As much as she tried to get him to pay attention to her down there, Grant would not oblige and continued to bind her so that she was more and more helpless. "So what IS my Treat, hon?" she asked in her most sultry voice. "Oh, something I whipped up," he replied as he raised Tonya's manacled hands over the top of her head and back, tying them off to the backrest, "Comfy?" "I wouldn't call it that," she squirmed a bit, as much for him as for herself, "but I'll let you know if it starts to get too uncomfortable." "Good," he kissed her lightly on the forehead and disappeared behind her. Tonya heard her husband rattling around in the refrigerator. She thought she heard the moving of the ice-cube tray in the freezer, but she wasn't sure. She tried to look back at him, but the way she was tied, she couldn't crane her head back far enough to look at what he was doing. "I think this is going to be more a trick than a treat," Tonya said, hearing her husband turn on the water in the sink. "I think you'll like this. Now close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you." "I don't know if I want to. I remember what happened the last time you asked me to shut my eyes." "I could always blindfold you. . ." "Okay, okay, they're closed!" Tonya heard her husband walk around in front of her. She could smell his after-shave and something sweet and tropical. But nothing happened. Tonya knew her husband was just waiting for her to open her eyes without being told to, and she knew she wouldn't do it. She also knew Grant was taking his time and admiring her helpless form, so she struggled a bit, hoping her gyrations would prompt him into getting on with his treat so they could get on to other things in the bedroom. "Open wide," Tonya's husband asked, and she did. The cold didn't come quite as a shock, having heard the ice-cube tray being rattled, but it was a bit of a surprise. She wasn't expecting a popsicle. She ran her tongue over it, delighting in the Pina-Colada flavors that washed through her mouth. As her lips and tongue explored her treat, she realized that he had carved it into a phallus, and she began treating it as such; sucking and licking it as if it were her husband. "Do you like your treat?" Grant asked. "MMMMmmmmmm," she purred. "You're going to have to finish it all if you want me to get you out of your bind, Tonya-love. I froze the key into your treat. . ." "What!" Tonya's eyes flew open. "I didn't tell you could open your eyes yet, darling," Tonya's husband chided, "now I am going to have to blindfold you. . ." "Did you really freeze the key in there?" she asked. "Yes, I did, but it is attached to the stick so you couldn't choke on it or anything. You're going to have to lick and suck your way free, Tonya-love." "You're an evil man, you know that, Grant Belzano." "It was the woman I married that drove me to it," he replied, taking off his red silk sash to use it as a blindfold. Tonya accepted the blindfold without any fuss. In fact, she enjoyed being blindfolded. It seemed to heighten her other senses and made her husband's attentions that much more pleasurable. Again, Grant fed her the large popsicle. His wife's full lips engulfed its frozen shaft hungrily, slowly drawing it out of her mouth until she could only lick the tip. He teased her with it, letting her lick at it several times before pulling it away, only to bring it back to her lips. It did not take Grant long to pull up a chair opposite his wife so he could be comfortable while watching his wife enjoy his 'treat'. Tonya loved Pina-Coladas, and the sweet, tropical flavors trickled down her tongue with every lick she could get. Her husband continued to tease her with it, taking it away so her tongue would only caress empty air. Tonya then felt the cold kiss of her treat on her right nipple. It was already agonizingly stiff from her imaginations and fantasies about what Grant would do to her next, and the cold of the popsicle made her awareness of its stiffness that much more. She could feel him slowly trace the dessert slowly over her one areola, then the other, until the painful bliss of it made her squirm involuntarily in her bonds. Then Grant leaned over and took one into his mouth. The heat and raspiness of his tongue and the nibbles of his teeth upon her nipple soon sent her inner fires raging; not out of control, but very nearly so. He repeated the performance on her other nipple. "Fuck me," Tonya said in an erotic haze, "I want you NOW." She felt the cold kiss of the popsicle press against her sex, causing her to buck away. "NO!" she squealed, but her husband continued to tease her swollen lips with the frozen confection. "Now Tonya-love, how am I going to give you a treat if you don't perform a trick or two?" Tonya heard her husband say as she felt her husband's hand spread her moistened lips and reveal her swollen clit. "No," she repeated, writhing in her bonds. The frozen touch of the phallic popsicle upon her clit drove her over the edge as he rubbed the dessert over it. Her mind was a whirlpool of fiery pleasure as her passions overwhelmed her. Her body bucked, and she screamed her ecstasies.If she weren't tied to the chair, she thought briefly, she would have fallen off. It was a minute or so before she realized that he had stopped caressing her sex and had brought the dessert back up to her lips. She sucked at it hungrily, her lips engulfing the shaft. Grant then let go after the popsicle was firmly between her lips. "Uuhmmmm?" Tonya questioned. "Just hold on one second, honey," her husband replied. Tonya felt the popsicle press into her mouth as Grant tied a ribbon to its stick, then around Tonya's head, effectively gagging her with it. "Errannn," she pleaded into her strange gag. "What, Tonya-love, I can't understand you," he whispered as he began anew on her breasts, kneading them and softly pinching her dark nipples. "If you need to be untied, Tonya, you know the magic hum." Tonya indeed knew their magic hum, but the popsicle gag was not uncomfortable yet, just unexpected. She could suck at its sweetness, but she had to think about it, for Grant's attentions elsewhere distracted her wonderfully. She could also feel the popsicle's juices running down the sides of her mouth, over her chin. Grant saw this too and licked her chin clean, though a bit dripped onto her chest. Her husband's kisses soon trailed down between her ample breasts and over her stone-smooth stomach where his tongue tickled the edges of her navel. Tonya's desires began to flare again, the fire never really out. Her hips started to rock, and Grant had to hold onto her hips to settle her while his kisses continued downward. Then Grant stopped. "UUUHHHH?" Tonya questioned through her popsicle gag. Grant didn't say a word as he undressed, watching his wife's dark, curvaceous form squirm in her bonds as she mewled behind her gag. The juice of the popsicle was now trickling down from her mouth and over her breasts. Her skin now glistened like polished walnut, and the black curls of her nest were damp with her need. Tonya bucked her hips shamelessly, wanting him to finish what he had started within her. After a bit, Grant took pity on his wife and began massaging her nipples again. This time, he barely touched them; just slightly brushing his fingers over them and letting her desire do the rest. By this time, Tonya was nearly mad with lust. She felt like a wanton slut, willing to do anything just so she could feel her husband's attentions. However, all he would do is caress here and there, just enough to turn up the flames within her, then stop. She squirmed and pleaded and did everything that she could do while being bound as she was, but it did little to alleviate the itch she needed to have scratched. She then heard him setting something down, something heavy and wooden from the sound of it. "Hold on, Tonya-love," he whispered in her ear, "I am going to lift you up so I can pay a little bit more attention to you." Grant grabbed the back of Tonya's chair and lifted it up on the wooden dais he had made a few weeks back. There was a shallow hole for each leg, and the chair settled in them at just the right height so he could position himself between his wife's open legs. Tonya felt the head of her husband's penis prodding at her moistened lips, and she wiggled the best she could to try and impale herself upon it, but her bindings were too strict. With her butt on the edge of the chair, she knew all he had to do was lean forward and thrust into her, but again he just teased her. "I'm going to jack-off now. I hope you don't mind," her husband told Tonya. "NNNNUHHHH!" she yelled into her frozen gag, "Uhhh-uuhhh." But Grant did, his hand grasping his shaft and moving up and down, his swollen head tickled by the moist curls of her nest. He wanted to come so badly, but he wanted to tease his wife just a little longer. Just when she didn't think she could stand it much longer, she felt her husband's cock plunge into her and begin ramming into her like a demon. The flames of her pleasure turned into a whirlwind of fiery passion, and she lost herself in the frenzy of bliss. She bucked and screamed and fought against her bonds as she felt her husband's cum squirt into her, setting off another violent orgasm within her. Then, slowly, he withdrew from her. Her popsicle gag had fallen out, having mostly melted. She was still blindfolded as Grant untied her ankles and the rope to her manacles. She was still shaky. "When are you going to take these things off me?" she asked again in a sultry voice, displaying her manacled wrists. Grant kissed her forehead and helped her out of the chair, "I think you need to finish your treat in the bedroom this time."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9205.txt

Dimitri

JLA/Avengers - The Forgotten

"Huh, what are you doing?" cried out Wonder Woman as Thor reached forward, grabbed the 'W' covering her breasts and pulled down with but a fraction of his incredible strength. Her costume was ripped away down to the waist, exposing her huge breasts. Thor instantly pulled her forward and kissed her, forcing his tongue down her throat. His right hand came up and grabbed one of her massive mammaries; it was remarkably firm for something so fat and rounded, but still had a 'plump' quality that made it imminently squeezable. Diana did not respond to the kiss at first, but then the chemicals finally broke through the last of her defenses and she surrendered to the inevitable. The Thunder God's left arm slid past her hips and cupped one of her buttocks, which like her breasts were plump but still retained a spongy firmness. Diana squawked into Thor's mouth as they overbalanced and fell backwards, landing on one of the silken cushions. Still Thor did not break the kiss, but continued to feel her up as he thrust his still clothed hips against her, eager to penetrate her, to fuck her as hard as he could. Wonder Woman spread her legs beneath him, grinding her own hips forward. She was pulling breath in through her nostrils, her mouth fully occupied by Thor's tongue, which was sliding against her own and exploring the confines of her oral orifice. Finally, The Odinson broke the kiss, let go of her breasts and buttocks, and grinned fiercely. "Od's Blood! Thou art a true maiden, mine desire doth grow as my blood doth boil...." "Enough talk," groaned Wonder Woman, desperately sliding her still (although just barely) covered crotch against one of his massive thighs, "Fuck me! Fuck ME! FUCK ME!!!" Thor grabbed both of her huge, milky white breasts he had just been sucking and playing with her hard, erect nipples with both his teeth and his tongue. "Somebody.... somebody get this on film!" cried The Sultan, his pants rising visibly, he turned and grabbed one of his harem girls, a lithe, oiled Asian, and slid his fingers between her legs, pulling her hot body close to his own. Thor's huge hands had been roughly kneading and massaging Wonder Woman's breasts as he sucked on them, now one of his hands slid down between her thighs, grabbed the small remnants of her costume, and ripped the small blue, star-covered panties away, growling into her ample cleavage. Then he grabbed his own trousers and ripped them away, tearing them away from his hips and thighs, then forgetting them. His cock, a huge, throbbing monster, was pressed against her thigh, and she gasped in delight as she felt his size. He pulled his lips away from her breasts, sat up and slid his hands underneath her buttocks, lifting her hips slightly. Then he guided his hips forward and pressed his massive cock against her waiting pussy, ready to fuck her raw. "Yes! How fucking big are you?" cried Wonder Woman, "Do it, shove it in me, fuck me! fuck me!" Thor did, shoving forward and spreading her well-lubricated vaginal lips apart. His cock pushed in about four inches, and then he had to take it slower, her vagina couldn't stretch that wide in one go. - Hera! He's going to stretch me for life, and I don't care! - She began to pump her hips forward, trying to force his cock in deeper, trying to cram every last inch of his huge manhood into her eager snatch. Thor moaned in pleasure, her vagina was so hot and tight around his cock that he knew he was in for the fuck of a lifetime. As he worked inch after inch of his cock into her tight little pussy, he gritted his teeth and threw back his head, his eyes closed as he gave in to sensation, fucking a woman like he hadn't since he was last in Asgard, the women in Midgard were too soft, too weak to take a true fucking from an Asgardian God. But Wonder Woman, she was different! An Amazonian with powerful strength that belied her feminine look. "OOOOH, YES!" she squealed in ecstasy, "FUCK ME! FUCK ME!!!" "Forsooth," groaned Thor. He only had six inches in so far, but he began to fuck her anyway, sliding his manhood in and out of her juicy, tight, clinging pussy. Her hot little vagina was gripping on as she slammed her hips forward to meet his thrusts. Her head was thrown back on the cushion, her now sweaty hair lay about her. Her eyes were wide open as if in shock, and her mouth hung open as she let out moans of pleasure, gasping in time with his thrusts as she gave in to the fucking she was getting. Her long, smooth white legs were spread out to either side of Thor's thrusting hips, and every time he drove his cock forward, they lifted up. They lifted higher and higher with each additional thrust, as The Thunder God made longer and deeper fucking motions, pushing his cock deeper and deeper into her dripping slit. Thor began lifting his ass up each time he pulled back, so his cock would almost fully pull out (although he had to pull fast, or else her hips would be pulled up with him) before he would slam back in as deep as he could. He now had close to eight inches of his cock, he grunted in appreciation as his eyes greedily crawled over her massive, jiggling breasts. Her massive, milky white orbs were bouncing up and down, and he was unable to resist. Thrusting his head forward he grabbed one in his mouth and swallowed the nipple and the surrounding breast-meat, loving the taste. The Thunder God's manhood was fully lubed up now, and his cock was pushing in deeper far easier. Her vagina was incredibly tight around his dick, like a hot vise, and the pressure of her pussy's grip made the sensations all the more incredible. "Thou art magnificent!" he cried, although since his mouth was full of the Amazonian's breast, it came out sounding like, 'thom are mannifen!' He was pumping his cock up and down, lifting his hips up until his cock threatened to pull free, then dropping back down and cramming every last inch possible into her tight little box. One of his hands was kneading at her free breast, her hot flesh warm and malleable in his hands.As he did that, he was ending his fucking thrusts by pushing as hard forward as he could. He had over nine inches now and was slamming against her cervix, the sensation driving Wonder Woman wild. One of his hands was still gripping one of her magnificent buttocks, which was now coated in sweat and some of the running juices from her gushing pussy. Her hot, tight little cunt felt so fucking good that Thor could think of nothing he wanted more than to cram every last inch of his member inside of her as he could. He could feel her hips raising up to meet each and every one of his thrusts. Her clit was rubbing hard up against the base of his cock. He slammed his swollen prick harder and faster into her juiced-up cunt, fucking her with deep, hard strokes. He could feel her ass rise every time she met his thrusts, and he marveled that she had the stamina to match his own, although she was panting hard and breathing faster and faster. Wonder Woman was fucking back with everything she had, grinding her hips up against his. She was matching his speed perfectly, but she could feel fatigue growing in her bones and muscles, and somehow continuing on in spite of that fatigue made it feel even better - the fatigue felt almost good. She pulled her legs up and wrapped them around Thor's waist, pushing her hips up and rubbing hard against his, taking as much of his cock as deep into her as she could. He could feel that hot ass of hers squirming about beneath his hand, and he kneaded it in his huge, thick hands. He just grinned eagerly and kept slamming his cock in and out of her gushing snatch. Thor could feel her body trembling in ecstasy, moaning in excitement as her body seized up in pre-orgasmic tension. He released her tit from his mouth and looked up; her face was flushed in excitement, her tits were rising and falling rapidly, sweat and saliva running down her curved frame. Her legs had locked even tighter around his cock than before, and had he been anyone else, he may well have had serious bruises. Her cunt was clamping down tighter around his cock than ever before, pulling down around his dick as if it was milking him. "HARRR!!" she squealed out, "I CAN FEEL IT COMING, I'M GONNA CUUUMMMMM!!!! "Huh! Yes!" he moaned, "Cum! Take it! Take it!" Her body suddenly seized up completely, her legs locking about his waist even tighter than before, her cunt seized up likewise about his cock. He was just able to continue his fucking thrusts, and this new tightness was driving him crazy. Wonder Woman began to moan out loudly in excitement, her breaths and moans coming faster and faster as she crested the wave of her orgasm and prepared for it to smash down on her. Finally, she could take no more, and she released, her juices exploding from her cunt all over his cock and hips, running down onto his arm and down to his hand and her ass. Her body went completely limp and she collapsed, panting for breath as juices continued to flow from her hot pussy. Thor continued to fuck her, and she was making low noises in time with his thrusts, little 'huh! huh! huh!' noises. The Thunder God saw that she was out of it, she had taken all she could take and she could take no more. She was practically unconscious, lying naked beneath him, her eyes rolled back in her head, her skin flushed with pleasure. "I say thee nay!" gasped Thor, "This is not over until The Thunder God says so." He grabbed her by the hips, pulled his knees back slightly, pulled his cock out with an audible 'pop' and, showing his strength, flipped her around onto her stomach. Now her incredible ass was pointed up at him, and spreading her legs with his knees and lifting her up with one arm, he shoved his cock back into her tight pussy as far as he could, grabbed her by the hips and began fucking her hard. Her tits bounced and jiggled freely, the flesh of her ass shaking each time his hips smacked against her milky white buttcheeks, her cunt tight around his hard cock. He fucked her hard and fast, short quick thrusts designed for his pleasure and not hers. "Yes, yes! YES!" he cried, feeling his cum boiling up within his balls, "The time has come! I'm going to......." And then he disappeared. Wonder Woman remained as she was for a second, then her ass dropped down, her hips hitting the cushion, her tits squashing up against the silken material in a very pleasant way. "Wha?" she moaned breathlessly, "Thor....?" Then she too disappeared. The Sultan didn't notice, he was eagerly humping against the Asian woman beneath him, loving the feel of her cunt around his cock. Then he noticed other noises, and looked up in confusion. What he saw shocked him. The majority of his harem women were pressed up against walls, on their backs, on all fours or even turned upside down. They were getting their brains fucked out by his so-called eunuchs, as well as by his Chief Bodyguard, who was supposed to be responsible for the Eunuch's becoming eunuchs. "Hasan!" he cried, standing up, his cock pulling loose from his lover's cunt, "What is this? What is going on here?" Hasan pulled his mouth free from the snatch of a hot redhead, glanced in irritation at the Sultan, then with a lazy sideswipe he knocked the overweight man into the pool, where he lay spluttering, totally in shock, incapable of doing anything to stop the violation of every woman in his harem. Thor was in darkness, he looked about angrily. "What sorcery is this? Answer me!" "Patience, Thunder God," came The Forgotten's voice, laced with a light mocking tone which infuriated The Thunder God, "Congratulations are in order... you won." "Won? There was no battle!" "Indeed? Well, let's just say it was a test of stamina, and you won." Thor growled, swinging his hammer into the darkness, but The Unforgotten was not there. "I won? Then mine Universe be safe?" "Yes," laughed The Forgotten, "Even if you did win in a manner ill-befitting a 'god.'" "What now then, buffoon?" asked Thor, sarcasm having never been his strong suit. "Now, you wait, and we see what happens," replied The Forgotten enigmatically, and then spoke no more. - Winner - Thor. Green Lantern Vs Firestar. There were pipes everywhere. Some were venting steam, others were clear and carried water to some unknown location for an unknown purpose. There was little room to maneuver, and it was hot. Green Lantern and Firestar stood in dull incomprehension for a few seconds, then Kyle ventured. "I guess we've been picked to fight?" "Looks like it," replied Firestar, "Anyway.... LOOKOUT!" Even as Green Lantern turned to look in the direction of whatever she was staring at with such fear, he was thinking. - Damn it, she suckered me, I'm an idiot! - He raised a green shield around him, and felt heat against his back. She had obviously fired a microwave blast at him. "Look, check it out," he said, turning to face her, "This ring of mine can do anything I can think of, it has no known weaknesses and it doesn't ever run out of juice." "It can protect you," replied Firestar, "From the actual blasts anyway, but let's see if you can take the heat!" She blasted at him again and his shield held, but he could feel the heat through it. But just a thought later and a green air-conditioner appeared next to him. As ridiculous as it seemed, it began pushing cool air over him. "I can do this all day," he said, "What about you?" Firestar responded by blasting the floor out from under him, he fell down. "Yes!" she cried, the enthusiasm and exuberance of youth clear in her voice. Then her face fell as he reappeared through the hole, projected by a giant green spring. "You know?" he said with a smile, looking her over, "That costume is so.... I don't know, eighties! Check out all the yellow... I mean, if you were fighting my predecessor you probably would have kicked his ass all over the place!" "Shut up!" yelled Firestar, blasting at him with wave after wave of microwave blasts. He just opened little green holes that they disappeared through. "Just a green black hole," laughed Green Lantern. She screamed in frustration and he laughed a little. "Man, you redheads do have fiery temper, don't you!" Despite his glib remarks and apparent arrogance, Kyle was just covering up his fear and terror. He had been standing on the planet of Terjobolfriglakopit when it had ceased to be, he had found himself in that void of nothingness, and when he had tried to create something with his ring, nothing had happened. For the first time since he had gotten the ring, it had not worked for him, and it had been that which had driven it home for him. If he didn't save his Universe by defeating Firestar, then not even his ring would be able to stop the wave of destruction The Forgotten would unleash. So he covered it up with the typical brashness of youth, trying to force Firestar into making a mistake. And she did. She had also been deeply affected by the destruction of the planets Terjobolfriglakopit and Kalag'Xos. She was sure that if she pushed herself to the limits, then not even something as powerful as his ring would be able to stop her. But using her powers like that had a devastating side-effect, it caused her to become infertile, it affected her health. - But that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make, - she said, - For the sake of our Universe, I'll do it. - "Okay, you talk big," she yelled, "But you strike me as a little boy dressed up in Daddy's clothes and trying to be him."I don't think you've got the experience I've got, I don't think you're quite as powerful as you think you are!" A green Clint Eastwood appeared next to Kyle and mouthed the words he spoke. "Go ahead, make my day!" Still, that comment about dressing up and pretending to be daddy had struck him harder than he liked to admit. He had always felt like he didn't deserve the power of the ring, it had almost literally fallen into his lap. He hadn't been chosen like his predecessor, Hal Jordan. "But then again," he thought, "Hal ended up going psycho and trying to wipe out a few billion people." Firestar clenched her fists at her side, her eyes sealed shut, and she gritted her teeth. Suddenly, her entire body seemed to glow bright with power, and then it exploded outward from her, smashing into his green shield and wiping away his rinky-dink air-conditioner. His shield held, but the heat was intense, it was driving him crazy, and sweat was running down his face. He had a sudden vision of being fried alive, the flesh burnt from his bones and leaving a polished skeleton inside an impenetrable cocoon of green light. Sometimes having a great imagination didn't help matters. "Okay," he thought, "Gotta think... something that uses the power to run and shunts the heat upwards through the roof." Even as he thought it, a green machine was forming about Firestar, blocking off the microwave burst being directed at him. "Okay," he thought as the heat lessened, "Gotta hold it until she runs out of steam." The sweat was still dripping from his face, and he realized he had dropped his shield, and the heat from the pipes was getting to him. "Of course!" he thought, "The pipes are transferring heat down here, this is some kind of boiling room, and The Forgotten put us down here to limit our mobility, put it down to a test of power against power... looks like I win!" And with that, he imagined the machine cooling the temperature inside to near-freezing levels. Any additional heat created inside would instantly be siphoned away, so she wouldn't be able to heat herself. After holding it for a couple of minutes, he released the machine and instantly armored up in manga-type green body armor. But it was unnecessary, as Firestar lay shivering on the ground, unable to move. "I'm sorry," Kyle said, then wrapped her in a shell of green light which would magnify her body heat, keeping her from getting hypothermia. "Well done," said The Forgotten's voice, "You saved your Universe, even if you may have doomed hers." And Conner wondered if maybe the price of salvation wasn't too much. - Winner - Green Lantern. End Part Seven

Part Seven

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/15479.txt

Atom Ant

Making it "good" for Daddy

"Daddy, can we fuck?" The little 10-year-old girl fisted her father's swollen penis, as she paused in sucking him off, to ask the obscene question. "Gee Honey, I don't know. You're kind of young yet," George Pepper replied, as he lay naked on the bed, with just a T-shirt covering the upper part of his body. "Ginny's even younger than I am," replied the little girl, between licks and taking her father's swollen penis into her mouth. The child could barely fit the head of the swollen member in her little mouth, but she did the best she could, while continuing her argument, "and she's been fucking her father for over a year now. Ginny says it feels real good, when her father squirts his cum up inside her. Please Daddy?" "Well... Ginny's father isn't as big as I am, and besides, your cousin's been menstruating since she was nine. I still think you're a little too small yet." "Menstruating, Daddy?" "Menstruating. Having periods. Bleeding between the legs." "Oh. I did that last week. Momma says it's because I'm a woman now. That's why she says it's time I got fucked." "Your mother said that?" It was obvious to the little girl that her father was weakening. Susanne Pepper took advantage or her father's indecision. "Uhuh. Please Daddy? I'd do it REAL good. Momma says it won't be long before I start having kids of my own, and I should learn how it feels." "Ooooh," George couldn't help but groan. The little girl could tell he was weakening. She swung her leg over her father's body, and placed the tip of the enormous member up against her tiny little crack. "See Daddy," she said, "I'll make it feel real good for you, I promise." The clear liquid seeping from the end of her father's penis lubricated her cunny-lips, so they spread smoothly around the pulsing rod. The stimulation was too much for the older man. George stopped fighting. If his little girl wanted to fuck, why not let her? As long as he didn't force her... "Oh, OK! If you insist," he capitulated. "Gee thanks Daddy! You'll like it, really! Ginny says her father likes to squirt his sperm up in her tummy, even more that he likes being sucked-off. I'm sure I can do it at least as good as she can." The older man was NOT worried that he wouldn't like the feel of his pre-pubescent daughter's tight little cunny wrapped around his prick. Far from it. In fact, he was worried about just the opposite. The little girl's squirming had worked almost two inches of her father's throbbing prick meat into the child's tight little hole, and the stimulation was threatening to make him squirt thick sticky cum all over the inside of her tightly squeezing little snatch, before he had even half of it inside her. Luckily, there was an interruption. "Ow!" said Susanne. "How come it hurts?" She had a little over a third of her father's rampant penis inside her, and the erotic sight almost made him squirt anyway. "It's your hymen," he explained, "your virginity. If you want to fuck, you'll have to break it. It hurts. That's why I didn't want to do it until you're older." "Wouldn't it hurt then too, Daddy?" "Well, I guess." "Then I guess I might as well do it now, and get it over with," said the determined little fourth-grader. The little girl grit her teeth, and sat down hard. There was a straining moment, then three more inches of paternal prick vanished into the child's belly. A tiny drop of red ran down one side of the man's prick, but the little girl didn't cry or complain. The only sign of her pain, was a tear that appeared in her eye, as she felt her father's prick slide all the way home in her belly. That tear was enough for her father. "I'm sorry, Suzy, but I warned you," he said. "We'd better stop now, and maybe you can try it again some other time." "No!" said the determined little girl. "I said I'd make it feel good for you, and I will." Gritting her teeth against the slight pain of her torn virginity, the child began rising and falling on her father's enormously swollen prick. At first, it didn't look as though she was going to succeed. The man's prick had softened considerably, when he realized that his daughter was hurt. Still, the stimulation was extreme, and the little girl obviously was determined to keep on going until he came inside her, so he did his best to help. George always was a man who tried to keep his own promises, and was not one to deny his own daughter the same integrity. Suzy watched her father close his eyes, as he tried to concentrate on the delicious feel of her incredibly tight little snatch milking and squeezing on his engorged prick. Surprisingly, it was starting to feel good to her, as well. Too soon, it was all over though. Suddenly the man stopped, and pushed his prick up inside his daughter as hard as he could. Suzy suddenly felt wet between the legs, and knew from the symptoms that her father was ejaculating his potent sperm right up inside her. For the first time, the little girl knew her father was squirting his sperm inside her where it belonged. She wondered if she could get pregnant yet, and if not, how long it would be before she could. Oh well, if she didn't, Suzy was sure her mother would insist that her father kept on fucking her until she was. The little girl was glad she had a mother who cared enough about her daughter to let her get pregnant by the man she wanted... Even if that man was her own father. The hard part had been convincing him. Suzy was pretty sure her father wouldn't stop, now that he had felt her tight little cunny milking the sperm out of his prick. From now on, the little girl figured she could get fucked as often as she liked. She was right. "See Daddy," said Suzy, "I said I'd make it good for you." The little girl squirmed; seating the last quarter-inch of her father's fat cock in her tight little slit, while the last few drops of incestuous cum drooling out of the tip of his prick eased the pressure, and allowed it to shrink just a little. "Did you like it Daddy?" she asked, when her father didn't reply. George was too overwhelmed by the implications of the thing he had just completed. After all, it's not every day that you take your own daughter's virginity. To top it off, there was the comment Suzy had made earlier, implying that his wife EXPECTED him to impregnate the little girl. He was barely able to nod. "Thanks Daddy!" she said, with a room-brightening smile. "I TOLD you you'd like it." Suzy squirmed a little lower on her father's lap, bringing renewed life to the swollen member plugging up her tightly stretched little hole. A blob of white slowly oozed out around the base of the man's prick, as the little girl slowly rotated her hips, seeming to enjoy the feeling of her own father's sperm inside her vagina. "Can we do it again?" she asked. "Uh Suzy," he said, "I really don't think this is such a good idea." "Why not Daddy?" she asked, logically, "You liked it. I liked it. Why CAN'T we do it again? I'll make it feel REAL good this time; I promise!" The warm squeezing of her tight little slit reminded George of just how good it had felt THIS time; but somehow he had no doubt that Suzy WOULD manage to make it "feel better." That was not what was troubling him. "Uh Suz," he explained, using his short nickname for his daughter, "I know it feels good. That's why we'd better stop now; before we both start to like it so much we won't be able to stop." "Daddy! that doesn't make sense," pointed out the little girl, as her squirming brought renewed life to her father's prick, "I liked it, and so did you." "I can tell," she added, as her father's prick expanded once again inside her, "So why SHOULD we stop?" The man could tell that Suzy liked the feeling of her father inside her almost as much as he liked feeling her body around his. It was hard to refute her argument. Still, he had to try. "You might get pregnant," he pointed out. "Daddy!" exclaimed the little girl in disgust, "Of course I will.What's the idea of fucking if you don't get pregnant? Momma says if I'm lucky, I could have 4 or 5 kids by you before I start high school. The man's jaw gaped. "You WANT to get pregnant?" he asked. "Of course, silly," she replied. "Why do you think I wanted to get fucked in the first place?" The thought was too exciting. After having left one big sticky load of cum in his cute little daughter's belly, he had expected to be unable to cum for quite a while. It was completely unexpected, therefore, when his little girl informed him that she not only knew she could get pregnant, but actually WANTED her own father to plant a baby in that cute little tummy of hers. George Pepper lost control. He did it again. He came inside his own 10-year-old daughter, doing his best to get his little girl pregnant. Well, if Suzy wanted her father's baby, and her mother didn't mind (didn't mind, heck! It seemed that his oversexed wife was doing everything she could to get her husband to knock their little girl up), then who was he to object? For sure, the thought of his 10-year-old daughter's flat little tummy being obscenely stretched by her own father's baby growing inside her didn't turn him off. George must have left what felt like two quarts of incestuous baby-making sperm in his little girl's tight little snatch (even though it was probably only about a teaspoonful or two, it FELT to the man like he pissed gallons of thick creamy cum in his daughter's eagerly accepting young womb). Pulse after pulse of thick sticky white baby-juice spat out the tip of his swollen prick and into the warm welcoming recesses of the precocious young child's body. Feeling him spasming inside her again got Suzy excited as well. George didn't think his daughter had an orgasm, but she sure seemed to be happy just knowing her father had given in and was doing his best to give her the baby she wanted. Finally, his mighty spasms slowed down to just squirts, and then just a dribble of cum leaking into the little girl's belly. This time George said it. "Thank you Suzy," he gasped. "Thank YOU Daddy," she responded. "I love you." "I love you too, Honey," he replied. What else could a man say to his daughter who might possibly be carrying their child, even as they cuddled together, enjoying the pleasure of being mated. Suddenly the real world came crashing down on the two lovers. "WHAT are you DOING?!?!" screamed his wife, coming into the room and finding her husband and daughter in the most compromising of positions. "Ohshit," he said so quietly that neither of the other occupants of the room could hear. George just KNEW this had been too much of a horny fantasy to be true. His wife might not mind his little girl sucking him off, but fucking her? He knew he should never have let his daughter talk him into this. Now he would have to pay for his horny fantasy. There was no doubt about what they had been doing either. Even though his prick had wilted at the first angry word from his wife, slipping out of their daughter with a quiet "slurp," the rivers of white greasy cum drooling out of the little girl's snatch, coupled with a bright red streak on her thigh, gave mute evidence of the fact that he had not only just fucked the little fourth-grader, but had just taken her virginity as well. George knew he was truly and royally fucked! The man's wife didn't give him a chance to defend himself or try to cover up what he had been doing. "Look what time it is!" she almost screamed. "I come in here, expecting to find YOU dressed, and ready for school." Here his wife passed a scathing glance at their daughter. "And YOU," she continued to her husband, "I expected to be getting ready for work! Instead, what do I find? Two sex-maniacs who can't even remember that Suzy's bus leaves at 7:25 exactly." As if to prove her point, there was a loud rumble outside, interrupted by a grinding of gears, as the school bus passed the house, picking up speed as it did, since Suzy wasn't out there to be picked up. The woman continued her tirade. "Well if you think I am going to take Suzy to school this morning, just because you two are too busy fucking to pay attention to the time, well you've got another think coming!" June Pepper looked at her husband and daughter with disgust, while she wound down. "Since you're the one who made her miss her bus, YOU take her to school this morning," she grumbled. "I don't care if it DOES make you late for work. I have other things to do!" The woman stalked off towards the kitchen, only pausing to send two last-minute instructions back to the mismatched couple in the bedroom, as they both sat there, somewhat in a state of shock. "And for heaven's sake, clean up the mess between that little girl's legs," she instructed, her voice trickling back. "I don't want you getting that stuff all over the bed or carpet; and she shouldn't go off to school smelling like a whore, even if that's what she is: Daddy's little whore." "Yes Momma," replied Suzy, for both of them. George Pepper was too much in shock to reply. First, from the thought he was in trouble for fucking his daughter; then from the shock of finding out that he was NOT in trouble for fucking the little girl. If you see what I mean. "From now on," came the voice of his wife, as she gathered her stuff together in the living room, "if it's going to take you that long to fuck your father, then do it at night. Besides, if you do it then, you'll have a better chance of getting pregnant. Bye!" George heard the door open. June really WAS in a hurry that morning. "Bye Momma...I love you," the clear sweet voice of their child warmed his heart. "I love you both too, now get going!" The slam of the door interrupted his "I love you too," but he knew June had heard him anyway. Reluctantly, George and Suzy got up off the bed, pausing to stop the flood of messy white spilling from her crotch from making a mess on the floor by wiping it up with a tissue. The little girl hurried to get dressed, and gulped down a glass of "instant" breakfast at her father's insistence. She looked incredibly cute in a short little dress, with matching panties that almost made it look as if she wasn't wearing any. That gave her father an idea. "Take off your panties," he told her. "Huh?" Suzy asked. "I thought you were going to take me to school. We've only got about 20 minutes. I don't think we have time to do it again." George grinned. His little girl didn't have enough imagination. "Just take them off," he said, "you'll see." So she did. The older man gathered them up, stuffed them in his pocket, and headed for the car. "But Daddy, what?..." Suzy hurried to catch up to her father. Her short little dress was just long enough that you couldn't see her lack of panties. "Here," he said, getting in the car and holding his door open afterwards. "But Daddy! I can't climb over you!" complained Suzy, looking pointedly at the other side of the car. "Oh yes you can," her father replied, freeing his prick from the hole in his pants. "You can sit on my lap, like a good little girl, while I drive you to school." Suzy's mouth made a big "OH" of surprise, but she didn't object. Five seconds later, George Pepper's lap was full of squirming, giggling little girl, and his prick was being squeezed by the tightest, sweetest little hole in the whole wide world. "Thanks Daddy," murmured Suzy in her father's ear, "I thought I'd have to wait until tonight for this." They drove to school that way. Suzy was the very image of a sleepy little girl snoozing on her father's lap, while he drove her to school. About halfway there, Suzy started rotating her hips, while talking to her father, whispering in his ear. "I'd better put those panties on, before I get out of the car," she said. "Why?" asked her father. (He knew why; he just wanted to hear her response.) "Because if I come in the classroom with no panties and my snatch dribbling cum, Mr. Gardner's going to send me straight to the principal's office." "What's wrong with that?" he teased her. All the while they were talking, Suzy's tight little cunny kept squeezing on her father's prick in a warm friendly manner. She was still slick inside, from the cum he'd squirted in her earlier, so the stimulation wasn't so much as to send him over the edge. George figured he could drive all the way to school before filling the child's womb with his sperm. They'd probably just have to pull over to the end of the parking lot, while he got off. George wasn't worried. A few times in the past he had taken Suzy to school late, and she had sucked him off over in that same corner. Once, he even saw another car sitting over there, while one of Suzy's classmates was in the car with HER father. George had watched the child's head bobbing up and down, so he was pretty sure what they were doing. "Huh?" he said. In his introspection, George had missed his daughter's response. Her tight little cunny squeezing on his swelling prick had also distracted him. "I said, 'The principal's a pervert,'" explained Suzy. "Ughn...How so?" he croaked. Suzy was getting to him after all. "He fools around with little girls!" exclaimed Suzy. Her vehemence surprised her father. Suzy didn't seem to mind her own father fucking her. Why should she mind some other man the same age fucking girls like her? George asked her."Any time someone is hauled into his office for 'playing around', he usually ends up fucking them. All the kids know about it, but it seems that none of the teachers do. Or at least if they do, nobody says anything." "Even the boys?" he asked in surprise. "Boys, girls, teenagers or little kids. Mr. Shank likes them all. I hear he's got three girls in my class pregnant right now, and even more in the third-grade. If you believe what you hear." Suzy gave another wriggle on her father's lap, causing him to release another spurt of pre-cum into her tight little hole, as she continued, "Surprisingly, none of the kids seems to mind... Even the little ones." "Little ones?" her father gasped, barely managing to stop at a traffic light. The school was getting closer. "Uh-huh," she replied, "I hear he's even fucked some of the first-graders. Since nobody ever complains though, it's hard to tell. I know for sure he was fucking some of my classmates, two years ago. I almost went down there myself, just to see what it was like." The thought of his little girl being fucked at 7 years old, was almost too much; George barely managed to restrain himself enough to ask, "Why didn't you?" "Daddy! I wanted my first time to be with you." "Oh." George was flattered. He had to finish this conversation pretty quick though. "Then why don't you want to get sent to see him now?" he asked. "Because he might fuck me." "So?" he asked. "You're already fucking me. Would letting some poor old oversexed schoolteacher in your cute little panties be so bad? Besides, you said all the other girls seem to like it. He must be pretty good." "Daddy! He might get me pregnant!" said Suzy in exasperation. "Then let him," George said, as he began ejaculating his sperm up into his child's vagina at the very thought. OOOH, that was sexy! Just thinking about the principal, cool as a cucumber in public, while he boffed the 12, 10, 8, (and if Suzy was to be believed, even 6) year old little girls in his private office. George was slightly disappointed that his daughter hadn't been one of them. "Oh Daddy, don't be silly," murmured Suzy in her father's ear, as he pulled into the school parking lot. "I want this baby to be my daddy's." "OOoohhh!" George groaned, and let his little girl have the last sticky drops of incestuous seed. Well, if his little girl wanted a big belly by her own father, then George was quite willing to do his part. "If you say so," he groaned, as the final drops oozed out of his prick, and into his little girl's body. "Only remember, there's still next year." "Huh?" replied Suzy, somewhat distracted, as she tried valiantly to extract every precious drop of her father's sperm up inside her vagina. "After our baby is born, you can always get pregnant again, as your mother pointed out," he replied. "All your babies don't have to be mine, do they?" Suzy threw the tissue-box at her father, as she struggled into her tight little panties. "THIS one does," she said pointedly, using one of the tissues to stop up her leaking hole. "I gotta go Daddy... See you tonight." "See you," her father confirmed. "Love you, Cutie-Pie." George started to pull out, heading for work, but paused long enough to hear his daughter's reply, and answer her in return. "Love you too, Daddy. Can we do this again tonight? Please Daddy?" "Promise to make it 'feel good' for me?" he teased. "Promise," she giggled. "OK, then I promise too." And that was that. George Pepper headed off to work with a very sticky crotch, while his daughter skipped into school just ahead of the bell, with her own father's thick sticky sperm dripping down the side of her leg. They were both too happy to give a damn. Tonight... George could hardly wait.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7061.txt

Martina Lee

Caught in the Act (Part 1)

"OH, SHIT!" Susana pushed at Peter's chest, bucked her hips in a futile attempt to throw him off. She hadn't heard the car — not surprising in view of the crashing intensity of the orgasm from which she had only just recovered — but in the afterglow, she heard the "snick" of her husband's key in the security gate lock, and the rattle of the latch as he opened the front door. "Get OFF," she hissed. "It's Neil. The bastard's come home a day early." Peter, on the verge of climax, was incapable of rational response. His eyes were glazed, unfocused, his face contorted into a mask of mindless purpose which at any other time Susana would have found hilarious, and his pile-driving prick hammered remorselessly at her still-palpitating pussy. The tail was wagging the dog, and nature was just going to have to take its course. Susana shoved again, bucked again. "Get OFF." It was no use. Her senses keyed to almost supernatural levels, she heard Neil dump his suitcase on the floor in the hall and kick off his shoes, then lock the gate and close the door. "Surprise," he called. "It's me." Even that didn't get through to Peter. She felt him tense, break stroke, but only in response to a higher urgency than a soon-to-be-outraged husband's voice. He gasped, shoved, gasped, shoved, cursed, shoved, shuddered, shoved, and in spite of her predicament Susana climaxed again, clawing at the sheets, whimpering and thrashing her head from side to side as his plunging cock exploded inside her. As the fog cleared, she looked towards the bedroom door. It was open — it had been open all along — and Neil was standing just inside it, his face unreadable and a bunch of flowers in his hand. Even at such a moment, he could attempt a feeble joke. "Hi honey," he said tonelessly. "I'm home." Peter's head snapped round, his eyes widened in disbelief and he jerked himself out of her, rolled off the bed and stood hunched in shock, his hands clutched in front of his privates. He looked ridiculous. Allowing for exaggeration, he was twice Neil's size, and here he was cringing as if he was about to be beaten to a pulp. Susana stifled a giggle, waved a hand helplessly. For almost the first time in her life, she couldn't think of anything to say. She took refuge in formality. "This is Neil," she said to no one in particular. "Neil, this is Peter." Peter scrabbled on the floor for his underpants, turned away from Neil and pulled them on. His shrinking dick wept a final dribble of sperm, leaving a spreading wet spot. "Get out." Neil spoke quietly, but there was an edge to his voice that Susana had never heard before, and she wondered whether she ought to be frightened. He was looking at her, but when he spoke again it was obvious his words were directed at Peter. "Get out," he said. "I want to speak to my wife." Peter reached for his trousers and Neil hissed at him. "Leave them there," he said. "I don't want you running away. Just get your arse into the living room. I'll talk to you later — when I've finished with this one." Peter edged past him, his big frame strangely shrunken, both hands covering his crotch as if he expected Neil — weedy little Neil! — to lash out suddenly and kick him in the balls. Neil didn't even look at him. "Shut the door on your way out," he said, and Peter backed into the living room, obediently pulling the door shut behind him. Neil stepped to the side of the bed, stood looking down at her, then laid the flowers between her breasts. Like lilies on the chest of a corpse, she thought in alarm. Quickly, she shoved the thought aside, tried to brazen it out. "Thank you," she said, and batted her eyelashes at him. "Shut up, slut." He raised a hand as if to strike her, then snatched the flowers away and threw them on the floor behind him. His eyes reflected pain, and anger, and something else that Susana couldn't quite identify. "Bitch," he said. Where Susana came from it meant whore, the cheapest kind of whore, and under any other circumstances she would have leapt to her feet and tried to scratch his eyes out. Instead she simply lay there, not daring to move, even to bring her knees together, accepting the worst insult he could heap on her. She was acutely conscious of the perspiration — hers and Peter's — still mottling her breasts and belly, and of the even more copious evidence of their coupling trickling out of her cunt and on to the sheet between her widespread thighs. As if he read her thoughts, Neil leaned over and slipped the middle finger of his right hand deep into her unresisting pussy. He drew it out, wet and glistening, examined it for a moment and then held it in front of her face. "Bitch," he said again, and still she did not react. He wiped his finger on her cheek, trailed his hand down her body and probed again into her cunt. "Fucking bitch." Again he withdrew his exploring finger, held it up for her to inspect, then carefully smeared her lips with the slimy essence of her treachery. Susana studied his face, alert to every tiny nuance of expression. His mouth was set in a dead-straight line, except for a tiny tic tugging at the left corner, and his nostrils were flared. His burning eyes searched her body, came back to her lips, still puffy from her recent passion and now plastered liberally with sperm and her own natural juices. Tentatively, she parted her lips a fraction and licked a tiny curd of cum from the left side of her mouth. Neil's eyes widened, then narrowed, and his breathing quickened. "That's right, bitch," he said, and now the menace in his voice was overlaid with a rising note of urgency. "That's right. Lap it up." She opened her mouth a little wider and dabbed at her top lip with her tongue, then slowly and methodically, watching his face the whole time, licked herself clean. When she'd finished, he groped again between her legs. Without taking his eyes off her face, he screwed three fingers into her cunt and rummaged about for several seconds. Peter always came in quarts, and her pussy was positively awash. She raised her head to watch as Neil withdrew his hand. His fingers were dripping with the leftovers of love, pearly threads and three or four great glistening gobs of it. Her head flopped back on the pillow as he brought up his hand and poised it palm-up over her face. "Open up," he said. She opened her mouth, poked her tongue out over her lower lip, and he turned his hand palm-down and dipped his fingers to the vertical. The stuff of life dripped gluily on to her tongue and slid into her mouth, and she gulped it down, then licked and sucked the sticky residue from his fingers as he presented them to her one by one. He straightened up, eyed her speculatively for a moment, then stepped around to the end of the bed and stood staring at her weeping cunt. Slowly, almost absently, he unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it free of the waistband of his trousers, peeled it off and tossed it towards the dirty-clothes basket. It missed. He unbuckled his belt, pulled it out of its loops, and dangled it like a whip. Self-preservation leapt to the fore and Susana snapped her knees together, then swiftly drew her feet up towards her buttocks. Neil reacted just as swiftly. He let go of the belt, dropped on to the end of the bed, and wrenched her legs apart. She struggled for an instant, then decided resistance was only going to fuel his anger, and went limp. Feet together and knees spread wide, she felt like a frog pinned down for dissection in a high school biology lab. Somehow, perversely, that thought excited her and her nipples sprang erect. Neil took his hands from her knees and backed off the bed. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily.He unzipped his fly, unhooked the waistband of his trousers and let them fall, then slipped his underpants down his legs, bent over and worked his feet free of both garments. Susana, watching him warily through the flattened vee of her splayed thighs, licked her lips involuntarily as he straightened up and revealed the full extent of his arousal. Normally, these days, it took some serious foreplay — licking, sucking and stroking — to get him fully erect and ready to roll. Yet now, totally untouched by human hands, his cock sprang proud from the base of his belly, its single eye staring defiantly skywards as if searching the ceiling. There had been a lunchroom legend, before she married him almost 11 years ago, that he couldn't fuck — that he fainted every time he got a hard-on because his dick drained all the blood out of his brain. A prick of truly mind-blowing proportions, as one wit put it. It wasn't THAT big, but it was certainly more than adequate, and for a long time after the first time Susana couldn't get enough of it. Well, that wasn't quite true either — for the first year or so they were at it three or four times a day, often for hours at a stretch, and when they weren't doing it they were both thinking about doing it. How he managed to hold down a responsible job while all that was going on was still a mystery. She had been an 18-year-old virgin when Neil came into her life, her only previous sexual experience a wide-eyed handjob on a pushy young workmate named Alipate, who lured her into his flat on some forgotten pretext and then took off his pants and wouldn't let her leave until she had "fixed" him. It had been quick, and messy, and in retrospect only mildly interesting, and she had kept well clear of him after that. Neil was almost exactly twice her age, and she had been frightened rather than flattered when he first began showering his attentions on her. But he made her laugh, and in spite of her friends' dire warnings (or perhaps because of them) she started going out with him. Simple, innocuous dates — nothing that would keep her out beyond the curfew set by her traditionalist father, nothing that would lead her down the shameful path to dishonor about which the nuns at St Peter's had been so fond of talking. Just sandwich lunches in the park three or four times a week, quick dinners in the Korner Kaff on nights she had to work late, and once an afternoon at the football. Right at the outset, he told her he intended to marry her, but marriage was still a long way in her future and she didn't take him seriously. He wooed her with flowers and silly presents — a rubber duck (?), a strange kaftan-type dress which she gave to her mother (telling her it was a present from an overseas pen-friend) and the one which finally did the trick, a fur-covered pillow in the shape of an enormously fat, brown sea-lion (she loved it dearly from the start and even today, more than a decade later, she pulled it out of the closet occasionally when she felt in need of comfort). Unlike the boys against whose crude advances she was constantly on guard, he never grabbed at her and he never tried to ply her with liquor. They'd hold hands, and he'd kiss her lightly on the forehead when he dropped her off down the street from her home, and that was all. Pretty soon, she realised it wasn't enough. On the Saturday afternoon three weeks after their first date she turned up at his house uninvited, unannounced and alone, and fell into his arms. Barely 10 minutes later, without knowing quite how she got there or how she came to be naked, she was writhing in astonished ecstasy on his bed with his tongue in her virgin pussy and his burgeoning cock throbbing hotly against her shoulder. He didn't lose consciousness as rumored, but he didn't actually fuck her, either, in spite of her willingness to yield up her hymen to him right there and then. It was a willingness she made perfectly obvious when he came up for air and lay beside her, gently teasing her nipples with his fingers. She pulled him over on top of her, groped for his cock and tried inexpertly to maneuver it between the lips of her cunt. He rolled off. Susana was puzzled. Everyone knew that all men wanted was to put their thing into your thing and wiggle it about. Was there something wrong with her? He laughed, hugged her tightly and kissed her, his mouth fragrant with the spoils of cunnilingual congress. He didn't, he said quaintly, want to "defile" her. Then he licked his way back down her body and ducked his head once more between her legs. Susana thought she'd died and gone to heaven. The world fell away beneath her, and she was just a few square centimetres of quivering flesh and a bundle of nerve-endings, which sprouted wings and flew her higher, higher, dragging a kaleidoscope of colors behind them until she broke through the roof of the sky into inky blackness and exploded in shower after shower of silver sparks. As she fluttered back to earth she became aware that he was once again stretched out on his back beside her, his left arm beneath her shoulders. She rolled towards him and flung her own left arm across his chest. What did he mean, he didn't want to "defile" her? He licked her ear, launched into a long and confusing explanation that boiled down to not wanting to pop her cherry unless she was willing to give him not just her body but also her soul. It came across as pompous rubbish, but she realised he was saying, like her mother and the nuns at St Peter's, that her virginity was something to be guarded jealously until she was safely married. It was only then that she realised how serious he was about marrying her, and in that moment she discovered also that she loved him. She kissed him, snuggled her head on his chest and studied the foreshortened view of his cock lying quietly on his belly like a beached eel, its tip reaching to within a couple of centimetres of his navel. She tiptoed her fingers down his body, and stroked it lightly. It shook itself awake, its head swelled visibly, and it rose up and winked at her. Neil slipped his hand beneath her armpit and cupped her left breast, and she circled his prick with her fingers and made the milking motions the obnoxious Alipate had taught her. Neil groaned and squeezed gently on her breast, then began kneading her nipple lightly between his middle and ring fingers. "Yes," he breathed. "Oh yes, love, do that." His cock was hot and hard, and it stiffened and swelled even more as she tugged and squeezed. Susana sat up, knelt beside him and watched his face as she worked on him. His eyes were closed and his tongue showed through parted lips. "Yes," he said again. "Oh, yes. Do it. I love it. I need it. Do it." He opened his eyes and she was shocked and excited to see the helpless pleading in them. He reached up a hand and caressed her cheek, then her throat, then dropped it lower and stroked her breast. Her nipple stiffened again to his touch. Both of them were breathing heavily now. Susana wrapped both hands around his cock and pumped faster. He was gasping, jerking his hips in time with her stroking, and his cock was growing huge. Susana licked her lips, watched fascinated as its rosy tip emerged, disappeared, then re-emerged from between her circling fingers. "Yes," he gasped. "Oh, yes. Pump me. It feels so good. Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, yes." His left hand was busy rubbing, stroking and squeezing her nipple, the fingers straying every so often to caress the firmly contoured faces of her breast. Then he raised it to her mouth and pressed his thumb against her lips. Susana allowed it partway into her mouth, bit gently on it and teased it with her tongue. She tore her gaze from his cock, turned her head and looked directly into his eyes. As if that was the signal he had been waiting for, he raised his hips towards her and forced his cock further into her hands. "Now," he said. "Now. Make me come. Now. Yes. Now. Yes. Now. Now. Now." He was shaking his head in ecstasy, his cock burned and throbbed, and she gripped him still tighter, sensing the pressure building inside him. Suddenly he screamed softly, his hips jerked upward, and his juice spurted out of him, arcing into the air and splashing back over her hands. She kept pumping and there was another jet of sperm over his belly, then another, then a slow dribble that dripped stickily through her fingers. He lifted her hands from his prick, raised them to his lips, and kissed the tips of her fingers. "Clever hands," he whispered. "So clever." He let go of them, sat up and put his arms around her, then kissed her softly on the forehead, the eyes, the nose and, finally, the lips. He pulled up a corner of the sheet, wiped her hands with it, then leaned back while, giggling, she mopped up the mess on his belly and in his pubic hair. Then he had her lie face down on the bed and sat beside her, tracing a zigzag path with his fingers from the nape of her neck, down her back, over her buttocks and down the backs of her legs to her feet, and up again between her legs to the warm-wet sweetness of her most secret place. He turned her over, traced the same kind of path with his lips from throat to nipples, across her belly and further down, and she spread her legs and moaned as he dipped his head between them and slipped his tongue again into her pussy. After a while he raised his head, licked his way back up her body and kissed her on the lips. Susana shuddered as his probing fingers found another love-button. "Lick me some more," she whispered. "Please. Do me more." She put a hand on his head, urged it down her body, shuddered again as his tongue slipped into her crack, slithered over her clitoris and stabbed at the half-sealed entrance to her vagina.She closed her eyes, and her legs twitched while a series of near-electric shocks passed through her body. As the pressure built within her, Susana reached for him, her fingers caressing his back, his belly, then circling his now-flaccid prick, tugging insistently until he moved over her, his tongue still flicking at her quivering clitoris, his knees to either side of her head and his cock hanging directly over her face. She poked out her tongue and licked him, tasting the drying sperm on the tip of his cock. Then she flung her arms around his back and suddenly, somehow, it was in her mouth. Older, worldly-wise girlfriends had talked about this, giggling, nudging each other and slyly watching her reactions. The very idea had repelled her. Now, however, it seemed perfectly natural, and she cuddled tighter, lifting her head off the bed and purring with passion as his prick began to stiffen again between her lips. He moaned, and a fresh thrill swept through her body as his tongue stabbed at her cunt and his bottom lip vibrated against her clitoris. He began to hump his hips, fucking her face, and she worked eagerly on him, guided by instinct, licking, pressing and sucking. Then he was rolling over, his own lips and tongue still busy between her legs as he flopped on to his back and pulled her on top of him. Susana lifted her head off his cock, moved so that she was kneeling astride his chest, and pushed her crotch at his face. "Do more," she said, and gasped as he spread the lips of her cunt with his thumbs and began nipping at the burning bud of her clitoris. His tool jerked and flopped against his belly, and she leaned forward and once again slurped it into her mouth. Now that she was in control she began to experiment, raising her head so that only the very tip was between her lips, teasing with her tongue, then slowly working her way down the shaft until her mouth was full of him. Up, down, in, out, and all the time his prick seemed to be growing harder and bigger, longer and thicker, and his tongue lapping at her cunt was causing tiny shockwaves that seemed to run right through her body and burst in sparks behind her eyeballs. Up, down, in, out, faster, deeper. He began to writhe beneath her, and she found herself shaking uncontrollably as he pressed his face harder into her cunt, his cunning tongue jabbing, probing, stabbing, sliding sensuously over every surface and into every crevice. Up, down, up, down, her busy lips and tongue on autopilot now and all of her conscious attention centered on the fire Neil was stoking in her crotch. Then she was coming, and she pressed back hard into his face as the shocks merged into a blinding flash of silver sparks in her head. She cried out, the sound smothered by the rigid pole of flesh in her mouth, as wave after giant wave of orgasm reared up, broke, and came crashing down on the sunswept beach of her body. When she regained her senses he was still licking at her, his tongue slithering up and down her crack and stabbing at her swollen clit. His cock was still in her mouth, and now he was humping his hips, heaving himself up to drive deeper and deeper on every one of her downstrokes. Suddenly he tensed, and somehow his cock seemed to swell even more, stretching her lips to the limit and boring even deeper into her mouth. Up, down, up, down, and he threw his arms over her buttocks, cuddled her tight and thrashed his head from side to side in her crotch. His cock jerked once, twice, and then exploded, flooding her mouth with warm, salty fluid. Susana choked, swallowed, and went on sucking. There was more sperm, a strange mixture of faint, indefinable flavors that numbed her mouth, and she swallowed again, pulling at his twitching tool with her lips and tongue to milk him dry. He moaned with pleasure, plunged his tongue once again into her pussy and they came together, clinging tightly to each other and thrashing about on the bed until neither of them had any more to give. Finally, she rolled off and lay panting on her back. Neil sat up, turned around and lay beside her. He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders and pulled her to him. They kissed, then slept. Three days later, at lunch in the park with people all around them, he went down on his knees at her feet and formally asked her to marry him. The little box he proffered turned out to contain what may have been the smallest solitaire diamond ever set in a ring, and she thought it the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever seen. She wore it proudly back to the office, and no one dared comment on the size of the stone. Nor, ever again, did any of them say anything — at least in front of her — about the supposed size of Neil's equipment. Her parents were horrified. In accordance with custom she had been "promised" to a remote cousin since she was 14. That was not a real problem — the promise could be broken without shame, and in any case he wouldn't want her if she was no longer a virgin. They couldn't believe she was still intacta, and she had to submit to examination by her grandmother. The result of the examination mollified her father a little. What was more worrying was Neil's age (he was actually three or four months older than Susana's mother), the fact that she had kept his existence secret from them, and the Really Big Issue — he was white! They discussed it for two days, during which she wasn't allowed to leave the house, and were no closer to agreement when Neil turned up and brought the whole thing to a head. Everyone — brothers, sisters, grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins — crowded into the house to watch and listen as he asked her father for her hand in marriage. He answered all their questions politely, quietly and confidently. In a little more than an hour and a half he had won them over and Susana didn't even have to play her trump card — that she would get pregnant and then they would HAVE to let her marry him. After their betrothal feast the following weekend, she moved in with him. That was entirely her idea — Neil was willing to wait, months if necessary, until they were properly married, but Susana wanted it all and she wanted it NOW. The last guest was barely out the door before she dragged him to bed and literally overpowered him with the full force of her instinctive, driving sexuality. She cried out more in triumph than in pain when he deflowered her, and they fucked until dawn, then slept for four hours and started again. Hours later, as she lay bathed in sweat in the crook of his arm and toyed absently with his exhausted tool, he wanted to know if she was really sure. After all, he said, she was very young and he was her first love. For himself, he said, he had no doubts at all, but he would understand if she wanted to hold off on marriage for a while, play the dating game and maybe taste the fruit in someone else's garden before taking the final step. She kissed him to shut him up, told him not to be silly, swore eternal love and slithered down the bed to lick him back into shape. They fucked again. Afterwards he held her face in his hands and looked earnestly into her eyes, vowed that in spite of his notorious past she was now and forever hence the only woman in his life, but that he fully expected her eventually to develop an itch for a younger lover. She protested, and he hushed her with a kiss. In 10 years or so, he said, he'd be pushing 50 and she'd be regretting not having sown her wild oats. When that happened, he said, as he was sure it would, he hoped she would trust him enough to tell him, and not go sneaking around behind his back. That, he said, was what had killed his first marriage — he could have handled the infidelity but he couldn't stomach the lies. Susana cuddled him, told him he was talking twaddle, and soothed him to sleep. They were married three weeks later and she had been faithful to him ever since. Until Peter . . .

3. Caught in the Act (Part 1)

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17997.txt

mesmer

Mother-Daughter Act

"She just has no confidence in herself whatsoever," the anxious mother said to James Brady, a psychologist, on the other end of the phone. "I can't even get her to go out with her girlfriends, let alone out on an actual date with a boy! I'm so worried about her! And now her schoolwork has started to get worse as well. Can you help me do you think?" James let out his breath slowly between his teeth, timing it nicely with the end of the worried woman's sentence. The smile came easily to his voice with his standard, but genuine answer. "Yes, Mrs. Rogers. I'm sure I can help your daughter," James answered. "But I'd like to see you both, if that's alright with you? Just for a general chat first, sort of get an unobtrusive overview without your daughter actually knowing it. Would it be possible to convince your daughter with a white lie by saying that 'you' were coming to see me for some nerves or something?" "That's not far from the truth, anyway!" Mary Rogers answered. God knows she felt like she was going to lose her mind with the way her daughter just sat in her room all day long or moped about the house, tripping over her bottom lip. "Yes. I don't think that's a problem. It's a good idea, actually. I'll get her to think that she's just keeping me company. How will that be?" "That will do nicely, Mrs. Rogers," James answered with a smile in his voice. "When would you like to make an appointment, and what time would suit you?" "Ummmm. How about tomorrow? Would you have a time free about ten o'clock in the morning?" she asked. "I'll juggle a couple of appointments, Mrs. Rogers," James told her. "Shouldn't be a problem at all." "Oh, thanks, Doctor Brady!" she said. "I hope I'm not inconveniencing you." "Not at all, Mrs. Rogers. Not at all. And please, call me James," he replied. "Thank you. My name is Mary," she responded. "Thank you, Mary," James said. "I'll see you tomorrow at ten. Bye for now." "Good bye Doctor Bra...err..James," she said. Doctor James Brady hung up the phone smiling, confident he would be able to help both daughter and mother. Most women were their own daughter's problems at the best and the worst of times. Usually if he managed to help one, he would end up helping the other, usually the one who did not seek the help in the first place. Mary Rogers and her daughter Julie were right on time, and James was waiting for them. He had placed another chair in the therapy room on his left. He planned to sit Mary Rogers in the recliner, since her daughter would think her mother was the one seeking help. And Julie would be seated on his immediate left. Both would be within two feet of where he would be sitting in the middle of them, easily able to hear his voice. After Doctor James Brady had introduced himself to her, she put her arms around her seventeen-year-old daughter and eased her forward a little bit. The girl looked down at the carpet the whole time until her Mary squeezed Julie's shoulder a little, thinking the doctor wasn't bad looking at all for a man in his mid to late forties. Mary had been divorced now for four years. "James. This is my daughter Julie," Mary said with a sparkle in her eyes at the charade she was taking part in with the doctor. It had been easy to get Julie to accompany her. "Julie. This is Doctor James Brady. He's going to try to help me today." "Hi, Julie," James smiled warmly, finally seeing her eyes move up to meet his gaze as her head raised a little at being addressed. The girl certainly appeared introverted at this early stage. "Hello," Julie answered softly, wishing she was anywhere else in the world, except where she was. She had reluctantly agreed to accompany her mother, but only because her mother had practically begged her, saying she couldn't possibly visit a strange man alone. "Mary, would you like to take a seat here in this chair?" James said, directing her to the large velvet recliner. "And Julie, would you sit here? Nothing is going to take place that would require you to sit by yourself in the waiting room. Besides, I'm sure your mother would appreciate you being here with her." James waited until they had both seated themselves and then took his place between them. "Now," he began, addressing Mary Rogers. "You explained the problem you have fully to me on the phone yesterday, Mary. And I understand completely. I've been thinking about it seriously and have decided to begin the therapy immediately. I don't feel the need to know any more about it at this stage. Is that alright with you?" Mary Rogers smiled. He was very good at charades, she thought as she answered. "Yes. That's fine. The sooner we begin, the sooner I'm sure I'm going to feel so much better." James turned to Julie. "Are you comfortable, Julie?" he asked. "We're going to be here for a couple of hours at least. Why don't you both take your shoes off and really make yourself comfortable?" Julie nodded, but said nothing. Nor did she return the doctor's warm smile. But she did slip off her sandals when she saw her mother taking off her shoes. They were too tight anyway. Mary Rogers settled back into the deep, soft velvet recliner, suspecting how easy it would be to just curl up in its soft, warm arms and drift off to sleep. She had to admit she felt a little bit excited at the game she and James were playing for the benefit of Julie. "Right," James began. "Before we get right into it, I just want to go through some deep relaxation exercises. If that's alright with you? That way, it will be easier and quicker to get right to the heart of the problem when the time is right for it to be dealt with once and for all. Okay?" "Yes," Mary answered, settling herself more comfortably down into the warm arms of the big chair. "Now, I want you to look up at the ceiling and see that little red-painted spot there. Can you see it? Don't tilt your head up. Just keep it level and lift your gaze with your eyes," James instructed her, hoping Julie would follow suit. That's why he had raised his left hand and pointed to the red spot he had painted on the ceiling. His left arm passed right up beside her face, such that her gaze, if she were looking, would have had to follow his pointing finger to the red spot. "Don't take your eyes off it for a single moment," James guided both women secretly. "Just become aware of your breathing ... how easy and natural it has become already since you've been staring at the little red spot ... Relaxing and letting go completely ... you should feel ... in a moment or two ... I wouldn't be surprised at all if ... your tired eyelids are becoming as relaxed as the rest of your mind and body ... so relaxed and calm and peaceful that they are ... probably already beginning to feel ... and starting to become heavier and heavier ... and maybe will even begin to start blinking ... as they start to definitely feel ... more and more tired and .. more and more heavy ... and probably will even close themselves down ... all by themselves ... when they feel so heavy ... and so tired ... that you just couldn't be bothered trying to hold those heavy ... tired eyelids up anymore and ... allow them to close now ... all by themselves and ... completely relax and ... let yourself go completely ... and just keep on drifting down ... and down ... and down .... deeper and deeper ... relaxed and calm ... warm and safe ... deeper and deeper asleep ... and warm and safe." James paused in his slow and deliberate style of speaking to allow Mary to deepen her own trance a little, once she realised just how relaxed she actually felt. He turned his head just a little, aware immediately that Julie's eyes were also closed. He turned more toward her and studied the features of her face. They were relaxed and calm, but with some movement of her eyes beneath the closed eyelids. She would deepen herself down as well, James decided for the moment, and then left them in silence to their own discoveries for a full minute. "Now," he said softly and slowly after the minute was up. "I want you to allow your imagination to ... choose stairs .. an escalator ..or an elevator .. or any way you like to imagine so strongly ... and when I snap my fingers ... allow yourself to gently drift down ...one relaxing deeper level at a time ... relaxing and sleeping ... deeper and deeper ... with each level you go deeper down ... when I count to three ... and snap my fingers ... One ... two ... three." James snapped the fingers on both hands at the same time. The fingers on his right hand snapped directly beside Mary's left ear, and the fingers on his left hand snapped directly beside Julie's right ear. He watched Mary's reaction first, as her shoulders sagged as she exhaled. Her hands fell a little sideways and she seemed to sink more deeply into the big chair. He turned then to observe Julie. Her shoulders too had sagged and rounded forward. Her head was now leaning forward slightly toward her chest, with her arms resting loosely on her lap, just touching. James smiled, and then left them in silence. He had deliberately not told them how many levels to go down, hoping in his silence they would take themselves down to whatever deep level they felt they wanted to explore, just to see if they could relax as much as possible. Time alone with their thoughts and their imaginations now was the most important thing he could allow them to spend. Mary Rogers had never felt this relaxed in her life before. She had started to think that maybe she should stay alert and listen to what he was saying, just in case he needed her help with Julie, but after taking the escalator down to each deeper level, just like at the shopping mall, she just couldn't be bothered trying. It was simply too relaxing in what she was doing and feeling. Besides, James seemed like a perfectly capable person. She was sure he wouldn't need her help. After all, he could always wake her up, she decided, and then she stepped back on the escalator and allowed herself to drift down deeper again into the peace and relaxation of the deep, comfortable chair that seemed to be wrapping its soft, velvet arms around her and cuddling her like a baby to its mother's bosom. Julie had started out listening to what James was saying to her mother, determined not to really pay it any mind, even when he pointed to the little red spot on the ceiling he wanted her mother to stare at. She had tried looking elsewhere and had begun to stare at the paintings of the waterfalls around the office walls of soft, green paint. But when he had begun to talk of relaxing, and speaking so slowly and in a strange way, she couldn't help but listen. Julie knew she was relaxing very deeply. She hadn't been tired, but she had felt it wash over her when he had first started speaking. After that, she had felt really calm and relaxed. So, she decided it wasn't going to hurt if she eavesdropped on her mother's therapy. Two for the price of one, she had smiled to herself. When the doctor had asked her mother to choose a way of relaxing more deeply, Julie had chosen a long and winding set of stairs, just like she had seen in the movie, 'Gone with the Wind," when Scarlett O'Hara came gliding slowly and gracefully down the long and curving staircase. And the more she imagined it the deeper she felt herself sinking into her own peace and relaxation. Everything else seemed to have faded away, except his voice. Even that seemed softer at times. She would have to listen harder, but it seemed to be taking too much effort, and Julie was now beginning to feel very, very sleepy and tired. James let his gaze wander slowly between both women, satisfied with the way each appeared to be relaxing, just by the look on their face and their facial features. Mary's mouth had a slight, loose smile on it, while Julie's had opened slightly. Her head now hung even more forward than it had before. He decided to allow them a little more time to deepen themselves in their own way before he locked their thoughts into the sound of his voice, and his voice alone. Time was always on everybody's side, he thought, in his business, at any rate. After several more minutes of trained and calm patience through years of experience, James continued with his induction of the two women. It had been his plan from the beginning to trance both of them down. He always did whenever he had both mother and daughter together because the problem of one was usually the problem of the other. He began with a gentle command. "I wonder if you can see ... and feel ... and experience ... your special place ... all around you now ... so warm ... and so relaxing where ... you're all alone ... and you're very safe ... and it's very peaceful ... and you feel so private ... The place where ... you always go to ... in your mind ... when you ... want to be alone now ... with your thoughts ... you can now feel yourself ... in that familiar place ... so warm ... and so safe ... and so very protected from the world ... and all of the situations .... and all of the people you'd ... rather not see or be with ... as you experience your complete aloneness now ... alone in your special place ... with only the sound of my voice ... soft and soothing you ... helping you relax ... even more deeply than ... you are relaxed and calm right now ... your special place ... all alone and private ... so very, very private ... and safe ... and protected ... with only the sound of my voice." His scrutinizing gaze travelled from one tranced woman to the other - checking both closely for trance depth. Mary seemed deeper than Julie. Then he decided on his next plan. "It's beautiful where you are ... so peaceful and so private ... alone and so safe ... and so relaxed and calm ... hearing only the sound of my voice ... and you can come here anytime ... with the soft, soothing sound of my voice ... and the sound of your trance key, 'sleep time.'... and the sound of my voice ... soft, and soothing ... to your special place ... when you hear your trance key, 'sleep time.' ... whenever you want feel safe and alone ... warm and very, very private ... with the sound of my voice ... and hearing your trance key ... wherever you are ... whatever you're doing ... when you hear your trance key ... you will want to come back here ... with the soft, soothing sound of my voice ... saying your trance key, 'sleep time.' ... which you can forget now ... because your unconscious mind will remember ... your trance key is the sound of my voice ... saying your trance key, 'sleep time,' ... which you can forget now ... because your unconscious mind will remember ... what you have forgotten already ... because it never existed ... only in your dreams ... and in your unconscious mind ... to allow you to come here instantly ... whenever you hear ... the sound of my voice ... saying your trance key, 'sleep time.' ... that you can't remember now ... even if you try ... and the more you try ... the more you don't want to ... remember something you didn't even notice in the first place." That should do it, James decided as he stared hard at both women in turn. Then he slowly woke them up refreshed and alert to the count of ten. They both blinked and rubbed their eyes. Julie stretched while her mother yawned and continued blinking. "Oh!" Mary said dreamily. "Did I fall asleep?" She couldn't remember. She tried for a moment, but nothing at all came to her except how great she felt-relaxed and alert, refreshed as if she'd just woken up from a deep and relaxing sleep. Then she smiled. She probably did. "I think I might have too." Julie agreed dreamily with her mother as she stretched her arms high above her head again. "I had a nice dream though, But I can't seem to remember it. It was nice though. I remember that." What was it? Julie questioned herself as she gazed at her mother's relaxed and calm face. Julie noticed she hadn't seen her mother look as relaxed as that for as long as she could remember. Julie puzzled over why she couldn't remember a dream she'd just had only minutes before. She could always remember her dreams for a few minutes after awakening of a morning. She shook her head and forgot about trying anymore. She felt too relaxed and calm. "Sleep time." James tested them both, then waited. "What?" Mary said, feeling her eyes grow extremely heavy. Her body seemed to then sink quickly inside itself as she sank deeply into the soft, velvet chair. Julie heard the doctor say something and turned to ask him what he'd said. She noticed her mother's eyes close quickly. But that was all. Her own eyelids were feeling heavy. So heavy. So tired. Too much effort to keep them open. So she didn't. She just gave herself up completely and surrendered to the wonderful, relaxing feelings and sensations washing over her body from her head to her toes. James watched Julie's head fall slowly forward toward her chest as she lost the battle to keep her eyes open any longer. Mary had succumbed very quickly. She was probably a natural at relaxing, he thought as he checked each them visually again for several minutes each. Now for the big finish and the final part of the induction, he decided. And then, the test. He began a little more quickly now so their conscious mind wouldn't get in the road of their unconscious accepting everything without having any time to be questioned. They were both too relaxed and tranced down anyway. Julie's chin was almost touching her chest. "Back deeply involved in your special place .. with only the sound of my voice..all alone and safe..away from everyone...even your own thoughts...because it's too tiring to think ... when you can listen to me ... soft and soothing you .. relaxing you .. caring for your needs .. and you like your needs cared for ... to be looked after so well ... so warmly and so gently ... just as you like ... that nobody else can do ... when you listen to me ... and feel so wonderful and so alone and safe .. and listen to me ... who makes you feel this way ... and takes you to your special place ... where you're alone and safe ..."and wanting to stay here and be looked after... all of your needs, all of your desires, all of your wants... When you listen to me, just as you like, just as you want... those special needs, those secret needs, those private needs... Listen to me, care for your needs, just as you asked, care for your needs, just as you wanted, just as you need to listen to me and do what I say, and care for your needs, your private needs, your secret needs. Listen to me, do what I say, your needs will be cared for, you will be happy, just as you wanted. That's why you came... your needs will be cared for, just as you wanted. That's why you came - to listen to me, tell you what to do, to care for your needs, just the way you wanted. That's why you came - to satisfy your needs, your private needs, your secret needs. Relax and enjoy now, relax and enjoy now, care for your needs, just as you wanted. Relax and enjoy now. Say nothing now, relax and enjoy now, care for your secret needs, relax and say nothing. Everything is perfect and natural, just as you wanted. That's why you came... to relax and enjoy, relax and enjoy, relax and enjoy, relax and enjoy, and do exactly as you're told. Do exactly as you're told. Do exactly as you're told, relax and enjoy, relax, relax. James fell silent for several minutes and waited until they had sorted themselves internally and accepted the thoughts from their unconscious minds as their own. He could feel his pulse quicken with his heartbeat as it always did before the final test in cases like this, but he loved it. God, how he loved the thrill of the challenge. To James Brady, there was no challenge like no challenge. Mary accepted everything as sounding like so much common sense. That's why she had come to him. Of course it was. To have her secret and private needs met. It had been so long. And she had so many needs that all needed to be met. One of her better ideas. She felt so wonderful and so warm, in her special place that only she knew about. Julie knew she needed her needs to be met. She tried herself, often, but never quite got there. She wasn't even sure if she knew how to do it properly. But she felt it was time. It was the perfect time. She was in her special place. Nobody could reach her here, or tease her or put her down. She was an adult here, and soon, she would be a woman, just like she always wanted to be. She smiled. James saw Julie's smile and smiled himself. He checked Mary and saw she seemed perfectly and completely involved in the thoughts and suggestions he had placed in her unconscious mind and then was given back to her conscious mind in her imagination. "You will only hear the soft, soothing sound of my voice when I say your name," he told them soothingly, caressingly, sensually. "You will hear me speaking only when I say your name. If I say another name, you will deafen your ears and not hear. If I say another name, you will be deaf to what I'm saying and not hear anything. It won't be important unless I say your name. I will not be talking to you unless I say your name, you will not hear a single word." Then he checked them again for several minutes while the minds did the job he had told them to do. Then his heart jumped and his pulse raced steadily as his hands began to move off his lap. His right hand reaching toward Mary, his left hand reaching toward Julie. "Julie?" he began with her first. "You can believe now that you want to willingly accept and obey everything I say to you, without question and without doubt, believing everything I say to you is perfectly natural and right and correct in every way, in order to have your secret and most private needs met and satisfied in every way, which is why you came and what you really want. Isn't that true?" James watched Julie closely. Her head slowly nodded. "Yes," she mumbled into her chest. He smiled. Then he repeated the same words to Mary in exactly the same way and watched her just as closely. "Yes," she said dreamily, nodding her head. "Julie? Stand up carefully now, take off every bit of clothing you are wearing, and then sit back down so that you're very comfortable. Do you understand?" "Yes," Julie nodded. She realized that she couldn't have her secret needs met if she had her clothes on. She knew that. Slowly she rose up from the chair, knowing she would have undressed anyway in a moment or two, when she'd thought of it. And she knew she would have. She reached behind her back and undid the zipper of her dress, sliding it all the way down to her lower back. Then she slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her hands quickly found the clasp of her bra and released it, feeling really wonderful as her full, ripe young breasts fell loose and free. She could already feel the stiffening of her nipples. Her thumbs then hooked beneath the band of her white panties and dragged them down over her thighs. The inner heat she was feeling now in her lower belly was a familiar one, but this time, she would reach her goal. After stepping out of her underwear, she sat back down in the chair, but more comfortably this time. Her neck had been straining the way she had been sitting before. Now her head was relaxed, but straight, and the heat was slowly working its way upward from the junction of her thighs to her breasts and nipples. She could feel them already simmering with expectation of the moment she had been waiting for, for so long. James was hard from the strip-tease show he had just witnessed at very close range. Julie's full, jutting breasts were a delight to rest his appreciative eyes upon. And the thick, black widow spider curled up at her apex just begged for his special attention. But for the moment it would have to wait. He had Mary stand up and undress next. Mary's breasts, although sagging just a little, were still a sight to turn on any man who lay eyes upon them. When she peeled down her panties over her hips, James received a beautiful eyeful of her bottom: two creamy cheeks of soft, white flesh with a deep, dark crease that would soon be receiving his fullest attention. When Mary sat back down in the recliner, her lush, thick, curly bush attracted his instant attention and hardened him more than he thought would be possible. "Julie?" he commanded her gently. "Spread your legs as widely as you comfortably can and then begin to gently masturbate." Julie's heart pounded against her ribs. It was beginning. She lifted her feet from the floor and moved them very widely apart, until she was comfortable. God, she felt sexy. Her soft fingers found her center and dipped inside, then began a circling motion over and up and down her crease. Her pleasure mounted rapidly. Her breathing was already sounding like panting to her own ears, which made her feel even more sexy than she already did. "Mary? Bring your feet up to the chair and open your knees as widely as you can and then begin to masturbate." Mary heard him say it to her. She moved without even thinking about it. It had been so long. She drew her feet up and rested them on the edge of the soft, velvet chair. Then she widened her knees, feeling the gentle coolness invade her openness, heating her expectation of having her needs met so fully. Her hands knew exactly where to go to find the center of her pleasure. Her long, slim fingers dipped very slowly and very deeply, then her right fingers continued their slow penetrating action while the fingers of her left hand began to circle her soft crease until she could hear her own soft moans slowly and gently escaping from her mouth. She felt hot and flushed with excitement and pleasure and knew from experience she was well on the way to going over the edge. James watched, feeling a little sad for a moment that women had to suffer so, simply because of the psychological restraints that society and their parents and peers placed in their minds as they grew to sexual maturity. No woman should have to suffer the aloneness of being unfulfilled, he thought. It simply wasn't fair when there were so many men and so many ways to develop and fulfill that aloneness. "Julie?" he said softly to her. "Stop what you're doing and pay the same attention to your breasts and nipples. I'll finish what you started now, while you just enjoy." Almost immediately he continued. "Mary? Stop what you're doing and pay attention to your breasts. I'll finish what you started while you just enjoy." James saw both women carry out his instructions instantly and reached out with his hands going in opposite directions for both of them. Julie's breasts felt wonderful in her gentle hands. Her nipples were stiff and hard and stinging. They felt full as if she had milk in them, but she knew that wasn't possible. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. Her pulse throbbed in each nipple and in the depth of her soft, swollen crease. She sucked in her breath rapidly when she felt the warmth and solidity of something begin to gently slide up and down her wet, aching wet cleft, then sighed loudly as she welcomed the waves of pleasure that torched upward instantly from the touch of another person's hand. Mary had never felt happier. Her breasts had always felt nice and full to her own touch. All the men she'd ever allowed to make love to her, including her ex, had told her what sexy breasts she had. She moaned deeply the instant she felt the warm fingers begin to paint her crease with invisible paint, stroking gently up and down, from the depths of darkness between her buttocks, to the throbbing, flaming shaft of her swollen jewel of pleasure.She moaned again as the warm fingers began to circle her and dip gently inside her in a rhythmic action. Her buttocks relaxed and her thighs widened their acceptance of the incredible waves of pleasure and rapture that were rapidly racing her mind, her senses, and her burning body all the way to the top of passion's mountain. Mary closed her eyes tightly in readiness for the blissful fall from the top she knew she was about to fall from. James worked the gentle fingers of both his hands methodically and yet lovingly on the warm, wet creases of both mother and daughter at the same time. He could see they were both only seconds away from reaching their peak. They were both moaning deeply and panting fast, and as their hips and buttocks lost control and began to jerk and convulse uncontrollably, he deepened his grasp on the center of them both and took firm hold of each of their swollen jewels between his fingers and thumbs and squeezed, in gentle, but repetitive grasps of pressure. That did it for both of them, yet he relentlessly kept up the alternating pressure of his gentle pressure-squeezing as they both writhed against his sensuous actions on their most private core. Julie's senses deserted her when she felt her most secret place grasped quite firmly. She heaved upward without conscious thoughts of her actions. Her consciousness of who she was and what world she actually lived in deserted her completely when she felt the constant squeezing of her most secret place begin. She felt her hips begin to shudder beyond her own control, yet knowing they were her hips and buttocks that danced to the tune of her own happening pleasure. Julie opened her mouth to scream her rapture to whatever world she was in, but no sound passed over her swollen lips. Her breasts flamed, with each nipple singing its torching sensations to the angels in the heaven she was sure she was in. Her loins exploded again and again, over and over, wave after burning wave in a volcano of absolutely incredible sensations that ran torrid flames of pleasure relentlessly and repeatedly up and down her spine, which continued and flamed again and again with each squeeze she experienced on her writhing and twisting volcano's erupting core. The floodgates of Julie's inner pent-up passion and private undiscovered, but always felt raw lust opened and closed repeatedly, emptying their sensually toxic wine and slick nectar, cooling her overheated young channel of fire. Julie crushed her own young breasts in her now, not-so-gentle hands, twisting them, pulling them away from herself, grasping each burning nipple and merging it into the flesh of her own tumultuous grasp, heightening unknowingly her elation sensing all pain as nothing but rapturous bliss and heaven-sent pleasure to the waiting receptors of her rapidly failing conscious mind. Then slowly, but surely, the myriad of beautiful, swirling colors of Julie's new world of rapture and heavenly bliss began to dim as she felt, rather than saw her own lights to that wonderful world go out and extinguish completely. As her consciousness slowly deserted her, all Julie could sense in her rapidly failing awareness was the warm and constant pressure on her private core. Her last thoughts of lucidity before her world went completely dark was of the relentless, repetitive, and absolutely glorious pressure she could feel over her whole body at the same time. The pressure...the pressure..the pressure...... Unaware of her daughter's situation, Mary knew she had lost control. She felt herself fall off the high mountain of her own rapturous pleasure with the very first squeeze of her flesh. After that, she had not stopped falling. She tumbled in her mind, over and over as wave after wave of burning heat and pressure enveloped her mind and senses completely. Mary knew not where she was, or what time in her life she had reached. Mary only knew her body was on fire, being torched again and again, over and over with each squeeze of her throbbing, slick flesh, spinning crazily out of control and not caring. She existed only in each blissful and consummate moment of pressure and nowhere else. She was aware of the uncontrollable actions of her hips and thighs, and knew she was only along for the ride. Her mind sang with the heavens above as the waves of burning heat and fire burned into each and every nerve in her spine, from the depths of her flaming buttocks to the stem of her mindless mind. Mary's inner dam burst, flooding her flesh from within, over and over, like the tides of no return. She groaned in her own voice that she didn't even recognize. Her vision beneath her tightly closed eyelids began to go grey. And it was at that point, with her own hands wringing the fire from each of her breasts and nipples that Mary knew, somewhere in the dark recesses of her remaining awareness that she was about to faint from her sensual and very personal euphoria. And then, suddenly, as if someone turned out her lights, she simply did exactly that, falling rapidly into the warm, dark depths of her inner existence. There existed a slight mist in James' eyes as he held the women firmly, watching each lose their battle to remain conscious for the last time, each losing the battle, yet winning their own individual war for release from themselves and their daily world of restrictions as they saw it moment by moment. He blinked, and then smiled warmly at them both, one after the other, then slowly released the now-gentle grasp he had between the warm, wet crease of both. For several moments in time he simply sat there gazing lovingly at them, wondering what their dreams of that very moment would be, and knowing in his heart that wherever they found themselves, they were sure to be happy. He reached down to the tissue box and gently cleaned between the thighs of both mother and daughter, from the depths of their buttocks to the base of each swollen shaft of womanhood he had held so lovingly and so nurturingly for them both in their conscious absence. Then he rose and placed the tissues in the wastebin which lay out of sight from his patients in his small kitchen. He returned to sit comfortably between them once again, smiling a smile he knew they would each be feeling in the depths of their comforting dreams. He readied his mind for their return to a world he believed they would now, both be much more happy existing and living in from this moment forward in time. "Julie?" he said softly, yet firmly. "Open your eyes, but remain fast asleep. Get dressed now and compose yourself. Do your hair and go to the kitchen and freshen your eyes, but not your face." James watched as she did exactly what she had been told to do. In ten minutes she sat upright beside him looking as she did when she had first sat down there. Then he repeated the exact same wording to Mary, who rose lazily, but did exactly as she'd been told also. He looked at both, one after the other, carefully scrutinizing each of them for anything that could be construed as different in their appearance since arriving that morning. He saw nothing. "Julie?" he began her awakening. "Listen now to each word I say. You will awake in a moment, remembering nothing consciously of what you have experienced. You will not want to consciously remember, because that way, your memories will always come to you in your dreams, so you can remember then and enjoy them over and over again. Do you understand?" "Yes," Julie answered dreamily, with a sleepy smile on her face. "You will awake to a different view of the world and of yourself as a woman. You will be aware of yourself in every way as a privately sensual woman from this point onward and willingly seek the excitement and adventure, through studies and socializing, interacting with all amiably and cooperatively, including your mother, in whatever you find yourself doing or thinking at the time. You will take your happiness wherever you may find it and remember to care for yourself, your mind with its schooling, your body with its health and growth, and your reputation as a woman and your mother's only daughter at all times. And you will be happy and content, knowing that the woman you have been waiting for to arrive in your mind and body has now fully come to you in every way, exactly as you always dreamed she would. Do you understand?" "Yes," Julie answered a little more clearly. "When I count to three and snap my fingers, you will feel such a freshness about yourself, such a newness, it will be hard not for you to smile, and keep smiling at your newfound happiness for as long as the feeling remains within you. Do you understand?" "Yes," She heard herself say. Julie felt reborn. She felt her back straighten and her chin lift. She was different. She could feel it, and she knew it now. She really knew it. She had now become a woman, in every way. James smiled as he noticed Julie's stance change. "Mary?" he began with her now. "In a few moments, I am going to count to three and snap my fingers. When I do that you will find yourself instantly awake, feeling as if your mind and body have just been washed clean and crystal clear in a cool mountain stream. You will feel healthy and happy, better than you've felt for a very long time. You will awake with a different attitude toward yourself and all others, including your daughter, accepting her now for the woman you know she will become in the fullness of her time, just as you have now discovered that same woman within you. You will be lonely no longer and will seek to form new friends with the awareness of your new sensuality brimming within you at all times, yet always retaining the respect for yourself that you would want your daughter to develop for herself." Mary heard each word and knew they were true. Something inside her had changed.She could feel it already. She realized then that it was she who could determine her happiness and not leave it in the hands of known or unknown others. She smiled. James smiled again, as he always did just before he woke them up, and, as he always would in the future. He liked his job. Of that there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind, or regarding the ethics of how he went about that job. He hurt no one and helped many. And his reasoning had not changed in many years - happiness was everybody's God-given birthright, and everybody had a right to access it within themselves, or be helped, knowingly or unknowingly to achieve the same desired result. He gazed at the looks on their faces, different from when they had first come in. They were different, and they had him to thank. And sadly, they would never know - not while they were awake, that is. He grinned as he took his booking notepad out of his pocket for when they would tell him they were coming to see him next. "One... Alert and fresh... Two... Feeling very healthy and very happy... Three!" Another Happy Ending

Chapter I

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17662.txt

Tigger

A Change of Direction: An Alternative Ending to Mike Allegretto's and CaitlinB's Change of Pace

"I'm not going to be pulled in just because you were!" Jacqueline stared icily. "I want to learn what I have to know as quickly as possible. I don't want to be female a month longer than I have to!" "That's your choice," Laurie conceded. "But you won't like some of the lessons required, especially if you really want to take them immediately." "Just as long as it can really be over and done with in a year," Jacqueline seethed. "You had better not have been lying about that." "Now Jacqueline, I never lied to Jack, and I won't lie to you. It can most assuredly be done in a single year," Laurie assured her daughter. Of course, Laurie added to herself. You'll have to acclimate very quickly, since the most intricate portion of the Transformation Spell can only be learned while in the delivery room, and the final nuances while nursing your newborn. "I don't believe you," was Jack's cold reply. Laurie's eyes slued to her Transformed son. "That book proves you lied to me. By omission, certainly, and by making promises you did not intend to keep. You never intended to return me to normal." Anger sparked in Laurie's eyes. "I beg to differ, young lady. If you had asked to end the Transformation, it would have ended. Now it is beyond my power to reverse it." The bleak lack of any emotion in her child's response chilled Laurie's soul."Perhaps, but you have a world of history on your side," Jack lifted the album to her, "to prove that, without beforehand knowledge, the Transformed person is not going to make that decision because the full ramifications have been left... intentionally unclear?" Laurie pursed her lips and refused to answer. "How long, Mother? How long has this... this abomination been inflicted on the men of our family? And how could you do it to me? And why should I believe you when you say that it is beyond your power?" "ABOMINATION?" Laurie's temper was back in full measure. "How dare you call it that? It is a gift! A wonderful gift, and you will damn well learn and accept that basic truth if you want any hope of returning to your pitiful male existence. I *love* you, and I will not have *you* say or think otherwise. I loved Jack enough to give him these gifts of magic and womanhood because I have had both and wanted to share them with the son I love." "Forgive me, Mother, if I don't share your enthusiasm for these... gifts." The disgusted look on Jack's face left no doubt of what he had wanted to say about those gifts. "And you did not answer my question, Mother, so I will answer it. Too long. This unwilling Transformation stunt has been going on for so long that you fail to see the wrong you have done to me, your son. Well, it ends here and now. I will be the last of our family." "What?" Laurie's head snapped up. "What did you say?" "I won't perpetuate this horror myself nor will I permit it to be perpetuated on any child of mine. I will not even bring a child into a world where you consider it *your* unequivocal right to take away that child's life and dreams because *you* think you know better." Laurie went very still, the full import of what her child had just said shocked her into speechlessness. This was not going at all well and certainly not as it had gone with her own mother nor as Mum had told her it had gone with all the previous generations of her family. Had she done something wrong in casting her spell? Had she missed some key element of the enchantment that would have made Jacqueline more able to accept and enjoy her new situation? Choosing her words very carefully, she tried a more conciliatory tact. "You would deny me a grandchild to love?" It did not work. "It ends with me, Mother." "But you have already tasted the power of your femininity, and of your new sexuality. Before you can learn enough magic to change yourself back you may well end up pregnant." "Even assuming I choose to be actively female, which is a stretch, there are ways of preventing conception. This is the Twentieth Century." "Women on birth control have babies every day, Jacqueline. There is no foolproof way of preventing conception short of abstinence." And you won't be able to do that, my daughter, Laurie thought. Another little aspect of this Transformation is that your female needs are extremely well developed and demanding. Soon, your fingers will not be nearly enough for you. "Again, assuming that something goes very wrong, there are ways of ending an unwanted pregnancy. And it *will* be unwanted, Mother. No child of my blood will come into this world because I cannot trust you." All remaining color drained from Laurie's face. "You can't terminate, Jack," she whispered, not realizing that she had fallen back to using his male name. Seeing the look on her child's face, she hurried on. "It is not only a moral thing, daughter, it is a rule of magic, as well. Someone who deliberately snuffs out the spark of life from another human can never again wield the power." "Then my dreams will die with the fetus, Mother, for I cannot, will not permit a child of mine to face what I am facing right now. I won't Transform him or her, but as long as you live, you are a threat because you don't believe there is anything wrong in stealing a dream." "You keep saying that. What dream? You can become a male again, if you choose." and after you give me my grandchild she added in a whispered thought to herself, "What dreams have I taken from you?" "College. It took you three years, Mother, so it will probably cost me at least that much. I will not play college sports. I won't go to a prom with my best girl on my arm. I won't learn all the things a man needs to know to live in a man's world as a man. You might as well have killed me, Mother, and have had done with it." Tears came to Laurie's eyes. "You cannot mean that. You are just upset right now, overwrought. Honestly, Jack, it is not that bad. In fact, *being* a fellow's best girl at the prom really is rather wonderful, if you would just give it a chance. Nothing else needs to change. I am sorry I hurt you for I see now that I have, but I did not mean for it to be like this." Jack watched his Mother's tears with a detachment born of a soul deep fury. "I will give you one chance, Mother. Reverse the spell, right now. Return me to normal, give me back the life *I* want for me instead of the one *you* want for me and I will not do anything to prevent having children. Otherwise, live with the fact that you have ended our line with your gleeful lack of concern for my wants and dreams." If anything, the tears flowed harder. Last night, Laurie could have reversed the Transformation. She could have given her son back the life he evidently wanted enough to threaten her this way. Now, that was beyond even her power because the final spell she had cast upon his "request" for "more time" had been very carefully crafted so that only Jacqueline could reverse it. Which she could not do until she had learned the lessons and the magic necessary to effect and control the Transformation Spell on her own. Lessons that included giving birth and nurture to a child she now insisted she would never permit to be born. Goddess, what *had* she done? "I have to leave." Laurie sobbed and ran from the room leaving a furious former son, now daughter, behind. Twenty minutes later, a starkly composed Laurie returned to find Jack exactly as she had left her. She was simply sitting there, staring at the picture album. Goddess, but her son made a beautiful woman. Dark hair, dark flashing eyes and an olive complexion gave hints to the family's Gypsy ancestry. In the right period costume, the girl would have looked right at home in their Great Great Great Grandmother's caravan wagon, dancing to the rhythm of a tambourine for the coins men would toss her way and telling fortunes by firelight. And the son she had given birth to hated the very thought of that. Probably hated her, too, for her part in it. Still, there was nothing more she could do about it. Laurie had spent the last fifteen minutes pouring over her ancestral texts, looking for a charm or potion or spell that would undo what she had done, but to no avail. She had done her work far too well in that respect and evidently not well enough in the sense of easing her child's acceptance of this change as the wonderful gift Laurie had seen it as. Now, she had no choice. She had to play this debacle out the only way she had left to her and hope, that in the end, she did not lose her child in the process. With great care, she walked back to her seat across from her daughter and sat down. "I cannot undo the Transformation, Jack. I have gone through all my records, and no one except the Transformed One has ever been able to reverse the change successfully." "So, others have found the change not to their liking?" The comment was snide and was meant to wound. Laurie did her best to ignore it. Instead, she steeled herself not to rise to the spite in Jack's voice. There was nothing to be gained at this point by fighting. "According to my family records, there have been fifty male to female Transformations attempted in our family over the past two hundred years. Of that number, five men refused the final Transformation and were restored to their masculine state at the end of the first hour. Of the remaining cases, five members of our family who completed Transformation attempted to reverse the spell. The three who completed the learning succeeded in undoing Transformation and lived out their lives as men. However, the other two who tried to reverse the spell were not successful. One attempted the change before completing all the steps of the learning, and the other forced his mother to attempt a counter-spell. Both died." Jack sat back, legs akimbo, in a posture of utter male dejection. It made Jacqueline look completely ridiculous and rather lewd, but Laurie bit her lip and said nothing. Trying to enforce the little niceties of ladylike deportment would not help Laurie's weak case with her daughter. Jacqueline looked up, her black eyes bleak and filling with tears. "Then it is over. I know you won't attempt it because you won't kill me, but in truth, I am not sure I wouldn't rather be dead right now." "That is enough!" Laurie's ringing rebuke stunned Jack. "I will apologize one more time for my stupidity in thinking you might be intelligent enough, open enough, to appreciate what I did for you. However, you are alive. You are a beautiful, intelligent human being who happens to be female and that *can* be temporary. You have the potential to undo what you find so absolutely distasteful if you will only quit whining and get on with what must be done. You don't know anything about the power you could wield, but just so you might begin to understand, consider this. You say I have stolen your dreams, that I am denying you the opportunity to go to college as a male. If you complete the training and if you master the skills I will teach you, there is no reason that you cannot Transform yourself into your male self, at any age you desire."You want to be an eighteen-year-old again? Then make it so when you perform the Transformation Spell on yourself. It will be within your capabilities." "And all I have to do is learn your little magicks and do your little tests, is that it? Which you have already said I will find distasteful. Let's not forget that." "No, in your current mindset, I imagine they will be bloody awful for you, but that cannot be helped. It is the only way that I can find in my records to undo what I have done without causing your death. For my part, I give you my most solemn oath that I will teach you everything you need to know as quickly as you can absorb and master the knowledge. In return, I want your promise that you will do nothing to try and accelerate your return to manhood. I won't teach you without that promise because, while I don't want to live with your unhappiness on my conscience, I refuse to be the cause of your death." Jack considered that. Laurie wanted to squirm under the power of her unblinking stare. Goddess, but would Jacqueline be powerful once she learned to focus her craft. Finally, Jack drew herself up and spoke. "Very well, Mother. I agree, and you have my promise on that score. Just one other thing, though. If I ever am given cause to believe that you are not being completely truthful with me again, or that you are playing games with me, I will leave and never come back. I will live the rest of my days as you have made me, but with one small change. I will have myself surgically sterilized so that this ends with me." She is striking out, trying to hurt me, as she has been hurt, Laurie thought. She shook her head. This was going to be so very hard. Why had it not been hard for her and her mother? What had she done wrong with her own, beloved child? "Well. I guess that tells me what you really think of me. I could say that our family tradition says that I have done nothing to deserve that, but there are exceptions to every rule and you evidently are the one that proves it." She shrugged. No sense in avoiding the worst of it. "Very well. I will agree to your condition subject to one of my own. I cannot tell you everything. The tasks you must undertake have lessons that you must learn yourself. If I tell you what is going to occur in those cases, then you might as well not do them, and you will not achieve your goal. You will simply have to trust me on this or we can go no further. You would lose your chance to master the Transformation Spell." "Trusting you right now is difficult, Mother." Jack watched as her arrow shattered her mother's hard-won calm, as she had intended it to do. Oddly, she felt a little ashamed. "All right. I agree to your condition, but my statement stands. Any other little non-truth and it is all over for you, for me and for whatever hope of family continuity you still might harbor." "I cannot let you do that, Jack. That is your male ego talking, and I will not permit you to do something that stupidly harmful to yourself just to lash out at me. If you attempt to leave, and if you follow through with your threat, I will use my magic to stop you. You know I can influence minds, and I will make it impossible for you to take such a horrible step." The hopeless shrug from her daughter nearly broke Laurie's heart. "You must do what you think you have to do, Mother, as must I. You've already taken away the things I thought I wanted, why not my free will as well? Seems that would be the simplest thing all around. Abra Kadabra, Bibbity Bobbity Boo and Jack is a happy Jill. Or Jacqueline. No more muss or fuss. Must be easy as pie for a wheeler-dealer spell caster like you." Laurie's answer was all but inaudible. "If I do that, you will never wield magic because once a mind is opened to magical suggestion, it is open forever. You cannot shield it against someone else's influence. Only free minds can focus the power of the Goddess. If I take away that choice, you will be Jacqueline for the rest of your life." She saw the 'so what' look in her daughter's eyes and hardened her heart and her voice. "The only difference between my way and your way, sweetie, is that I *will* have my grandchild. If you force me to take your mind, I will go all the way and turn you into the perfect wife and mother. I swear it! If your children are all I can have of you, then I will have them." Jack was strangely unresponsive in light of her ultimatum. Laurie waited for her to say something, but she didn't. Finally, Jack stood and looked down at her Mother. "I guess that says it all. You hold all the cards. If I don't do as you say, I end up as I am - a baby farm for future generations of witches. Your kindness and concern for my feelings in all this almost makes me wish we lived in Salem. When do we start, Mother-darling?" The cruel remark and the sarcasm dripping from what had been her son's favorite endearment cut at her soul like a barely sharp knife, leaving ragged bleeding bits in its wake. She would not cry, not again. Not in front of her. "Tomorrow," she rasped out. "I need some time to prepare and to fix things like those records you mentioned. You need some time to deal with the anger in your soul. Tomorrow is soon enough." Probably too soon, she thought, but the early lessons would be the easiest, and Laurie would be the one who decided when the objectives of those lessons had been achieved. "Very well, Mother. I will be in the garden." And with that, Jacqueline turned on her heel and strode to the garden. The absurd picture of it drew forth a watery chuckle from Laurie after the door slammed behind Jack. She had looked so silly trying to walk like a man in that compact, curvy body. Bouncing like that probably hurt like hell. Well, dealing with her first brassiere was a milestone in any girl's life. Only most girls started with training bras fitted over a dreaming young girl's hopeful almost-bumps. Her daughter had to face a garment intended for a grown woman and was going to have to fit it over fully formed B or C cup sized breasts. How was she going to pull this off, she asked herself again. How was she going to get her child through all the training, all the lessons that she would need to come into the fullness of her powers? Especially when the entire process had to culminate with the ultimate expression of the woman-power, the giving and nurturing of life? Somehow, she had to manipulate her child into accepting... no, that was not enough. Her child had to glory in his new-found womanliness in order to gain the power. Somehow. Sighing, she rose from her seat and headed for her library. First things first, she reminded herself, wearily. She needed to make a place in this strange new world for her daughter. There were records to change and memories to adjust before Jacqueline could take Jack's place. After that, she would have to go clothes shopping. Jack could get by on sweats and castoffs for today, but she would need enough real clothes to get started tomorrow, and Laurie's own wardrobe would not do for her daughter. For one thing, her stuff was not appropriate for a teenager, and for another, her things would probably not fit Jack. Laurie's experienced fashion-eye told her that Jacqueline was slimmer in the waist and bigger in the bust than her Mother. What a waste, she thought, casting such lovely pearls before such a male chauvinist swine. Well, it was her job to help her daughter learn to appreciate her new riches. It was much more than she had let on to Jack. If Laurie was right about her daughter's potential, Jacqueline's power was going to be greatly needed in the dark days to come. End Part 1

Chapter 7

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16090.txt

PleaseCain

The Gentlemen's Society

"What's the long face, Hampton-Davies? Were the links untoward?" Hampton-Davies exhaled in disgust and pulled his hair back. He sat abruptly down in a lounger in the circle with the others. "Aye! Cruel fortune!" He leaned to the table, and a long arm plucked a cigar from the cup. "What is one to do?" the young man exclaimed in barely suppressed frustration. He snipped the cigar tip decisively. "Here, here, chum," consoled the older Spillsworth. He shook an open tin before the youth; its contents rattled within. "Go on, lad, have you some vagina." The sullen Hampton-Davies looked at his mentor a moment, then finally reached in and dropped a couple of pieces into his mouth. The corner of his mouth turned up as he crunched at the bits. Spillsworth heartily slapped the younger's knee. "That's the stuff!" he bellowed triumphantly, and leaned back into his chair with satisfaction. A chorus of "Well dones!" and "Good shows!" traveled around the circle of seated gents, as did the tin of vagina. The men giggled in escalating giddiness and gusto, as the pieces crackled in their mouths and their eyes swept over each other in good-natured camaraderie. The ruckus was such that they did not see the Texan until he was upon them. Over his shoulder kicked a young woman in a short yellow dress. He slapped his big hand across her bottom. She shrieked laughter. "Hey y'all!" he piped over the din, "anybody want some pussy?" The girl beat her fists playfully on his broad back. "It's Bunny," she squealed, "Not Pussy, you big galoot!" The congregation of men fell silent. Silent. Her laughter withered into nothing. "Whuh?" the Texan shrugged. They could only stare at the spectacle. Roguesford shook, beet-red. A vein grew from his temple, and he shook his fist from his perch. "You... will... take... that, that, behavior... far away from HERE!" The men chimed in: "Here, here!" "By the gods!" "Really!" "Gees." The hoss was crestfallen. He dropped the girl to her feet, and they walked away forlorn. "Good show," congratulated Leicester-Shanks, holding forth the tin. Roguesford snapped up a piece, well-pleased, grinding it with vigor. Spillsworth noted to Hampton-Davies, "I shall propose a sanction barring such indecency at the next meeting. We shall draft said proposal tomorrow, you and I." "Aye!" approved the others, crunching industriously.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17699.txt

Gordie D

The Moriyama Sisters

"My name is Eiko Moriyama. I have reservations, two rooms, together." I punched her name into the computer and, sure enough, two rooms with an adjoining door. As I entered her credit card information, I looked her over out of the corner of my eye. She was in her forties, pretty but kind of conservative, her deep black hair cut straight across at her shoulders, parted on the side, and she wore a trim knee-length skirt and blazer. I sort of compulsively flirt with women, and when I handed her the room keys and asked her if she needed any help with her bags, I tried to catch her eye and give her a smile, but she stayed serious, not meeting my eye, giving me a formal, "No, thank you, we will carry our own bags." She turned to the couches in the middle of the lobby and called out, "Nobuko, Keiko, come." I hadn't noticed the two teenage girls sitting on the couches, evidently Mrs. Moriyama's daughters. They got up and lugged their suitcases to the elevator, which was right next to the desk. As they reached the desk, their mother turned to me and asked, "Please, where may I purchase a newspaper?" I pointed her toward the gift shop, telling her she could find one there. She instructed the girls to wait where they were while she was gone. As she walked away, I turned to the girls. "Which one of you is Nobuko and which is Keiko?" One of them gave a bashful little laugh and said, "Oh, I am Nobuko, she is Keiko," pointing at her sister. The girls looked similar, but evidently had very different personalities. Nobuko, the one who had spoken up, was wearing a baggy pair of jeans and a tight tee shirt that showed off her belly button, and had on bright pink lipstick. Her long black hair had streaks of brown dyed into it, and she really seemed flirty, looking me in the eye and grinning, in contrast with her sister, who shyly looked at the ground while we talked. Keiko didn't seem to wear any makeup at all, her hair cropped a little past her ears, with bangs in front, and she was wearing a red and yellow dress that was several inches below her knees. I found out from the girls that they had just arrived with their mother from Japan and were on vacation for a week in LA before heading to Hawaii for another week. As we talked, Mrs. Moriyama returned and herded the girls into the elevator. I certainly had my hopes up about bumping into the girls during the week, though. And I ran into them sooner than I expected. My shift was over at midnight, and I stopped by the kitchen to talk with a friend of mine for a minute, then headed toward the parking garage. As I cut through the central courtyard and approached the swimming pool, I saw someone at a poolside table, reading something, and as I got closer, I saw someone else sitting by the edge of the water. To my surprise, I saw it was Nobuko and Keiko. Keiko was leafing through a magazine, and Nobuko had her pants legs rolled up and was dangling her feet in the water. "Hi girls. Staying up late?" "Oh, hello!" Nobuko said with a big smile. "We cannot get to sleep. We are not used to, um, you know, change in time yet." "At home, it would be afternoon now," Keiko added, looking at me shyly. I sat on a table between the girls and asked them how they liked LA so far. Nobuko said they hadn't seen much of it yet, but told me all the things they were planning to do. She got up from the edge of the pool and sat down on a chair at the table I was sitting on, looking up at me with her big friendly grin. Keiko stayed in the chair she was in, about ten feet from me, looking me over, kind of warily though, with her knees together and her hands in her lap. After talking a while, I asked them, "Do either of you have a boyfriend?" They both looked at each other and giggled. "No, not really," Nobuko shrugged. "You're both so pretty, I thought you would." They both looked at the ground with bashful grins. Nobuko asked, "American men, they only like women with blond hair and big . . ." Holding her hands in front of her chest. "Nobuko!" Keiko whispered, embarrassed. "Oh, not me," I answered. "I like Asian women a lot. Japanese women are absolutely beautiful." Their faces brightened as they looked at me expectantly. "Do you two like Japanese or American guys better?" "I don't know . . . They are both nice," Nobuko shrugged. "She likes all boys," teased her sister. "Shut up!" laughed Nobuko. We sat there talking for the next half hour or so. I asked the girls if their father was traveling with them, and they told me he had died over two years ago. "Our mother had not gone out or dated much since," said Keiko. "We asked her to take us on vacation to America. We hope that it will help her, having her meet new people." "It probably will. I hope the two of you have some fun too." "Having our mother around, I don't know if we will," laughed Nobuko. "You think I am pretty?" "I think you're very pretty. In fact, I'd like to kiss you. I want to make sure you have some fun while you're here." She laughed, putting her hand on my leg, then got up and sat down on the table next to me. I circled my hand on Nobuko's back, her breathing a little heavy, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes wide in anticipation. Her sister was still at the other table, half reading her magazine, half watching us. I rubbed my hand around her back and kissed her, softly a couple times, then I pressed into her soft lips, gradually working up the intensity. I opened my mouth a little and ran my tongue around her lips. She opened her mouth, circling her soft, slippery tongue around mine. I stroked her long, silky hair, then slipped my hand under her tee shirt. I ran my hand over the smooth skin of her back, then worked around to her stomach. We came up for air after a few minutes, looking at each other and smiling. Nobuko rubbed her arms. "Brrr . . . It is getting cold. Would you like to come up to our room for a while?" There was a little twinkle in her eye. Keiko looked over at us. "I don't think mother would like that, Nobu." "I'm sure she is asleep by now. We will be quiet. She will not know." Nobuko quietly unlocked the door and, peeking in, saw that the adjoining door to their mother's room was ajar. She tiptoed in and carefully closed it, then signaled for us to come in. With sort of goofy smiles on our faces, I reached my hand out to Nobuko. She took it, and I sat her down on the edge of the bed. Keiko seemed kind of wary, and sat down at the table at the other end of the room and began nervously flipping through her magazine. Her sister and I resumed where we had left off. Under her tee shirt, I felt her small breasts underneath her bra, skimming them lightly at first, then pressing into them, feeling the bump of her nipple. She ran her hand over the muscles of my arm and chest, then worked down to my stomach. Our lips locked together, I guided her hand toward my dick. Feeling the outline of it through my jeans, big and hard as a rock, I felt Nobuko take a sharp breath. I took my mouth away from her. Taking the bottom of her shirt in my hands, I pulled it over her head, her long black hair, with streaks of brown, cascading down. She unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off. I undid her pants, and as she stood up the loose-fitting jeans dropped to the floor, revealing a pair of brief pink cotton panties. In her underwear, she was awesome - a small, delicate little body, but it looked like she spent a lot of time outdoors, and was fairly athletic. Her olive skin had a glow to it, and her leg muscles looked very firm, maybe from gymnastics or track and field. I pulled off my shoes and pants, and we both lay back on the bed. Keiko was studiously trying to ignore us, keeping her head buried in her magazine. We kissed some more, Nobuko breathing heavily, running our hands over every inch of each other's bodies. Stroking her back, I popped open her bra, then ran my hand underneath it, feeling her unbelievably soft little tits. I took the shoulder straps of the bra and pulled it off. Her small nipples were standing erect, and her soft pink areola, about the size of a dime, were quite swollen as well. Putting my lips around one of them, I sucked the small breast into my mouth and ran my tongue around. Nobuko squealed and groaned, stroking my back.I moved down a little and slid my hands along her hips, under her panties, pulling them down slowly. Nobu squirmed around to help them off. I circled my hand around her sparse, deep black pubic hair as she giggled and scrunched up her face in nervous anticipation. She sat up and put her hands on the waistband of my boxer shorts as I lay back. Pulling downward, my stiff, throbbing dick, which had been uncomfortably confined for some time now, sprang instantly upward. She drew a deep breath through her mouth, her eyes even wider. She looked up at my face, then back down to my pounding erection, half laughing, half in shock. She called over to her sister excitedly. "Keiko, look at how big it is... Keiko, look!" Her somewhat more innocent sister slowly, a little reluctantly, took her gaze from her magazine and glanced over. Asian women can't hide it when they're turned on - Keiko's face instantly turned a deep red as her eyes settled on the long, thick, red-veined pole pointing toward the ceiling. Her lips slowly parted and her eyes grew wide. She seemed shocked, but couldn't take her eyes off it. Propping herself up next to me on her elbow, Nobuko traced her fingertips along my erection, squeezing the stiff shaft with its bulging veins, feeling the big, spongy-feeling head. She lightly, tentatively wrapped her hand around it and stroked, looking at my face for approval. Seeing her soft little hand around the thick shaft, delicately jerking me off, I gave a sigh, which encouraged little Nobuko, her hand moving faster and more firmly, a big grin on her face. I reached around and circled my hand over her pussy. She giggled and squirmed around nervously at first, but as I worked my finger in a little, exploring, finding her tiny little clit, she relaxed, opening her legs a little. We played with each other for a few minutes until Nobu seemed like she was about to come. She let go of my dick and dropped her head down on the pillow, breathing deeply through her mouth and closing her eyes. Her face was flushed and a sheen of sweat formed on her forehead as I firmly circled my finger around her clit, the young Asian girl sighing, then groaning as she exhaled, till she squeezed her eyes shut, opened her mouth and let out a long squeaky gasp. She lay there, massaging her tits with her fingertips till she recovered, slowly opening her eyes, gazing at me with a look that seemed to say, "Oh, I would do anything for you." I lay back, stroking her arm, looking from her face to my dick. Biting her lip, she seemed to think it over a second, then as she delicately stroked the shaft, she bent down and kissed the throbbing, pounding head, her lipstick leaving a soft pink smudge. Holding onto the base securely, she took a little of the tip into her mouth and dragged her lips along it as she went upward. Gently bobbing her head up and down, she took in a little more each time. When she had gotten the head and an inch or two more in, which was quite a mouthful for her, she started working up and down, not sucking hard though, and just letting the tip of her tongue touch my dick. She wasn't being very vigorous, but that was fine with me. I wanted this to last a while. Putting my hand behind my head, laying back on the pillow, I took a deep breath and groaned, taking in the sight. Nobu's beautiful almond-shaped eyes looking up at me, her cute little nose, her small delicate mouth, pink lips stretched around my big, deep red erection, sucking up and down. I stroked her long silky hair and ran my hand over her soft body. Her skin was a really beautiful color, a light yellowish-olive, lighter where a bikini top and bottom would usually cover her. I looked across the room at her sister. Keiko had given up any pretense of reading her magazine, instead staring, mouth slightly open, transfixed at the sight of her sister sucking my dick. Keiko's cheeks were blushing a bright red. I reached around and rubbed Nobuko's pussy, then worked one of my fingers slowly inside of her to see how difficult a time I would have with her. Nobuko wiggled around and squealed as I eased my finger in and out, which felt great with my dick still in her mouth. She seemed like she would be a very snug fit, but she felt slippery and well-lubricated enough, so I figured she could take me okay as long as I took it slow. I sat up and guided her down on her back. Circling one hand over her little tits, I tried slipping two fingers in her to loosen her up a little more. After coming just a minute ago, Nobuko was very relaxed and pliant, her eyelids heavy, her legs wide open. I figured she was ready as she would ever be, so I got on top of her and put the head of my dick against her little opening. Pushing, the head popped in easily, but her young vaginal muscles resisted allowing any more in. I eased as much as I could in and out, coating it in Nobuko's slipperiness, every so often giving a firm push, working a fraction of an inch more in. Poking, prodding, feeling her soft, warm pussy gradually but reluctantly open up for me, I finally got enough lodged in her, but had some difficulty when I started trying to pump her. "Nobuko, try pushing your hips up when I push down," I whispered to her, but the young Japanese girl was totally out of it. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was gasping through her mouth, and I don't think she heard a word I said. With her young vagina still clinging tightly to my desperately throbbing erection, I put my arms under her legs, lifting them into the air. With her pelvis elevated a little, I was able to start pumping, groaning as I plunged my dick into her, her velvety soft little pussy squeezing down on it. I was trying to go slow, not only to take it easy on her but also so I would last a while, but as she produced more lubrication, mixing with my own pre-cum, I couldn't help taking a few quick pumps and, with a loud grunt, my orgasm suddenly hit. My first spurt instantly filled the girl, spilling out of her, then spurt after spurt followed, each one gushing out of Nobuko's completely flooded little private area. After I had shot it all into her, I started easing in and out again, the feeling of her tight pussy coated with my hot, thick, slimy semen better than I could believe. With an exhausted groan, I rolled over on my back and lay there, hands over my eyes. I don't know how long it took me to recover, but after a while, with another groan, I hauled myself out of bed and headed to the bathroom to wash off my dick. As I walked back out, Nobuko walked in, and I heard her turn on the shower. I pulled on my boxers and sat on the bed. I glanced over at Keiko, who had a kind of glazed expression, her face flushed with a little sweat on her upper lip, looking like she had gotten a good fucking herself. We sat there while her sister showered, the silence getting a little uncomfortable. "Um, I hope we didn't bother you, Keiko." She gave me a quick glance and a bashful smile, shaking her head, before looking back down at the floor, clasping her hands in her lap and crossing her feet. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I might have read a little something into the shy smile she gave me, like maybe she was a little interested... Nobuko came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, taking off a shower cap and shaking out her hair. She gave me one of her big grins, squinting her eyes. She went over to where Keiko was sitting and whispered something in her ear, tugging on her sleeve. Trying to stifle a smile, crinkling up her nose, Keiko shook her head. "Please," Nobuko said, turning toward me, "Would you like to do it with my sister?" "No!" Keiko squealed, giggling, yanking on her sister's arm, trying to get her to stop. Keiko seemed like she had lightened up a little bit, looking at me more directly and showing a little interest in the way she looked at me, but she still seemed pretty nervous, and kind of hesitant to come over to me. I got an idea to get her to relax. There was a bathrobe over the back of one of the chairs, and I reached over to it and pulled the belt out. I sat back down on the bed and put my hands behind my back. "You can tie my hands behind my back, Keiko. I won't be able to do anything you don't want me to." Nobuko looked enthusiastically at her sister. "OK?" Keiko didn't answer, just kept looking at me, biting her lip, slowly starting to smile. She looked at her sister and gave a little nod of her head. Nobu jumped on the bed and put my hands together behind my back and carefully tied the belt around one wrist, then the other. I rolled over on my back as she turned toward Keiko and enthusiastically waved her over. Nobuko pulled off the towel she had been wearing, exposing her naked little body to me, and said, "Kei, take your clothes off!" Keiko, blushing, bashfully unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She kicked off her loafers, stepping out of her skirt, then slowly unbuttoned her blouse. In her white bra and baby blue panties, her body was a little paler than her sister's, with thin arms and legs like she spent most of her time indoors, studying or practicing music. She walked over to the bed, carefully sitting on the very edge. Nobuko grabbed the bottoms of my boxer shorts and pulled them down. My semi-erect dick was flopped over to the side, drawing giggles from the girls. "Keiko, take off your bra," I said. She was still a little bit anxious, but I think she liked the power of having me tied down, with her sitting over me. She thought a moment, then reached around and undid it, shrugging it off and putting it on the bedside table. Her tits were the same small beautiful shape as her sister's, and her areola were the same puffed-out light pink kind, but hers were noticeably larger than Nobuko's, almost the size of a quarter.She took a deep breath, trying to stifle a shy smile, and slipped her panties off, revealing a thin, neat triangle of pubic hair. "Kei," Nobuko said softly to her sister, pointing at my dick. It had started to slowly rise, and the girls watched in fascination as it got more and more erect, eventually reaching its full height, throbbing gently. They looked at one another, teenage horniness not only in Nobuko's eyes, but also in Keiko's. With the two naked sisters on either side of me, Nobu made the first move, eagerly wrapping her hand around my hard-on. Jacking me off, she smiled as she heard my groans of pleasure. After a minute, she pushed it over to her sister. "You try." With a quick peek at my face, Keiko bit her lip and took the thick shaft in her hand. "Go up and down!" Encouraged her sister. She began carefully stroking, every so often squeezing it, finding out how this strange new thing felt. "Kei, here, I will show you how to suck on it." Bending it toward her, Nobu leaned down and took my stiff dick delicately in her fingertips, then kissed the head, ran her tongue up and down it a few times and then opened her mouth wide and engulfed it. Her lips stretched around the thick shaft, the head filling her small mouth, she started bobbing her head, sucking more confidently than the first time. Nobuko was being a little more aggressive this time, caressing my dick with her tongue and using a lot of suction. After a couple minutes, she pulled her head up, making a 'pop' as my erection pulled out of her mouth. She pushed it over toward her sister. "Now you. Do it just like I was doing." With Nobuko holding onto the shaft, Keiko, with a nervous deep breath, bent down, closing her eyes as she took the head in her mouth. She held still, frozen in place for a second. "Suck it," Encouraged her sister, giggling, "Go up and down!" Keiko started very slightly bobbing her head, just a fraction of an inch. "More than that," Laughed Nobuko. I put my hand on Nobuko's back. "Let her take her time. She'll get used to it." After a while, she got more confident, relaxing her tongue and throat muscles and taking in as much as she could, although just skimming it lightly with her lips and barely letting her tongue touch it. I ran my hand through her short silky hair, telling her how good it felt. Her sister, getting a little jealous I think, pulled my dick away and started working on it herself, sucking quickly and enthusiastically. The two traded off every minute or so, Keiko getting more and more into it, really loosening up and getting giggly. With my hands tied behind my back, it was really a new experience for me, and I kind of liked it, laying there helpless, these two young girls able to do anything they wanted to me. I don't think she even realized she was doing it, but I noticed Keiko had let one of her hands slip between her legs, and was massaging her pussy. As they took turns, they both tried to outdo each other, really sucking hard and moving smoothly up and down the long shaft. While Nobu had her mouth full, Keiko sat up and really started rubbing her pussy, using both hands and rocking back and forth. Nobuko and I looked at each other and gave a little laugh, watching her shy little sister humping herself, eyes closed, face red, letting out a faint, 'uh', every so often. Watching her as Nobuko stroked my dick, eventually she opened her mouth and took a deep breath, tilted her head back and let out a soft, satisfied sigh. With her eyes tightly shut, she kept rubbing herself, keeping her orgasm going. As she slowly recovered, I started trying to untie my wrists. "That looked like it felt good," Nobuko grinned to her sister, reaching over and putting her hand on her knee, Keiko looking bashfully downward. It was pretty easy to untie the belt behind my back, and as I got it off, I sat up, scooped Keiko up in my arms and laid her on her back in the middle of the bed, then sat on her legs so she couldn't get up. "Aaaa!" She squealed, laughing and shrieking, gigglingly trying to keep me from running my hands along her naked little body, trying to squirm away from me. When she saw she couldn't get away, she lay back, smiling, breathing heavily, holding her arms out to the side and waiting for me to make the next move. After being teased for the last ten minutes by the girls, my dick was throbbing, pounding, hard as a rock. I massaged her little tits with my fingertips, then slid my hands up and down her body, working down to her inner thighs. I took her ankles and parted her legs. Rubbing her pussy, I slipped a finger in. She was even tighter than her sister, and didn't seem to be very wet, even after coming just a minute ago. I worked my finger slowly in and out, and when I got an inch or so in, I felt what I was sure was her hymen. Nobuko took her sister's hand. "Don't worry. He will be careful." Without makeup, and with her short hair, Keiko looked very young and innocent, and her skinny body made her look very delicate. Looking up at me trustingly, with a mixture of eagerness and nervousness, I promised myself I would take it very, very slow. I put a glob of spit in my hand and ran it along the stiff length of my dick, then another just to make sure. I lifted her butt up and slid one of the pillows underneath. Kneeling in front of her, I lifted her legs into the air, then worked my way forward and put the thick shaft up to her tiny little slit, rubbing it up and down, then poking the head in. I first carefully thrust just the spongy tip of my erection in and out, getting her ready. After a couple of minutes, I pushed gently, squeezing maybe half an inch in. The saliva on my dick was helping, and I figured it wouldn't be as difficult as I thought. Working into the incredibly soft, hot walls of her vagina, I pumped slowly, deeper and deeper, eventually meeting up with the thin membrane of her hymen. As I carefully worked further in, I felt it stretching, then opening up against the sensitive head of my dick, allowing me into the most private and intimate parts of Keiko's body. As I slid in and out, the spit that was easing my entry began to dry up. The firm walls of her pussy were clinging tightly to the shaft, but further in, the head of my erection was sliding along more easily. Her young, inexperienced body was trying desperately to produce enough lubrication to take me. Slowly pumping her, the little bit of moisture she was producing was pulled from deep inside her down along the shaft of my dick. Once I had a light coating all along the length, I started an easy but firm motion, Keiko and I groaning together at the incredible feeling. Nobuko had her hand on her sister's shoulder, watching carefully, making sure I didn't hurt her. Kneeling in front of her, the young girl's hips elevated by the pillow and her legs in the air, I pushed down on the backs of her legs to hold her steady. I picked up the pace a little, an anxious squeal coming from Keiko, grabbing onto my forearms, but it sounded like she was still okay. With her slick, tight pussy squeezing my dick, I felt my orgasm coming. Keeping my promise not to pump little Keiko too hard, it took an agonizingly long time, easing slowly in and out, but when I did, it was incredibly intense. I let out a long groan as I began shooting jet after jet of cum, long thick spurts deep into the girl. Her cervix, only minutes before securely protected by her hymen, was now flooded with a thick coating of my semen. Laying next to each other, panting, Nobuko stroked her sister's leg. "Wasn't that the best thing you ever felt? He is very good at it." Still breathing heavily through her mouth, Keiko wasn't able to answer, but managed to give her sister a little smile. She let out a long satisfied sigh, stroked my stomach, then headed toward the bathroom. Nobuko laid back on the bed and turned on the TV, clicking through the channels. I hauled myself up out of bed and followed Keiko into the shower. With her in the shower, I washed myself off at the sink. She had left the shower curtain open and I watched her soaping herself up in the mirror. The soapy water covering her skin, combined with the lighting in the bathroom made her skin a really beautiful color, kind of like honey. Seeing me looking at her, a shy but still flirty smile broke out on her face. She slowly rubbed her hands over her body. I couldn't resist. I stepped into the tub with Keiko, the warm water running over us, and took the bar of soap from her, circling it around, then lathering her up with my hands, going over her little tits, her waist, the curve of her cute little butt. I was a good head taller than she was and had to bend down to soap her up between her legs. With the soapy water on her, her skin felt incredibly soft and smooth. Keiko took the bar of soap and ran it around the muscles of my arms and chest, lathering it with her other hand, working down, across my stomach, gigglingly circling her hand around my butt, then carefully running the soap around my groin. She lathered it up on my pubic hair then circled her hand around my limp dick, stroking, washing off the coating of cum. Did I say it was limp? As she thoroughly soaped it, my dick began to grow, Keiko watching fascinated as it slowly inflated in her hand. Once it was fully hard, she stroked the soapy water along the big, stiff muscle, then looked up at me shyly and said, "I, um... I kind of liked it when I was, you know, sucking on it in my mouth. I didn't get to do it much. Nobu would not give me a chance." I smiled at her and ran my fingers through her wet hair. She eagerly kneeled down, rinsed the soap off it, then without hesitation engulfed it, quickly running her mouth up and down the length of it. I closed my eyes and groaned, putting my hand on the back of her head. "What is taking you so..."Nobuko exclaimed, laughing, seeing the two of us in the shower, her sister sucking my dick. "You cannot have him for yourself." She pulled off the t-shirt and panties she had put on, then climbed in with us. With her younger sister on her knees, bobbing her head up and down, Nobu hugged herself against me from behind, stroking all over my body. "You are so wonderful. Could you do it to me again? Please?" I reached back and squeezed her cute little butt. I patted Keiko on the head and pulled my now throbbing, rock-hard erection out of her mouth. Turning toward Nobuko, my dick poking her in the stomach, I took her shoulders and turned her around, then bent her forward. With the warm water still running over us, she held onto one of the faucets to steady herself. I had to bend my knees quite a bit to line myself up with her, and then, holding onto her waist, I nudged the head of my dick against her little opening. Pumping, I slowly worked my way in, snug and tight but after the fucking I had given her I was able to squeeze myself in without a lot of difficulty. This being my third time, I wasn't worried about coming too soon, so I set up a good quick motion, as fast as I thought she could take, little Nobuko giving out a squeaky gasp with each one. Enjoying the great feeling, I looked over at the mirror facing the shower and took in the sight - Nobuko bent over in front of me, my thick erection sliding in and out of the small, slender girl, Keiko behind me, hugging her arms around me. "Please," Keiko's voice spoke up behind me, timid but expectant, "Could you do it to me again, too?" What, do these girls think I'm Superman? Just so she wouldn't feel left out, after I had given Nobuko a good poking, I slipped my dick out of her and turned toward her little sister. I turned her around and bent her over in front of me and aimed my erect penis, pumped up, throbbing, ready to start spurting at any moment. As I touched it to Keiko's pussy, I could tell her young body had learned quickly how to prepare itself for sex pretty well. Her little opening had a light coating of lubrication, feeling almost like it was pulling my dick inside her as I touched it to her little slit. Pushing myself forward, I put my hands around her waist and pulled her into me, the two of us riding each other, the warm, slippery softness crushing down on my dick, faster and faster, till with a long groan I started spilling another quantity of cum into the young girl, the overflow being washed away by the stream of water from the shower. We were all pretty much fucked out, the girls looking like they wanted to fall asleep right there in the shower. I managed to get them dried off and into bed, then pulled the covers over them. As I got dressed, Keiko said to her sister, loud enough so I could hear, "It has been so long since our mother has had a boyfriend or has, you know, been close to a man. I'll bet she would like to." Nobu glanced at me for a split second. "I know. I am sure she would. Perhaps we could find someone for her . . ." She turned slightly toward me, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. Mrs. Moriyama wasn't bad - no teenager, but she had a nice trim figure and a very pretty face. She seemed so reserved and businesslike though, I didn't know if I could help them out. Then again, I had been admiring her ever since she had arrived, and, well, if it would make the girls happy, I could at least try to chat with her and see if anything developed. I quickly finished dressing and headed toward the elevator. Yes, I usually stick around till morning, but in this case, with their mother in the adjoining room and a hotel manager who looks down on things like this... The End

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Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17503.txt

Andrew Roller

Fevered Fall

"Who would ever have thought that a car accident would cause the Main Lift Engine to shut down?" one engineer asked the other as they stared at the smoldering pile of concrete. It lay shattered upon the ground. Rescue workers crawled over the ruins like frantic ants. They were looking for bodies. The other engineer looked up. The other Sky Dwellings remained aloft, long columns of stone that stoically resisted the pull of gravity. "Faulty programming," the other engineer replied. "It didn't help, of course, that the Backup Lift Engine was shut down for repairs." "Obviously," the first engineer said. He gazed dispassionately at the rescue workers. "Well, there is one benefit," he said. "At least now we'll find out what the casualty rate is for a Full Drop. We've never had real figures before." The other engineer shook his head. "Damn you, Smith. There's no bright side to this tragedy. I'll tell you what the damn casualty rate is. It's zero! There's not a damn thing left alive inside that smoldering pile of concrete. The tamagotchi glowed. "What are you doing?!" My auntie shrieked as I went tearing up the stairs. Brad was back! He'd had his first week of college and now he'd come to visit me! I had a million questions for him. At the moment, though, we were having too much fun playing to sit around talking. I jumped on my bed. I stood on my tiptoes and peered through my bedroom window. There he was, below in the pool, swimming laps. He was on his back, doing a strong backstroke. I waited for him to get in range of my window. I tossed out a water balloon. The balloon went sailing through my window, in a long arc down toward the pool. Brad swam hard, his eyes shut tight. His broad shoulders cut fast through the water. I let my eyes run along his chest. He looked like a Roman God, swimming hard to save some captive maiden. I was both the girl in distress and the wicked wizard who was keeping me hostage. My eyes ran down Brad's muscled figure to the flatness of his belly. Below, they caught like thorns on his Speedo swimsuit. It bulged with promise. SPLAT! The water balloon hit the water, barely missing Brad's hips. "Oh, no!" I cried. I picked up, off my bed, the other water balloon I'd carried upstairs with me. I lofted it out the window. It sailed down and I watched it, my hands clapped to my face. SPLOOSH! The balloon landed directly on Brad's bulging crotch. "Ouch!" I heard Brad yell, down in the pool. My aunt rushed into my bedroom. "Chloe! What are you doing?!" Rebecca cried to me. She stared at me, standing on my bed, wet from the pool. I was in my bikini but now I reached back and began untying my top. "I'm a captive maiden!" I explained to her. "And a wizard, too! I've had my ten free throws and now each balloon I throw COUNTS!" I panted. I was trying to explain everything very quickly so I could get back to the game. "If Brad does his 25 workout laps before I destroy him, he wins!" My aunt walked quickly over to my bed and grabbed my hands, which were reaching back behind me. She cupped my fingers in her hands and stopped me from untying my top. "Chloe," Rebecca said. "Why are you bringing water balloons into the house and running upstairs and throwing them out the window?" "I *told* you," I protested. I squirmed against her grip. "I've got to destroy Brad! But if I miss him, now that I've had all my free throws, I've got to take off my bikini. First my top, and then, if I miss him again, my bottom too! But if I hit him, like I just did, then *he* has to undress."He swam with an easy gracefulness, doing the backstroke, his face looking more relaxed now that I'd stopped throwing water balloons at him. "And keep your own swimsuit on too," Rebecca told me. "Yes, auntie," I replied. Brad and I sat in our wet swimsuits at dinner, with my aunt and the man with the big corporation. He was dressed in a Tommy Hilfiger suit. My aunt wore a smart, sexy gown. We made small talk. The man seemed to get along well with Brad and told him that if he did well in college, he might have a position for him when he graduated. Brad smiled and told him his real dream in life, when he got out of college, was to be a forest ranger in the American Redwoods. "Unfortunately, I don't own the Redwoods," the man told Brad. "I didn't think you did," Brad answered. "How about Chloe?" my aunt asked our new guest. "Do you have any openings for a secretary?" I smiled at the man. I liked his name: Louie LaCrosse. Mr. LaCrosse, to all except his closest acquaintances. He'd invited me to call him Louie, but I was intrigued by the idea of calling him "Mr. LaCrosse" instead. It just seemed more natural, somehow. Mr. LaCrosse gazed across the table at me. "Why of course," he said. "I'm sure I could find a position for her somewhere." "Only if she's really needed," Rebecca said. "I don't want her to be a bother... or just an ornament." "She would make a delightful ornament," Mr. LaCrosse said to my aunt. "What's an ornament?" I asked. "It's something you hang up. Like on a tree, dear," my aunt said. "Oh. Then Brad has an ornament," I said, mangling the word slightly. "Between his legs." "Chloe!" my aunt said. Brad laughed. "Do you have an ornament, Mr. LaCrosse?" I asked our guest brightly. "Er, Chloe, if I hire you I'll need you to learn about office decorum," Mr. LaCrosse said to me. His voice was warm, yet firm. "Yes. She needs someone to train her not to run around like a little Indian," my aunt told Mr. LaCrosse. "She's had a rather, um, natural summer." "Ah, free and uninhibited!" Mr. LaCrosse said. "I remember having summers like that. Swimming naked in the Seine, hunting for German shell cartridges out on the old battlefields." He grinned at me. "If you're willing to learn, Chloe, I believe I could find a nice spot for you in my company. Would you mind if I supervised you personally?" "No, Mr. LaCrosse," I said, eyeing him over a forkful of jello. Our salad included jello in it and I was managing to eat the jello without touching the lettuce. "Very well," Mr. LaCrosse said. He put his own fork to his salad, scooped up lettuce and jello indiscriminately. He ate. He swallowed. He looked at me, still picking over my greens, plucking out the chunks of jello. "Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "I want you to eat all your salad. You need it so you can grow big and strong." I looked up at him. If my aunt had told me to eat all my salad, I would have complained. I would have told her I was 13 years old, and what business did she have telling me how to eat my salad? Even Brad, if he'd told me to eat a certain way, I would have scolded. But Mr. LaCrosse had a way of looking at me that made me want to obey. I don't know why. Perhaps it was the same thing that caused me to prefer calling him "Mr. LaCrosse," instead of Louie. "If you insist, Mr. LaCrosse," I said in a quiet voice. Wrinkling my nose a little, I scooped up lettuce with my jello, and ate it. I didn't mind the lettuce, necessarily, but it had leaves of spinach mixed in with it and I wasn't terribly fond of raw spinach. Nonetheless, I chewed and swallowed. Mr. LaCrosse gazed at me with proud, possessive eyes. "You know, I never had a daughter," Mr. LaCrosse said to my aunt. "Oh, what a pity," my aunt answered. "Just a wife and a son," Mr. LaCrosse said. He looked at Brad, then again at my aunt. "My wife would be 42 now, if she'd lived. And my son is your age," he said to Brad. "It's nice of you to give Chloe a job," Brad said. "But remember that she's my girlfriend." "Brad!" I said, sharply. "Well, I'm just telling him about our relationship," Brad said to me. "I'm your girlfriend *if* I want to be your girlfriend," I said to Brad. My aunt sighed. She looked at Mr. LaCrosse. "Just what I need. A lovers' quarrel," she said. "I'm sure by working in an office your niece will become quite a sophisticated young lady," Mr. LaCrosse replied. I showed up at the office all set for work. I had my 3-ring binder, my glow-in-the-dark eraser, and my Hello Kitty pencil set. I wore my school clothes. I went to a private Catholic school downtown, then took a cab over to where Mr. LaCrosse's office was. He paid for my cab. I was escorted into his office, in an upper floor of a skyscraper. "Hello, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said to me. He smiled at the secretary who escorted me into his office. He dismissed her, and pointed to where I should sit. It was a big leather chair that sat across from his desk. He had a huge office. You could see the whole city of Paris stretched out below his window. I ignored Mr. LaCrosse's gesture that I sit in the leather chair and went rushing to the window. "Wow!" I cried. "I can see everything!" "Ah, yes. One takes the view for granted when one works here every day," Mr. LaCrosse said. He turned. He left his desk and walked over to where I was standing. He put his hand on my shoulder. I felt a sudden thrill rise through me. I turned my head, glanced back behind us, saw we were alone. The secretary had left. Impulsively, I huddled closer to Mr. LaCrosse. As I felt his body against mine, I looked at a bus discharging passengers on the street below us. The people looked small as bugs. "Mr. LaCrosse?" I asked in a small voice. I liked saying his name, for some reason. "Yes, Chloe?" he asked. The way he said my name, I think he liked saying my name as much as I liked saying his. "I want you to feel you can... you can teach me... anything you need to, Mr. LaCrosse," I said in a small, seductive voice. "About offices, and stuff." "Of course, Chloe," he said. His hand slipped off my shoulder and caressed the long mane of my hair. Slowly, as we stared together at the skyline, his hand trailed down through my hair to the small of my back. I wiggled. He placed his hand on my skirt, as if to still the childish movement of my hips. "Chloe," he said. His throat sounded constricted. "Yes, Mr. LaCrosse?" I asked. My voice had an alluring submissiveness to it. I guess it was because he owned a big office, and a big corporation, and I liked being a small little part of all the big things he owned. "Chloe, I...." Mr. LaCrosse stammered. He cleared his throat. "I have something to tell you," he managed to get out. He patted my fanny. I arched my bottom a little, as if to invite him to keep on patting me there. His fingers played in the folds of my skirt. It was pleated, a neat schoolgirl's skirt. It served as a warning to some men, my uniform, telling them I was too young. Jailbait. To other men, my pleated skirt and starched blouse served as a lure. Mr. LaCrosse's hand slipped up under my skirt and pressed against my fanny. He felt warm. I must have felt the same way to him. He stroked the fabric of my panties. They were cotton, white, just ordinary panties. But in feeling them his breathing deepened. I squirmed. He lifted his hand. I arched my bottom back and reconnected with him. His palm settled firmly on my ass. His fingers were large and encompassed my seat. He squeezed it. "Your... ah, your aunt is a very beautiful woman, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said to me. "Yes, Mr. LaCrosse," I answered. "But you are even more beautiful, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "I am?!" I asked. "Yes," he said. "But I'm only 13," I said. "I'm well aware of your age, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. He looked down at me. He patted my ass. I gazed from the city up at him. "I want you to be my personal secretary, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "For just a few hours a day. After your school, of course." "Oh! That sounds great, Mr. LaCrosse!" I said. "I brought my Hello Kitty pencil box with me. I have all different colored pencils in it. Black lead for writing, red for correcting, blue for non-judgmental comments. And green and yellow too!" "That's very good, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. He gazed at my blouse. His eyes drank in the swell of my bosoms. "Your school uniform will not be appropriate for working here, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse told me. I began to speak, but he put a finger to my lips. "Don't worry. I'll pay for all your clothes," he said. "I'm even going to pick out your clothes for you. The latest fashions, of course." He smiled. "I'm going to have one of my secretaries measure you, Chloe," he said. "Today you're just to be measured. Then one of the girls will show you around, show you where the coffee pot is, and everything. Then you may go home. Tomorrow, when you arrive, there will be an outfit waiting for you. You'll wear it while you're working here." He moved away from me. He returned to his desk. He looked up from the papers on his desk and back at me, standing by the window. "Oh, one more thing," he said. "While you're here, wearing your outfit, you're not to leave this floor without permission." He smiled. "I hope you don't find that requirement to be an imposition on your freedom," he said. "I don't think so, Mr. LaCrosse," I said in a tentative voice.I put a finger to my mouth and sucked it. I gazed at him, standing tall by his desk. He looked so handsome! So 'in control' of all aspects of his life! And now he had my life in the palm of his hand too. "If anything is needed, one of my other secretaries can be sent downstairs to fetch it," Mr. LaCrosse told me. "And of course, when it's time for you to go home, you'll change back into your school uniform." "Alright, Mr. LaCrosse," I said. "I would prefer," Mr. LaCrosse said, "if our working relationship was kept from your boyfriend Brad. He doesn't need to know. He can be your boyfriend, of course. I have no desire to interfere with that. But here, when you and I are together, that will be our special time together. Do I..." he paused. His voice deepened. "Do I make myself clear, Chloe?" he asked. "Yes, Mr. LaCrosse," I said. "Very well," Mr. LaCrosse said. He pressed a button on the speakerphone on his desk. "Miss Fredrickson? Chloe would like to have herself measured for her work attire," he said. "Yes, Mr. LaCrosse," the speakerphone replied. My miniskirt was made of leather. It was quite short. It barely cleared the rounded shelf of my bottom. When I bent, even slightly, the white batiste of my designer panties showed. I had stockings on, thigh-high stockings without garters that gripped my legs, but they stopped well short of my skirt, leaving an expanse of white skin where my stockings could not reach and my skirt did not fall low enough to cover. I had on high heels. They were laced with black ties all the way up my calves to my knees. They clicked primly on the floor when I walked. My blouse was made of silk. It was décolleté, hanging low on my chest so that when I bent, showing my pantied backside, my blouse fell open to reveal my breasts. I had been given no bra to wear. My hair was elaborately done up, by one of the secretaries, and had a black ribbon tied near the back, which matched my skirt. To top everything off, I was dripping in jewels; pearl earrings, a pearl choker around my throat, even pearl anklets bound just above my small feet. In addition to all that, I wore black gloves. They covered just my hands, very fashionably, I thought, flaring at the wrist, tapering narrowly over my slim fingers. Mr. LaCrosse gazed at me from behind his big desk. "You look smashing, Chloe," he said. "Perfectly outfitted for work in my office." "Thank you, Mr. LaCrosse," I said. There was an old school desk set up near his. It was small. It had sheets of paper on it. I glanced over at it. "Do you want me to sit there, Mr. LaCrosse?" I asked. "Yes, Chloe," my new boss said. "Where's my computer?" I asked, looking at the papers set out on the desk. "You... ah... may use a computer if you wish, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "But I thought you have them at your school." "Yes," I said, rolling my eyes. "They used to be fun. But now we work on them all day long! And they don't have any games on them, like they used to. The administration erased all of those." "Well, I wouldn't want you to have to slave away on a computer here, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "And you may certainly play games, if you like. But first I have some work I need you to do." "What?!" I asked excitedly. I approached his desk. He took something from a drawer and slid it out to the end of his desk for me to pick up. It was a box of crayons. "I have a report I need you to color, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said to me. "Color?!" I asked. "Yes, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "Are you good at coloring?" "Of course," I answered. "But I didn't know reports needed to be colored." "This is my own special report, just for me," Mr. LaCrosse said. "It's a report on the Kama Sutra, Chloe. As you know, the Kama Sutra involves all different kinds of bodily positions. For coitus. One can hardly keep track of all of them, without diagrams. I need you to color in all the people in the report, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "The Kama--" I said. I picked up the crayons and wandered over to my desk. "Sutra," Mr. LaCrosse said. "Oh!" I cried. The top sheet of paper on my school desk had two people on it. They were clasping each other. I could see a long, penis-like appendage extending from the man into the woman. He looked as well-hung as a donkey! "It's a report about sex," I said. "Yes," Mr. LaCrosse said. "The Kama Sutra originated in India, Chloe. So you will be learning a little about Indian art as well as their sexual practices. And when the report's all colored-in, I'll have a nice-looking report for myself on sex in India. Which will be quite helpful, since I'm planning to open a subsidiary in India soon." "Oh. Okay," I said. I settled into the wooden chair behind the desk. I opened my box of crayons. "Did the girls show you where the coffee pot was?" Mr. LaCrosse asked me. "Yes," I replied. "Good," Mr. LaCrosse said. "I don't want you to get me coffee if you feel it will be an imposition, but--" "Oh, no!" I cried. "I'll be happy to get your coffee, Mr. LaCrosse. I'm real good at putting cream and sugar in it in the right amounts and everything. Brad likes coffee!" "Ah, I would appreciate it if you didn't mention your boyfriend during our time together, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse told me. "Just as a personal favor, to me. I never had a daughter and, well..." "Of course, Mr. LaCrosse," I said. "I know how guys feel jealous of each other. Girls do too." "Good," Mr. LaCrosse said. "Also, occasionally I'd like a drink. I have some liquor in a liquor cabinet there." He pointed. "Do you know how to mix drinks, Chloe?" he asked. "No, but I'd love to learn," I said. "Good," Mr. LaCrosse said. The minutes passed. I colored the people in the Kama Sutra report. Such strange positions they were in! And all of them sexual. I felt my nipples perk up inside my blouse. My bottom squirmed on my chair. I crossed my legs, uncrossed them, crossed them again. Mr. LaCrosse worked at his desk. He took several phone calls. Nobody knew, except he and I, and the three secretaries in his anterior office, that we were alone together. Imagine if they'd seen my outfit! I looked like I was ready to hit a nightclub, and a risque one at that, but it was only mid-afternoon. Finally, I looked up from my report on the Kama Sutra and said, "Mr. LaCrosse, would you like me to get you some coffee now?" "Er, no, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse answered. I shifted my hips. I did some more coloring. Then I looked up at him again and asked, "Would you like some coffee now, Mr. LaCrosse?" "No, Chloe, I'm trying to decide between these financial plans right now," Mr. LaCrosse said in a distracted voice. "Would it be okay if I get some coffee for me, Mr. LaCrosse?" I asked. He looked up from the papers on his desk. "Chloe, is there something you're not telling me?" he asked. I gave him a surprised look. "Um, no, Mr. LaCrosse," I said. I shifted my bottom on my chair. He stared at me, then said, "I think there is, Chloe." I swallowed. "Mr. LaCrosse," I said. "With your permission, I have to go to the bathroom." The man sitting at his big desk in his Tommy Hilfiger suit gazed at me with a triumphant look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Chloe," he said. "But I can't give you permission for that just now. You'll have to hold it." "What?!" I cried. I dropped the crayon I was coloring with. It hit my desk, rolled off, fell to the floor. "It's important, in office work, to use the toilet during your breaks, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "But I haven't had a break yet!" I answered. "Of course," Mr. LaCrosse said. "You'll have a break when I authorize it. As my private assistant, it's important that you put my needs ahead of your own." "Yes, Mr. LaCrosse," I said. "Now, if you were truly my daughter, and if you were sitting here coloring, do you know what would happen, Chloe?" Mr. LaCrosse asked me. "No," I said. I gulped. Our 'workplace' was starting to take on a rather unusual air. "You would sit here and color and completely ignore your bladder, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "You would color away, until you were absolutely bursting! Then, at the last minute, still trying to color, but absolutely full from sitting so long, you'd blurt out to me that you had to pee." I looked at him. What did he think I was, a six-year-old? Of course I remembered doing that when I was six, or five, but I was 13 now! "Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "I have been with many women. Fine, mature, sophisticated women. But I've never had a daughter. I would really like to have a daughter who sits near me and colors until her need to pee makes her absolutely squirm in her seat." "Oh," I said. "Would you do me a favor and keep right on coloring, Chloe?" Mr. LaCrosse asked. "Keep on coloring in all those people in their sexual positions. Think of the man in those drawings, yearning to climax, but holding himself back. Think of him as you strive to contain your urine within your pretty cuntlips." "Mr. LaCrosse?" I asked. "Yes, Chloe?" he said to me. "Are you... sort of like the man in these drawings?" I asked. "Very much so, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse answered. "Oh," I said. "Keep coloring, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "And tell me, what is your favorite soda?" "Soda?" I asked. "Yes," he said. "Strawberry," I said."I'm going to have my secretary, Miss Fredrickson, bring you a strawberry soda, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse told me. "I want you to drink all of it." "Yes, Mr. LaCrosse," I said. When the woman came in, Mr. LaCrosse had her get me a soda, plus a cup of coffee for himself. "I could have gotten you that," I told him ruefully. "I know what you could have done, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse replied. "Shh, dear. Don't bother him. He has to approve our financial plan for India," Miss Fredrickson told me. Time passed. I drank my soda. Mr. LaCrosse drank all of his coffee. I squirmed in my seat. Finally, an exasperated look on my face, I regarded Mr. LaCrosse and said, "Sir, I really do have to go to the bathroom. May I be excused now?" My boss smiled. Without lifting his head, still studying his financial plan for his new Indian subsidiary, he said, "Chloe, the toilet is right there on the other side of my desk. You may go use it if you wish." "Huh?" I asked. "You'll be going in a potty, right here in my office," Mr. LaCrosse said. "If you pick up that box of xeroxed papers, you'll see that the plastic thing it's sitting on is actually a child's potty. Lift the seat and pee in it. One of the secretaries will empty the potty in the adult's bathroom down the hall when you're finished." "What?!" I cried. I stood up. I gaped at the paper box across the room, the one with XEROX printed boldly on it, that had been cut open and converted into a makeshift filing cabinet. It held some excess paperwork and, I saw, was sitting on a plastic container. I walked across the room. I picked up the box labelled XEROX. It was light. I set it on the floor. Sure enough, what lay underneath, the plastic container, was in fact a small child's potty. It had been placed on a low broad coffee table, so that anyone using the potty would have to get up on the coffee table, thereby making a greater display of themselves. "Can I at least put the potty on the floor?" I asked in a high, concerned voice. "Of course not, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse answered. "I put the potty up on the table so I could see you more easily. I want you squatting up on the table. That way I can admire your cunny as you sit there peeing. And wiping." He grinned at me. "Oh!" I shouted. There was a box of Kleenex waiting beside the potty, on the table. It had Tweety Bird, from Looney Tunes, printed on it. I suspected each Kleenex also bore a cartoon image of the bird. "I'm-- I'm too big to sit on the potty!" I protested. "And the table might break!" "It won't, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "I want you to get up on it and pee. Unless, that is, you'd rather hold yourself in a while longer." "I can't!" I blurted. "Good," he said. "We'll call this our break, then." He leaned back in his big leather chair. He gazed at me. He reached in his desk and took out a cigar and lit it. "Anytime, Chloe," he said. "Oh, I don't want you to watch me going to the bathroom!" I cried. "I'm paying you, Chloe," Mr. LaCrosse said. "I'm paying you by the hour, I've paid for your cab, and I've bought your clothes. Now I want to see you go to the bathroom. It's a fair bargain, I think. You have to pee in any event. Just think of me as your father, watching solicitously as his daughter learns to handle herself on the potty." "Oh, God!" I said. But I climbed up on the table. Why? I'm not sure. Perhaps it was because he was four times my age. It made him both remote and, somehow, safer than Brad would have been, seeing me do it. Plus, he had given me such sexy things to wear. I really liked my short skirt. I loved my long stockings. He would take complete care of me, I realized, and all I had to do in return was give him the small daughter he'd always wanted but never had. "I have to go quite badly," I admitted, gazing ruefully at him. I lifted my skirt. I yanked down my panties. I was sufficiently full that even if he'd let me go down the hall, I might not have made it. I plopped down onto the child's seat of the potty. The empty bowl in the potty loomed below me. I looked down at myself. My legs were splayed, my cunt offered itself to the waiting container below me. I put my fingers to my sex. I peed. "Miss Fredrickson, would you please bring me that report on Indonesia?" Mr. LaCrosse said, pressing a button on his speaker phone. I gaped at him. "Louie, I'm peeing!" I hissed. My urine fell into the bowl. It made a splashing sound. "Of course, Mr. LaCrosse," a pleasant Swedish voice answered. A moment later his secretary entered, carrying a sheaf of papers. She walked past me, sitting in a rather abject pose on the toilet, still busy relieving myself. "Is there anything else, Mr. LaCrosse?" Miss Fredrickson asked. "See that Chloe wipes herself properly," my boss answered. The secretary turned. She regarded me as one does an animal, pooping in the back yard. As I stared up at her, I thanked God I only had to do number one. "Ah, you will need to have it emptied too, when she's finished," Miss Fredrickson said. She was a lovely blonde. She stared at me with her fingers interlaced, twin hands poised efficiently, waiting for me to complete my pee. "Yes," Mr. LaCrosse said. He puffed on his cigar. "I'm done!" I said. I yanked at the box of Kleenex beside my potty, pulling a tissue free and wiping my sex with it. I dropped the soiled Kleenex into the pool of pee lying in the bottom of the container. I stood up. My skirt fell over me. I pulled up my panties. "She's a quick wiper," Miss Fredrickson said. She walked over to me. She offered me her hand. "You did well, dear," she said in a soft voice to me, laced with feminine sympathy. "Would you like to color some more?" "No," I said. She drew me a little away from the potty, my feet still on the table, and embraced me. Her lips sought mine, kissed me. I drew back a little but her arms held me against her. I relaxed. She kissed me again. "This is our own special place," Miss Fredrickson said to me, in her high-pitched voice, with her Swedish accent. "We can have as much fun as we want here. There's no need to feel embarrassed. Let yourself be free. You'll be amply rewarded." "I want to go home," I said. "Why?" Miss Fredrickson asked. "The fun's only just beginning." She helped me down off the table. Then, staying me with a firm hand clasping my own, she got up on the table in my place. "I have to pee too," Miss Fredrickson confided in me. "I hope your pee doesn't splash up on me when I do it. I'm not used to the bowl already being half-full." She lowered her own panties and lifted her skirt. When she had settled herself down on the pot, she again took my hand in her own. She peed. We held hands as she peed. I watched, mesmerized. Mr. LaCrosse watched, puffing on his cigar. "You had to go badly," I said, as Miss Fredrickson peed for what seemed a very long time. "Yes," she answered. "I was waiting for you. I haven't gone since lunch." "I'm sorry," I said. "It's no problem," Miss Fredrickson said. She looked ruefully at her boss. "He decides when I may relieve myself. He can be quite... challenging." She looked up at me with her blue Swedish eyes. "Did you know I'm married?" she asked. "No," I said. I didn't even know her first name, yet. "Well, I am," Miss Fredrickson told me. "My husband's a big ex-football player. He used to play for the Paris team. He'd be jealous as hell if he knew what I did at work. But he doesn't, of course. Like I said, this is our own special place. We can be ourselves here, with Mr. LaCrosse." Her eyes flitted to the man sitting behind his desk, puffing his cigar. "I have to go too," Mr. LaCrosse said. He stood up. He unzipped himself. As I watched with awestruck eyes, he unleashed a penis from his trousers that stood out a good foot from his body. It was pointing right at us. "The potty is full, sir," Miss Fredrickson said to Mr. LaCrosse. She carefully wiped herself and dropped the Kleenex into the bowl. It floated beside mine. "Then get out the baby pool," Mr. LaCrosse said. A few minutes later, Miss Fredrickson and I knelt in our business clothes in the baby pool. She pretended to give dictation. I pretended to take notes, with my crayons, on a sheet of paper laid out on the floor of the pool. Mr. LaCrosse stood over us, his cock erect and exposed. "The new subsidiary in India will be involved in coal extraction," Miss Fredrickson said to me in a high, lilting voice. "It will be part owned by an Indian minority owner and-- oh, dear, it looks like it might rain!" "Really?" I asked. Miss Fredrickson pointed up at Mr. LaCrosse's cock. "Such big clouds they have here in India," she said to me. "Fortunately our clothing allowance will take care of us if we get our clothes wet," I told her. I felt queasy. I was playing along, but how strange it was! Did Mr. LaCrosse really want to pee on us? I was telling myself it was all a joke, he'd never ruin such expensive clothes as he'd lavished on us, when suddenly a spattering of warm pee rained down on my head. "EEEEEEEeeeek!" I cried. "Yeeeeeek!" Miss Fredrickson shouted, though with less alarm than I expressed. I tried to rise from the pool to escape the downpour of pee but she put her hand on my shoulder and made me stay kneeling. Mr. Fredrickson's urine fell in my lustrous hair, gold as my well-brushed locks. It spattered my blouse, it cascaded down onto the crayon I clenched in my fist and the paper I'd been writing on.Mr. LaCrosse swung his ample, turgid organ and urinated over both myself and Miss Frederickson. Despite our screams, none of the other secretaries in the anterior office came in to see what was the matter. Mr. LaCrosse's stream lessened. Its arc grew shorter. He drew closer to the edge of our pool to make sure we continued to receive even the last drops of his urine. He shook himself over us, giving us every last bit. I gazed with pee-stained cheeks down at the urine collected in the bottom of our pool. There was a knock at the door. "Come in," Mr. LaCrosse said. "Oh. I didn't realize you were busy, sir," a woman said, peeking within. "It's okay. I'm just using the toilet," Mr. LaCrosse replied. "What is it, Miss Jacobs?" "Someone from Deli, sir. About the new subsidiary," the woman replied. "Patch them through. I'll take the call," Mr. LaCrosse said. He zipped himself up. He did it with difficulty because his thing was so large and engorged. "Wait here," he told myself and Miss Frederickson. "I still need to ejaculate." "My, you two look a bit wet," Miss Jacobs laughed. "Just attending to toilet duty," Miss Frederickson replied. "Of course," Miss Jacobs said. She smiled. "I'll bring you wipes so you can at least wipe off your faces. Would either of you like something to drink?" "A scotch," Miss Frederickson said. "With a twist of lime." "A strawberry soda!" I told her. Then I looked at Miss Frederickson. "Can I get out of the pool now?" I asked her. "No, the fun's just beginning," she said. "Drink your soda and then try to pee some more." "I don't want to sit on the potty again. It's full," I told her. "No, just pee right here," Miss Frederickson said. She gave me a wicked smile. "Do you remember when you were a little girl?" she asked. "Of course," I said. "Some people still call me a little girl." "Just kneel in this pool and pee whenever you feel like," Miss Frederickson said. "And don't take off your panties to do it. Just pee right in your panties. You're pretty wet already, from Mr. LaCrosse. "I know," I said. "But isn't it bad to, like, do this?" "We'll change afterward. There's a small shower down the hall," Miss Frederickson said. "Like I told you, this is our own special place. We can be totally free here. And he pays for everything," she added, looking at Mr. LaCrosse, sitting at his big desk. He was speaking to the mayor of Deli, puffing contentedly on his cigar. "Oh, don't tell my auntie that I sat in a baby pool, peeing in my panties!" I told Miss Frederickson. "I won't, if you don't tell my husband," she said. "I don't know your husband," I confessed. "I don't know your aunt," she replied. We stared at each other. "You're very cute," Miss Frederickson told me. "May I kiss you?" "Mmmmm," I said. "But don't tell." The woman leaned forward and kissed me. Her lips were soft. I savored them against my own. Her hand stole into my décolleté blouse and fondled my breasts. I meant to protest but the words I intended to speak drowned in my throat as Miss Frederickson held me in a prolonged kiss. My hand slithered along Miss Frederickson's waist and went down between her legs, past her short skirt, and up between her thighs. I found her panties and pressed against them with my fingers. She groaned. I felt the fabric of her undies moisten slightly. Our kiss continued. I heard Miss Jacobs giggle but even that didn't cause our mouths to part. Miss Frederickson worked her vulva against my fingers. "I'm going to pee," she breathed hotly. "Okay," I sighed. As we continued to kiss I felt a sudden discharge of fluid into the fabric I was diddling. She urinated in her panties! I felt a sudden need of my own. I whispered to her what I wished to do. She nodded, a little, still kissing me, and slipped a hand up under my skirt. She felt my vulva through the fabric of my undies. "Do it now," Miss Frederickson said. "Mmmmm," I said into her lips. I let myself go. Urine squirted from my vaginal lips into my tight-pressed briefs. Miss Frederickson tickled me. I giggled, still urinating. I felt a new spurt of urine moisten her own panties. "We're pee pals," Miss Frederickson told me. "Yes," I giggled. Miss Jacobs brought us wipes for our faces and drinks for our bellies. We indulged ourselves. We hoped to urinate again, we were such wicked girls that day. Mr. LaCrosse finished his phone call. He came over to where we were kneeling. He unzipped himself again. He offered us his penis. Miss Frederickson and I both licked at him greedily. When he could stand no more of our attention, he ejaculated freely into our hair and over our faces. We took all he had to give us, gladly, uncaring about how sticky it made us or how it wrecked our clothes. Miss Frederickson and I, enduring the shower of his semen, at the same time felt each other and urinated yet again in our underwear. "It was rather liberating, don't you think?" Miss Frederickson asked me bashfully as we shared a tight shower down the hall. I squeezed against her. There was barely enough room in the portable shower for one, let alone two. But somehow that made it all the more special, and intimate. "It does sort of free you up from anxieties and inhibitions," I said. "I never thought work could be like this." "Neither did I, until I met Mr. LaCrosse," Miss Frederickson sighed. "Mmmm. I'm glad I met you too," I told her truthfully. "I feel shy about it, but you're pretty fun." "So are you," Miss Frederickson said. "Hopefully we'll get to party a lot like this." "Yes!" I said. Unfortunately Mr. LaCrosse died of a heart attack the following week. I told my aunt what we had been doing and she was quite shocked by it all. I saw Miss Frederickson again at the funeral. We kissed. We cried together. I wondered if my feelings for her were beyond what a girl should feel. Her husband took her away at the end of the funeral and I did not get to see her again.

Chapter One

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10381.txt

Dream Spinner

Elevator Music

"Yeah, right," said Steve as he stood there waiting for the elevator. Suddenly realizing what he had just said, he shook his head, his light blond hair bobbing with the slight movement and falling back over his forehead. 'Shit,' he thought, 'what did I just agree to?' He had not been paying attention to the conversation for at least the past five minutes. How could he concentrate in the presence of the handsome stud in the six hundred dollar Baycrest business suit standing beside him? This was his third visit to the offices of Mahone, Klaussen, Whitney and Brohurst, and the third time they had run into each other. It was the slim hope that they might meet again that had prompted Steve to return the second time, and now the third. Normally the impatient, well-to-do, twenty-one-year-old would have been incensed to be called back to the offices a second time, never mind a third. That didn't mean he wasn't annoyed that a multimillion dollar law firm like MKW&B was having such difficulty resolving a simple insurance problem over his father's yacht. It was quite simple - he'd been partying and hadn't noticed the speed and ran up onto the dock. If they'd had the proper warning buoys out, it would never have happened. So pay the damages to St. Kitts harbour master or whoever, and see that the yacht was repaired. That was what insurance companies were for. That first day he had been waiting in the outer office to see the lawyer - he couldn't remember if it was MKW or B and didn't really care - when this stud came walking into the office and announced himself as being from the office of the District Attorney. He couldn't be more than twenty-four years old, and Steve had figured him for some gung-ho articling student, not that a person's job mattered when it came to having sex with him. As it turned out, Steve had a friend who could hack into any computer system - the dude was an honor student, a regular genius, and his first name was Mark. Graduating with top honors from high school at the age of 16, and from law school at the age of 23 magna cum laude, he had landed a job with the District Attorney's office straight out of university. It was not his brains that attracted Steve, although he liked that in a man too. Dark brown hair, very stylishly combed, steel gray eyes, and thin, sensual lips were enough to attract his attention. Add to that broad shoulders, at least a 43 inch chest, and a 34-inch waist, and he didn't just attract a man's attention, he demanded it. Even in his business suit, it was evident he had a fantastic muscular build. A very sharp jet black suit, a hundred-dollar button-down white shirt, and a classy pink silk tie - the dude had style besides. Just looking at the man was enough to give Steve a hardon, and that was what was happening at that very moment. As it began to swell, he imagined some of the hot things they could do together. Steve had a lot of ideas. Fortunately the ding of the elevator button brought him back to reality again before he got into a state he would not be able to hide in his dockers pants. There were three others waiting for the elevator besides him and Mark, two secretaries and some old bald-headed dude that had gotten off on the wrong floor. It was a good enough reason for him to stand close to Mark as they got on the elevator. Mark inhaled deeply as Steve stepped up beside him. He loved the fragrance of Old Spice and recognized it immediately. He especially loved it on a hot-looking young stud like Steve. This was the third time they had run into each other in the past two weeks. The first time they had the usual meaningless exchange between strangers, the weather, the hassle of having to wait, yesterday's football game. The second time it was just a nod and a "well hello again" as he was heading into the office and the good-looking blond was heading out. Now, there they were again. Mark was beginning to wonder if maybe this was fate knocking on his door. While they were waiting for the elevator, he had introduced himself "since we seem to keep on meeting" and they had shaken hands. The dude had said his name was Steve. He had lovely blond hair, sort of beachcomber style, medium long on the sides and back and combed forward over his forehead. When he tossed his head back, the light hair bobbed and settled back down like fluff. God, was that hot, as were those emerald green eyes. He had a gorgeous tan, probably from spending his life on the beach, and looked sharp in his white and blue polo shirt and khaki pants. He was rich, or at least his parents were. Anyone who had MKW&B for solicitors had to be rich. He was in good shape, muscular but a bit thinner than himself - Mark observed, but then he spent a lot of time in the gym working out himself. Strong body, strong mind, they went together, and Mark planned on going places. He'd like to go places with this stud, he thought, and not just the 21 floors back down to ground level. He'd love to get into those dockers pants. They stopped at floor 19 and the two secretaries got off. The three men left shuffled over to make more space between them, not because Mark and Steve wanted to, but because it would look rather suspicious - the two of them shoulder to shoulder on one side of the elevator and the old dude on the other. The elevator stopped at 18 and two secretaries and a boy got on. The kid was in his mid-teens. The two men checked him out automatically and decided he wasn't bad if they were into teenagers. On floor 17, a courier got on with his mail pouch, causing the occupants to crowd closer together. That suited Mark and Steve just fine. "Supposed to get up to 80 today," observed the old man. "Hot," said the boy. "Like it hot," observed Steve, wondering if the double meaning would have any significance to Mark. "Me too," agreed Mark, wondering the same thing about Steve. "Fine for you boys in air conditioned offices," commented the courier. "Or who can spend all their time on the beach," he added, evidently aiming his comment at Steve. Steve's tan had not gone unnoticed by the secretaries either. They were stealing covert glances at him. He smiled back. Mark frowned. That was not a good sign. One of the hottest dudes he'd met since he'd taken on this job and the guy has to have it on for women. At floor 16, the courier got off. At floor 14, the secretaries left. Floor 12 was the one the old man had been seeking. The interoffice courier got on with his mail cart, forcing them to crowd closer together again. Steve inhaled deeply, savoring the natural man scent of Mark. During the day, Mark preferred an odorless sports deodorant - perfumed ones could become cloying in an office, but on a date that was another matter. As he inhaled Steve's aftershave, he wished they could date. Neither man noticed the teenager cautiously glancing at the two studs and getting aroused as he thought his own thoughts. Floor 13, the boy and courier got off, leaving only the two men. "It is hot," observed Steve. "Yeah," agreed Mark with a smile. "Perfect for a day on the beach." Shit, thought Steve, what perfect teeth. A day on the beach with this stud would be wonderful, and then... The elevator came to an abrupt halt, interrupting his thoughts and throwing the two men against the wall. The lights went out, casting them in complete darkness, and then the dim emergency light flickered on in the center of the roof. "We seem to have stopped." "The panel lights are all off." "Last I noticed we were at floor 9." "Must be between 8 and 9." "Mm, just the emergency light. Main power must be off." "Building like this you'd think they'd have paid their electric bill," joked Steve. "Well, I'm sure it'll be on in a minute." "Yeah." The two men stood there in the darkened elevator, both wishing that the power would not go back on, both wishing that there was some way to discover more about the other, some way to find out what the other's sexual interests were. Hell, each was wondering how they could get into the other's pants. "Air conditioning's gone off too." "Yeah. I guess anything that needs electricity is down." "Yeah," agreed Steve, thinking he'd like to go down too. He wondered what Mark's cock would be like. If it was anything like the rest of his body, it had to be fantastic. "So, I've seen you here quite a bit lately," observed Mark. "Yeah, dealing with a little insurance problem over an accident down at St. Kitts.""What were you doing down there?" "Caribbean cruise." "Nice." "Yeah, part of a twenty-first birthday party present from my folks." "Real nice." "Yeah. While I was down there, I skipped out of the cruise for a day and took the family yacht out while it was docked at St. Kitts. That's when the accident happened." "Bummer. St. Kitts is nice." "Yeah, but I liked Barbados the best. Have you been there?" "Once," Mark said. "Love their shark and fish chowder." He also wanted to say he loved some of the hot beach studs, but Barbados was not exactly known for its gay life. Homosexuality in fact was still considered illegal there. "Yeah," said Steve, wondering how he could get this conversation around to sex. "Fuck, it's getting hot," Mark observed, undoing his tie. "You must be cooking in that suit." "You get used to it. Being in a courtroom, it can get even hotter than in here," he joked. "So can some bars I've been in," smiled Steve, and the two men laughed. Awkward silence. Steve reached into his pocket to pull out his handkerchief to mop his forehead. A pack of matches fell from his pocket. Spotting it as it fell through the air, Steve quickly bent down to reach for it. Mark's reflexes were faster. "Buffy's Bar," he observed as he handed back the matches. "Nice place." "You've been there?" asked Steve. "Yeah, in Inch Marlowe, right?" Steve nodded. "Great place for a beer after walking the mile back from Barbados' Long Bay Beach," Mark observed. "Yeah, Long Bay Beach was fantastic." Long Bay Beach had not been on the cruise itinerary but it had been on Steve's. He had opted out of the tour of Bridgetown for two miles of sandy beach and lots of dunes and underbrush for couples who wanted a bit of privacy. Nude sunbathing was not official, but some did it. The beach was the best known gay cruising spot in the Caribbean. The memory of that place, of the darkly tanned tourists and the even darker residents of Barbados, caused Steve's dick to stir. He wondered if Mark knew it was a favorite cruising spot for the locals. "John's Night Cap is a great nightclub there," Steve commented, wondering if Mark knew it was also gay friendly, hoping that he did. Mark noticed that Steve's dockers pants had developed a very definite bulge. They had had enough of this toying, and he couldn't stand being next to this hot dude without knowing. Besides, what the hell he figured, what sort of lawyer would he be if he didn't take a chance. "Yeah, cruising there is almost as good as in the dunes." Steve could not believe what he had just heard. His dick gave a leap. "You're..." "Yeah, and I'm guessing you are too." "Oh yeah." Mark reached over and brushed Steve's long blond hair out of his eyes. He bent over and their lips met in a long, hard kiss. "I've been wanting to do that ever since we first met," Mark admitted. "Me too," smiled Steve. Mark kissed him again and, lifting up his polo shirt, ran his hands under it, massaging the younger man's smooth chest. "Wanted you to do that too," Steve sighed. "I think we've found something to do while the power's off," Mark said with a smile. That smile melted Steve on the spot. While Mark continued to massage his chest, Steve untied Mark's silk tie and glanced around for a place to put it. "Just let it drop," said Mark huskily. Dropping it on the elevator floor, Steve reached up and slid Mark's suit jacket off, allowing it to drop to the floor too. Unbuttoning his expensive white shirt, he could not believe the broad, muscular chest. It had a thick v of hair at the base of his throat and rings of hairs around his nipples but was otherwise smooth. Steve ran his hands over the solid muscles, damp with sweat. He touched Mark's nipples lightly, and between the heat and his feathery touch he soon had them hard. He bent over and licked them, relishing their sweaty saltiness. By this time Mark had Steve's polo shirt off and was running his hands over the younger man's smooth, deeply tanned chest. His nipples were soon erect with arousal too. The heat in the elevator was increasing, and the heat of the two men was doing nothing to help. They fumbled with each other's pants, drawing down flies, unsnapping clasps, and eagerly pushing them down. Mark was wearing G-string bikini briefs, which were jutting out with his stiff cock. Steve wasted no time pushing down his briefs and releasing the thick, solid, eight inches of male meat. He was gorgeous. Mark meanwhile had pushed down Steve's boxers and revealed his own impressive man rod, an inch shorter but nothing to be ashamed of. Steve's tongue followed the line of hair from Mark's neck down along the center of his chest to his belly button, and on down to his groin. He bypassed the meaty sausage sticking up in the air and waiting for his attention and went first to the low-hung balls in their hairy sack. He licked the salt from them, savoring the aroma of hot sweaty balls, the aroma of a real man. He sucked one and then the other into his mouth and savored them as if he were about to eat them. Unable to wait any longer, he took Mark's massive organ in his hand and licked the head. Fuck, it tasted incredible. As he licked and sucked on it, Mark ran his hands through Steve's soft, blond hair. "Where is the lube when you need it?" Steve sighed. "Spit has been known to do the job," Mark suggested. "If you don't mind trying without lube," Steve said. "I'd love to be fucked by you." "Sure, after a bit of 69." Steve was more than agreeable. The two horny dudes lay down on the elevator floor, Steve on his back and Mark straddling him from above in the opposite direction. Two hot hungry mouths sank down on the two rock-hard cocks. Two tongues licked and enjoyed what only a man can offer. The two naked men sucked loudly and eagerly, each enjoying the feel of a hot mouth enveloping his cock, and each enjoying the pleasure of a hot dick in his mouth. Finally Steve stopped sucking. Removing his mouth, he added generous gobs of spit to Mark's cock head. Mark raised Steve's hips and added his spit to Steve's asshole, working it into his eager opening with his first two fingers. He bowed his head and, fastening his lips to Steve's hole, he forced his saliva into the hot man pussy. Finally Steve stood and braced himself against the wall. Mark stood between his outspread legs and eased himself forward. His spit-dripping cockhead pressed against Steve's butthole and Steve strained to accept it. The men grunted and panted in their lust, their bodies trickling with sweat in the hot, stuffy air. Finally flesh gave way to flesh and Mark finally entered the blond's butt. Steve shivered and groaned with the unique ecstasy of having one's body penetrated by a hot, horny stud with a weapon of solid male meat. He swooned as he felt the hard, hot organ slip into his butthole until all eight inches were buried up his chute. Mark was enjoying the blond's tight ass just as much. Feeling the hot, wet hole gripping his thick cock, Mark slowly began to withdraw, and then reaching the tight sphincter, he reversed and sank his pole back into the willing body. Sweat poured down the foreheads of the two men and ran into their eyes, blinding them. Sweat poured down their solid, muscular chests and made them glisten as if oiled. Sweat collected about their hot nuts. Soon the two men were groaning and grunting in the throes of ecstasy. Reaching over around Steve, Mark took his aching cock in his hand and began to pump it while he fucked the younger dude's ass. Dark brown hair and light blond were matted with sweat. Mark wrapped his left arm about Steve, his hard muscular body pressing against the younger man's dark tan flesh, and the two ground their hips furiously, driving Mark's cock in and out of Steve's pulsating hole and driving Steve's seven inches in and out of Mark's fist. The two men grunted and inhaled openly, enjoying each other, enjoying the sudden and unexpected sex. Their breathing drew deeper and more rapid until finally Mark lunged his hips forward and shot his hot load into Steve. His hard cock throbbed out load after load up the quivering man's rectum, and with a sharp grunt, Steve's load shot from his cannon and struck the wall of the elevator. The two men sighed and groaned softly as they openly enjoyed their climax. Finally Mark drew out of Steve and leaned against the back of the elevator. "Fantastic," he sighed. "Right on," agreed Steve as he reached down for his boxers to wipe himself off. "Let me do that," offered Mark. He quickly squatted down and before Steve could react he had Steve's still hard cock in his hand. Steve closed his eyes and sighed as the hot lawyer licked and sucked him clean. The lights suddenly came on and the elevator started to move. The two men grabbed for their clothing. Floor 8 came up and the door began to open. Steve panicked, his boxers being the only thing he had on, and he lunged for the close button. He was too late. The door swung open, fortunately revealing nobody waiting. Steve quickly pushed the close button. As the door closed and the elevator moved down, the men quickly pulled on their pants. Mark threw on his shirt and suit jacket, buttoning up the jacket to hide the fact his shirt was wide open. Steve drew on his polo shirt and the men slipped on their socks and shoes just as the elevator reached the lobby and the doors slid open. "You alright?" asked one of the maintenance men, peering into the hot, stuffy elevator at the two disheveled men, their clothing rumpled and half open, their hair in disarray. "Yeah, we're fine," observed Steve. "It must have been hot as hell in there.""Oh yeah," said Steve as he looked at Mark. "It was hot." "You were trapped up there for almost an hour." "Hmm, fine hour it was too," Mark observed. The maintenance men stared at the two men as they headed across the lobby and out the door. As they stepped into the elevator, the unmistakable odor of spilled semen was evident in the hot, muggy air. The men glanced at the departing pair and wondered. Two handsome dudes like that? Two of the men were certain it could not be, the third wished that he had been trapped in the elevator too. As they took the elevator up for a trial run, none of them noticed the white globs of cum that Steve had blasted against the wall, the only evidence of what had happened in that hot elevator that Thursday afternoon.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16581.txt

Christine Stevenson

In The Bank Manager's Cupboard

"Answer me, slave. Do you agree that you need to be taught humility?" she insisted. David nodded and dropped his head down into the pillows. The bitch was not only going to do it, but she made him admit he needed it. "That's a good girl," she teased, "and I'm sure this is going to make you feel suitably humble." Initially, David found the experience uncomfortable and grossly humiliating, especially as Karin giggled with obvious relish as she thrust back and forth. Karin alternated between ramming into him and writhing to stimulate herself when deep within him. As the pain of the punishment turned into a deep red glowing sensation, Karin's writhing started to stimulate his prostate, and her thrusting caused his penis to rub against the bed covers. David found these twin 'pleasures' psychologically disturbing. Karin noticed that David's moans and groans were no longer expressing pain and discomfort, but were now an indication of the sexual pleasure he was experiencing. Karin held on to the gag strap at the back of his head like a rein and rode him like a rodeo star. Hurling insults and derogatory abuse at him, she used his excitement to further vanquish him. "So you liked to be fucked, do you? Whore! My randy little maid likes her boss to have a big prick. So wanker, now I know what you think about when you jerk off." David found the experience disturbing because at the same time as suffering such crushing abasement, he was enjoying the most intense physical pleasure he had ever encountered. The beating had broken him; this demeaning rape was truly humbling him. Panting her abuse through intense and powerful orgasms above him, she brought him to a kind of inner orgasmic plateau. Each of her paroxysms were accompanied by small spurts from his penis. Each little eruption suffused his body with joy, quite unlike normal ejaculation. He had never visited this plateau of pleasure before. He was kept there partially by the fear of the consequences should he spurt his ejaculate without permission. Although he was fearful of further punishment with the riding crop, which he knew lay there so far unused, he could not help himself from leaking onto her bed covers. He was at the same time experiencing a deep conversion to subservience. She had found and stimulated a submissive tendency within him. Having broken his male ego, she would soon have him grovelling in unresisting servitude. She had conquered him completely. Karin unstrapped his gag and, grabbing a handful of hair, she thrust and pumped her erection into him. "What do you say, slut?" she demanded. "Oh please, Madam, please may I come now," David answered. "No, slut, not yet. You have something else to say to me first." Karin continued her pumping and started to feel the onset of yet another peak. "Oh Madam, thank you, Madam, for teaching me humility," David moaned, trying to restrain the gushing which he desperately needed to release. "Please, Madam, please." "Aaaaaah," Karin moaned. "Yessss, what else have you to say to your Mistress, slut?" "Oh Madam, Madam, I love you, please, Madam. Please." Karin's seventh orgasm exploded, and she moaned in ecstasy and collapsed onto David's back, just as he pumped his ejaculation into her bedclothes. He groaned his thanks, and then his apologies, and then finally, as he ceased spurting, he sighed, "I think I really do love you, Madam." Karin smiled, like a cat that got the cream. She almost purred in the pleasure of victory. She had taken David apart psychologically, and when she put the pieces back together, she'd made him just the way she liked her men - submissive. "Just remember that I OWN YOU, David."

Part Thirteen

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12073.txt

Waldo

Mirror

"Benjamin, I tell you, there's something wrong with your brother and I'm worried about Randall. For the last month, every time I place a telephone call to his store to talk to him, I get some woman answering the phone instead of your brother. According to her, 'Randall isn't there'. She gives me a cock-and-bull story about why he can't come to the phone to talk to his own father. Then about two or three days after my failed attempt to talk to him, I get a nice letter from Randall, telling me that he's doing great and that everything's all right with him. I'm beginning to think that he doesn't want to talk to me anymore." "Dad, Randy's got a good business and he's probably very busy working in his store. Buying and selling antiques can be very demanding on his time." "Don't try to confuse the facts on your own father. Randall can somehow find the time to sit down and write me a two-page letter instead of giving me the simple luxury of a phone call where I can immediately respond to his verbal statements? He's written me three letters this month telling me how great he's feeling and that I shouldn't worry about him. That's two more letters than he ever wrote to me before IN HIS TOTAL LIFE. Why can't he find the time to give me a quick phone call and just let me hear his voice? If your mother was still alive...God bless her poor soul, she would be worried sick about him because of the way that he's repeatedly being difficult to find. It's probably true that if your dear mother was still alive, that she'd be a little happy just because her oldest son finally learned how to write a letter home. You know it's not like Randall to write letters instead of calling me and that's one of the big things that makes me suspect that there's something seriously wrong with him. I even compared his handwriting to one of his old letters to make sure it was really him writing the letters." "Dad, I'll admit that it's a little strange for Randy to suddenly start communicating through the mail instead of using the phone. But there's nothing wrong with that. You're just getting paranoid again." "Paranoid? Since when is worrying about your oldest child considered paranoid? Benjamin, I want you to drive up to Cleveland this weekend and make sure that everything's really all right with him. I won't feel right until you tell me that you've seen him in person and made sure that he's ok." "Dad, it is a two-hundred-mile one-way drive to Cleveland. And I'm supposed to take my girlfriend, Donna out for dinner Saturday evening. I'm not going to spend my weekend off by driving almost four hundred miles round trip just to look at Randy's ugly face. There's a strong chance that this could be the weekend that I finally get lucky with Donna." "Son, if you haven't got any of your new girlfriend's nooky after dating her for over two long months, then you ain't going to get any where near her pussy unless you win the lottery and become an instant millionaire. A woman who keeps you that far away from the interior of her panties, won't give you any good loving unless you slip a wedding ring on her finger and allow her to slip a ring through your nose so she can lead you around some more. Listen to some good advice from your old man who used to understand women before he married your poor departed mother thirty years ago and discovered that the rules drastically change immediately after the marriage vows. A woman uses her body to get what she wants from a man. You haven't got into her panties because there's nothing that your prissy-ass new girlfriend really wants from you. Your new love knows that she can get you to spend your hard-earned money on her and she doesn't have to let you fuck her in return. I think that you ought to go see your brother instead of wasting more of your time with this particular woman. You went years without screwing some woman so I know that you can go one more weekend of not getting into Donna's bed without too much pain." "Dad, she's not like that. We have a progressing relationship because Donna is a lady and I respect her wishes. I'm not going drive all the way up there. I'm twenty-four years old. Randy's twenty-eight. But it's my girl's number that's more important to me right now. Donna's thirty-five - thirty-five C Cup, that is. I'm old enough to know what I ought to do with my free weekend off and Randy's old enough to know how to take care of himself. And I'm going to spend my time admiring Donna's 35C-23-34 body instead of checking up on my older brother just because my father is getting overly apprehensive in his old age." "Yeah, I know that you don't owe me nothing...I'm just your poor father who may not be around too many more years...you don't owe me anything just because I devoted the best years of my life to putting food on the table, clothes on your body and a roof over your head. Spare me the part of your usual speech about how you moved out of my house five years ago and you're a big man who can take care of himself now. I'm not asking you to do much...just humor me by calling him and talking to him." "Dad! I don't want to poke my nose into his business just because you think he's avoiding you for some stupid reason. I refuse to call him just because you're getting unduly suspicious in your old age. That's my last word. I don't want to hear any more about this topic." ****** "Rosewood Antiques. How may I help you?" The female voice on the phone sounded professional. Just from the sound of her voice, Ben immediately built a mental image of a flat-chested thirty/thirty-five-year-old woman with her dark hair up in a bun and wearing glasses. She was probably wearing an ankle-length skirt and didn't believe in wearing makeup or dating men. "Hi. I'm Ben Kline, Randy's brother. Is Randy there?" There was a long pause of five to six seconds of dead silence from the woman before she replied. In that time, her voice changed from the cool professional sound to a higher-pitched, slightly startled tone as if she was trying to quickly think of a response. "Uh...Mister Kline is unavailable right now. Could I take a message?" "Nah. Just calling my older brother to see how he's doing. Haven't talked to him in a couple of months and just wanted to chit-chat a little. Can you ask him to give me a call later today when he's got time to B.S. a little with me?" "He's...He's not here now. He's on a purchasing trip and I don't expect to talk to him today." "Oh! Okay. Just let him know that I called. I'm sorry but I didn't get your name when you answered." "Marie. Marie Tanner. I'm the Assistant Manager." Her voice returned to a more in-control, positive-sounding tone as if she were talking to a friend now. "So my brother can afford an Assistant Manager now. Sounds like my older brother's business is doing good. How long have you been working there?" "He hired me a month ago." "Great. I'm glad that he's got someone to keep him straight. Well, Marie, it's been nice talking to you." Her voice changed tone again, losing the professional tone and becoming a more relaxed, friendly-sounding voice. "It's been great talking to you too. Randy's told me so much about you that I feel as if I know you already. You don't have to worry about your brother because I'm taking good care of him." There was just enough emphasis on her words 'taking good care of him' to add hidden meaning to the words. Although as Assistant Manager of the business, it was her job to take care of the business, her words and warm tone sounded as if she was also taking care of Randy's more intimate needs...perhaps even Randy's sexual needs. Ben's mental image of Marie quickly changed as he built a new mental image of a sexy blonde with big boobs on the other end of the phone line. Randy had always been partial to blondes and Ben was partial to women with big boobs. "Great. Well, I'm looking forward to meeting you someday." Again, her voice changed, reinforcing the image of the sexy blonde with big boobs, but now the mental image of the woman on the phone was completely naked in Ben's mind. Her new tone was a softer, sultry-sounding tone as she cooed, "We have to get together soon. I'm so looking forward to...meeting you. Have a good day."As Ben hung up the phone, he felt very confused. Just as one can feel someone smile or frown on the other end of a phone, he had felt a strong sexual tug from the woman who had just hung up the phone. An indirect come-on, as if she was trying to seduce him over the phone. Why was she coming on to him, if she was involved personally with his brother? "Hi dad. Well, uh..I called him like you requested." "Did you talk to him?" "No, he's out of town on a trip." "See. He's spending a lot of time on the road now. Did you talk to 'her' and is that where she said he was? Is it her word that you're believing when she says that everything is all right with my son?" "Dad, he's all right. Right after I called, he sent me a fax, telling me that he's doing good and except for a sore throat today, he was feeling great." "A fax? Your brother can't call you, but he can send you a fax? And you think everything is normal with him? Benjamin, I didn't raise you to be an idiot. I tell you that there's something seriously wrong with your brother. You need to go up there this weekend to investigate this matter. I insist." "Dad, I'm not going. Get off of that tangent. He's all right. I'll call back tomorrow when the store is open and if he's not there, I'll request firmly about getting a phone number where I can talk to him." "Call his apartment tonight. I insist." "Hello." The very feminine voice was friendly, relaxed, and definitely wasn't Randy's voice. "Uh..hi. Is this Marie? This is Ben again. I'm still trying to get in touch with Randy." Her voice became distant sounding and cautious, as if she were trying to hide something from him. "Ben?...Oh...Hi. Randy's uh uh ..forwarded his apartment's phone to my phone so that I can answer his phone for him while he's out of town. He's still traveling." "Look, it's important that I talk with Randy soon to discuss some family matters. He sent me a fax right after I talked to you today but I need to personally speak with him. Do you have a number where I can get in touch with him?" "Sorry...but he calls in from wherever he's at sometime during the day, to check on the business and he just happened to call me right after you called the store earlier. His voice was very hoarse and he said that he had a bad sore throat." "Please have him call me. Bye." Ben Kline unbuckled his seat belt as he put his car's transmission into the park gear before turning off the car's motor. He glanced at his craggy face in the visor's small mirror as he ran a large hand through his thinning hair. Another eight to ten years of ever-increasing hair loss and his head would look like a billiard ball with fringe around the side, just like his old man's head. Running his hand across his sandpaper feeling chin, he hated the way that his thick and coarse facial hair was too fast growing and thick while the thinning hair on his head was making him look older than he really was. Rubbing his fingertips across his face again, he knew that he had closely shaved that morning but his heavy beard growth made him look and feel as if he had a two day-old beard. Grimacing at his image in the mirror, he stared at his strong pointy chin, long slender face, hawk nose, slicked back pompadour hairstyle and deep set eyes under bushy eyebrows. He mumbled out loud to himself "Benjamin David Kline, you're one old looking mutherfucker already and you're only twenty-four years young. No wonder you can't get anywhere near Donna's supposed-to-be-virgin young pussy. If I was a young beautiful woman like Donna who could have any man in the world that she wanted, I wouldn't fuck a stubbled-faced, skinny old fart like myself either. Well, let's go see what Randy's new bitch looks like and get this out of the way so that I can go back home and tell Dad that everything is all right. Then maybe Dad will leave me the fuck alone and let me live my life without any more interference from him." Pushing the visor back up out of the way so that he couldn't see his reflected face, he climbed out of the small sports car. He stretched his six foot two inch, one hundred and seventy pound slender body as he tried to shake off some of the lethargic numbness in his butt after the two hundred mile drive from his home up to Cleveland. There were a lot of other places that he would prefer to be on a beautiful Friday night instead of Cleveland. But when his brother didn't call him within two days of his after-hours phone call to Marie, he knew that his father's suspicions might be right. And his father was still bugging the shit out of him, so that was why he was here to investigate the facts in person. Glancing at his watch, he saw that he had arrived just in time to beat the store's closing. The store was scheduled to close at six p.m. so he had rushed to get there before she could lock up the store and disappear for the evening. The ringing door-opening bell over the store's front door sounded too loud as he entered the front door of his brother's business. Antique businesses always have a changing mixture of displayed antiques and junk to attract your attention as you enter those places. But instead of looking at any of the crowded mixture of antiques, his attention was immediately focused on the young attractive woman that was busy behind the counter. That one glance at her was enough to invoke the image of the sexy, sophisticated, seductive, sultry slender blonde that Sharon Stone played in the Basic Instinct movie and to give Ben's preconceived mental image of Marie a beautiful face to go along with the perfect body. Randy's pretty assistant manager was the movie's star's almost exact twin with her lithe sexy body and sensual classical face. She looked up from the notebook that she was writing in and she smiled a 'welcome to the store' type of smile which quickly faded into a 'oh..shit' type of smile as if she somehow recognized him. Her large expressive blue eyes went from being friendly to being stunned to being scared to being cautious as he walked toward the counter. "Hi. You must be Marie. I'm Ben.", he declared as he continued staring straight into her beautiful but obviously cautious beautiful big blue eyes. For a second her mouth hung open as if she was flabbergasted at his unexpected appearance, then her face assumed a somewhat 'wish I was elsewhere but I will make the best of it' type of smile as she held out her hand "Yeah, I know. Uh...that is, I recognized you from your picture." He wrapped his large hand around her small hand and shook her hand as he pretended that he didn't notice her awkward coolness to his unexpected arrival "When my big brother didn't call me back, I decided to come on up anyway. Reason that I was trying to get in touch with him, was to tell him that I was coming up to see him this weekend. I've got a spare key to his apartment and thought that I would stop by here first to see if I could catch him here. Is Randy around?" She pulled her small hand back from his country-boy handshake grip, using the same hand to push a lock of golden hair back from across her face as she quickly uttered in a somber sounding voice "I don't expect him to be here..that is, to be in town this weekend. Looks like you drove up here for nothing." As he gazed at her, several thoughts rushed through his mind. "I WANT TO FUCK HER! Why is she hiding my brother's whereabouts? I WANT TO FUCK HER! She's one attractive bitch. I WANT TO FUCK HER! I can see why my brother hired her. With her looks, she could be incompetent and who would notice her lousy work. I WANT TO FUCK HER! Is she fucking my brother? I WANT TO FUCK HER!" Pulling himself out of his circle of repeating thoughts, Ben decided to act as normal as possible until he could discover what type of relationship was really going on between her and his missing brother. Smiling at her as if they were old friends, Ben's next few words are a cautious mixture of his personal attraction toward the woman, his desire to find his brother and a feeling that she was hiding something. "Well, I've missed my brother before so I know how to find my way around his place by myself and I've got a key to it. Look, it was a long drive up here and I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast. Do you have any plans for dinner?" A twinkle appeared in her eyes and the expressed caution began to disappear from her eyes as some of her womanly confidence reappeared in her smile and the way that she held herself. There was just the barest noticeable movement as she pulled her shoulders back slightly, resulting in a minor, more rounded chest expansion of her boobs. He let his eyes drop down from her face as a result of her slight movement and he allowed himself the momentary glance at what he knew had to be the curved shape of two of the most perfect boobs in the world hidden underneath her blouse. Normally he liked women with big heavy tits but he could tell from her slender body that she had the luscious type of swimmer's body with firm perky tits that he couldn't pass up if given the chance to sample the merchandise. For a long second he just stared at her perfectly rounded breasts underneath the tight chiffon blouse. Then he jerked his eyes back up to her twinkling eyes which were smiling like a cat that just cornered a mouse - or were her now-gleaming eyes more like the eyes of a fisherman who just set the hook into a record-size fish that hadn't discovered that it was caught yet. Anyhow her smiling eyes and fluid body movements were expressing non-verbal statements that were easily understood by any man over twelve years old. She answered his invitation to dinner in a laughing tone but her response was a double meaning question "Is there anything special that you would like to eat?""He knew what he wanted to eat - her golden pussy. But he lied and responded with an answer that wouldn't get his face slapped: "Uhh..no, I just want to relax and enjoy a good meal with pleasant company after my long drive here. Where would you like to go?" She pointed to a small doorway at the end of the room. "The office is back there, and Randy keeps a shaving kit in his lower right-hand drawer for emergencies. Why don't you grab his razor and knock off some of that heavy stubble growth while I close up the shop." ****** A slightly cleaner-looking Ben Klein waited for Marie to lock the door to the store. He had used his brother's shaving kit to shave so that he looked slightly more presentable, and some of the cologne to make himself smell a lot better. He used the opportunity while she was busy locking the door to closely examine the bewitching woman who had worked her way into his brother's confidence. She was about five feet four inches tall and looked like she barely weighed a few pounds over one hundred pounds. But it was a perfectly proportional body with wide, rounded hips, a narrow waist, and relatively large breasts on her small, tight body. Her two-inch beige high heels supported two of the nicest flesh-colored, nylon-encased legs that he had seen in a long time. The shapely legs disappeared into a mid-thigh beige tight skirt that showed just enough leg to be tantalizing and covered just enough thigh to be acceptable for wearing to work. The delicate belt around her waist showed off her small waist while holding up the skirt and tucking away the bottom of a white chiffon blouse. The form-fitting blouse tastefully followed the contours of her chest and made her shoulders look narrow while highlighting the delicate thinness of her neck that demanded nibbling. The sheerness of the blouse softened the basic outlines of the soft bra under the blouse while at the same time showing that there wasn't a bit of foam padding within the bra. Her hands had long, delicate fingers that looked as if she could play the piano, but tipped with painted, long fingernails that wouldn't be too suitable for using a computer's keyboard; but the long fingernails were perfectly suitable for scratching a naked man's back. Her face wasn't the classical, chiseled beauty that artists desire to capture on canvas. Her eyes were her dominating facial feature, closely followed by her luscious lips. Her almost constantly gleaming eyes were too large, too expressive, and too sultry looking to be considered classical eyes. It was easy to look into her deep blue eyes and be mentally transported to a private tropical island where you could imagine what it would be like to make love to her at the edge of the surf. Her nose was too delicate, but the slenderness made her high cheekbones look rosier. Her lips were large and lush, always inviting you to kiss and enjoy the peach flavor of her natural-colored lipstick. Her straight, mid-shoulder-length golden hair looked as if she had been born a natural blonde. Overall, those features made Marie Tanner one of the most beautiful women that Ben had ever been able to get close enough to talk to. So what if she worked for his brother? So what if she was probably sharing his brother's bed? So what if she was going out with Ben simply because she felt bad for him because his older brother wasn't there to entertain him? Ben didn't care why she was going out with him as long as she went out with him. His little head was doing a lot of thinking for him. Whatever had caused her to be slightly shocked when he initially walked through the door had completely disappeared, and she was acting every bit as confident and friendly toward him as if they were two old friends going out for a night on the town. There was a teasing tone to her friendly-sounding voice, a teasing twinkle in her blue eyes, a gleam in her warm smile, and a warm blush in her rosy cheeks that showed that she was enjoying his companionship as much as he was enjoying her beauty. As soon as she finished double-checking the store's door to make sure it was locked and secured for the night, she pointed toward a large van sitting in the back of the parking lot that had the name "Rosewood Antiques" painted on the side. Not glancing back to see if he was following her as she walked toward it, she headed straight toward the van, knowing that he would follow her anywhere that she wanted to go. She jokingly declared, "One of the benefits of working for your brother is this beautiful, dual-purpose, roomy company car. In addition to being my primary transportation, we use it to haul antiques around to make sure that we get a tax break, so don't pay any attention to the mess of blankets in the back of the van that we use to protect our treasures. Since I know the local roads and where we're going to eat, I thought it would be easier if I drove us to the restaurant. You don't mind subjecting yourself to being in my absolute control, do you? I know a lot of men don't have any confidence in their manhood and always have to be in control when they're with a woman, but you don't strike me as being that type of person." "Sounds great to me. And there's more room in the van than in my little sports car. I've got my suitcase rammed tightly into the car's passenger seat because it wouldn't fit into the small area that they call a trunk." She glanced at the small two-seater sports car and commented, "Don't understand why single men buy cars that small. It's so small, that all you can do is live dangerously in traffic, but there's no way that you could ever get some good ass in something that small." Slightly stunned by her words that could be expected in a man-to-man discussion but not from a woman's virginal-looking lips, he mumbled, "That's why I've got my own apartment." She paused, standing beside the van while she patiently waited for him to open the driver's side door of the van. After he opened the van's door like a perfect gentleman, she hiked her skirt up her thigh slightly, exposing a quick flash of leg just before she stepped up into the higher-level van. Sitting down in the driver's seat, she rewarded his mandatory chivalry for opening the door with a wide smile. His eyes were distracted elsewhere as he thought that she also allowed him another fleeting glance at a little more of her quickly exposed leg through the skirt's narrow slit. Continuing their discussion, she voiced a mild rebuttal about his choice of cars as she declared in a teasing tone, "Benji, you need to get you a larger car where you can take advantage of unexpected opportunities. You might learn how to enjoy life more." "Uh..Benji is a family name that Randy used to call me when we were kids, and he was just trying to piss me off. How did you know about that old nickname?" "Same way that I know that you're uncircumcised and that you paid some thirty-five-year-old prostitute to deflower you two days after your sixteenth birthday because you couldn't find any free pussy the night that you decided to lose your virginity. Your brother told me everything about his family back home. Would you like for me to discuss some more of your family secrets...to show you how much your brother trusts me, Benji?" Ben fought the urge to ball his hand up into a fist, knowing that it was his big-mouthed brother that he suddenly wanted to punch out, not the beautiful woman that was staring at him with a funny smile on her face, waiting for some type of response from him. Holding back the anger, he tried to appear calm as he tried to change the subject by jokingly responding, "It's an old family curse that men have to deal with when they come of age." She laughed as she changed the subject slightly but continued to talk about family things - childhood secrets that only his brother would know about. "Randy told me that you used to spend all of your money from your allowance and newspaper route on collecting bubble gum cards. Because he was three years older than you, he thought he was smarter, and he would try to get you to spend the money on impressing girls instead of buying your damn old cards. Now that he's in the antique business, I know that he's very proud of the way that you invested in your future back when you were just a snotty-nose kid." The rest of the story is at Sapphire's Place (http://www.sapphireplace.com) and follow the links to Waldo's Stories. They are available in both Text and ZIP format. Enjoy! Sapphire

Chapter 1 - The antique shop

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/18043.txt

Reavan

Young Temptress

"The restaurant is out of whole wheat bread today, sir. I'm sorry." "No whole wheat? That's sacrilege, young lady," I replied jokingly. "In some countries, you would get ten lashes with a wet noodle." I laughed at my own wit as my wife and I sat down to wait for our Saturday brunch. Later, when we were just about ready to leave, my wife went to the restroom. While she was gone, the waitress came to clean the table next to me. "I can't wait for my lashes," she whispered as she bent over, wiping the surface. I was taken by surprise and laughed nervously. "This is not a good place. Corporal punishment is illegal, especially in public." Again, I was trying to be funny. "Oh yes," she smiled, "that's right, isn't it." She laughed too and went back behind the counter to serve a customer. My wife returned and told me she was going to look around in the mall and to catch up with her after I paid the bill. I paid, giving her a generous tip and thanked her for being such a good sport. She handed me the receipt and a folded piece of paper, winking at me. I was perplexed and just stuffed the two items in my wallet and left. Of course, it took me an hour or more before I found my wife in the mall. I was curious about the folded paper but didn't look at it until later that day, when I was alone in my workshop. What could she want? She was probably in her late teens, though it was hard to judge since she was short and on the heavy side. Not exactly the type young guys chase after, but what would she want with a man in his fifties? I finally unfolded the paper and found myself looking at a crude map. At the bottom, in block letters, she had written: 'CORPORAL PUNISHMENT SITE, THIS FRIDAY AT 2:30 PM.' I crumpled it up and threw it in my waste bin. Whatever this meant, I wasn't risking a thirty-year marriage to find out. I couldn't get it out of my mind, however, and for the next few days, I thought about it constantly. A young girl is always tempting to an older man, but most of us leave it to our fantasies. On the Friday of the supposed rendezvous, my wife was at her regular golf game with her women's club. I was in my workshop, having decided to give it the cleaning she'd been harping about. It took me more than an hour, and I filled up the garbage can. It was garbage pickup day, so I thought I better add it to the big can outside. As I dumped it in, a crumpled piece of paper missed and fell to the ground. It was, of course, the magic note that I had almost managed to forget about for the last two days. Something about the map caught my attention. I knew that area - old lake cottages in a very isolated neighborhood. I began thinking about it again. What if she was just trying to make a fool of an old man, get me naked and expose me to a bunch of laughing teenagers or something? She didn't seem like the type, though, but who was I to have that kind of insight. It couldn't hurt, though, to take a drive around that general area after lunch. It was a pretty area, heavily wooded, with small clearings for cottages. I found the place, that part was easy, since she had written 'log cabin' and there were only one of those. There was no sign of life and no car in the lane, so I drove on, but I couldn't resist coming back. This time, I drove up the narrow drive and sat there looking at the structure for a while. Suddenly, the front door swung open and stayed that way. I didn't move, and after a minute, her head peeked around the door. My engine was still running, and I almost put it in reverse, but something inside me said no. Without really being conscious of it, I killed the engine and got out of the car and then found myself on the doorstep. "Come on in, there is no one else here." I stepped inside, and she closed the door behind me. "I shouldn't be here, you know. What is it you want?" "Well, you promised to whip me, sir, remember?" "I know, but that was meant as a joke." "You're here, though, aren't you, and I am here too. Do you want to do it like I am now, or maybe... you know... naked?" I became so excited that I lost my voice. She was dressed in a pair of shorts and a halter top without a bra. Her nipples were showing clearly in the thin material, being stretched by her huge breasts. Her thighs were large, matching her rear end, and the round stomach was in proportion to the rest of her body. All in all, I was looking at a whore's body, well... a bit inflated. "Listen, sir, I know you think there is something wrong here, but there isn't. I'm bisexual, and I have this, well, girlfriend. She's a lesbian and don't care much for men at all. She wants me to have a sexual experience with a man, to make sure that I know what I want. Now, look at me - the only boys who want to take me out are creeps. Most guys just want to take me out in the back seat somewhere and then drop me off without being seen. If you don't have a stick body, you're fat and on the sidelines." "Yes, but am I not the same? I can't be seen with you." "That's right, but don't you see? You're not going to leave your wife, so to my girlfriend, you're safe. A younger man might want a relationship. Also, my girlfriend knows someone who is very close to your wife in her club and knows that she is not interested in sex anymore?" "How do you know that I'm interested, after all, when a man is over fifty?" She stopped me from talking by putting her arms around my neck and planting a juicy kiss on my mouth. "Can I call you Bill?" She said, looking foxily in my eyes. "I'm Belinda." "Of course, you can," I already had the biggest hard-on that I'd had for years. She was rocking her pelvis against it, smiling knowingly, looking down there and then in my eyes again. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" She didn't wait for an answer. "First, you owe me a spanking. OK?" "You mean that's what you're after? I'm not into violence." She walked over to the stone fireplace and pulled her shorts and panties down to her knees. I stared, hypnotized, at her perfectly shaped buttocks, and then I noticed red stripes across it. "My girlfriend is, as you can see, and I love it. You can do it easy, with your hand if you like, but I won't have sex with you without it." She rotated the large, fleshy white globes at me, looking over her shoulder. "Please, Bill?" I walked over to her, almost in a trance-like state, my eyes riveted to the gyrating globes, beckoning my hands. Stopping at her side, I looked down on the protruding, moving mounds of flesh. Placing my left hand on her far hip, I touched one of her globes. She gasped and rubbed her hip against my bulge. Kneading it at first, I marveled at the soft, pliant texture of her flesh. My cock was by now ready to burst my pants. She was breathing deeply, almost spasmodically. I slapped one cheek lightly, watching her flesh rebound, then the other. "Oh, Bill, harder, please." Slapping it again but harder, I cupped my hand a bit, amplifying the sound. Again, I whacked her flesh harder and then again. With each slap, she moaned, and the harder I hit her, the louder and more pleasurably her response. For about two minutes, I slapped her, alternating the cheeks, until her skin turned red and my hand began to sting. Finally, she straightened up and faced me. "Take off my halter top, Bill." There was a demanding edge in her voice. I took a hold of the hem on both sides and began to lift it. She raised her arms, and I pulled it higher. Watching her breasts lifting inside until the hem flipped over her nipples, causing them to drop, slapping against her body and then settling halfway up again. I was stunned by the sight of what I had exposed and stopped pulling on the halter top. They were a foot long, curving down, then out, and pointed to nipples that stood straight out. "Bill," her muffled voice came from inside the halter covering her face. "Oh, sorry," I stammered, as I pulled the halter off her arms. "I was so struck by the size and beauty of your breasts that I couldn't move for a second." "You mean an hour," she joked and stood back, letting me take in her whole body. She turned slowly, keeping her eyes on me as long as she could. After she turned 360 degrees, she came to me and put my hands on her breasts. "I've been told many times by other women that it takes an older man to really appreciate a young girl's body," she said and kissed me. She felt my penis with both hands and then started to unbutton my shirt. Taking it off, she began fumbling for my belt buckle. Totally absorbed by fondling her unbelievable gorgeous breasts, I didn't even realize I was naked until she began fondling my genitals. "Make love to me now, Bill, please.""She took my hand and led me to the bed. Pulling back the covers, she got in and spread her legs. I stood there, drinking in the voluptuous beauty of her body. She stretched out her arms for me, smiling invitingly. "Come on, Bill, come here between my legs and penetrate me." She spread her thighs wider, rocking her pelvis and pursing her full lips, blowing kisses at me. "I want you to fondle your breasts," I said, not knowing why. It was as if someone else was talking. "Yes, Bill, like this? You like that," she squeezed both of her huge breasts and pointed the nipples at me. "Oh, Bill, I want you to play with them, suck on them, please?" "Play with your pussy for me, make it wet." That voice in my head again, what was I doing? The only young woman in my life, since I was that age myself, and then nothing like her. She wasn't trying to trap me into marriage, just sex. I got on the bed as she played with herself. Sitting on my knees between her thick, widely spread thighs, I touched her knees with both hands. She shook in response and began to breathe deeply, as she continued to finger herself. My fingers began to stroke her white fleshy thighs, moving closer to her crotch. Her hips were now thrusting for my cock as her breathing became short gasps. Leaning over her, I kissed one of her nipples, and she grasped my penis, frigging it and pulling it eagerly towards her vagina. I lowered my hips enough so she could touch her vagina with my knob. She cried out and thrust her cunt at me, her vagina engulfing the knob of my throbbing penis. Throwing her arms around my shoulders, she yanked me down on top of her and locked her legs around my ass. I couldn't believe how strong she was, as she held me in a bear hug. The weight of my body and her thrusting pelvis had inserted my cock to the hilt. It was incredibly tight, almost as if a hand was squeezing it. I barely had to move, with her bouncing my body up and down with unbelievable ease. My cock was being fucked and squeezed, as I began to match her movement, and we moved faster and faster until, very quickly, unable to hold back, I blew my rocks. "Don't stop, Bill, please. Don't stop. I'm coming now, keep fucking me." She French kissed me, moaning loudly in my mouth as she climaxed. I continued to kiss and caress her for as long as she kept moaning. I began then to lift myself off her, but she pulled me down. "Not yet, Bill, I want you close, please." "I don't want to hurt you, I'm heavy." "Bill, you can lie on top of me all day. You can't hurt me." We stayed there, kissing and caressing, nearly falling to sleep, when suddenly the front door opened. I froze with my cock still in her vagina. My worst fears were coming true. I had been caught in bed with a seventeen-year-old. "Well, Belinda and Bill, how is it going?" "Couldn't be better, Marcia, right, Bill?" I turned my head and stared at the woman, recognizing her, as she sat down on the bed and kissed Belinda. "Marcia, it's you!" I blurted out. I knew her well, a slim dark woman in her middle thirties, who had been divorced for a couple of years."She had a lot of scalloped, lumpy flesh sticking out of the crack. Reaching down with one hand, she used two fingers to spread the inner lips, exposing the clit sticking out from the hood and her vaginal opening. "I want you to kiss and lick it all over, Bill, but don't touch my clit until I tell you." She took her hand away and lowered her head down, kissing my knob. A shudder of excitement shot through my body as the first pair of lips ever touched my cock. "I want you to pull my body down on your face," she mumbled as she swallowed my knob. Reaching my hands around her thighs, I grasped her ass cheeks and pulled her hairy beaver into my face. I kissed her mound all around the outside first. She had one hand on my cock and the other fondling my balls. Her tongue wiggled around one side of my shaft as she fucked it with her mouth. My tongue was now between the folds of her lips, digging and licking carefully in order not to touch her clit. I licked the hood, feeling the hard clitoris shaft underneath. She began to rock her pelvis and closed her large, soft thighs around my face. A tart-tasting fluid began to ooze out of her pussy, and I was relieved that it actually had a pleasant flavor. She nearly squashed my head, bucking her body into my face, when I accidentally licked her clit. "It's OK, Bill, oooooh lick it all, get your tongue into my clit." Licking it again a few times, she slammed my head between her thighs repeatedly as she bucked her hips slowly. I searched for her vaginal opening and forced my tongue through her tight sphincter, reaching the soft flesh inside. It was all I could do to hold onto her ass in order to keep my head in her crotch as her movements became violent. Feeling the pressure building up in my balls, I began to groan like an angry bear. I tried to hold it back, but it built up with an irresistible force, and I shot one load so hard that it must have reached her stomach. She continued to suck on it vigorously as three more jets of cum splattered in her mouth and throat. Suddenly, her vagina flooded my mouth and face with her orgasmic cream as she continued her convulsive pounding. I swallowed all I could of her delicious fluids as her gyrating, bucking body gradually slowed. Her loud moans were muffled by my cock still in her mouth while she greedily sucked and relished my semen. She rolled off me and turned her body, and we French kissed, exchanging our cum-flavored saliva. I couldn't believe that I was actually tasting my own cum. This girl had wiped out years of cultural inhibition for me in one afternoon. She moved her face back and caressed my face, while looking in my eyes, smiling contentedly. She then kissed me again and snuggled up, cooing happily. "You are so nice to me, Belinda, like you really love me, why?" "You know why, Marcia told me to." "But how can you act as if you love someone, just like that?" "I belong to her, Bill, and I'll do anything for her." She kissed me again, on my neck and then my ear, blowing in it. "She makes me feel wanted, and I really feel something for you, Bill, but it's because I love her, through you somehow. Does that make sense?" She gave me a bright-eyed smile and pursed her lips seductively. I kissed her madly, not believing my good luck. "Well, Belinda, I feel like I'm eighteen today. This 'has' been the most exciting sex for me ever, and I'll never forget it. Maybe I should pinch myself; this could be a dream." She bit my nipple hard, and I gave her ass a good whack. "Oh, Bill, you really do care about me. Do that again, please?" I whacked her four or five times as she French kissed me ferociously. "More, Bill, and harder, please?" After about twenty good whacks, she began to ease up and cooed in my mouth as I kneaded and stroked her hot ass. We relaxed, hugging and kissing gently after that. I must have fallen asleep, being totally satisfied, as I snuggled up to my young lover. She woke me up later, whispering into my ear that she wanted more sex. "You only have half an hour left, Bill. Let's get at it." She got out of the bed as I stretched, letting out a loud moan of satisfaction. "Get up, Bill. I must be warmed up if you want more sex." I stood up as she took the whip out of the drawer. "Belinda, I can't do that." "You don't have to do it hard, but you must do it if you want more sex. Also, if you don't treat me right, Marcia won't bring you back." She handed me the riding crop, smiling mischievously, and then got on the bed, wiggling her ass at me. "Give me five, Bill, and hurry up, I'm getting hot." I lifted the crop and hit one of her fleshy globes lightly. "That one don't count, Bill. Come on, let me have it five times." I cringed as the leather hit her flesh, leaving a red stripe. Five times and five stripes - on those beautiful globes - later, I put the crop away. She stayed in the same position, still wiggling her ass. "Shake the plug, Bill, like Marcia did before." I took hold of the plug protruding from her ass and shook it roughly. "Oh, I love my mistress, shake it more, please." I shook and twisted it until she was satisfied. She then got up and kissed me, taking hold of my semi-hard cock, frigging it. Jumping on the bed, she patted the mattress next to her. "On your back here, Bill," I got on the bed, and she got on top of me, in the sixty-nine position. We sucked and lubricated each other's genitals for a while. She then got up and squatted down on my cock, guiding it inside with her hand. Reaching for my hands, she placed them on her tits as I began to rock my pelvis, fucking her tight, wet, throbbing cunt. Spreading her thighs wide, she moved them back and slowly leaned down, kissing me. She moaned in my mouth as her ass gyrated in time with my movements. I increased my bucking, and she matched her gyrating, bouncing bodily movements, moaning spasmodically. "Oh, Bill, I'm going to cum, fuck me hard. Fuck me. Fuck me, ooooh Bill, fuck me." She screamed in my mouth as her lower body began bouncing up and down at an unbelievable rate. "Oh, Bill, I came, you made me cum, oooh that was good. I want you to cum inside me, Bill." She locked our mouths together as she kept up her movements. My cock was being fucked, squeezed, and shaken from side to side by her unbelievably strong body. Our bodies were by now soaking wet with perspiration. I began to feel my balls burning as a load began to move into my prick. Letting out a loud groan, I blew the first jet into her cunt. "Oh, Bill, you're coming in my cunt, ooooh I can feel it." I groaned three more times as my semen sprayed her insides. We slowed down gradually, savoring our orgasms, taking turns sucking each other's lips. "Belinda, this has been the best day of my life, sexually speaking anyway. I don't know if Marcia will ever bring me back, but I'll be ready if she does." "I hope she does, Bill, but only Marcia knows that for sure. But you have to go; it's six o'clock. I'll help you shower, come on." She washed me and helped me dress, kissing me in between. Going to the door, she bent over, wiggling her naked ass at me. I took hold of the plug and gave it a good shake and then slapped her ass ten times. She put her arms around my neck and gave me a sucking kiss, and then opened the door for me. BILL REALLY WANTS ME TO CONTINUE THIS STORY, BUT I'M AFRAID HE MIGHT HAVE A HEART ATTACK. SO, UNLESS HE PASSES A COMPREHENSIVE MEDICAL CHECK-UP, THIS IS THE END!

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7812.txt

Pulp Fan

Overheard In A Corridor...

"Hey--you're a writer, aren't you?" "Yeah, that's right." "I thought so--I recognized the name on your badge. You do some really good stuff--I like it a lot!" "Well, thanks!" Blushing. "That's very nice to hear. So, what was your favorite?" "Uh...favorite what?" "Favorite one of my stories." "I...uh...well, I couldn't really say, exactly..." "Have you _really_ read any of my stuff?" "Sure! Loads--it's really good!" "So, what's your favorite?" "Uh...'The Orgasm'." "Good story. Not one of mine though. You _haven't_ read any of my stories, have you?" "Well, maybe not in the truest sense...I mean, I've read the reviews, and Celeste loves you, and..." "So, what is this? You just want to fuck? You figure if you tell me, 'Oh, I've read your stories, oh great writer, and they're peachy,' I'll swoon and say, 'Great, let's go shag someplace'?" "No! I mean, I wouldn't put it quite like that..." "Well, I would! Admit it--you lied to me in a blatant attempt to try and get some sex!" "Oh, all right, but..." "No buts! If you wanted sex, you should have just asked if I wanted to do it--not lie to me!" "Sorry..." Pause. Shuffles feet nervously. "Well, do you wanna?" "Do I wanna? Do I wanna what?" "You know--fool around?" "Gee--I thought you'd _never_ ask!" THE END

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9574.txt

Michelle l martin

The Taming of the Office Shrew

"Who the hell do you think I am?" the voice whined. Brian glanced up from his papers, his eyes pausing at the red painted nails that strummed against his desk. He fought hard to keep his composure as he looked into the face of the woman that he had come to loathe. "What do you want?" he replied wearily. The nails continued to tap out a brain-piercing rhythm. "I am not your private secretary. I have plenty of work to do without you adding more to the pile," she said as she flung an index card at him. Brian sighed, but kept his anger in check. His check had been short by almost fifteen hours, and as the payroll secretary, it was her job to correct the error. He looked at the card, and even though the error had been corrected, he knew that the shortage had been done on purpose. "Thanks, Nina. You have a nice day too," he said sarcastically. The woman turned on her heels and walked away, leaving Brian to expel a stream of foul curses at her back. Once his anger ebbed, Brian threw the card into his desk drawer and went back to his work. Even as he worked, he couldn't get the insufferable secretary out of his mind. She had only been with the company for a few months, but within that time had made herself the least liked employee of the entire office. She was the embodiment of every grammar school snitch and teacher's pet that had ever been born. Brian had spent many long moments dreaming of things that he would do to her if he ever had the chance. Brian collected himself and straightened his desk. Lunchtime had come, and he needed to make sure he was back on time. He was sure that Nina would tell his boss, Mr. Robinson, if he was late.Robinson called him into his office to discuss his 'abuse of the company lunch hour'. Brian shrugged it off as a big joke. He knew that Nina would say something, but it didn't matter, she would be getting what was coming to her soon. Lunch could not come soon enough, and everyone literally ran to the elevators. Once everyone was present at the restaurant, Mary told them of her plan. Mary rode horses on the weekend and had helped in training horses since she was a child. Her suggestion was devilishly wicked and simple as well. "She's so fond of saying that she's not our slave, so why not make her our slave?" she stated with a wide smile. Fortunately, the ever-present P.C. police had not infiltrated the little group's office. They could still speak of sex without someone screaming sexual harassment. Mary reached into her purse and produced two small magazines that she tossed onto the table. The covers alone caught the group's attention. Each had a picture of a woman bound in a leather collar and other such adornments. Brian picked one up and shared it with Susan, a young redhead who was squirming to look over his shoulder. "With the help that I've lined up, I don't think it will be hard to do," Mary said. Everyone at the table was interested in the pictures that packed the pages of the magazine, but they still weren't sure about the whole thing. "We could get into a lot of trouble..." said Ryan, an older man near fifty years old. "Not really, we do have the pictures, she wouldn't dare say anything," Mary coaxed. "Besides, how many times have you thought of fucking her, Ryan?" "Not a slow fuck, but the hard slamming type of fuck a bitch like that deserves." Ryan's face turned a bright red, as well as Brian's and Kevin's. Kevin was the youngest of them all, only having recently turned twenty-one. His face was as red as a beacon as he flipped through the pages of the magazines. Mary was right, they had each thought about screwing Nina, and from the smiles on their faces, none of those thoughts had been the loving, tender kind. "I, for one, would love to see her get what she deserves...." Mary said with a wink to her friends. Both Susan and Christina nodded in agreement. The table became quiet as everyone thought over Mary's proposal. It had its risks, but it also had a big reward. One by one, they made up their minds that they would participate. Brian laughed and began to down the whiskey sour he had ordered with lunch. "After all, it's a once-in-a-lifetime chance," he told them. Lunch was almost over when they all finally agreed to the plan. Mary became the coordinator of the 'project', as they began to call it. Everyone had a specific task to perform or items to gather. They all finished the day at work with smiles upon their faces. The plan was put into action on that Friday. Early that morning, Mary marched into Mr. Robinson's office and shut the door. "What can I help you with, Mary?" he asked her without looking up from his morning paper. Mary sat down in the chair opposite from his desk and crossed her legs. Her tight skirt rode up her thighs, revealing black lace stocking tops and ebony garter straps. "I know that Mrs. Robinson is a stewardess and that she is usually out of town on the weekends, but I was wondering if she would be home this weekend," Mary said innocently. Robinson looked up, his eyes quickly latching onto Mary's revealed thighs. She knew he was looking, and re-crossed her legs, causing her skirt to rise up even higher, revealing her neatly trimmed bush. Robinson took it as an invitation and didn't miss a step. "No, she is working this weekend. In fact, she has already left for the airport. What did you have in mind?" he said as he leaned forward onto his desk. Mary had never really liked him, but she was sure of it now. "I'm thinking of a party," she said, her hand twirling in a lock of her hair. Robinson began to stand up, a stupid smile stretched across his face. "Well, Mary, this is a surprise, but I can say it is welcome," he said as he moved from behind his desk. Mary grinned back and produced a small packet from her purse. "By the way, I think you'll want to see these first." Robinson took the envelope from her, his stupid grin still beaming brightly from his face. The grin faded like lightning as he pulled a set of pictures from the envelope. He flipped through them, shocked that he had been found out. He almost choked as he reached the last picture of Nina dining on his cock. It had a caption penciled in: 'Now the rest of us have you by the balls too.' Robinson did his best to regain his composure, but was still shaken and sweating like a prize pig. "Okay, what do you want? A raise? You want Nina gone? What?" he said frantically. Mary was enjoying his discomfort and ran her thumb along the hem of her hiked-up skirt. His attention was drawn to her hand, only to be reminded of what he would not be getting and how much trouble he had gotten into. "You just sit down now, and I'll tell you all about the party you're going to hold this weekend," she said to him with a devilish grin. It was six-thirty Saturday evening when the last person arrived at the Robinson's house. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes, the affair having been labeled a 'black tie' affair. The women were dressed in evening gowns, and the men in suits. Everyone had been told, except Nina. Nina had been informed by Mr. Robinson, that the party was a costume party. At his insistence, she wore a French maid's outfit, the costume barely covering what everyone had already seen. Mary had instructed Mr. Robinson, who everyone now called by his first name Jack, to keep Nina busy in the kitchen until they were ready for her. Music was playing on the stereo to mask any conversation that might occur. Jack had also been instructed to 'enjoy' Nina while they were in the kitchen. Robinson was puzzled, but did as he was told; he didn't have any other choice. It was hard to actually 'enjoy' himself at virtual gunpoint. Nina didn't care that her co-workers were in the next room. She was happy to oblige her boss as he lifted her up onto one of the kitchen counters. Her mind was already calculating what little trinket she could get out of him. She smiled to herself. Maybe she could work another raise from him. She giggled as his fingers looped through the waistband of her black panties, drawing them down her legs with a swift jerk. She found it hard to stifle a groan as his head dipped between her legs, his tongue burrowing deep into the furrow of her cunt. Jack performed admirably until the pressure. Within seconds, she was writhing upon the countertop, her heels pressed firmly into his back, a string of encouraging filth spilling from her mouth. Her cunt twitched spasmodically about his tongue, as her cream oozed heavily against his lips and down her thighs. Her breathing became shallow as he buried his face in her slit, his attention being more intense than usual. Jack had become savagely aroused, his body turned on to a frenzy with the knowledge that everyone in the living room knew what he was doing. In some way, he had been given the permission to let go of all restraint. He no longer feared being caught; it had already happened. He decided to go with the flow, and if he were going to be in trouble, he might as well enjoy it. Nina's eyes shot open wide as her climax ripped through her. Her legs tensed in a grip of steel, her feet digging hard into Jack's back. She gripped his head as if possessed, driving his face deep into her creaming slit. She continued to hump against him until her strength failed, and she lay back on the counter trying to catch her breath. She wearily cast her eyes around the room, wondering how much the oak-tinted kitchen cabinets had cost. She was too busy calculating to notice the video camera lens nestled snugly between two jars on a shelf. The music of the stereo masked the hoots and whistles of the partygoers as they watched their own private screening of the couple's tryst upon Jack's wide-screen television. The party cheered as the television drama unfolded in front of them. Nina had barely caught her breath before Jack was ready to go. He stood up, stroking his cock. She moaned as he rubbed it between her sticky lips, precum drooling in a ropy glob to mix on her already sloppy cunt. He quickly shoved forward, ramming his cock into her with one savage thrust. His balls smacked her ass loudly as he began to pump into her, her cunt slurping loudly as his cock retreated from her, only to piston back in again. Jack grew bolder, leaning back to watch as he slid into her. He pulled from her with forceful jerks, mesmerized as her cuntlips quivered. Her slit hung open, her pink channel visible for inches. The mere sight of it almost made him lose his load. He thrust back into her, causing her to finally whimper at the merciless pounding she was receiving. Nina bit her hand to stifle a cry as he stood on his tiptoes, his cock bottoming out deep inside of her. Her free hand gripped his forearm like a vice as his tempo grew faster, his breath breaking in ragged pants. He came with a deep grunt, his cock on fire. Jack continued to slam into her, his stomach aching from the force of his climax. His muscles continued to contract long after his cock had run out of cum. He began to withdraw, but fell into another series of violent spasms as he gazed down at her flaming cunt. His cum oozed out around his cock, her swollen lips seeming to pulse and squeeze his tool. Nina gulped for air as he finally withdrew from her, her slit flooding like a river onto the counter.To the delight of everyone watching, and to Jack, he stepped around the counter and pulled Nina toward him until her head hung backwards over the counter. With a sigh, he patted her lips with the tip of his cock, sex juices coating her lips. Nina opened her mouth and greedily sucked his cock down. She moaned as she swallowed his sticky dick, the combined juices of their fuck slipping deep into her stomach. Jack's energy finally diminished, and he went about pulling his clothes back together. Once the tuxedo that Mary had instructed him to wear was in order, he placed a Phantom of the Opera mask upon his face. He occasionally glanced over at Nina, who was busy fixing her hair and makeup. Nina was reaching for a few paper towels to clean between her drenched thighs, when a knock came at the kitchen door. "Hey Jack! Come on out, You have got to see this!" It was Mary's voice, and the signal for him to bring Nina out into the living room. Under her strenuous protests, Jack took her hand and pulled her out into the living room. She shivered as a heavy stream of cream oozed out of her slit and down the insides of her legs. She was still complaining as she entered the living room, her words dying on her lips. Everyone in the room was wearing the same Phantom mask. They clapped loudly as Jack tugged her into the center of the room. "What is going on here?" she whined. Brian felt it hard to contain his excitement. "We thought the masks would give the evening an element of mystery," he said. Nina glanced about. "Well, I don't find it a mystery, we all know each other. Besides, it was a poor joke to tell me it was a costume party when it isn't," she said, irritation showing in her voice. While everyone was talking, Ryan had left the room for the kitchen, and had promptly returned with a video cassette. He placed it in the VCR, and soon the wide screen flared to life. All of Nina's whining and posturing came to an end when she saw herself as big as life on the TV screen. The tape had not been rewound all the way, and the camera gave a perfect shot of Robinson driving his cock deep into her. Nina began to sputter, her face red from embarrassment. "They made me..." Jack offered lamely. Mary stepped up, the mask hiding the wide smile that dominated her face. "That's right. And if you're smart, you're going to do exactly as we tell you," she said in a threatening voice. Nina regained her anger at Mary's words, her face twisting from shock to hate. "You must be fucking crazy. Do what you want?" she said exasperated. Kevin knew Nina from college and disliked her even more than the rest of the group. He had struggled to make his grades and graduate, while Nina had made her grades on her back. "If you don't do what you're told, we'll simply distribute that tape to anyone who will buy it. I'm quite sure your mom and pops would love a copy," he chimed. Nina was beginning to understand her position, and no like for it. She didn't know what they planned on, but she was not going to wait. She turned quickly, and headed straight for the front door. She would worry about the tape later. She flung the door open, and made her way down the steps as fast as her high heels would allow. She sighed with relief as she noticed the car that was pulling up. She had invited her fiancee, James, to the party. He was late as usual, but she was happy to see him. He stepped from the car, buttoning his long coat. He was surprised to see her almost running from the house. "I'm sorry I'm late. I got held up in traffic," he offered. She stormed up to him, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement. "I don't care! Let's get out of here!" James knew she was upset, and stopped her in her tracks. "Calm down, what's the matter?" he asked her. "I'll tell you later, let's go!" James took her firmly by the hand. He had played football in college, and had kept himself in good condition. He began walking back to the house, his face set and determined to find out what was going on. "Whatever it is, I'm not going to let them get away with upsetting you," he growled. Nina shook her hand, but couldn't break his grip. James was as devoted to her as a dog, and almost as stupid. If his father hadn't owned a chain of casinos in Las Vegas, he would have never been accepted into college. Nina would never have given him the time of day. Her motto was simple: Muscle and hair faded, but a dollar never lost its green. He reached the doorway with a few big strides. The doorframe rattled as he flung the door inward, the hinges groaning. He pulled Nina inside, moving her in front of him. He slammed the door, and stood glaring at the group in the room. "What the Hell is going on here?!" he bellowed. Nina stood in front of him, facing her co-workers with a smug grin on her lips. She had already figured on a way to explain the tape to James. He would believe that she had been forced into making the tape, and take care of anyone that tried to keep her from retrieving it. "I'll take that tape now, if you please," she said to Ryan, who was still watching the TV. He glanced up at her, and nodded his head no. Nina was quite sure in her position, as her smile grew sinister. "I'm going to get it. And if you don't give it to me, you will give it to James," she said haughtily. James' voice rumbled behind her. "You're partly right, dear. You are going to get it," he said, his voice heavy with mirth. Nina spun around on James. She was in no mood for him to act as his usual stupid self. She was struck speechless as she looked at his face. It was covered in a mask like everyone else. He shucked off his coat, revealing a nice black tux. "You know, I wasn't too sure about this. But after seeing what's playing on the television, I have lost any doubt that I had," he said. Nina began to move away from him, and was quickly caught from behind. She struggled as a pair of handcuffs were snapped over her wrists, binding her hands behind her back. Another pair was placed around her ankles as she kicked to get free. Mary added the final touch. She produced a gag from her purse. It was made of a leather strap, and had a penis-shaped gag in the middle. Nina was held in place as Mary tried to insert it into her mouth. Mary laughed. To Nina's credit, she would not open her mouth, and kept twisting her head. Someone else quickly grabbed her head and held it straight. Mary knew how to deal with an unruly slave. She ran her hand slowly over Nina's breast, thumbing her nipples to hardness. Everyone watched, amazed at what Mary was doing. They had never taken her for being lesbian or bisexual, but she definitely knew what she was doing. Her hand ceased its moving, and she quickly grabbed one of Nina's erect nipples. She squeezed it sharply, causing Nina to yelp in pain. As her mouth opened to scream, Mary shoved the gag in between her lips. Mary buckled the strap tightly, the fake cock pressed fully into Nina's mouth. Mary stood back and admired her handiwork. Nina's eyes were now wide with fear. She couldn't move or speak, and the one person that she thought would help her had turned against her. She made a mental note that she would make James pay for his part in this abduction. She yelled around the gag, but nothing came out except gurgles. She soon found herself being hauled backwards, and flung into a chair. It was Susan who wrapped the rope around her, binding Nina to the chair. "Okay. So what do we do now?" asked Kevin. "Sue and I brought dinner, and it's already in the dining room," announced Christina. "Great, I'm starved," added in Brian, heading for the dining room. They were all heading toward the dining room when Mary stopped them. It wouldn't be right to leave Nina all by herself. Brian and Kevin picked up the chair, and brought her into the dining room, placing her at one end of the table. The head of the table was reserved for Jack, their captive host. The table was already set with the Robinson's finest china, and silver flatware. Dinner sat piping hot on two serving carts. Sue and Christina had placed an order at a local caterer. The dinner was splendid. There were servings of jumbo shrimp cocktail for an appetizer, with a large prime rib for the main course. Susan, Christina, and Mary served the food, while Jack poured glasses of wine. They were well into the main course when conversation turned back to Nina. She was sitting in her chair staring at her plate. Mary had insisted that they feed her, but had somehow neglected to unbind her. "Nina, you haven't eaten any of your food. Aren't you hungry?" she said with a giggle. Nina just glared at her, pure hatred emanating from her eyes. Ryan had finished his food, and was nursing his third glass of wine. He glanced down the table at Jack, and smiled to see him finishing his third glass as well. "You know, Jack. I just don't get it. Your wife is a pretty piece. Why the hell would you fuck around on her?" "I mean, the bitch queen over here ain't bad, but your wife's a fox," he probed. Jack ran a hand through his hair then downed the last of his wine. His face was reddened by the alcohol, and he seemed to struggle with his words. "You wanna know why?" he blurted. "How would you feel if everything you do or say has to be approved by someone? She's a fucking nightmare!" he yelled. Jack stood up on wobbly legs, and walked around behind Nina. "You see, I know what this little bitch wants. I have no illusions. A raise here, a gift there, that's all it takes," he said. Jack walked around the room, pointing at various objects. "You think I want shit like this? Expensive dishes, little fucking statues and paintings that cost way too much, and don't make any sense anyway!" "I, I don't have any choice. I work for her to buy all of this shit.""And when the weekend comes, she's out on some damn plane, fucking any pilot she can!" "And once she comes home, I'm lucky if I can fucking touch her!" he roared. "I used to think that I was just imagining things, that our sex life had just cooled off. But when your wife comes home smelling like an unwashed whore, you just can't pretend anymore!" Jack was raging impotently, his hands waving in the air and pulling at his hair. He walked back around to his seat as everyone sat in stunned silence. He snatched up a bottle of wine from the table and began to pour himself a drink, then stopped. He looked at the glass, a sneer creeping across his face. "Tiffany's French crystal wineglasses. Two thousand for a set of four. Of course, she wanted two sets," he stated sourly. Before anyone could react, he threw the glass across the room. It shattered against the wall with a loud crash, wine running crimson down the cream walls. "There ya go, bitch! Buy another set, it's only money!" he yelled. Everyone was still sitting stunned. They had never given Jack any thought, and now it seemed as if he was caught in an even more miserable situation than they were. They watched as he drank straight from the open bottle of wine. He drank as much as he could hold, then slammed the bottle back to the table. "So...you go and do what ya want.. I don't give a damn anymore. I have enough of both of you bitches," he said incoherently. Jack slumped back in his chair, then tried to stand. He stumbled about before Mary helped him to his feet. She was beginning to have mixed emotions about what they were doing. She only wanted to teach Nina a lesson. Other than his favoritism to Nina, she really didn't have a problem with Jack. Mary motioned for Kevin to help her, and together they half-carried Jack up to his bedroom. They put him on his bed, and within a few seconds, he was asleep. Everyone else was talking as Mary and Kevin rejoined them in the dining room. They all had the same look of pity in their eyes that Mary was feeling. "Jack's not such a bad guy. I mean...I don't know how I would be reacting if I were in his position," Ryan said sympathetically. "Fummen iump!" Muttered Nina around the cock. Christina walked over to her and removed her gag. "What did you say?" Christina worked her mouth a bit, then sneered. "I said, He's a Fucking wimp, and he gets what he deserves." Christina's hand flew quickly, snapping Nina's head to the side. A bright red print surfaced quickly on her face. Christina had known Jack the longest and felt terrible at seeing what he was going through. "Well, if he's getting what he deserves, then you're gonna get even more than you deserve," she snarled. Christina grabbed a shrimp from Nina's plate. "You haven't eaten yet, bitch! Eat!" she growled as she pushed the shrimp into Nina's mouth. Nina tried to keep her mouth closed, but Christina forced it open by squeezing painfully upon her cheek. She quickly grabbed another shrimp and forced it into her mouth. Nina's mouth began to fill with the shrimp as Christina shoved one after another in. She couldn't chew, and began to gag as her mouth was filled to the limit. Kevin quickly grabbed Christina and pulled her away. "Look, we don't want to kill her!" he yelled. He shook Christina once, before she came back to her senses. She shook her head, apologizing to everyone. "I'm sorry..but she makes me so angry. She had no scruples whatsoever," she said wearily. Mary walked over to Nina, as she spat and sputtered, forcing the shrimp from her mouth. "We'll help Jack later, but tonight, we take care of her," she said to the others. A somewhat more jovial mood was restored after dinner. Everyone sat around the living room and watched a video that Mary had brought with her. They weren't too surprised at her choice of movies. The film was a Danish import, and its primary focus was slavery. Everyone was fidgeting by the end of the film. Every cock in the room was stiff, and every pussy was wet. Mary gave everyone a printed booklet. It was titled, 'Dominance and Submission FAQ 2.0'. Mary explained that it was a guide to what she called an 'alternative lifestyle'. "First of all, a slave has only one purpose, and that's to serve its master," Mary read from the booklet. "This servitude can be in many forms, ranging from simple obedience, through many forms of sexual pleasure." Mary then recalled a scene in the movie, where a master had just acquired a new slave. The slave had been less than cooperative and had needed to be broken. Mary explained that breaking was not common, but was necessary in some cases. Most slaves were willing and comfortable in their need to be dominated. Others, needed to be shown the way to domination. "First, we will begin with showing our guest who is in charge," Mary said. Nina had been gagged again and had been forced to watch the movie. She squirmed about as Mary approached her. At Mary's instructions, the men helped her untie Nina. They quickly stripped her while Mary laid the chair down, its back against the floor. Nina was then tied to the chair. Her face laying against the floor, as her legs were secured to the legs of the chair. Once they were done, she was bound in a pseudo 'doggy style' position, her ass thrust up into the air. "Brian, could you fetch your package?" Mary asked him. Brian had not understood why Mary had asked him to bring these items, but he had finally saw why. Brian went to the front closet and pulled out the gym bag that he had brought with him, and returned to the group. He unzipped it and pulled out a long flat paddle, the kind used in fraternity hazings. It was smooth on one side, with slight indentations on the other. He handed the paddle to Mary, then smiled at the rest of the group. He produced another paddle from the bag and handed it to Ryan. Once everyone had a paddle, Mary stepped behind Nina, her hand running over Nina's smooth asscheeks. After a short rub, she withdrew her hand and replaced it with the paddle. She rubbed the cool paddle in tight circles, then slowly let it slip between Nina's legs. Nina jumped as the cool wood brushed between her cuntlips that were still wet from her fucking, as well as her own excitement from watching the movie. Mary withdrew the paddle just as soon as Nina became adjusted to it. The paddle glistened with Nina's juices as Mary drew her hand back. The paddle came crashing down onto Nina's exposed backside with a loud crack. The chair creaked as Nina jerked and screamed into her gag. "Okay, everyone gets a whack, then we take longer turns," Mary said excitedly. Kevin was the next to step up behind her. His cock leaped in his pants when he saw the red strip across her ass and the cream that still trickled from her slit. He took his turn, repeating what Mary had done, amazed at the heat that radiated from Nina's reddening ass. With another crack, a paddle came down on her ass, adding another splash of red. Christina was next, and she wasted no time in slamming her paddle into Nina's backside. She quickly stepped away, a deep anger still in her eyes. Each of them took turns laying the paddle into Nina's ass. Deep inside, they all felt satisfaction at seeing the moons of her ass glow from the punishment. Mary stepped around and knelt, taking Nina's face in her hands. "Had enough? Do you understand who is in charge?" Mary said to her while holding her head tightly. Nina's face was streaked with tears, as she growled at Mary. "Fine, I guess we'll just have to continue," Mary laughed. Everyone took new turns, this time taking multiple hits. After three people, Nina was shaking her head 'no', but they kept going. Her ass felt as if it were on fire, all the while, her pussy continued to ooze. In her position, her pussy cream drooled down her stomach and breasts. After a half of an hour, she could taste it as it dripped off of her chin. James was the last to paddle her, and by far the worst. His muscles flexed as he slapped the paddle against her ass, using the smooth as well as the uneven side. When he was done, her ass was almost glowing. Mary kneeled down again and grabbed Nina roughly by the hair. "Shall we continue?" she asked quietly. Nina shook her head wildly. "Do you now realize that we are in charge?" Nina nodded affirmatively. Mary noticed James, who was still standing behind Nina. One of his hands was dancing circles on her heated ass, while the other was slowly rubbing a large bulge in his pants. Mary walked behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "Go ahead..." was all she said. James was uncertain. He had never had sex with other people watching. Mary made the move for him, her hand sliding around his hip and snagging his buckle. She worked the buckle loose, then slowly unzipped his pants, her hand slipping inside. She drew his hard cock from his pants, precum drooling over her red painted nail. His pants fell down as Mary slowly knelt, pulling him down with her until his cock was aimed at the proper target. His cock quivered as she stroked him with her hand, and after a few pumps, she gently guided him forward. With her hand still wrapped around his cock, James lodged himself in Nina's spread slit. Nina's head swam as she felt her cunt being filled with a hard cock. Everyone else maneuvered to get a view as James buried himself in her. He began to thrust hard, the excitement too much. Mary's thumb and forefinger formed a circle around the base of his shaft, while the rest of her hand rolled his balls together like dice. Cunt cream drooled down her hand as James drove deep with every stroke. James came with a shuddering grunt, his cock slamming so hard that Mary felt her fingers slip between Nina's cuntlips, only to pop free again with each stroke.There were whistles and hoots as James calmed down, his cock pulling free with a sticky plop. Mary turned him around as he tried to recover, his cock still pulsing and dripping. She ran her tongue up his shaft, then licked the head like an ice cream cone. James shook uncontrollably as she took his cock in her mouth. Mary groaned as she cleaned his cock, the distinct tastes of pussy and cock mixing like a cocktail. She sat back on her heels when she was finished, leaving James stunned. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, James," she purred. "Hell yes! And after that, call me Jim," he laughed. Meanwhile, Nina quivered on the floor. She had been close to climaxing, but hadn't. Her ass ached, and every time James had thrust into her, she felt as if she were being burned with a hot poker. The tears that rolled down her face were a mixture of pain, pleasure, humiliation, and confusion, but she couldn't tell which was stronger. Mary laughed as she watched her friends. They had moved slowly together, and many hands were found roaming. It seemed that a dam had burst, and their inhibitions were drowned. Christina was pressed between Brian and Kevin, her hands working over their clothe-encased cocks, while Ryan was standing behind Sue, his hands busy kneading her breasts as she ground her ass back against him. Mary knew exactly what to do and crawled up behind Nina. She had read a lot of books on the psyche of a captive. She knew that Nina was swamped with emotions, so she decided to add another. She leaned her face forward, letting her tongue circle Nina's gaping cunt. Nina groaned and wiggled her hips in frustration, and Mary knew that she had her. She pressed her face into Nina's exposed crotch, breathing heavily of the powerful fuck scents. Mary shivered as Nina's cunt jerked and brought a fresh squirt of cream splashing onto her tongue. Mary sucked it down, then looked back at Jim. "Can you help me?" she said as she jerked the hem of her dress up over her hips. Jim happily moved behind her, his cock jumping at the chance to slip between her glistening cunt folds. Mary gasped as his cock slipped smoothly into her and resumed her attack on Nina's aching slit. The sounds of sex filled the room as clothing was shed along with inhibitions. Nina could only see part of the action, as Christina sucked slowly on Brian's cock, while Kevin lay between her spread legs, feasting on her shaved pussy.Within a few licks, Nina was writhing in an orgasm, her body jerking violently. She felt the world begin to spin as Mary continued to drink from her throbbing cunt. She cried loudly as Mary suckled her clit, causing vibrations of pleasure and pain to rip through her. She came again and again as Mary feasted on her. Nina finally slumped forward, slipping into unconsciousness. Her final thoughts were of Mary and the others. It felt like everything was a dream that she would wake up from, but didn't want to. When she finally awoke, she found herself laying on her back. She glanced around, finding herself on one of the house's decks. The pool was only a few feet away, and she could make out the distinctive hum of the Jacuzzi's water heater. Nina found that her feet and hands were left unbound, but as she turned her head, she felt something cold around her neck. She touched it slowly, only to find that a thin metal ring had been fastened about her neck. It was thin, but stronger than anything that she would be able to break, and was fastened closed by a small lock. The lock was a small cylinder that was set into the back of the collar, it was designed so that it could not be picked. She also discovered that the collar was chained to the railings of the deck. She had been chained outside like a dog! Nina quickly looked around to see if anyone was near, then investigated the chain. It was securely fastened to the railing by a heavy padlock. She half-heartedly pulled at the chain, not really wishing for her freedom. Once she had determined that she could not escape, she sat back down on the wooden deck. After a few minutes, she began to wonder what they planned to do to her. Nina had become scared. These people were far different than she had thought. They had done things that most people would not. How far would they go in their revenge? Fear began to well in her throat as her mind tortured her with dozens of horrible endings. No one would look for her, no one even knew she was at the party, except Jim of course. With that thought, her mind focused on Jim. He had definitely turned out to be more than she gave him credit for. He had always been such a pushover, but things had changed. She had felt the demanding thrusts of his cock as he fucked her. He had plied her with brutal strokes, taking what he wanted instead of the usual pleading. Her hand slipped between her legs as she thought of what had happened. She moaned as she slid about on the deck, the cool wood a strong shock against her aching ass. Nina's hand struggled against her slit as she relived the assault she had endured. Her tongue pressed hard against her lips as the picture of Jim's cock pumping between Mary's lips. Her pussy felt like it was on fire as she began to slam her fingers deep inside, only stopping to suck them clean of the dew that trickled from her walls. She shuddered as the first waves of her climax began to roll through her stomach, her mind focused on the taste of cock cream as it had poured from Mary's lips. With a shudder, she bucked forward, her hand jamming against her clit as she came. Nina slumped down as her strength drained from her. She had been used like an object, forced to endure both pain and shocking acts, but couldn't keep herself from being aroused. She closed her eyes, only to be startled awake a few minutes later. The patio door opened, but she couldn't make out who it was until the figure stepped into the nearby light. It was Jack. Nina felt some hope, but remembered his earlier words. She realized that there was no help coming from him as everyone else began to exit from the house. "I'm sorry, please let me go. I won't say a word to anybody, I'll even quit..." she began as soon as she saw Mary. Mary smiled as she stepped up in front of Nina. She bent down and stroked the girl's cheek. "Come now, the night's still young, and there's so much more we can do," she said. "But I am really sorry please....." she pleaded. Mary drew a breath as if she were contemplating Nina's words, but stopped as her gaze wandered to the girl's exposed cunt. Her slit was puffy and red, a clear stream of juices flowing from her. Mary reached down, running her finger along Nina's hot crease, causing her to moan slightly. "My, my, my, you seem to be enjoying yourself," she said as her finger pushed deep between Nina's folds. Nina's hips bucked up toward her hand. "Yes..I mean no...Oh please.." she wailed as Mary slipped another finger into her. Mary began to stroke Nina's face with her free hand, her lips coming close to Nina's ear. "I'm not going to let you go. I'm going to train you, transform you into what you want to be deep down.." she cooed. "You're a shameless bitch. A fuck-hungry whore. Aren't you?" Mary whispered as she added a third finger into Nina's sopping cunt. Nina could only grunt as Mary's words inflamed her. She knew that she was everything that Mary called her. What else could she be but a shameless whore as her cunt ached for Mary's fingers. "You want to be a fuck toy, don't you?" Mary whispered slyly. "Come on..you can tell me. I know what you want.." Mary guided Nina's face toward the direction of the others. "Jim's decided that he wants to keep you, but he won't let things stay the way they were. You're going to be his bitch. You'll do whatever he says, and will exist only for his pleasure," Mary explained. "Over the next few days, I'm..all of us are going to help Jim train you properly. He's been missing out on a lot of things that he needs." Nina could only nod her head as Mary continued to work her fingers deep between her slit. "First of all, Jim has quite an interest in the tight little ass of yours," Mary explained, while her thumb began to run circles around Nina's puckered ass. "His cock is already anxious just by thinking about it," she said, her hand motioning toward Jim. Nina cast her gaze toward Jim, and groaned as she saw him stroking his hard cock. In her excited state, it seemed monstrous, and she shivered at the thought of it sliding deep in her ass. Jim stared at her with a lust in his eyes, a look that caused her pussy to flutter. "Well now, I guess he's not the only one wanting to get deep in your ass," Mary laughed. "So, are you going to stay so unfulfilled, or are you going to be the whore that you know you want to be?" Mary asked her. "Tell me, don't you want to be used? Don't you want the joy of being taken, and controlled? All you have to do is say so..." Mary whispered, her thumb slipping past Nina's tight ring, and into her ass. "Yes..oh..yes," Nina moaned as Mary's tongue danced against her ear. Nina's breath grew heavy as she turned her head, her lips meeting Mary's in a deep passionate kiss. Their tongues dueled against each other, then wrapped together in a velvety wet embrace. Nina's body melted into Mary as she drew herself to the other woman. Mary continued to stroke her hot slit, her thumb pumping in and out of Nina's relaxed ass. Nina didn't fight the waves as they rushed through her. She came, her body wracked by spasms of relief and pleasure as Mary's fingers swirled inside of her. Nina was still shaking from her orgasm as Sue unlocked the padlock and removed the chain from the railing. She gave it a slight tug, making Nina struggle to her feet. It had been decided that a dip in the pool would help refresh them. Nina was led to the pool, and the chain removed. Sue left the collar on at Jim's request. Jim was taking to his new dominant role quickly, and enjoyed how Nina looked with the silver collar clasped about her neck. Christina went back into the house and returned with a pitcher of drinks. Nina was surprised that she was given a drink with the others, but soon realized how thirsty she was. It was fruity and contained what tasted like rum. She finished the drink quickly, then slipped into the pool. The cool water felt like heaven as she immersed herself in the pool. The combination of sweat and cum had left her skin sticky. Nina sighed as she ran her hands over her body. The water cooled her burning ass cheeks and soothed the puffy lips of her slit. Nina settled into a corner of the pool, letting her body float in the water as she rested against the edge of the pool. Her rest was cut short as Christina came and sat behind her. Christina lay her legs over Nina's shoulders, and Nina could smell Christina's warm cunt before she even opened her eyes. The smell was intoxicating, and Nina found herself turning around without a thought. She turned, her face coming in immediate contact with the hot pussy that waited for her. Christina was happy to oblige, and shifted her hips forward, pressing her wet slit into Nina's already searching mouth. Nina licked vigorously, enjoying the salty sweet cream that dribbled from Christina. Christina climaxed quickly as Nina sucked her clit. Her hips pumped hard as Nina tried to drink all of the cream that flowed from her. Nina continued to probe the clutching slit in front of her, and only sighed in contentment when she felt two hands grab her waist. Nina gave a sharp gasp as her anonymous lover drove his cock into her with one swift motion. She held tightly to the edge of the pool as he began to fuck her with deep hard strokes. Christina pulled away, and was quickly replaced by Brian. His cock was already hard as she started to lick his shaft. Nina tried to keep her head as she licked under his heavy sac, drawing his balls into her mouth. Brian groaned his approval as the cock inside her began to swell. Nina swooned as she felt the splash of cum coating her walls as the cock burst within her. Nina let Brian's balls slip slowly from her mouth and worked her way up his shaft. She swirled her tongue around his cock head before sucking it into her mouth.Brian watched as his cock slipped between her lips as if she were eating a strawberry. Nina worked his cock slowly, then built up speed. She took more on each stroke, until his cock was slipping into the tight passage of her throat. Brian's hips jerked as her fingers circled the base of his shaft. She stroked him tightly with her fingers as his cock began to swell in her throat. Brian wrapped a hand in her hair as he exploded down her throat. Nina stifled a gag and began to swallow. She gulped furiously, the muscles in her throat milking him to the last drop. He withdrew with a sigh, his cock wet and shiny from her saliva. A splash in the water caused Nina to turn around. Sue had slipped into the pool and had stepped up behind her. She quickly moved over to Sue, hugging the other woman tightly, her mouth seeking out Sue's nipples. Sue laughed at Nina's exuberance and pulled away. She took Nina by the hand and led her out of the pool. Sue brought her over to one of the lounge chairs. It was sturdy and wide, and Sue instructed Nina to lay down on her back. Nina obeyed, and was quickly rewarded by the sight of Sue's slit sliding over her face. Sue knelt over her first and spread her lips, letting Nina's tongue delve deep inside of her. She rocked back and forth until she came, then lay forward, trapping Nina on the lounger. Nina gripped Sue's ass tightly as she felt a pair of hands under her own rear. She wiggled and moaned as she felt a cool liquid being spread against the rose of her ass, and gasped as a finger pressed into her. She strained to see, but could not see the person's face. From the general size, though, it seemed to be Jim. Nina's hips wiggled as more fingers pushed inside of her, the slippery liquid spreading into her. All the while, Sue watched as Nina's ass opened to receive the intruding digits. She began to slowly lick Nina's clit, drawing small circles around the stiff nub of flesh. Nina gasped at the treatment, her nails digging into Sue's ass cheeks. Sue responded to the pain by slipping two fingers into Nina's slit, her fingers bumping against Jim's as she moved them about. Nina jerked in pleasure as both of her holes were spread and explored. Sue looked up to find the others involved in their own circles. Mary was riding Jack like he were a motorcycle, while Ryan, Kevin and Brian were clustered around Christine. Christine was moaning around Ryan's cock while the other two men were furiously driving into her ass and cunt. "Ryan, could you help me show Nina what she's about to receive?" Sue called out. Ryan was only slightly reluctant to leave Christina's clutching lips, and quickly moved over to the lounger. He knelt down and gave Nina a long kiss, then ran his tongue along Sue's ass. He circled his tongue around her hole, then pushed it in. Sue sighed as her ass relaxed, his tongue working her over like an expert. Sue leaned forward as he stopped, and took Jim's cock in her mouth, slurping noisily at the juice that dribbled from its tip. Ryan took the tube of lubricant and began to work his slippery fingers into Sue's hole. As he did so, he pushed forward, angling his cock into Nina's waiting mouth. Nina watched as Ryan's cock popped free of her lips, and he began to press it into Sue's ass. Sue became stiff as she relaxed, and Nina watched in wide-eyed amazement as his cock forged its way into Sue's ass. After a few short strokes, Ryan pulled out, and Nina gasped as Sue's ass sat open. Ryan's cock pushed back in before the ring could close, and he set about a slow, steady pace. Nina moaned at the sight, knowing that she would soon feel a heavy cock slicing deep up her ass as well. She didn't have long to wait as Sue released Jim's rock-hard cock. She cupped Nina's ass and held her cheeks apart as Jim pressed his wet cock to Nina's virgin ass. Nina gasped as she felt the head of his cock pushing against her ass, and was only vaguely aware of Sue telling her to relax. Her mind was focused on the cock that was demanding entrance to her. Nina stifled a yell as the head of his cock surged into her with a final push. Her breath came quickly as he rested, then began to slowly push the rest of his cock into her. Jim was enjoying the tight pressure of her ass, while Nina felt as if his cock would never end. Just as she felt she couldn't take another inch, his balls touched her ass. Nina sighed as he stopped, but bucked upward as Sue returned to suckling her slit. The soreness in her ass began to subside as Sue licked at her cunt. Nina was surprised that Jim had begun to move again, and soon had his cock gliding in and out of her ass. A warmness spread through her as her ass heated up. Her eyes clouded by lust as she craned her neck upward. Nina began to lick the drops of cream that hung between Sue's cuntlips as Ryan's thrusts shook Sue. Sue screamed as she climaxed, her pussy literally raining down upon Nina's parted lips. Her contractions vibrated through her, her ass clutching violently at Ryan's captured rod. With a grunt, Ryan followed her, his cock twitching and spewing inside of her. Nina lost herself as Ryan pulled out of Sue's ass, spattering his last shot against Nina's searching lips. Sue shivered, then sat back, her pussy pressing tightly to Nina's mouth. She took a hold of Nina's ankles and drew her legs back, allowing Jim to plunge deeper into her. Nina's moans were muffled by Sue's drenched slit as she rubbed it against her willing mouth. Jim felt as if his cock were made of iron. He had never imagined such a scene as the one he was involved in. He could see the thick river of cream flowing from Nina's slit, as it streamed down to coat his shaft. He leaned forward, his cock finding an exciting new angle as his tongue twined with Sue's. Nina felt as if she were going to burn up from the heat burning through her. She could feel Jim's cock growing, and stretching her ass further. His thrusts became stronger, and with one last push, he began to release a torrent of cum deep in her ass. Nina's body jerked wildly as a floodgate of sensations opened. Her ass twitched around the cock buried deep inside, then began to contract harder. Her stomach churned as her orgasms overpowered her. She shook, her nails drawing blood from Sue's hips as she clung to her. Jim kept his cock inside of her, relishing the powerful climax. Nina felt as if her climax would never end. Every nerve in her body was on fire, a fire that was consuming her. She calmed, but began again when Jim slowly began to withdraw his softening cock. Her mind was overloaded as Sue leaned forward, her tongue rimming Nina's stretched ass, lapping up the stream of semen that flooded from her. Sue shifted her hips, and Nina returned the favor, relishing the sticky cream that dripped from Sue's ass. They stopped when no more cum could be found, and both lay exhausted. Nina was dazed as she felt Sue's weight lifting off of her. Her last conscious feeling was of being lifted up and carried. Nina was awoken the next morning to the smell of coffee and breakfast. She was in Jack's guestroom. Nina glanced at the clock on the nightstand and was shocked to see that it was almost 11:00 am. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs and slowly stood. Every part of her body ached, and she could still smell the cum on her face. She noticed a note with her name on it upon the dresser and picked it up. The note instructed her to shower before she came downstairs for breakfast. She was to use the cosmetics and perfume that had been laid out in the bathroom and put on the clothing that was in the closet. Nina showered with the scented soap that was left for her and stood for a long while, letting the hot water wash against her stiff body. She was puzzled by the cosmetics. They were all brand new and never opened. Nina applied the makeup, then brushed and styled her hair. The perfume was quite expensive, and she was afraid to spray too much of it, but used it nonetheless. Looking in the mirror, she had to admit to herself that she looked good. Despite the events of the previous night, she felt different, better than she had felt in a long time. She was very shocked as she opened the door of the closet. She did not know what she had expected, but was shocked by the expensive blue dress that waited. A pair of matching shoes sat upon the shelf, along with a blue hat. Nina dressed quickly, then gazed at herself in the mirror. The fit was perfect, and the outfit was oddly highlighted by the silver collar. Nina timidly made her way down the stairs. She was excited, but scared to find out what the new day would hold. She found everyone still in the dining room. The room had been cleaned from the previous night, and everyone sat around the table. The talking died as she stepped into the room, her eyes cast downward. Nina stood quietly, until Jim stood and moved over near her. She was surprised as he took her hand and led her to a chair. He pulled her chair out for her, then helped her sit. Many of the others had begun to talk again as Jim helped her sit. Nina looked up and caught Sue's eye. Sue sat drinking a cup of coffee and smiled at Nina, giving her a wink. Jim came back to the table shortly, placing a plate of food in front of Nina. "There's more in the kitchen if you want," he said cheerily. "Th-thank you," she stammered. Nina ate quickly and was done before Jim spoke again. "We are going to visit my parents today. We will announce our marriage," he said flatly. "If you disagree, then now is the time to speak. Make no mistake, though, if we are married, you will be mine. I will not tolerate your previous behavior," he added, his voice strong and steady. "Now, do you have any objections?" he asked. Everyone watched as she replied. "No, I have no objections," she said meekly. Jim stood up and pushed his chair in.He walked over to Nina and grasped the collar. He slowly unlocked it from around her neck and set it upon the table. Nina felt a new object around her neck and heard the click of a small lock. She looked in the mirror across the room as his hands came from around her throat. Instead of the collar, she now wore a flat silver chain. She glanced up at him, a look of puzzlement in her eyes. "This chain is to remind you of who and what you are. This chain can be replaced by the collar anytime; never forget that," he told her sternly. Nina nodded and smiled at him. Jim pulled her chair out and helped her stand. He took her hand and said thanks and goodbye to everyone. Jim escorted her to the car and was about to pull away when Mary waved to him. He waited as she came to the car. "Don't forget about Thursday night. The office is closed for the holiday on Friday, and we want to start the party early," she said with a smile. "Will do. We'll bring the dinner," he replied. They drove away, and it wasn't until they were on the expressway that Nina said anything. "Am I going to another party Friday?" she asked timidly. Jim chuckled at the question. "We'll both be going, but the party isn't for you. It's for Jack's wife," he said with a smile. Nina could feel herself becoming wet at the thought of what might happen, and only hoped that she would be allowed to participate. The drive would be a long one, and she moved close to Jim. She was delighted when he put his arm around her shoulders. She had found her place, and for once was truly happy. The End?

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12945.txt

Andrew Roller

Fevered Fall

"Feel for the bubbles," her mind told her. It was odd, she thought, how book-learning intruded into her brain at a time like this. She was in womb-like blackness, black night above, black water below. She was down in the depths, and the depths would claim her forever unless she swam very quickly. But which way?! "Feel for the bubbles," her mind told her again. Her lungs simply begged, "BREATHE!" "Fool lungs, we are underwater," her mind replied. Then, her mind told her again, "Feel for the bubbles." As she'd been taught in survival training, she put her hand to her mouth. She exhaled precious air from her lungs, into the water. Then it was that she realized she was wearing leather flight gloves on her hands, and the bubbles, released from her lungs through her mouth and nostrils, escaped into the black void of the watery depths without her being able to feel which direction they went. She gaped into the dark night of the undersea world. She tried to find the escaping bubbles with her eyes. She looked 'up'. (Or was that direction actually down?!) She could see nothing. Nothing but darkness, with the all-enveloping darkness of eternal death just around the corner from her consciousness. Judy Dan ripped the leather flight glove off her hand. She clapped her fingers to her lips and exhaled again. The bubbles travelled sideways off her fingertips. Sideways?! "Good God, we'll just be swimming sideways, deep under the bay's surface, and we shall drown!" something inside her squalled. "No! Bubbles travel toward the surface! 'Sideways' is really up!" a voice in her head commanded. With her lungs screaming, her mind increasingly a bewildered mass of confusion, Judy Dan swam frantically 'sideways.' As she swam, in the rising terror of her oxygen-starved brain, she saw herself swimming through the corpses that she'd shot on Clinton Bridge. "But they're only children!" her co-pilot, most certainly dead now somewhere down in the drowned Hoodoo, screamed to her in the depths. Judy Dan pictured herself swimming through them. She pictured them reaching out to her and welcoming her into the eternal night of death. Her head burst gasping and shocked from the water. The fires along the shoreline of New Washington burned into her eyes. It was the sight of rioting and death, but to Judy Dan, it was as if she were viewing Paradise itself. Air! She inhaled. Her lungs went to work. Her mind cleared. The groping hands of the corpses, flung by her Gatling from Clinton Bridge, receded. "And even you, Patroclus!" rattled through her mind, like dead bones written on dry leaves. "Not tonight," her mind answered the corpses floating in the waters of the bay. "Not yet, anyway." She swam with a strong stroke toward shore, tearing her waterlogged flight suit from her body as she went. She was like a snake shedding an old skin; boots, her other glove, her zippered jumpsuit with all her prized patches sewn carefully onto it. All gone, all the skin of her old, almost-dead self. Tongsun Anu walked back to the stern of the boat. He came up beside Harold and stood next to him in the darkness. In the distance, he saw an Imperial Coast Guard cutter passing. It moved against the Oakland shoreline; the fires there mingled with the cutter's nautical lights. "How's it going?" Harold asked. Tongsun nodded, silently. "Good," Tongsun replied. "She's sailing us just fine." The boat rocked casually with the waves. Its engine murmured like the voices of a dozen oarsmen, lashed below decks, moving a Roman warship through Mediterranean waters. Tongsun stood beside Harold. He remembered a half-learned history lesson: Rome against Carthage. Who had won? He knew Rome had been like the Imperium, in that it had considered itself strong. He couldn't remember which side won, though. He thought about it for some time. Then he remembered how powerful the Nazis had felt. He smiled. He knew the outcome of their regime. A desire for total control had ended in total failure. A wave slapped the side of the boat. It cast up salt spray into Tongsun's face. He hoped it wasn't a bad omen. He looked at Harold. The spray had hit him too. If the Coast Guard cutter were as low in the water as their own small boat, Tongsun told himself, the water would splash the crew of that vessel too. Harold wrapped his arms tighter around his chest. He looked at Tongsun. "Hey T, it's cold, man," Harold said. His voice had a slight whine to it. He looked tired. They'd both been up for many hours now. Tongsun rubbed his eyes. The adrenaline rush they'd both felt up on Clinton bridge, battling their way through the throngs back to the International Port, had passed. Tongsun exhaled. He saw his breath in the air. "I know. I'm cold too," Tongsun said. The fog had thickened. It blurred the lights of the buildings floating above them, the Sky Dwellings. It blurred the white-lit veranda on the White House across the bay from them. They stared at the residence of the President of the Imperium on the bluffs across the water. "Have they broken in to the Sky Dwelling yet?" Tongsun asked Harold. The blonde boy looked over at an Asian boy who wore glasses. He sat amidst a cluster of boys on the deck of the small boat they had stolen. "How're you coming?" Harold asked the Asian boy. The Asian stared at the screen of a portable computer in his lap. It was the only source of light on their boat; on purpose, to avoid detection. The Asian boy, named Wally, nodded. "Working good," Wally said. "Uplink works. I think I've got-- I've got it! Contact!" There was a small cheer among the boys, and two girls, huddled on the boat. "Keep your voices down!" Harold hissed. "We have bush," Tongsun said. "Huh?" Harold asked. Tongsun nodded his head, as if to disavow the unnecessary noise he'd made. "An old line from a movie," he whispered to Harold. "Oh," Harold said. He turned and looked at Wally again. Two boys, one Hispanic, the other Puerto Rican, were staring over Wally's shoulders. Their faces were gently illuminated by the glow of the laptop's screen. "Click on that," the Puerto Rican suggested. He pointed over Wally's shoulder at the screen. "Really?" Wally asked. A quizzical look appeared on his face. But he followed the Puerto Rican's advice. There was the click of a mouse. "Shit!" the Hispanic declared. His eyes, like those of the other people clustered around Wally, brightened with glee. "We've been granted root access!" Wally said in a low voice, triumphantly. He looked up from the screen at Harold and Tongsun, standing in the boat's stern. Tongsun sighed. He looked up at the building hovering over the seaward approach to the White House. "Their so-called 'civil society' became a playground for them and a prison for us," Tongsun said. The boat rocked. There was silence on board. Tongsun's voice had the eerie sound of a verdict being delivered on the Imperium. Several boys on deck, including Harold, nodded their agreement. "Playtime's up," Harold said. Being with Tongsun had given him an ability to say cryptic things. Things like his Samoan friend sometimes uttered. He looked at Tongsun. He grinned. But Tongsun appeared sad, as if he wished, even now, for some peaceful way to end the regime. "Tongsun. I'm waiting for your command to perform a Full Drop," Wally said. His voice was low, but serious. He now held the lives of all the building's inhabitants in his right index finger, the one hovering over the mouse. Tongsun sighed. He appeared, for a moment, to doubt his mission. So many lives! He didn't even know anyone in that building! Yet he would kill them all, with one word.At this moment, they were reassuring themselves of their safety and immunity to mortality. Their cupboards were stocked with Vitamin E and Vitamin C, and they had fitness centers, medical centers, and an army of guards, maintenance people, and technicians. However, they had one very nasty bug in their computer that controlled their Lift Engines. A wave rose up over the bow and slapped seawater into Tongsun and Harold's faces again. Tongsun blinked. He realized that the sea, like gravity, did not care about him or even the Imperium itself. The sea was implacable and unfeeling. It was a domain unto itself, and the humans in a boat lying on its surface were nothing to it. In the timeframe of the ocean, humans were but children of wayward fish, who had been foolish enough to crawl out of the sea's womb. The sea was their original mother, and like real mothers sometimes, the sea would happily swallow them back up. Tongsun turned away from the sea and the view of the Oakland shoreline across the bay. "Thanks," he said to Wally. "Just hold it a moment. Don't click yet." Tongsun wiped the salt spray out of his eyes and motioned for the girl behind the wheel of the boat, in the wheelhouse, to straighten the boat out. "Shit," he muttered to Harold. "We're not ready." "We've got root access," Harold said to Tongsun. "What more could you want?" "We need to get onto dry land," Tongsun told Harold. He pointed to the shoreline, looming black and large before them. "We just came from the International Port," Harold said. "Yeah, but there's gonna be a big wave generated when we drop that building," Tongsun said. "We need to moor our boat and get up out of the water." "Oh," Harold said. "You're right. There's never a time like the present to go visit Sausalito." "Yes," Tongsun said. "But we won't have to go that far north." Harold looked at the girl in the wheelhouse. She glanced back at them. Her silhouette stood out black and stark against the wheelhouse's front windshield. Beyond that loomed the dark shoreline of Lime Point. Harold wrapped his arms tighter against his body. It was cold, he complained to himself, and his teeth chattered. He watched the cluster of boys around the computer screen, waiting tensely for the word to drop the Sky Dwelling. The small boat puttered toward the northern shore of the bay. A boy in the bow of the boat turned on a flashlight and scanned the shoreline ahead of them. They were quite close to it now. He looked for an opening in the rocks of the shore. Suddenly, his flashlight fell into the aperture of a small cove. His beam became lost in blackness. On either side of the lost beam stood tall, wave-worn rocks, wet with seawater round their bases, where they sloped into the bay. The wave-splashed parts of the rocks reflected the lights of New Washington and the Oakland shore. "Holding at root directory level," Wally announced softly, staring at his computer screen. Tongsun drew in his breath. "Time is on my side," he said in a low voice. Harold turned and looked at him in the darkness. "Then again, maybe it isn't," Tongsun added. His voice rose. "Listen, everyone," he said. "I'm worried. I'm afraid we'll run out of time to drop that building before we get ourselves out of this boat. They could detect our presence in their computer at any moment." "Right," the Asian boy agreed, nodding. "The dropped building is going to make a pretty big wave in the bay," Tongsun said. "It might swamp our boat. If we don't get up on dry land, the wave could drown us. Where's the person who said we should bring along Glad bags for our guns, in case it rains?" "Here," someone said in the darkness. "Good," Tongsun said. "Bag everything. Bag all your weapons. Do it right now. Get them in bags and stow them wherever you can." "What if we're attacked?" a boy asked. "Then we'll get our asses blown off, 'cause all our shit's stuck inside garbage bags down on our boat," a boy answered. "We'll take our guns with us if we can," Tongsun said. "But if we run out of time to get up on dry land, we won't have time to haul all our guns up with us." There was a murmur among the boys. "No talking! Just do it!" Harold said. "If you have a pistol, and a belt and a holster for it, no problem," Tongsun said. "Anything heavier needs to be bagged and stowed." A sound of furious bagging ensued. The boat drew up along the shoreline in the darkness, guided by the boy at the bow, with his lone flashlight. Weapons were wrapped, and a roll of packing tape was passed around to seal them shut against the water. "Y'know, Glad bags can be used as body bags too," a boy said. "Should we save a few in case we need to bag the president?" "Quiet!" Harold said. A ripple of laughter passed through the boys on deck. There was a scraping sound. "Captain, we've hit land," a boy said. Their boat passed along a large, half-sunken rock, scraping algae off its stony surface. They moved into the hole between the rocks that formed a small cove. Harold glanced back at the Presidio shoreline. "Too bad there's not a Sky Dwelling right over the White House," Harold said to Tongsun. "Then we could just drop the building straight down onto the president's head!" Tongsun laughed in the darkness. "They're not that stupid, Harold," Tongsun chuckled. "Shit! I think we've been discovered!" Wally blurted. He sounded worried and didn't bother to keep his voice down. "Damn!" Tongsun said. Beyond the rocks, the Golden Gate Bridge loomed. Crowds of people could be heard, faintly, jostling one another up on the causeway. There were sounds of gunfire. The D.C. Sheriffs were shooting into the crowd; the crowd was firing back. Suddenly, a Hoodoo approached from the Oakland shoreline. It passed like an auger of death beneath the overhead buildings. Without bothering with a megaphone warning, it opened fire on the crowd on the bridge. "Damn! They're trying to eject me!" Wally cried. Tongsun clenched his fists. "Full drop!" he yelled. "Hang on!" Harold shouted to the boys. He gripped the gunwale of the boat and gazed skyward. A building hovering near the Presidio side of the bay trembled. Its underside dipped suddenly lower. The Hoodoo passed over the Golden Gate Bridge. It banked. Like a whale caught by a spear, pulled by a whaling ship, but still full of life, the Sky Dwelling resisted. Wally tapped frantically on his keyboard. The Puerto Rican standing behind him gestured frantically, then grabbed the mouse, rolled it, and clicked. The Hoodoo came in for another pass at the bridge. Its guns began blazing. The Lift Engines on the Sky Dwelling over the Presidio side of the bay shrieked. Suddenly, the building dropped 200 feet. The Hoodoo finished its pass, rose, and slammed straight into the underside of the descending building. A cheer went up from their boat as the boys watched. "Quiet!" Harold muttered. He stared, open-mouthed, as the building struggled against the pull of gravity. "Dammit! I'm losing control!" Wally swore. "It's coming!" Harold shouted. He pointed up. With a tremendous roar, its engines still fighting hard, the building lost 500 feet of altitude. Then it stabilized, briefly, jarring itself to a stop in mid-air. Sections of the building broke away, unable to withstand the force of the mid-air stop. Then gravity won, and the building came crashing down. There was an enormous splash. The building toppled toward Alcatraz as it hit the bay. Mixed in with the sound of the building hitting the water was the sound of violent explosions. Their boat, its motor puttering quietly, slipped deeper into the rock-strewn cove. The view of the bay was lost to them. Tongsun stared at the rocks which surrounded them. With fear in his eyes, he gazed at the slip-channel into which they'd passed, hoping for safety. There was a sound as of approaching thunder. Tongsun turned and looked at the huddled boys in the darkness. "Get ready! Wave's coming!" Tongsun shouted. The boat dropped suddenly, as the water rushed out of their cove. A second passed. The roar of thunder grew louder. The outswirling water drew the boat toward the cove's entrance. Then a scraping sound was heard, and a thud. The boat settled onto wet sand and caught itself in rocks on the sandy bottom. Beyond the wall of rocks protecting them from the bay, a thousand horses seemed to be thundering down on them. With a mighty crash, the wave caused by the dropped building hit the rocks on the bayward side of the cove. Salt spray hurled itself over the tops of the rocks and came splashing down into the little boat. At the same time as the boat was swamped from above, the level in the watery cove suddenly rose, tossing the boat high. They were nearly thrown over the tops of the rocks, only to fall again, within the cove, and then rise up again, then fall once more. There was a splintering sound, amidst the waves, of wood cracking. Slowly, the waters subsided. Tongsun was soaked. He looked at Harold. The boy's blonde hair was matted against his face. "We're taking on water! Shit! The whole deck is flooded!" a boy said behind them, in the darkness. Tongsun heard splashing as people began milling about. The sound of the boat's engine coughed and wheezed. Then, remarkably, it returned to its usual rhythm.The boat chugged out of the cove and into the bay. "Damn. Nobody told that bitch to move the boat out of the cove," Harold cursed. He stared through the blackness at the silhouette of the girl in the wheelhouse. "It's okay," Tongsun said. "It's okay!" His face was drenched. His bushy black hair was matted and bedraggled. But he smiled.

Chapter Fourteen

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14871.txt

jaz1701

Rape Betrayal #3

"Hey John, I am getting an early parole. I'll be out in 2 weeks! Can I stay with you?" With that one phone conversation, John knew that his life was about to change. Again. He had not heard the voice on the phone for almost 3 years now. A lifetime for both of them. Ronald had been convicted of the brutal rape and abduction of a prominent Senator's daughter. What idiot would be stupid enough to let him out after only 3 years? Now he wanted to come stay with John and his family. Ronald could not have picked a worse time. John and his wife of 2 years, Susan, were having serious marital problems. They might have had a chance of working through them if it were not for his stepdaughter Donna. John hoped he never hated another person as much as he did that little girl. Things had only gone downhill when he was forced to take a pay cut to keep his job. Susan was forced to work to help make ends meet and was now making more money than he did. At first, she was very supportive, but lately, it was clear that like her daughter, she did not respect him. It was crazy to even consider bringing his buddy the rapist home for a visit. Except for 2 things. 1. The Senator's daughter was not the first woman Ronald had raped. 2. He had not raped them alone - John had helped. His best friend had just spent 3 years in jail and never told anyone that John was involved. They must have asked, and little Miss rich bitch had surely gotten a good look at his face. He had loved the expression on her face when she realized that there was no escape, that it was really going to happen. He savored the sound of her begging, crying, and gagging on his 8-inch dick. The surprise when Ronald began fucking her ass for all he was worth. It had been 3 years since John had been able to enjoy a good rape. He never had the courage to do it alone. But with Ronald out, it would be just like old times. "Mi casa es tu casa, amigo. Stay as long as you want". Susan and John were arguing again. "I am so tired of having to wear the pants in this family. Be a man, John. Start looking for another job, or you may have to start looking for another wife and a new place to live," Susan threatened. Just then, Donna walked in the room. She was a younger version of her mother - a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, heavy-breasted, ball-breaking, cock-teasing bitch. "Way to go, mom, it's about time you dumped this loser. We can do a lot better than this deadbeat," she said. John had enough. "Don't you talk to me like that. I am still your father and the man of this house. You will learn to respect me," he bellowed. Just then, the doorbell rang. Susan opened the door to find a six-foot-four, 270-lb man looming over her. He was mean-looking and had a tattoo that said "Born to Rape You" on his right bicep. "Can I help you?" Susan stammered. Ronald liked what he saw. There was a beautiful blonde piece of pussy meat. He wanted to throw her down, spread her ass, and fuck her till she bled. But he realized this must be John's wife (Damn!). "I am here to see John," he said in his low, menacing voice. John came to the door and grabbed him in a fierce bear hug. "It's been a long time, brother. Let me grab your bag, and we'll get you settled in." Susan and Donna looked on in shock as Ronald entered the house. "John, who the fuck is this, and why would you be stupid enough to think this thug would be allowed to stay in my house?" she demanded. The room got very quiet as Ronald walked over to Susan. He stared at her and said, "Bud, you better get your woman in check before I beat the living shit out of her. Nobody talks about me like that." "Susan, I think you better apologize to our guest. You will have to forgive her; I forgot to tell her you would be staying with us," John said in an oddly civil tone. Susan could not believe what she was hearing. She was scared of this hulking stranger, but she refused to be intimidated in her own home. "That's it, John. I want you and this mutant out of my home. You will be hearing from my lawyer in a few days." "I'm sorry you feel that way. Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" John asked in a resigned tone. Susan's only response was to look over at Donna. They both began to laugh at him. They would not be laughing for very long. John walked over to Susan, grabbed her shirt, and quickly pulled it over her head. Before she knew what was happening, he had ripped her bra off as well and was pulling her shorts and panties down around her knees. "Say, Ron, why don't you tell my little family why you were in jail?" Ronald reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He grabbed Donna and fastened one end to her right hand and the other end to her left ankle. "Well, you see, ladies, sometimes me and your man like to find a nice stuck-up bitch, like yourselves, and fuck some sense into them. We're always real nice about it, and almost never cause permanent harm. I've been wanting to rape you since the moment you answered the door." Susan was sprawled on the couch, naked, shivering, and afraid. "John could not be a rapist; he is just mad and trying to scare me," she reasoned. "John, honey, let's talk. I am sorry I lost my temper earlier. I want to make our marriage work; I love you," she sniffled. John looked at Susan and said, "If you want to make it up to me, fuck my buddy good, make him real happy. It's been a long time since he had a good piece of meat." With that, Ronald began taking off his clothes. He walked over to Susan and demanded she suck his fat, smelly cock. She did not enjoy oral sex under the best of circumstances and had never tried anal entry at all. But Susan had a daughter to protect; she was scared of what might happen to her virgin daughter if she did not do what they wanted. There was no escape; they had her. She opened her mouth and took Ronald's nasty member into her. "That's right, suck me good, baby," he purred. She licked and kissed his 10-inch cock. Ronald grabbed the back of her head and began a slow face-fuck. She could not help gagging as he entered her throat. She felt John slip behind her on the couch. He positioned her on all fours and put his face in her ass. He began licking and sticking his tongue in her asshole. "No, what are you doing? That is disgusting," she mumbled around Ronald's dick. When she was good and juicy, John pressed his cock against her tight butthole. Susan began crying, "Please, John, don't. Stop!" she begged. John laughed as he filled her ass with his cock. He had wanted to do this for a long time. He was so excited, and she was so tight, he knew he would not last for long. So he decided to pound her for all he was worth. "Do you like that, slut? Does it hurt, bitch?" he shouted as he savagely raped her ass. Susan had never been in such pain; she would do anything to get them to stop. She was having difficulty catching her breath. Every time John slammed into her ass, it pushed her farther along Ronald's cock. Every time he rammed her mouth, she was forced to push back even harder on John's anal invader. As she was about to lose consciousness, she heard both men give a loud grunt. Her mouth and ass filled with hot, sticky cum. She was made to swallow and clean Ronald's shaft. Then, unbelievably, John presented his shit-covered dick for the same treatment. He pressed his shitty dick against her nose and dragged it across her eyes before sticking it in her mouth. As Susan laid panting and sobbing, both men congratulated themselves on a fuck well done. Donna was sitting in the chair with a terrified expression. She had just seen her mother brutally raped and knew she was completely at John's mercy. She regretted all of the mean things she had said to him. "Hey, John, we got a problem here. No way I'm going back to jail. What are we going to do with them? I mean, what's to stop them from turning us in?" Both women were crying now. John winked at Ronald and said, "Well, we could kill them right now...or we could make Susan here an accomplice. I sure would like to see a little hot lesbo action while we rest up. How about it, Susie? Will you rape your daughter for me?" Susan could not believe she had married such a sick asshole. But she loved her daughter and realized this was their only chance; what choice did she have? At least this way, Donna would still be a virgin, and Susan would be as gentle as possible. As the men looked on, Donna begged her mother not to do it. "They are going to kill us no matter what we do. This is wrong, Mommy; don't rape me," she pleaded. "I'm sorry, baby, but I have to do this." Ronald unlocked the handcuffs and sat down to enjoy the show. Susan pulled the shirt off of her daughter and gently removed her bra.She laid the young girl down and began kissing and suckling on her soft, round tits. She teased first one then the other until both nipples were hard. "Oh no you don't, I can see where this is going. She is not just going to lay there while you lick and suck her. I want to see this young bitch lick her mommy's pussy clean," John demanded. Slowly, Susan squatted over her daughter's face and said, "You have to lick me, honey. Go ahead, it will be all right." Donna began to methodically lick her mother. As she swirled her tongue in Susan's pussy and around her clit, Susan felt a strange sensation in her lower stomach. She began to hump her daughter's face, to grind her pussy, to squeeze the young girl's face between her thighs. Suddenly, she let out a loud groan and began to spew female fuck juice on her little girl's face. "Mom, what are you doing, you slut? You are enjoying this. You are just like them, you are a rapist," Donna screamed in a hurt voice. John pulled Donna up into his lap and held her. "There, there, honey, don't be too hard on your mother. It is only natural that a beautiful young woman like you would turn her on. Daddy has wanted to make love to you for a long time, and I'm sure your new uncle Ronald would also. I have an idea: if you really want to teach your mom a lesson, make love to the both of us while we make her watch. That will drive her crazy, seeing her pretty virgin daughter become a real woman. It's up to you, honey, what do you say?" Donna looked her mother in the eye and said, "I'll do it, Dad. I am going to suck you both, and spread my legs so you big men can fuck me all you want. I can't wait to taste my handsome daddy's cum, and feel my big strong uncle's cock fill up my butt. I am going to be the hottest, little slut you have ever had." Susan began to scream. She did not stop for a very long time.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10454.txt

Godiva

"The Old Man's Office"

"We shouldn't be here." "If you've changed your mind, we can just forget it." "No! I haven't changed my mind, Dahlia . . . darling Dahlia . . . but why the old man's office?" "Because it's safe." "Safe!" the man exclaimed. In repose, he appeared to be a noble edifice of staunch masculinity, but there was a weakness in him that turned Dahlia's stomach. "In the old man's office?" "Oh, don't be such a wimp," Dahlia snapped, in exasperation. "Harper Lewis is halfway across the continent, and even when he isn't, he usually works out of his apartment." "But what if his secretary. . . ." the brawny man trailed off, looking as if he were about to burst into tears. "Oh, Ryder, don't you know anything about what goes on here?" Dahlia asked rhetorically. "Harper gave Gertie a second office on the twenty-third floor. All Harper's calls go there, except when he is in the building. Gertie found it too isolated up here in executive territory." "Oh. Well, I don't keep track of all the insignificant doings of the staff," Ryder pouted. "And I'm not a wimp. You just don't realize how dangerous this is." "What? Getting our rocks off in the Great Man's office?" "I meant the takeover," Ryder replied peevishly. "But, this too. The old bastard is no prude, but he'd be sore as a boil if he found us here. He enjoys nothing more than belittling me. And, if you think I'm a wimp. . . ." Ryder began, petulantly. "Oh, Ryder! Honey!" Dahlia cried, reaching to pacify the offended man with a submissive hug about his waist. "Don't mind what I say, Darling. It's just when I think you're rejecting me, I get so upset I say anything." "Rejecting you?" Ryder sounded baffled. "You said we shouldn't be here, we should just forget about it," Dahlia declared. "That depressed me so much I called you a wimp, so you'd get mad enough to go through with it." "I said to forget it?" Ryder was aghast. "You did, Ryder. You know you did," Dahlia insisted. "And it hurt, because I love you so. I want to give myself to you, Ryder." "But, I just meant not here, in the old man's office," Ryder avowed. "I mean, we should go away for a weekend, just you and me. A friend of mine has a cottage I could borrow, or there are the Bahamas." "No, Ryder, please," Dahlia begged pressing harder into Ryder's chest. "No expensive dates, no costly gifts, no trips to exotic places, no help with my career, no money; I don't even want you to thank me. I just want you to take me, Ryder. Use me! Love me, Ryder, if you can, but take me! Take me, please!" Awed by the intensity of Dahlia's demand, Ryder pondered--as vaguely as he ever examined another's needs--the contradictions of this woman. Ryder Lewis had seen Dahlia Damon about the office for nearly six years. As late as two weeks ago--if asked--he would have said that Dahlia was a harsh-featured, desiccated stick of a woman who wore severely-cut, mannish suits. That she was, in fact, a pseudo male, female executive. With Dahlia pressed tightly against him--as had happened several times this week--Ryder was forced to admit he had misjudged Dahlia. Beneath the conservatively tailored suit, his body contacted a wildly lush feminine figure. Her strength came as no surprise, except in its degree, which was somewhat overwhelming. And it did surprise Ryder that she chose to employ that strength to press her hidden charms against him, while a smile lightened her determined features into real beauty. Dahlia's countenance glowed with that fawning expression which does so much to enhance a woman, yet so few master. "Look, I've got an idea," Ryder declared, as the intoxication of a beautiful woman, worshipping him with her eyes and body, went to his head, "let's forget about the takeover. It's all so sordid, and I don't like the idea of you spending a single second with Curt Andover. He's . . . he's some kind of animal." "Oh, Ryder, Baby, don't be jealous," Dahlia begged. "It's so ridiculous. What could I possibly want with Curtis Andover, when I can be with you. But, we must go through with the takeover, darling. You . . . You don't know what it means to me." "Eh . . . now that you mention it, I don't," Ryder confessed, dumbfounded. In his experience, beautiful women didn't normally offer their bodies, or risk their careers, unless there was something in it for them. "What do you get out of it?" "Satisfaction," Dahlia answered, a suspicion of a sob in her voice. "You don't know what it does to me, how it makes me feel, seeing the inconsiderate treatment you get from these people. The old man treats you like dirt, and everyone else follows his lead. It makes me want to scream." Much struck with the justice of her observation, Ryder impulsively pressed a kiss onto Dahlia's lips, mashing their noses together in the process. Undaunted, he slid one hand upward, scouring her heavy jacket for a concealed breast; then yelped as he impaled his thumb on the sharp point of her lapel pin. "Oh Honey, I'm sorry!" Dahlia exclaimed, popping the wounded digit from his mouth to kiss the trifling wound. Stepping back, Dahlia began to undress quickly. With sure, deft, movements she rapidly shed her tailored jacket, practical white blouse, and popped open the catch of her utilitarian brassiere, releasing high eagerly jutting breasts from their rigidly compressed prisons. Watching them bounce and jiggle as Dahlia bent to step out of her skirt, Ryder forgot to minister to his injured thumb. Having shed her shoes, Dahlia swept both her panties and pantyhose down her legs, stopping at the ankles to draw them off from the toes. Pausing only to assure herself that the pantyhose were not tangled or damaged, Dahlia turned, legs parted, while she stretched forth her arms to welcome Ryder. Had he been his uncle, Ryder might have likened Dahlia's transformation to the Venus de Milo freed from her block of marble. Since-- with the exception of beer and football--Ryder was culturally unlettered, he simply gawked. Gripping the bottom of his clamorous tie, Dahlia backed toward an impressively outsized leather couch, dragging Ryder as though he were on a leash. While she shuffled backwards, Dahlia's other hand was busily tugging at Ryder's belt. When she felt the couch's costly leather touch her calves, Dahlia released the last catch on Ryder's pants. Another practised motion sent Ryder's boxers down his legs to join the puddle of clothes about his ankles. With a whoop of laughter, Dahlia launched herself backwards to plop onto the couch, forcing Ryder to accompany her. Dahlia landed with her back pressed into the cool leather, while Ryder grovelled between her spread legs, the coarse weave of his tweed jacket scratching Dahlia's stomach, where his elbow prodded. Balancing awkwardly on his knees, Ryder grasped a large, looming breast, squeezing and pinching, energetically. "Ow! That feels good," Dahlia lied. As he repeated the maneuver on her other breast, Dahlia noticed Ryder's rigid penis peeking coyly between the parted curtain of his shirt. Digging in her heels behind Ryder's rear, Dahlia dragged him off-balance, and set him falling on top of her. Quickly, she raised her hips, and tilted to receive him. "Ouch! Sonovabitch!" Ryder declared, as his penis bent against a bony protrusion on Dahlia's pelvis. "Dammit," he expanded, "that hurts!" Raising himself, Ryder grabbed his rapidly wilting erection. "Oh, poor Baby," Dahlia proclaimed, adroitly confiscating Ryder's injured member, "you stubbed your poor widdly cocky-wocky." Gradually, the combination of mystic fingers and soothing nonsense convinced the pained penis to perform. As he hardened, Ryder deliriously hauled out his wallet and extracted a condom. Shredding the wrapper, he attempted to put it on. By the third unsuccessful attempt, he was becoming frantic. Calmly, Dahlia took the rubber and rolled it up Ryder's shaft. In five seconds it was on, and fit like a coat of paint. Without further foreplay, Ryder guided his penis into Dahlia's vagina by hand. Once the head was securely stuffed through the labia, he rammed his penis home. Immediately, Ryder began humping and bucking, as his hands clutched fiercely at Dahlia's breasts.Humping and pumping, Ryder's mighty grunting filled the office, and eventually, slightly moved the couch. Gradually, Dahlia raised her legs to clasp about Ryder's waist. As her feet touched behind Ryder's back, he gave a great bellow, stopped, humped convulsively three times, and collapsed on top of Dahlia. "Ryder?" Dahlia's voice sounded muffled and anxious. "Are you okay? Ryder?" A growl sounded in Dahlia's ears. Quickly, it expanded itself into a rolling snore. "Shit!" Dahlia observed with feeling. "Ryder," she said, after several failed attempts to wriggle free. "Get off." Ryder responded with a complicated buzzing sound. "I'm warning you." The buzzing remained unabated. Dahlia dug the heel of her foot in front of Ryder's hip. Her hand burrowed to reach the ribcage below his shoulder. With a grunt, Dahlia straightened both arm and leg, and Ryder flopped over onto his back. Dahlia rolled off the couch, leaving Ryder to his somnambulant muttering as he slid bonelessly to the floor. Brazenly, Dahlia stalked across the office to the entrance. Checking the lock, she removed the key and returned to the desk, which dominated the huge office. "What are you doing?" "I'm keeping the key," Dahlia announced, a furious scowl marring her features. She took a deep breath and replaced it with her fawning smile, then turned back to Ryder, who was still resting on the carpet. "Honey, if I keep the key, you can get another, then we can meet here often." "Er, yes, as long as the old man is out of town," Ryder agreed, reluctantly. "It's only one more week," Dahlia reminded him, "then this will be your office." "I guess you're right," Ryder allowed. "It is time for me to stand on my own two feet." Putting words into action, Ryder arose from the floor, but tripped over the tangled clothing warped about his ankles, and measured his length on the carpet. Dahlia looked away, biting her lip. Starting over, Ryder managed to untangle his slacks, draw them up, and buckle them in place. A few adjustments, a twitch to straighten his tie, a quick pass of his comb, and Ryder was ready for business. "Well, I must run," Ryder announced, "I'm already late for a meeting. Oh, are you going to see Curt tonight?" "I'm not sure," Dahlia replied. "It mostly depends on what headway is made with Witherspoon." "Witherspoon! Bob Witherspoon? Curt will never convince Witherspoon to make a move against my uncle," Ryder predicted. "He's too much of an old woman." "I think he can be brought to see the advantages," Dahlia replied, carelessly. "I doubt it," Ryder objected. "Besides, Bob Witherspoon sticks his neck out for no man." "I'll keep that in mind." "Well, gotta go," Ryder pecked Dahlia's lips with a kiss, then stood back for her to unlock the door. "Better not leave that behind," Dahlia advised. Turning to look where she pointed, Ryder spied a used condom lying in front of the couch, slowly staining the carpet. "Er... can't you take care of it?" Ryder glanced at his cuff and added, "I really am late." "Well, it is yours, after all." Hesitantly, Ryder raised the condom between his thumb and forefinger. He looked about in embarrassed puzzlement. "I have no place to put it," he protested. "Oh, for goodness sake," Dahlia exclaimed, turning to unlock the door, "just put it in your pocket." "My pocket!" Ryder was shocked. "Never!" he avowed, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. With a stoic expression congealed on his features, Ryder closed his hand about the foul object. He marched across the room, and waited while Dahlia unlocked the door. After a quick peek, she swung the door open. With an expression of Homeric dignity pasted on his face, Ryder passed through the portal. Down the hall he strode, a tall, distinguished man expensively attired, holding his head erect and a soiled condom cupped in his hand. Dahlia carefully turned the key in the lock, leaned back against the door, surveying the office. Nonchalantly, the naked woman flipped the key into the air, caught it, and delivered her opinion. "What," she told the empty office, "a maroon!"

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10186.txt

AUSTRALIAN HOLIDAY

"Where's the Polaroid?" demanded Lady Mowbray as she strode into the cell. "There's only one place it could be." The twins took hold of the mattress and with one big heave, they tipped Jason onto the floor. He fell heavily on the tiles. "There it is." The Polaroid was exposed in its obvious hiding place. Jason was heartbroken. It was his only possession, and now they were going to take it away from him. He was relieved, surprised, and then suspicious when Amanda pinned it up on the wall at the foot of his bed. Nothing they ever did had his pleasure or comfort in mind. It was always done to get sexual pleasure from him or mental pleasure from tormenting him. Suddenly, it all became clear. Every morning when he woke, the first thing he would see would be a picture of his loved one, cruelly bound, gagged, and sexually abused by these fiends. Amanda had been watching him closely. "Bingo," she thought. His face betrayed him. Now she would have some more pictures taken, make enlargements, and pin those up as well. With his hands always tied behind him and a gag always in his mouth, he would not be able to remove them. "Why stop there?" Amanda thought. "What about installing a video screen and showing him videos of her? Maybe even live from her cell next door. I could put one in her cell and show her videos, too." Lady Mowbray addressed the twins. "Come on, girls. Bring him along. I need him for target practice." "My God!" thought Jason. "She's going to shoot my balls off." He resisted the twins, but a poke from the cattle prod and a shock from the belt that doubled him up soon persuaded him to cooperate. They took him into the "games" room. It was large and mainly in darkness. A few spotlights shone from an unseen roof. He was stood in one of the pools of light, the twins behind him. Amanda nodded. The twins kicked the back of both his knees. He collapsed backwards onto the floor, banging his elbows and the back of his head. The three women took off their skirts. They were wearing identical, crotchless white knickers. Amanda disappeared for a moment into the darkness and returned carrying a two-metre steel pole. She dropped it right across his bare toes. "Mmmmuuff." The pain was excruciating. He lay back and closed his eyes. After a while, when the pain from his toes subsided, he realized the pain from laying on his chained wrists was just as bad. He rolled onto his side and lay there, helpless, gagged with his usual black dildo, alone in the spotlight. After what seemed like ages, the three women returned, pushing a large, two-tier tea trolley. On top was Justine. She was naked. Her bottom was right on the end of the trolley. Her legs were spread wide and tied to the front legs of the trolley. She was on her back, and her arms were down each side and tied to the back legs. She was gagged with a black dildo. They pushed the trolley close to Jason, so that he had a good view of her. He saw her vagina was moist, as though it was freshly fucked. They parked the trolley about three metres from him. Sarah came over to Jason and stood for a moment over him, giving him a good view up her legs. Then she sat down between his legs, with her back to one leg while she fastened that ankle to a welded loop on the steel bar. He could feel the warmth of her nylon-clad bottom against his calf. She then braced her feet against his other ankle and pushed his legs wide apart, until he thought he would split. Again, he closed his eyes with the pain. The steel pole was telescopic. Susie pulled it apart, until the welded loop at the end was next to his ankle, then she fastened that one. Finally, she dropped a locking pin into the middle of the bar, preventing it from closing and thus relieving the pain in his groin. Amanda pulled a hook on the end of a chain from out of the darkness above him. She hooked it onto the third welded loop in the centre of the bar, then stood back. Sarah disappeared into the darkness, and he heard the rattle of chains. As his legs began to rise into the air, he saw Amanda point the controller at him, and the ring vibrator on his balls started up at a fast rate. As he hung inverted, he felt elated. She was going to relieve him! The red light started to blink on his belt. They spun him around a few times just for fun. He kept catching glimpses of the helpless Justine. Her wide-open vagina was tantalizingly on offer. Jason saw Amanda pull a rope down from the darkness, gather up Justine's beautiful long hair, and tie the rope around it. Susie adjusted the tension so that Justine's head was pulled up off the trolley, and she could look along her stomach at Jason. It was the first time their eyes had met. Both saw the pain in each other's eyes, and they both wanted to comfort each other. Neither could speak. Jason desperately wanted to put his arms around her and bury his face in her hair. Eventually, the women grew tired of their new game. Sarah fetched a chair and sat down on the edge of it, close to Jason's head. She smiled at him and kissed him on the nose. He heard the chain rattling as his height was adjusted so that his nose was level with Sarah's open crotch. Jason felt someone take hold of the chain joining his wrists. They pulled him away from his pleasant view. As his arms were pulled down, there was a terrible pain in his shoulders. Sarah moved her chair forward to where he had been hanging. He was released slowly. He swung back, and his nose was buried in Sarah's vagina. She clamped her thighs around his head, and he began to suffocate. He felt someone begin to masturbate him by hand, and quickly he came to the point where he would have ejaculated but for the inhibitor. "Ready! Aim! Fire!" Amanda pressed GO on the controller. Jason felt the wonderful relief of an ejaculation made even more powerful by the pain in his body and his sense of suffocation. It was a brief moment of bliss. He ejaculated once. Then that cursed red light started to blink again. His packet of semen shot violently across the gap between him and the helpless Justine. It hit her on the inside of her left thigh and slowly began to trickle downwards, away from her open vagina. "A miss. Up a bit and to the right." Sarah pushed him away from her. His nose left her vagina, and he sucked deeply for air. She let go of him. He swung back into her vagina. He felt the masturbation. "A Hit!" The violence of each single ejaculation was slightly less each time, so the angle upwards had to be constantly adjusted. After the tenth shot, Justine was wheeled a little closer. In one of his "breathing spells", Jason caught sight of Amanda strapping on a vibrating dildo. She bent down and, with the help of Susie, she passed the lead from it between her legs, up her back, and down one arm. She held the battery-operated controller in her hand, and the lead was out of the way. She was behind Justine and then moved into the darkness. "A miss!" "Time for me to have a go." Sarah and Susie changed places. He managed twenty shots before they began to fall too short to be any fun. The equivalent of about two normal ejaculations. Sarah and Susie converged on Justine. "Oh, no. Poor Justine," thought Jason. He tried to struggle, but only managed to start a slight spin, causing him to lose sight of what was happening. The next time he saw her, she was blindfolded with what looked like an under slip, and the trolley was being wheeled towards him. "We are going to let your boyfriend have his wicked way with you now. If he can get it up, that is. But of course, we will help him," whispered Sarah into Justine's ear. Just short of him, the trolley stopped. Amanda came out of the darkness, complete with strap-on dildo. Silently, she positioned herself between Justine's open legs. "Mmmmm." Jason desperately tried to warn her. Then he realized it was pointless. Amanda inserted the warm, well-lubricated dildo into Justine. She put her hands on the trolley each side of Justine and pushed the dildo deep inside her. Justine was unable to move, see, or speak. Reluctantly, she decided to enjoy it. She was unable to raise her hips. She had to just lie passively and become slowly aroused. Suddenly, the vibrator started up deep inside her."How could Jason's penis vibrate?" the French girl thought. Amanda leaned close to Justine's ear. "Yes, my dear. It's me." Sarah began to gently caress one of Justine's breasts, and Susie caressed the other. Amanda turned up the vibrator. Later, the two exhausted victims were taken back to their cells, fed, and allowed to rest. The three women sat around a swimming pool in the cool of the evening, sipping sherry. "A good day's work, I think." "Great. We have a fantastic new game." "It would be good at Hen Parties. The women could take bets on how far he could shoot." "What does the button STOP do?" "Much the same as GO. Except it will stop him in the middle of an ejaculation, or it will pause, during continuous artificial ejaculation." "Do you think we could convert Justine?" "What, to a lesbian?" "Maybe. She seemed to enjoy herself, eventually." "It would be good if we made IT believe that she was having a terrible time and needed ITS protection." "Maybe we could arrange for a secret note to be smuggled to him, asking desperately for him to rescue her. Telling him that she loves him. She doesn't have to be the one to write it." "Great idea. Think of the torment that would cause him. When he can't do anything." "Cheers." "Cheers." "Cheers." Chapter 20: Slave Jason Jason was on tiptoes as he spied through steel bars the three women at the pool. He had a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked at the Polaroid pinned to the bare wall and wondered if Justine was close by. Jason frequently heard footsteps and creaking doors nearby and assumed it was the twins tending to Justine. He walked over to the wall and put his ear against it. But the only thing that he heard was the sound of his own heart beating. In the morning, the twin sisters entered and began their ritual of using Jason as a human toilet as they emptied their full bladders. This servile act did not disgust the young man. He rather enjoyed it by then. Jason felt like he was sharing an intimate moment with the girls, and they seemed to be much kinder to him at these times. The warmth of the frothy brew was actually pleasant as it went down his gullet. He even began to notice the difference in aroma and taste between Susie and Sarah. "Sarah's was the sweeter," he thought. The sisters also let Jason dry their vaginas with his tongue. "Toilet paper's too rough on my labia," Susie said aloud. Jason soon learned of another talent the sisters shared. In the past several months, they had taken piercing lessons and had become quite adept at it, even piercing several body parts of some of their friends. On Amanda's orders, the twins, on this particular morning, went about the business of piercing the tongues of the two slaves. Sarah stayed with Jason as Susie went next door to Justine's cell. None too gentle, the girls used tongs to pull on the tongues of their respective slaves and daubed them with alcohol. When the needle cut through, Jason and Justine heard each other's screams. A post was placed through the resulting hole, and the slaves were given a respite from the dildo gag. Later that evening, Amanda welcomed Jason into her bedroom for her daily ritual of oral service. She had just come from the shower, her head and body were wrapped in towels. With his hands shackled behind him, he went about his task as Amanda removed the larger of the towels and exposed her lush form. She reclined on the bed as Jason's heart turned to pudding. Amanda's body always had that effect on him. As usual, Jason crawled into bed between her legs as she casually read one of her many books. Before he started, though, he barely said above a whisper, "Please don't hurt Justine, please..." CRUNCH! Amanda's shin caught Jason between the legs. THWACK! Her hand slapped him hard across the face as he lunged forward. He barely managed to not topple over. "You are NEVER to speak without permission. NEVER AGAIN! This is your final warning!" Jason nodded in obeisance. For the next hour, the young man explored every inch of his Mistress as she rested her feet on his shoulders. With leash in hand, she directed him this way and that, even telling him to pay homage to her navel and, as a final favor, to lave her anus. "Down on the floor, slaveboy, at my feet," Amanda cooed as she nudged him with her toe. Jason kneeled on the carpet at the foot of the bed and needed no prodding to begin his worship of Amanda's beautiful feet. He gently bathed each toe in his warm mouth. Amanda giggled. "That post in your tongue tickles. But it feels good." Jason continued to adore his Mistress' feet, swirling his tongue around the ankle and wetly licking the highly arched sole. Amanda's foot was soft and warm, and Jason couldn't get enough of it. Luckily, there were two. "Okay, footboy, time for a break. Follow me to the bathroom." Still on his knees, Jason followed Amanda to the bathroom and listened to her lecture. "See this tub full of water? I soaked in it a good 45 minutes after my workout this afternoon. What is it you men say? Oh yeah, 'I would drink a tub of her bathwater just to taste her pussy.' Well, you've had my pussy, so here's your payment," Amanda said, pointing her finger at the tub. Jason was dumbfounded. He looked at the tub, then at his Mistress. "Surely she can't be serious," he thought to himself. "I know what you're thinking, and yes, I am serious. You are not to leave this bathroom until you lick up every drop, or poor Justine will suffer. And just to make sure that you don't pull the plug from the drain, I'm putting this choke chain on your testicles and attaching them to the commode behind you. There will be just enough slack in it for you to stand up and pee when necessary. And believe me, it will be necessary many, many times." After she affixed her slave's balls, she shut the light. "See you tomorrow, toilet boy." Amanda blew a kiss and closed the door behind her. Amanda entered her "games" room and found Justine just as she ordered. The French girl was sprawled over a padded horse with her wrists bound to the front legs and her ankles bound to the rear. Her cunt and ass were thrust lewdly and invitingly upward. Amanda stroked the smooth rounded flesh of Justine's pert derriere. "So milky white, so perfect. I can't bear the thought of marking it with my crop. At least not yet," Amanda purred. "At least I can have some fun with your buried treasures." Amanda buckled up her strap-on and slipped on a pair of latex gloves. She made sure that the dildo was first properly coated with her viscous secretions. Jason's agile tongue definitely caused her to spring a leak. The Marquesa also liberally coated Justine's anus with her love fluid. It was quite tight, but Amanda managed to work two slender fingers in. When both knuckles slid past the sphincter, Justine cried through her dildo gag and nearly shattered every window in the house. "A virgin, are we Justine. Well, I'm rather honored to be the one to pop your anal cherry," Amanda proudly declared. Amanda had her way with the bound girl, loosening her up enough to stroke furiously. Justine even tried to push backward to meet the thrusts. By the amount of fluid dripping down the horse between Justine's legs, Amanda knew the slave was climaxing. "What an easy lay!" declared Amanda loudly. "Imagine the heat you could generate from a real fucking." The Marquesa slipped the dildo from the harness and left it implanted in Justine's rump. In fact, she left her tied there like that for the night. The next morning, Amanda opened the door to her private bathroom. She found Jason still on his knees in front of the tub, his belly grossly distended. But the tub was still half full. "Failure will be dealt with harshly. However, I haven't the time to punish your girlfriend right now. We have an appointment in the city. I'll deal with her later. Just wait until she finds out that you were responsible for her punishment." Jason kept his mouth shut and his eyes cast downward, even though he knew how impossible it was to have drunk an entire tubful of dirty bathwater in just one night. Susie and Sarah readied the slaves for their outing in the city. The posts were replaced with rings as Jason and Justine had to get used to a new sensation. This time, Amanda decided to drive and chose her brand new Mercedes as the twins loaded the human cargo into the trunk. Justine was blindfolded, but Jason was not. Of course, their hands were tied behind them, and their torsos were belted together. However, they wore no gags. Instead, Susie simply joined the two tongue rings together and locked them with a small gold padlock. She shut the trunk, and the five of them were off to the big city. Jason tried to communicate with his old girlfriend in the dark humid trunk. "Does she know that it's me?" he thought to himself. He could feel her hot breath on his face, and her tangled hair seemed to form a web around his entire head. He tried to articulate, "It's me, Jason!" But with the locked rings, it sounded incomprehensible. The long drive proved fruitless to Jason. Even sweating like a bovine, Justine simply smelled as sweet as the day they first met. In fact, he hadn't been this close to her since they last made love, some eight years before. "Oh...Sweet agony!" Jason cried out. Only no one could hear. Jason attempted to kiss his beloved, but she painfully tried to pull away. "Oh my god! What if she knows that it's me and thinks I'm a co-conspirator in this debauchery? Well, in a way I am. I'll never forgive myself if Justine doesn't make it through this madness," Jason wrestled in his mind. The shiny black Mercedes finally pulled up to the rear entrance of Little B.'s Tattoo Studio. Beth greeted the three ladies and seemed very enthusiastic.The owner of the parlor was in her mid to late 20s and had spiky jet black hair with a bleached streak on each side just above the ear. She wore a black t-shirt, black bicycle pants, and black combat boots. She was only slightly taller than the twins and wore black nail polish and black lipstick on her pale face. "Well, Amanda, where are your two new pets?" Beth inquired. "In the boot. I thought we might discuss the menu first. Such talk might frighten them, and we don't want to do that now, do we?" The three ladies laughed as the two slaves nearly melted from the mid-morning sun. "So, Amanda, what shall it be? Tattoos? Branding? Scarification?" "Well," Amanda began, "I think for the French dish, maybe something subtle. Something only those of us who are intimate with her can be privileged enough to view. Besides, her creamy flesh is just too exquisite; it would be a shame to mark it or mutilate it in any way." "And how about the other one?" Beth asked, raising one diamond-studded eyebrow. "That thing?" Amanda answered, "I want everybody to know WHAT he is and WHO he belongs to." "I think I understand," Beth responded and smiled approvingly.

MF,FF,femdom,cbt,ws,nc

Chapter 19: Lady Mowbray

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13618.txt

T.S. FESSELN

On French Soil

"A tough boil to lance, I am 'fraid," Talbot said, disturbing Sir Edward de Valence's thoughts of the bound Catherine cached away in his luggage wagon. Edward's eyes once again looked at the two towers he was commanded to take. Though Harfleur herself had surrendered, the villains in those accursed towers had not. On the morrow, Edward planned to array three cannons against both and pound them night and day until their senses were shaken back into their heads. If not, damp hay would be mounded around them and set aflame. The smoke would drive them out. "Indeed, Talbot. But they will fall. The soil is hallowed by our blood, and the town is English today and forever. They will leave or they will die. Come, fair Talbot, let us see the rest of our prize lodging and give thanks for it." Catherine D'Astier was not giving thanks to her lodging as she lay bound hand and foot beneath the scratchy blanket Edward had tossed over her. The desire in her womb had not been sated by the empty bottle, and her bindings were raw upon her ankles and wrists from the effort. The yearning in her quim continued despite her fatigue. She could not move much, and every effort now caused ache in her joints and blissful agony where her pleasure-swollen nipples scraped against the blanket. The bottle she sought her wanton solace in was now poking between her thigh and swollen lips, and her need to relieve herself was growing. Catherine wondered about what was to happen now. The baggage wagon she was in had moved twice, the last just a very short distance. She was the English's prize, and she knew he would have his fill of her before discarding her like a broken flagon. It was how long of a draught he would have of her before that was to happen. It was up to her to make it last as long as she could. The English, Edward, liked Catherine's lithe looks. She could see it in his hazel eyes as they feasted upon her ivory form. He relished what she could do with her lips around his pricker. She was now glad that her cousin and her other lovers had taught her the lessons no friar could. They would be her salvation. To please the English ogre would mean life for her. Catherine could also see in Edward de Valence's eyes a hatred that had been boiled to a hardness that no one could soften. What caused the anger, she did not know, but it was against her father Phillip, she was sure. Catherine's father was an enigma to her. To him, she believed, she was just another pawn in his game of groats and florins. Catherine knew her mother was such a pawn. Adele D'Hainault was of a well-landed family whose connections with the court were as tightly woven as any spider's web. She was rather a plain woman but a spirited one whose mettle was passed from mother to daughter. Adele had borne six children to Phillip before she died of the Death. The Death also claimed one of Catherine's brothers and her only sister. Their deaths left Catherine as the sole woman of the household, and her mother's duties fell upon her. Phillip seemed not to care as long as things were kept in due order. His lust for appointment and filled coffer kept his attention. Deep down, Catherine knew her father would not pay her ransom. This realization overwhelmed her, and she began to sob quietly to herself. The second story to Edward's billet was like the first, divided into three rooms, all having beds and benches. The corner room had a large, canopied bed as well as a window overlooking the river. This room also had a sturdy oak door with iron fittings and an arrow loop, as well as having thick walls. The merchant who built this home was more than just a leathercraftsman, and it suited Edward well. "Talbot, I want all the men to comb our camp for anything we may have left as well as anything left by any others. I need the quiet to plan the breaking of the towers." "Indeed, m'lord." Talbot left without another word. Edward followed him a short time later and found the building deserted save him and the woman bound in his luggage. Quickly, he opened the wagon's door and tore off the blanket covering his prize. Catherine was huddled on her side, and the smell of her urine and lust filled Edward's nose. Her slender face was puffed red with tears, and her long, dark tresses were in a tangle about her. Her gag was still in place, damp with her drool, and her bindings were still taut. Her dark, doe-like eyes looked up at him in anguish as he reached down for her. This time, Catherine did not struggle as Edward lifted her over his shoulder to carry her. She was as easy for Edward to lift as a yearling would be. Her slender, marble-white skin was smooth and warm as he hugged her arse to keep her from falling. The smell of her perfume was still strong, and Edward's lust for this D'Astier she-bitch was growing again. Catherine was glad to be out of the wagon. The smell of her own urine was still strong in her mind, and she never felt so helpless. The English's hands were warm and firm upon her bottom, and they felt good. She did not recognize the house they were in, but she knew she was still in Harfleur. Her wrists were still bound together and tied to her bound ankles, however, despite the English's shoulder poking into her belly sorely, she did not dare move lest she fall and hurt herself even more. At last, after passing through two or three rooms, the English dropped her onto a huge, canopied bed. Catherine could only see the lead-colored sky outside and the swirls of smoke that still rose wraith-like into the air. Nothing else was recognizable. "Are you going to behave, Catherine, and not act like a wild mare?" Edward asked, his voice low and gravelly. Catherine nodded, a quiet mewl coming from her gagged mouth. Edward smiled and stood back a little to survey his prize. Catherine was slender in build, and her skin was the color of milk, though now she needed to be washed of the soot and grime that clung to her. Her face was narrow, and her lips were like petals on a rose. Her nose was slight, and her ebony eyes looked slightly cat-like. Her tangled hair was long and black and would cascade down her back a great way. Her neck was as slender as the rest of her, and her breasts were the size of ripe apples, her nipples dark and long. Catherine's belly was as flat and smooth as polished stone, and her nest was dark and thick. All of her bound limbs were slender, and Edward could feel a wanton ache in his groin for this woman. "I am going to untie you briefly so that you are more comfortable," Edward told her in her native French. Rolling her onto her stomach, Edward began to untie those knots he had tied last night. The knots were difficult, pulled tighter by her struggles, but soon he had her ankles unbound and as well as her wrists. Catherine felt the bindings come off of her hands and feet, but there was a numbness in them that made it hard for her to move them. It was as if her body was betraying her when Edward rolled her back over and bound her wrists again, one to each bedpost above her head. The English then did the same to her ankles until she was spread and exposed before him. She turned her head away, closing her eyes and knowing what was to come. She was all out of tears. The cold water came as a shock, and instantly she was looking to see what was happening. Her eyes met Edward's dark, hazel ones, and she saw the slight smile in them. He had a dripping cloth in his hand and was washing her body with it. Slowly but firmly, he washed each foot and leg, working his way up until the cold, sodden cloth was washing her belly. Then the cloth began to caress over her breasts, now flattened because of her position. It was a slow, lover's caress, not harsh at all, and Catherine let out a mewl of pleasure despite herself. Edward caressed her nipples, feeling their stiffness beneath the cloth.He rubbed the cloth over them and around them, causing his captive to moan gently through her gag. Slowly, he worked his way up her chest and gently began to wash away the grime from the curves of her face. There was no longer the look of fear in her dark eyes, only a look of coy curiosity. Then Edward bent down and kissed her on her forehead. Edward's kisses did not linger there. Catherine closed her eyes and felt his warm lips and rough beard caress her cheek and neck, and felt his breath when he nibbled at her ear. There were slight purrs of pleasure rumbling in her throat as his kisses moved down her neck and over her upper chest. The English's kisses were lingering, and it seemed like an eternity before his lips came to one of her nipples. He did not take it into his mouth, rather he kissed around it, caressing her areola with his tongue. Edward then kissed the tip of her one nipple before going on to the other, never actually taking it into his mouth. Then Edward stopped. Catherine slowly opened her eyes and watched Edward undress. By the light of day, he looked less menacing. The Englishman was a tall, broadly built man. His shoulders and arms were burly with muscle, and his chest was barrel-like and was covered with his dark hair like moss covers a rock. The scar across his stomach was more visible now, its purple wake crossing the rippled flesh of his belly. His legs were sturdy, and as Edward pulled his hose down, his rampant member stuck out of his dense, dark bush like a thick pike. After undressing, Edward crawled into the bed and pulled the curtains shut around the bed, save for the side facing the window. Edward wanted to drink in Catherine's beauty as he knelt between her open sex. Again his lips met Catherine's flesh, and now his teeth nibbled at her passion-aching nipples. Taking each one into his mouth, Catherine felt every pulse of bliss racing through her as she lay bound and at his mercy. She felt her hips rocking with the ancient rhythm and the hot, solid flesh of his penis pressing against her thigh. Edward's hands gripped Catherine's hips and lifted them off the bed as Edward positioned himself before her gates. Her nest tickled at his swollen head as Catherine writhed in the limit of her bonds, wanting him deep inside her. Her lips were swollen red and glistening with passion. He poked his head in enough to make it slick before plunging it in. Catherine's heated quim engulfed Edward's member in ecstasy, her silken muscles gripping Edward like a milkmaid's hand upon a teat. The rhythm of their passion was slow at first, and Catherine was frustrated by the bonds holding her arms and legs apart. She wanted to dig her heels into Edward's thighs and force him into her faster, but Edward had a slow rhythm of his own, and the mewls of want from behind Catherine's gag just made him want to enjoy her fruits more slowly. Edward's pace quickened as he gripped her hips, forcing her into his rhythm, not the wanton fervor of her own. Her moans had become louder and shorter, almost a chant of lust. The wanton fires of pleasure in her womb raged through her like a blacksmith's forge, the heat building white hot with every stroke until Catherine was consumed in the heat of bliss. Below him, Catherine's moans had become one long one as her body writhed in its bonds as if possessed. Edward felt his own seed boiling up within him and he fought to hold it back. The longer he held, the more pleasure in the end. Stroke after stroke, he rammed into Catherine until he could hold off no longer and flooded her womb with his spent. The heat of his seed burned through Catherine and pushed her orgasm further until her body was not her own as the pleasure wracked through it. She felt his arms embrace her helpless body and hug himself to her as his rod withdrew from her. She loved the warmth of his body and would have returned the embrace if she was not bound. Edward lingered above her, looking at her lovely face and the raven tresses that ringed her head like a halo. He moved to her side and slowly caressed circles around her still erect nipples, over her smooth belly and through the damp, dark curls of her nest. "Catherine?" he whispered. She opened her eyes slowly, a grin glinting from them as she looked into Edward's hazel ones. Though her mouth was gagged, Edward could see a slight smile around the soaked cloth. Edward looked around the bed and found the cloth tie for the curtain. With one swift pull, he ripped it down and coiled it beside Catherine's head. Edward then gently lifted Catherine's head and began to untie the gag. "Promise me not a sound or word, Catherine, or I will leave this rotted rag in." Catherine nodded, saying something unintelligible into the gag. Edward unwound the gag from between Catherine's lips and threw it to the side. Catherine worked her lips and jaws. They were full, sensuous lips, like petals of a perfect red rose wanting for the bee to kiss. She did not say a word but looked at Edward with a puzzled frown. "Yes, Lady Catherine?" "You told me not to speak." "So I did." "I am doing so right now, Englishman." "Indeed." "You are a beast, Englishman. A filthy dog of the devil." Catherine's words spat, but her voice lacked the strength it did earlier. "My name is Edward de Valence, Lady Catherine, not Englishman, and I am going to be your lord and keeper until your ransom is paid. But my first chore is to find some suitable clothing for you. I cannot have you like this, though it pleases me to do so," Edward's fingers traced through Catherine's nest of dark curls. "As if, m'lord de Valence, I have a choice in this matter." "You do not, Catherine." And with those last words, Edward took the cloth curtain sash and pulled it tightly through Catherine's lips, her protesting screams muffled as Edward wound the cord around and around her head until she was fully muffled. All the while, Catherine kicked and struggled against her bindings that held her tightly. "I shall ungag you, Catherine, when I return. I will find someone to watch over you until my return. You are more valuable to me, Catherine, than you can ever know." Edward then pinched Catherine's nipples until the pain made her scream. "I shall return, my pretty ride." Edward drew the curtains around the opening, completely enclosing the bed in a musty dark. It took Edward but a moment or two to get dressed and to shut the large door behind him. Luckily, Talbot had already placed one of Edward's locks upon the door and left the key within it. With a click, Catherine would be alone in the dark, a bound prisoner of Edward's lusts. As Edward made his way down the stairs, some of his men had started ambling in and setting themselves down on the floor and closing their eyes. Edward could feel their weariness as he greeted each one with a pat or a nod or a joke. But as these small gifts of camaraderie were exchanged, all there knew of the coming hardships in breaking the other two towers. The wrestling of the bombards into place, the constant ear-numbing roar of each canon pounding shot after shot day and night and the odd arrow shot at them from the besieged. Their stay in Harfleur would not be the rest they sorely needed. Edward sought solace outside in the cold misty rain, huddled within his cloak's warm womb. As he ambled through the muddy streets, his eyes searched every cloaked person to see if was one that he needed to speak with. "M'lord de Valence?" a voice called out in back of him, a lilting, robust woman's voice that Edward knew in a moment whose it was. "Margaret!" Edward nearly yelled as he spun around to see her standing in a doorway well out of the rain. "Do not just stand there looking like a wet dog, come in, come in," she motioned. Edward rushed into the hallway, dark for lack of candlelight, however, in the doorway, Edward could make out his favorite 'washer woman'. Her hair was the pale red of sunsets and her eyes were green with laughter. She had a wide, smiling face to go with her eyes. The top of her head reached to Edward's chest, but her curves suited her well. Edward's head had rested on her ample bosom many times during many campaigns, both before and after his wife had died. Her son was one of the gunners in Edward's command. "M'lord de Valence," she smiled as she hugged him, "How I have longed to feel those arms around me again! It has been so long." "Indeed, it has been too long, my Margaret." Margaret looked into Edward's hazel eyes and saw something in there, a sullenness that made his smile bittersweet. "What is wrong, my Edward?" she asked. "Margaret," he said slowly, "I need to ask of you a favor..."

Chapter Four: Laid In Bed Majestical

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9214.txt

Frank Goldman

The Ride of Her Life

"Leila, bring me a pony, will you? I'm off to class." "Yassuh, but she a fresh 'un. Not broke in yet." The brown stabler laid aside her broom and came to the edge of the barn's yard-high platform, caressing her broad rump with her pink palms. "Tender, you know. She in for surprises here." "Well, it'll be the worse for her then, won't it? Bring her on anyway. This heat forbids walking. What gives her over to your good care so soon, Leila? Our students don't usually visit the disciplinarian on their first day." "Slapped a handler, sah, right off the train from town yesterday. Somethin' 'bout impertinence." She big menial spat out the word in a chirpy falsetto and narrowed her nostrils, affecting disdain. "Oh, wonderful. Rebellious, eh? I really haven't time to do your work for you, Leila, but if she's all you have, she'll have to do. I'll need a seat belt, I suppose, and let's use the punishment reins on this little filly, but don't produce them until she's comfortable. She might pee all over your immaculate porch at the sight of them. And I think a two-foot whalebone." "Yassuh. What size saddle?" "Has she been, ah, evacuated?" "Yassuh. She clear as a bell. And," she added slyly, "she woman-sized for her age." "Then I'll leave it to your discretion, Leila, depending on how much correction you think she needs. And spice it up. We'll give the brat a vivid memory of her first day at Spurwood." "An' how," smiled Leila. She disappeared in her bright print dress through the black aperture of the rambling structure after her freshman charge, barely creaking the dry boards of the old platform. For her not inconsiderable size Leila moved deftly. As disciplinarian of last resort in a girls' school housing only the worst of miscreants, clumsiness or indecision would have ill become her.Leila's big hands blurred at the girl's wrists and tossed their fetters aside. The slave's arms hung, still deadened, as her mistress braced and gripped her armpits, hefting her. "Slide your toes into the pedals, monkey," she commanded, "and hold the handlebars. You're going for the ride of your life." Leila didn't even grunt as she swung the girl over my head and eased her slowly down, levitating her in front of my perch. The girl's protruding ass -- big, firm, violently pinkened by Leila's preparatory paddle-swats -- rolled and dimpled no more than 18 inches from my nose as she seesawed her still-pinioned knees, searching for purchase with her feet and slowly-awakening hands. She found both, sliding her hands into the curiously-gloved sculpted handlegrips and arching her pretty toes downward into the shoe-like bike pedals. When Leila saw the girl was about to take her own weight on her feet and hands, she nodded at me and let go. We had done this before, of course, and were ready. The girl couldn't have known. Her whole body tautened and strained upward, and I heard a flatulent, sputtering whine through her butt-plug gag. I kicked closed the hinged heel-restraints on the bike pedals and heard them ratchet home over the naked girl's insteps, while Leila yanked tight her wrist-restraints, fettering the girl's hands in the closed grips. Our little miscreant wanted to jump into the next county, but she had nowhere to go. The minuscule needles carpeting the grips and pedals would have been minor irritations to a washerwoman or country girl, but they were shocking insults to leisured young city girls given to hand cream and pedicures. While too short to cause deep punctures or severe bleeding, they were sharp enough to stab and harry at tender skin, like a burr chestnut rolled between the palms. They were barely tolerable if the sufferer constantly shifted her weight between all four stinging fulcrums, as our pony was now doing, but several minutes of this defensive squirming was normally the limit before an escape was necessary. But escape to where? I knew from many previous trips on Spurwood's devilish rickshaws that sooner or later, depending on the driver's pain threshold, she simply had to distribute her weight elsewhere. This girl was already circling and squatting her magnificently rotund heart-shaped ass, frantically searching for a seat that should be, must be, somewhere under her. Still collared to her shitty muzzle, she couldn't see below or behind her, and she strained down against the bar still pinioning her knees, creaking the leather straps. What a difference, I thought appreciatively, 24 hours and a little legal leverage can make. Only yesterday at this time the little bitch before me would have disdained my admiring so much as her earrings, and she was now begging me to inspect every velvety millimeter of her exposed underside. Leila had shaved bare her soft pink pussy-cleft and convex baby-fat mons, both of which were raised up and forced rearwards, doggy-style, by her desperate attempts to arch off her needly perches. Her labia were fat and close-set, pillows of dewy denuded flesh that audibly snicked open and closed now as she struggled. The redder vaginal cusp flared reluctantly between the lips' moist aperture, narrow and velveteen, topped by a puffy hooded clitoris. Leila dropped the phallus, fixed to a sturdy pipe, into its seat tubing with her gloved hand. I tightened it down, bringing my nose within inches of our driver's still-gyrating bottom. Fully fleshed as her buttocks were, they appeared smaller once the huge dildo was affixed, stern and implacable, under them. It stood waiting, inexhaustible, its knob perhaps a foot from my jaw as I sat forward, the girl's abundant globes eddying and kissing at eyebrow level. Leila undid the bar at the pony's right knee while I unbuckled the left, and the black overseer slid the girl's fetter away, allowing her to squat even more lewdly. This she immediately did, scissoring her cramped thighs wide and splaying her asscheeks and delectable cunt down, toward the unknown. Off-center a bit, she poked the giant cock into her right buttock at first, and I watched it sink into the unresisting globe before she jerked back up, startled by the unexpected object. She experimented again, this time more slowly, and this time the cockhead bumped the perineum and slid slickly forward, nosing apart the shaven cuntlips. Again she shot up and hovered, trembling, thinking, fearing the worst. She knew suddenly what it was under her. "Phobos and Deimos," I said to Leila languidly, drinking in the impudent fatness of the 16-year-old's hesitant buttocks. "The two moons of Mars. Fear and panic. The Greeks were anything but clinical in their heavenly nomenclature." "The Greeks," Leila chortled, "are about to learn something from this girl." The girl heard, and though inexperienced sexually she must have known some sexual allusions at least. For she began to heave and snort, furiously pulling at her bonds in a tantrum-ic last-ditch bid to escape her assigned task. The bicycle shivered and squealed, and its front tire skipped and hopped in the dusty courtyard as the buck-naked girl wrestled it, trying to pedal away, to jump off, to run back into Leila's dark stable and be hanged upside down again from her knees, anything, anything but this. "Duck, professor," Leila said casually, hefting her paddle in both hands and measuring the girl's ass. I wriggled backwards in the seat and did as she said. A brown blur painted itself with a CRACK into the girl's bouncing sulcus-flesh, where buttocks cupped thighs. The impact reverberated through the bike's skeleton, and I saw the girl's ass flatten under the paddle and rebound. Leila quickly gave her another double-armed CRACK, higher up where she couldn't fully clench her jutting, deeply-set buttock crowns. The rear wheels, with my weight on them, nearly jumped off the ground. Ripples from the stroke ran round the girl's full hips, bloated as they were by the tight waist-belt, and violently jiggled her thighs. Wide bands of red pebbles leaped up and glowed where the paddle had struck. I saw the instrument fly into Leila's right hand and point at the sky just as the girl preened forward away from the bottom-punishment, her chest outthrust, her face ratcheted up in a burbling butt-plugged whine of pain. God, Leila had timing. Lips set, the black menial swatted the pony's breasts with a WHACK that spattered an echo like a damp firecracker's across the open courtyard. From behind her, I saw for an inexpressible second tit-flesh balloon under her armpits, then disappear as they bounced back. The girl spasmed. A nervous mist of urine suddenly sprayed wildly from between her legs, twirling hot droplets of pee across my pantlegs and raining down her own thighs. A helpless FART broke from her rectum and slowly keened away to a hiss with the giddy shower of pee, bathing my face with sour fruit and buttermilk odors, not entirely unpleasant. I could but imagine the effect the stroke had had on the girl's heavy and tenderized tits, ballooned and haltered as they still were by the tourniquet-like straps. "Dirty little monkey," Leila scolded, clattering the paddle onto the barn's stoop. "If you weren't already fixed, you'd lick Master off." She slid her brown hand between the girl's piss-glistened legs, mopping the acrid dew from the insides of her thighs and scooping more from her wetted sex lips. I saw her gleaming hand go gently to the girl's face, where she slowly massaged the warm urine into it, finally wiping the damp detritus on the girl's heaving and no doubt bruised breasts. We waited, saying nothing, listening to the girl's desperate nasal panting and watching her tire. She was a plucky one, I thought: no Spurwood pony in recent memory had resisted the needles quite so long. To draw her down onto the waiting phallus would have been a simple enough exercise, but coercion would make it less humiliating for the girl. Much naughtier, and I needn't add more entertaining, was to let the little bitch initiate her own anal punishment. This she did, but only after a diverting attempt, common among first-time drivers, to silently plead for softer duty. Bucking her hips back and slowly descending on the organ, she first eased the cockhead between her cuntlips and swirled the fleshy rose around its stolid eye, opening and lubricating her fat labia. Getting no immediate reprisal for this unpermitted act, she quickened her eager humps, snickering the tight glove of her young quim over the slick cock's knob. Leila laid into my outstretched right palm the familiar handle of the prescribed riding crop. A favorite of mine, it was a licky and wobbly length of cylindrical whalebone that tapered to infinity, shrunken over with drum-taut calfskin and tipped with an indestructible tassel of knotted sinew that snapped and bit like a rabid animal. I had used it often with wonderful corrective effect. I remembered a biggish new girl belted over one of our older blocks had once broken her knee restraint at this vicious crop's welcoming kisses, frantically kicking out at me with her near leg and squealing for respite, spooling out a yard-long hose of pale yellow behind her. The remaining cuts and more had searched the intimate folds her strapped legs had hidden, bucking her through the ordeal like a hornet-stung mare. I had explained to the brash young juvenile, between metronomic licks of the crop's knotted tongue, that we had reasons for restraint here at Spurwood, that our laws, like those of physics, made sense and were broken only at the rebel's misery.This lesson had been driven home by her wearing of the foreshortened knee strap as a continence belt for the rest of the term, the half-inch rawhide hiking her cervix to her stomach but for chaperoned latrine visits, carving her broad, flabby belly into mock buttocks for the amusement of all onlookers. Leila had also pierced the girl's big nipples and wired her thumbs to them, hands reverently crossed, to frustrate fidgeting and encourage contemplation of her dire plight. She had broken no more school equipment for the remainder of her stay. The squatting young miss now in front of me was also testing our laws, and would soon find them as iron as gravity's. I let her force the cockhead, not without difficulty, into her slickened and reddening pussy-purse. She bounced gently up and down on the broad mast, carefully purchasing millimeters of the head, over which her bare twat lips were gradually closing. This was the largest prong that had ever been up her -- and probably ever would be -- but it wasn't to last as long as she thought. She straddled wider and eased another several inches of the engine up her, engulfing the cockhead completely and beginning her distended slide down the bulbous prick. The muted whimpering in her throat was, I suppose, a mixture of pain, dread, and perhaps surprised relief that we were allowing her this compromise. We weren't. I let her stuff maybe half the greasy cock into her vagina, enough to unwittingly coat it with the still-dormant lubricant, before I hit her. I backhanded the loose-limbed crop into her left buttock, watching it lap a valley into the unsuspecting flesh, bite with a crisp WHICCKKK and spring back, shivering. It was little more than a reminder stroke given the awkward positioning and lack of room, but I knew it was agony for the untrained girl and that the searing pain would build and stab to a peak after a slow four count. I waited exactly that long and carved the spiny shaft harder diagonally and down across the right buttock, which was forced out against the bluish weal stitching itself over the left, now cringing doglike. The whalebone wheezed into the bouncy right rump with a raspy whine, puckering the globe and squeezing a last dry hiss of complaint from the frightened girl's bowel, vised as it was by her clenched cheeks and prodded inside by the monstrous cock. The girl didn't wait for the third stroke. She struggled off the member with an audible SSNOOOPP, squirting the black tube from her as if it were on fire. She would soon think it was. I gave the crop a practice WHEESH in the air next to her hip, signaling what further delay would bring. She lunged her anus to the cockhead and buried it immediately, the big white inverted heart of her ass spread wide open and pushing as it had never pushed, a mournful groan rising from her plugged throat. The anus widened, yielded, and clamped closed over the massive head, and Leila ordered, "Hold, girl." She was screaming now into the gag. She obeyed, while I drew the tongue of her leather garter belt through the bike's clamps and buckled them taut. She was now impaled for the remainder of the ride, try as she may, and would, to extrude the burning serpent from her. Her only "choice," could it be called that, was how many inches of the punishing seat-dildo she wanted plumbing her young belly as she pedaled. She could drive the highly-geared bike either sitting or standing, as it were, but could hold neither posture for long. She was to be a slave of Spurwood's terrain, a frequent target for the whip, a victim of the acidic venom soon to catch fire in her pussy and bowels -- in short, a very busy young lady. Spurwood's rickshaw was actually ideal training for servicing the male member. I had seen it work many times. Shy and hesitant movement on the seat-cock only slowed the driver's progress; they found within moments of departure that only rhythmic and enthusiastic pistoning on the phallus, with brief rests between, got them anywhere. We only taught our students what life would later teach them. The needles were driving her down. She had been too long on them, and must sit. She shoved half the slippery cock up her at a single ardent stroke and took the rest by fractions, bouncing and whimpering, the small of her back canyoned and her entire weight pitched into the task. I could see her bowed belly curving up beyond the oiled crotch and impossibly distended anus, and it was slowly inflating, cock-pregnant, yielding its innermost depths to the phallic burden. Have I neglected to describe the resting-place awaiting our driver? Forgive me. Imagine a broad panty-crotch extending forward from the anus and cupping the mons like a glove, a contoured pussy-nest that would bear weight long enough to relieve feet and hands. A panty-crotch whose tines fanned up and out in a concave rictus of gleaming Sheffield steel, dotted with waiting needles exactly like those the girl was escaping. Such was the unholy base of the phallus onto which she finally settled, penis-glutted, whinnying. She sat, stone-still, her knees and elbows veed up off their tormentors, her spongy crotch helplessly gripping the needled seat buried in her bare labia. I think she was truly beyond surprises by now. I stood behind her and reached down, cupping a bottom-cheek in each hand, touching her for the first time. She jerked. They were hot, a little downy, smooth but for the single welt scarring each. I yanked them apart and she grunted, settling deeper still on the rude prong up her arse. They can always take more. I put my lips to her left ear. "Get used to that plug up you, Miss," I said gently, receiving a mournful and glassy sideways stare. Her face gave off a feral odor of piss and sweat, tear-diluted. Brownish drool ran over her chin from the gag's base. "We have study desks similarly equipped," I added, "for fidgeters and slackers. I think you'll qualify for one of them." As I spoke Leila poured into my right hand a pool of light chain with two heavy rings sewn along its length. I reached around the girl's waist and palmed the metal objects, shaking out their attaching reins. Called "tit bits" for want of a better description, they were handcuff-like ovals of flat steel, hinged at their junctures and spring-loaded beyond rattrap strength. Squeezed open and pushed over the breasts until they could gather no more flesh, thin serrated jaws clamped and held upon release. The unfortunate wearer felt her teats bitten and weighed down by a pair of demonic infants starving her very chest of tender skin, voracious imps dislodged by no amount of pleading or shaking. The girl gargled on her gag and suddenly began humping the full length of the penis up her. The slumbering poison sap had awoken, goading her to desperately buck against its heat, escape it, appease it. No mercy could be found in the dumb mixture, of course, and even less in me. Ass cheeks flowered wide open, braced again on hands and feet, the squatting teen avidly rode the buttcock as if trying to exhaust it, limpen it, expel it from her burning entrails. Slucking up to its tip only to be jerked short by her gartered belt, she shook the implacable knob with her sphincter, then with a groan forced herself down its full length, bumping off the spiky base and squirting back up. The searing lotion demanded movement, the big penis punished the same; the maddened girl might as well have been tied over a block and buttfucked by our biggest field-hands, for all the choice she had in the matter -- and when she was given such duty, as she would be, she would beg for more penises and grip them gratefully lest she be returned to the pony pool. This is fact, dear reader, not conjecture. "You move that big bottom nicely, young miss," I whispered in her ear, cupping her swaying breasts with the bits, yawning now in my hands. I'm fairly strong but I always had trouble holding the things open for long. Her arse-cheeks helplessly stroked my stomach as I walked the open clamps up her tits, letting her feel the cool metal and small, sharp teeth. Her nipples were rubies poking into my palms, her aureoles hard rubber balls, her lovely breasts big honey-laden silken sacs. I put my right cheek to her left and watched her eyes, bulging and pleading, swivel down to her chest. "You'll feel a pinching, not intolerable," I told her quietly, "and when I release the pedals of this conveyance, you will take us to class. We will encounter various forks in the path en route, and I shall direct you with a tug to your right or left breast. You will stop, for as long as I desire, when I pull on both. The scenery along the way, for myself at least, is quite entrancing and deserves leisurely study. Try to ignore the whipstrokes to your bare bottom. They mean nothing, other than that I enjoy whipping you. A vial of ammonium spirits in my possession will ensure that we reach our destination, should you think fainting will relieve you of duty. Oh, and your first act in class," I concluded, "will be to relieve me with your mouth, on your knees in front of your fellow students. And if you miss so much as a drop while swallowing, you'll get today's duty for the next week. Am I understood?" She shook her head "Yes" violently, whimpering assent loudly though the cock-gag, her eyes pleading into mine. "Good," I answered, and released the bits. They jumped from my hands and instantly the girl's two breasts were four, each cleft in half and bubbled into two smaller globes, punctuated by the steel teeth. I heard the faint metallic creak of springs as the jaws settled into their soft pillows, and the girl's outer globes began to pout and slowly turn upward, distorted pink fruit seeking the sun. I knew, if she didn't, that the outer halves would be as purple as King Henry's robe by journey's end.She kinked her elbows in as far as her fetters allowed and hunched her shoulders down, trying to mitigate the bits' fresh steel bite compounding the dull ache of her chest strap. Her lips were drawn back now in a concentrated trembling frown, a hint of pearly teeth showing where they clenched the butt plug's base. I eased back into the rickshaw, looping the girl's reins loosely in my hands, holding the crop in my right. I gave an investigatory tug on each and felt a springy rebound, hearing her grunt gutturally. She was sitting again, the spikes spearing her pussy, the wooden meatus up her ass to its last millimeter. A steady river of sweat ran down her back and bathed her bare buttocks, dribbling off her into the dust. "It's been... interesting, Leila," I told the overseer, who was standing and smiling at the girl, arms crossed and paddle held high like a standard. "We'll see you this evening, after the young vixen here has been soundly lectured in Spurwood comportment." "Ah think she done already been," Leila laughed, picking up her bag and turning for the stable.

The Continuing Saga of Spurwood Girls' School

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7819.txt

Jan V.

SISTERS

"Nikki, come to me... Come to me..." a female voice implored. Nikki couldn't say who was calling her so desperately. The girl's face would sometimes materialize in her mind, or dissolve in the next moment as mist on a sunny day. Nikki reached out for the other girl, but their fingers never touched, as if an invisible wall stood between them. Nikki screamed, calling for the girl, who resembled her in so many ways. Her heart beat faster, and she could feel the acid accumulating in her lungs and muscles, because the other girl kept falling and falling... away from her... Nikki woke up, startled, confused, her eyes becoming acquainted with the darkness of her surroundings. She realized she was at the beach house, in her bedroom, and that she had had a bad dream. The other girl in her dream was Linda, she decided, as she stared at her sister. Linda was still sleeping, wearing her usual T-shirt - she hated pajamas! - her long curls swept across her back. Linda's right leg was bent and naked, teasing the T-shirt upward, and the sheet away from her body. Seeing this, Nikki became again excited with desire. The craving for Linda's kisses returned, making her lips dry. Nikki recalled how Big Sis now avoided the slightest physical contact between them if she happened to be close together. If confronted with what had happened on Saturday evening, Linda reiterated that it wasn't right, that it had all been a mistake, her mistake. Nikki had tried to reason with her, but Big Sis wouldn't stay and listen to her arguments. The twins had ruined everything, especially Zoe. In spite of Zoe's big mouth, Linda had managed to prevent a major earthquake at home. As always, Big Sis got her own way, talking Zoe into silence - but for how long? The twins were still mad at them, although for different reasons. Jeannie was jealous of what Linda and she had, which was... nothing; and Zoe was jealous of what might happen between her twin sister and Linda, which was NOTHING, either. Nikki shook her head, getting out of bed, discarding the feeling that their lives were turning into one of those TV soap operas she hated so much. Living the lives of others was not her idea of fun. She was a doer, not a dreamer... If she wanted something, she would do (almost) anything to get it. Linda had taught her to chase after her dreams and fight for her happiness. But what would Big Sis say about her daydreams right now? Making as little noise as possible, Nikki washed herself and dressed, wearing her bikini under her beach shorts and her sleeveless, top-cropped T-shirt. She went downstairs, turning on the lights of a deserted kitchen. It was 7:45 AM., too early even for Dad if he didn't have to leave for work. It was Spring Break and Dad had taken a few days off his busy-busy schedule to stay with his wife and kids. He was to leave on Wednesday as he had an important meeting waiting for him in Houston, Texas. Mom would then take off for Palm Springs with a friend of hers and, as usual, would only be back a couple of days later. 'Just as well,' Nikki thought. 'At least we can do whatever we want.' Spring Break ended next Sunday, Nikki realized as she walked out of the back door, breathing in the fresh air of a lovely morning. She stretched herself out in Dad's lawn chair, and at that moment she wished she had a pet, a dog or a bunny, something she could call her own. Mom wouldn't allow any living animal at home, though, because pets were messy and smelled. Mom was commanding and stubborn as hell, and so was Linda. That's why Linda and Mom couldn't get along - they were too alike. Nikki rubbed her tanned, slender legs, as a chill had run through her body. Although the morning was sunny and soothingly warm, she shivered now and then. Her hands rested on her thighs, while desire was oozing between her legs. She didn't care much for self-relief. It felt too selfish and lonely. There were, however, times when she couldn't resist it, bringing herself to a very satisfying orgasm. She hated to deal with the guilt afterwards, though. When she was just six, Mom had caught her masturbating against Mr. Tom, her favorite teddy bear. Mom pulled her up and smacked her bottom, screaming at her in front of Anita about what a "bad girl" she was. Mom took Mr. Tom away and Nikki hadn't seen him since. Many years later, Linda told her she shouldn't feel guilty about rubbing herself off. If she felt like it, she should do it, and to hell with what Mom thought. "And do you do it?" Nikki had asked. "Yes, of course... Most folks do but won't admit it." Linda squeezed her hand, assuring her it was OK what she felt. Notwithstanding Linda's assurances, Nikki was unable to shake off her uneasiness about masturbation. Mom's screaming and her public humiliation came back to haunt her and to ruin all the pleasure she had just experienced. The funny thing was that she didn't feel any guilt whatever about making love with Linda... No, on the contrary. She felt liberated, safe, and out of harm's way. Linda gave her strength, because Big Sis loved her. That Saturday evening, Linda had told her so.... Her heart thumped harder. Nikki felt where her heart should be with her right hand and wondered whether she was falling in love with Linda. Linda... She was so beautiful, so strong... 'I love her,' she realized, feeling sudden warmth in her cheeks, surprised by the depth of her feelings. But Linda was her sister... How could she feel this way? How could she? Nikki heard the back door opening and shutting. It was Dad, wearing his red turtleneck, which clashed visibly with his oversized khaki shorts. Puffing at his pipe, he greeted her and asked how she felt. Nikki went through the motions, engaging in a conversation she was rather uncomfortable with. She wondered whether he would ask about Zoe and Linda, and what Zoe wanted to tell him. Nikki noticed how carefully he trod with his questioning, maneuvering their conversation into that very subject. Fortunately, Linda barged into the back yard, just in time, as if Big Sis had seen it coming. That morning's glorious weather gained sudden priority in Dad's speech, and it remained so until he walked back into the house, leaving the two girls by themselves. Hesitantly Nikki turned her face to Linda, who had stretched herself out on a lawn chair next to hers. Linda had her eyelids closed, enjoying the sunshine. She wore her usual dark yellow T-shirt and her very short, snug black shorts. Without even noticing, Nikki's eyes scanned her sister's breasts and her brawny, yet feminine long legs. That familiar wetness returned, the reactions of her sex putting her to the blush. As if Big Sis had noticed her stare, Linda opened her eyes and faced her. "I almost don't recognize you." "What?" "Getting up so early is not exactly what you do on a regular basis." "I couldn't sleep... Anyway I want to go to the beach early." "Do you miss the guys that much?" Nikki observed her sister more closely, trying to discern whether that remark was out of jealousy or was just plain old Linda cracking jokes. "No," Nikki said, shaking her head and averting Linda's staring. That remark made her terribly sad, although she couldn't say why. "I don't want to go to the promenade... not today. I know this beach, a few miles from here... We could take your Jeep and go there, for a change." "Sounds good to me," Linda replied, shutting her eyes and facing the morning sun again. "Let's hope the twins'll think the same."Nikki drew breath to say thanks but decided against it when she exhaled. She could feel Linda wanted some distance. Giving an answer would violate her sister's wistful mood. After some discussion with the twins, they chose a spot near the sand dunes and away from the waveline. Since they were going to sunbathe topless, the dunes would offer protection from curious ogling, should people appear on the beach. As she slipped off her T-shirt and shorts, Nikki's eyes moved away from Linda's body. The tension of excitement had announced its presence between her legs as soon as she saw Linda's naked breasts and her beautiful, slender body. Fortunately, Big Sis seemed unaware of her staring, busy as she was with the oiling of her own arms and ample chest. Although topless sunbathing was a rare event for them, their tan lines were almost invisible. They all wore expensive bikinis which allowed most of the UV light through. They had bought them in an exclusive boutique in Beverly Hills, owned by a man who did his best to look like David Niven and sound as savvy as a college professor. Linda handed the sunblock over to Nikki and asked her how she knew about this secluded beach. It was because of Jim Tatum, Nikki explained. She met Jim at Lana Martin's party. He was a college freshman at the time, nicely built, with strong shoulders and arms but hardly the typical UCLA jock. He had a way with words, which reminded her of Linda, and a gleaming two-wheeled import that would sweep any teenage girl off her feet with its powerful roar of an angry, thirsty engine. In the beginning, she declined his invitations to go for a ride. Jim Tatum scared her somehow. On the other hand, she was curious as to what it would feel like riding on a bike like that, feeling the wind in her hair, leaning against a guy a lot of girls would kill to be friends with. In the end, Lana whisked her doubts away, and she accepted Jim's idea of a thrilling date. And thrilling it was… She had screamed and laughed when Jim accelerated and negotiated a tight turn at full speed. The ocean stretched away into a cloudless horizon at their right, and huge boulders of hard rock cropped out at their left, giving them no chance if Jim lost control of his roaring bike. After a long ride, he took her to this secluded beach, and soon enough he kissed her and made the first moves for them to make out. Nikki pushed him away firmly, looking at him sharply and making it clear she was not going to have sex with him. Besides, she was seeing Craig Worell and she didn't intend to cheat on her boyfriend. Jim got mad, standing up and throwing some curses at the wind, while his hand brushed back his light brown hair. Eventually, he brought her home, without saying another word or looking at her directly again. Fortunately, she hadn't seen him since. Linda smiled at Nikki's story of failed seduction and looked at the breakers that kept rolling onto the sand. Again, Nikki had to tear her eyes off Linda's tanned body. Big Sis's breasts were like a magnet. She didn't mean to stare like a sex-starved boy, but every time she looked at Linda's body, the overwhelming emotions of their lovemaking washed over her like a gigantic wave. Those feelings wreaked havoc with her determination to respect her sister's decision to put an end to the sexual nature of their relationship. She swallowed and sighed, exerting herself to keep the tears from flowing. If only she could find a way to make her sister understand it was OK for them to make love, she wondered. If they wanted to, why not? Because they were sisters? And if she were a guy, would Linda have less qualms about making love? Nikki took her turn at applying the sunblock. The twins were just a few feet away from her, giggling and playing with their own bottle of sunblock, spreading the oily liquid on each other. They avoided the other's breasts as though it were understood that their small chests were forbidden territory. Seeing Zoe and Jeannie in such a playful mood, touching each other's bodies freely, it became clear to Nikki how much she wanted Linda. The twins didn't have to deal with the frustration she felt. Done with the sunblock, Nikki let the bottle drop in Linda's jute bag and walked over to the waveline. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the moisture with her fingertips, and hugging herself. She looked at the ocean and the waves and the birds and the infrequent yachts that lazily cruised on the water. The water felt cold on her feet. Nikki let the waves bury her feet under the sand, pretending not to hear the twins' playful giggling. They were wrestling, Nikki guessed without looking back. They would soon come and dive into the sea, and wash the sand off their bodies. After a few minutes of high-pitched giggling and screaming, Zoe's and Jeannie's voices came closer. As Nikki foresaw, her younger sisters ran into the water, disappearing under a wave and surfacing a couple of feet further away from the beach. Jeannie waved her to join them, but Nikki turned her down. Nikki didn't feel like getting wet. She looked back, taking a fleeting glance at Linda. Linda lay flat on her beach towel, ignoring the twins' monkeyshines. "The water's freezing," Zoe said, making her way back to the beach, trembling. Without paying attention to Nikki, Zoe returned to the sand dunes to fetch her towel and dry herself off. Jeannie stayed in the water a little while longer. Then she swam to the beach, got to her feet, and walked over toward Nikki. All of a sudden, Jeannie kicked in the water, splashing her sister silly, causing Nikki to withdraw to a safer, drier spot on the sand. Her sense of relief didn't last long as a pair of strong hands took hold of her arms, pushing her toward Jeannie. "Linda!" Nikki cried out with surprise in her eyes. "Yes, that's me," Linda laughed. "I'm joining the fun, Sis." Before Nikki could say a thing, another spatter of sea water was kicked at her by Jeannie, who was laughing as boisterously as Linda. Reacting as fast as she could, Nikki ducked and wriggled herself free from Linda's firm clasp, and dived into the water. "Hey, that's not fair," Nikki complained, swimming away from her sisters. "I'm always alone against all of you." "That's what lazybones get sooner or later," Jeannie cracked. "I'm not lazy." "You're not?" Jeannie said, savoring the irony with her lips. Linda and Jeannie sat down on the sand, the water caressing their feet. They were still grinning at each other and then at Nikki. Nikki joined them, settling down beside Big Sis and keeping her eyes open, watchful for any sign of Linda or Jeannie wanting another bout of wrestling. No words were exchanged. The three of them just listened to the sounds of the sea and the birds hovering overhead. Nikki wondered if Jeannie's horseplay was a kind of conciliatory gesture, an attempt to prevent further distrust and friction between them. Unlike Zoe, Jeannie was not a rancorous girl. Jeannie could fly into a rage but she was usually the one to raise the white flag first. Then Nikki's eyes fell on Big Sis, to examine her absent look with her green eyes lost in the distance. Nikki wanted to ask Big Sis what she was thinking about, but Jeannie's presence dissuaded her from such a dangerous line of questioning. In spite of Nikki's silence, it seemed as though Linda had noticed Nikki's staring. Linda stood up and brushed the sand off her bikini bottom. "I'd better go," she said, "or Zoe might think we don't like to be around her any more." "She could've joined us," Nikki retorted. "Yes, Nikki, she could've. But Zoe's still pissed off and you know that." Nikki shrugged as her big sister left. She didn't want to think about the reasons for Linda's bluntness and Zoe's reticence. The sexual ghost still hovered above their heads, just like a seagull searching for the right moment to dive and catch its prey. Nikki couldn't accept that sex had ruined everything between Big Sis and herself. That simply couldn't be true. "Nikki?" "Yes?" Nikki replied, brushing her hair away from her face and looking at her youngest sister. "Don't be sad," Jeannie said, sliding closer and resting her hand on Nikki's. "Zoe and I, we talked last night… I guess… we overreacted. I mean, it's not every day that… You know what I mean." Nikki took a good look at Jeannie, observing her face and appraising the sincerity of her sister's words. "You mean you're not angry with Linda any more?" "I figured, what's the use… I…" Jeannie looked away, her mouth half open. She just interrupted herself as if unable to put her feelings into words. Then she added, "I still don't know… what's going on. It's-" "-so overwhelming," Nikki helped. "Yes," Jeannie nodded, taking a deep breath. She smiled a little smile and went on, "Linda is… so…" "…overwhelming," Nikki helped Jeannie once again. They both laughed, looking at each other. Nikki put her other hand on Jeannie's hand, feeling deeply connected with her youngest sister. Nikki could see that Jeannie understood her because she felt the same about Linda. And that was amazing, so unreal and unbelievable… But who wouldn't fall in love with Linda? Who? "And Zoe? I think she's still mad at us." Jeannie licked her dry lips, removing her hand from Nikki's and encircling her legs. "You know how Zoe is. I'm working on her, though." "You think she's gonna tell?" Jeannie shrugged, rising to her feet. "I think we should go. I think Linda's calling us." Nikki stood up and followed Jeannie silently, her hands sweeping the sand away and adjusting her bikini bottom. She chose to forget that depressing subject altogether. It was a downer, definitely, and the last thing she wanted was to feel sad. She was young, damn it, and she wanted to have FUN! * * * Three crazy days went by.Linda was drinking too much too fast and to such an extent that Jeannie wondered whether they would get arrested for breach of public order and carrying fake IDs. On top of everything else, Linda was flirting with Mr. Cool totally uninhibitedly, as she never did before. What was she trying to prove? That she was not a lesbian? On Friday night, Linda told Jeannie she was sick of the resort and was thinking about leaving the beach house and going back home. Linda missed Rick and wanted to be with him. The next morning, despite the sunny and pleasant weather, the girls returned to L.A. Jeannie felt some relief, as if Linda's decision was the first step for a healthier attitude toward life. However, Jeannie's optimism was soon put to the test. She sensed something was wrong with Big Sis. The slightest provocation was enough for Linda to lash out in a fury. Her remarks became blunter, and often downright cruel. Linda would apologize, but often too late to prevent retaliation from Nikki or Zoe. All this tension had almost reached breaking point when Linda stayed out all night, returning home completely drunk. Dad grounded her for a fortnight and forbade her to see Rick ever again. As always, Rick took the blame for Linda's rebelliousness, Jeannie thought, sighing. Zoe gloated over this state of affairs, Jeannie recalled, as if Linda's house arrest made them even. Jeannie thought her twin's reaction mean and insensitive, and as a result they didn't speak to each other for days. Zoe spent most of her free time with Joey Hernandez, a guy in her class she was seeing quite regularly. In turn, Jeannie would go out with Janey Manson (not related to Chad Manson) and Brittany McGuire, two girls she had met at the tryouts for the cheerleader squad. In spite of Brittany's failure to make the squad, the three of them became good friends. Fortunately, it didn't take long for Brittany to find out her new love - to draw funnies for the school's newsletter. Zoe tried one day to bury the hatchet. Jeannie was getting ready for bed when she heard Zoe enter the bedroom they shared. Their bedroom in L.A. resembled their sleeping quarters at the beach house, except it was roomier and more sober-looking. Instead of the posters and pennants, there were "boring" oils that Mom had chosen for them. As at the beach house, their bedroom had its private bathroom with its door opening into a small hallway, which in turn connected their bedroom to the main hall upstairs. Because of this layout, Jeannie hadn't seen Zoe breeze into the bathroom; though she could hear someone brushing their teeth, and the water running in the washbowl. When the noises stopped, Jeannie pulled up the covers and shut her eyes. She heard light footsteps approaching and heading for her sister's side of the room. Then she heard the rustling of someone getting undressed. At this point, there was a long pause. Jeannie waited for the familiar sound of Zoe slipping into her pajamas but no such thing happened - only silence. She waited a while longer until her curiosity got the better of her. Jeannie opened her eyes and turned to see her sister sitting on the edge of her bed, her head low, and her long tresses hiding most of her naked body. Zoe was scratching her knee when she looked up and met Jeannie's stare. "What's up?" Zoe shrugged, twisting her mouth slightly. She looked away for a moment and then faced her twin again, her teeth gnawing at her lips. There was a deep sigh and another pause. When Jeannie was about to speak, Zoe said, "You're right... about Linda... I had no right to say what I said." "Do you mean that?" "Yeah... I do. I just... want us to make up. I can't stand this any more. It seems that everybody went crazy in this house." "That's true," Jeannie agreed, making it her turn to look away, sighing, her eyes staring blankly at the window. She scratched her head and her hand swept a thin strand of hair over her ear. "You still think about... don't you?" Jeannie blinked as if she hadn't understood what her sister meant. She was about to deny it when her head nodded. "I can't help it... I really can't help it." And as unexpectedly as a thief in the night, tears welled up in her eyes. She began to sob out loud, feeling a longing inside her she couldn't quite understand. Her heart ached and her body shook as if from cold. Jeannie sniffled, her breathing slightly heavier than normal. As she wiped her eyes dry, Zoe settled down next to her. "How'd you know?" "I see how you look at Linda. You should be more careful... Other people might guess it, too." Utter fear hit Jeannie in the face, gasping for breath. "What do you mean? I'm not that obvious... I mean... If you hadn't brought it up I wouldn't-" "Next time just pay attention to how Nikki stares at Linda when no one is looking. You do the same, Jeannie... I think sometimes Nikki and you don't even notice it... but I do. It's seems as though everybody is in love with her in this goddam house." "Stop blaming her, Zoe... Nothing happened against our will." "But she should know better. She's older than you two. She should act her age. She's always tried to be in control, as if she was our mother. But she isn't, Jeannie. She isn't." "I know that," Jeannie replied, letting her irritation show. "I'm sorry... I'm really tired and I wanna get some sleep." "OK," Zoe said, retreating to her own bed. "Just think about it." As night darkened their room, Jeannie's pupils widened, her eyes adapting to the weakening light outside. She couldn't sleep. Her sister's words were hammering away in her head. She kept asking herself whether Zoe could be right. Was her fascination for Linda that obvious? No, that couldn't be true. Mom and Dad would've noticed otherwise... Or maybe not. Mom and Dad appeared to live in another world, dealing with them on a different wavelength. Jeannie began entering into a dream world that drew her away into strange landscapes bathed in moonlight and soft voices. A female hand touched her and she trembled. There were screams followed by a long pause. A baby cried and then laughed... After that, only silence... NEXT: CHAPTER FIVE: Surrender

FOUR: Frustration

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13231.txt

Charles Thain

My Weekend in Portland

"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. "No," 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. "Mmm," 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 pressing its way 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 flattened 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.

Chapter 21 of 30

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8681.txt

Mark Aster

The Storm

"Crash! Crack-crack-CRA-CRAASSH!!" This burst of thunder was even louder than the last, and the rain, already coming down in solid sheets, somehow fell even harder. The windshield wipers might as well have been off. Julie had opened her window a crack, just for a second, to try to read a road sign, and now her hair was wet and plastered across her forehead in a way I would have found cute and sexy if I hadn't been so annoyed. "Well," she said over the thunder and the rain, "we can't see, we don't know where we are, we don't have very much gas left, and I think the radio said something about tornadoes just before it died." She managed to grin. "Right about now, there should be a big bolt of lightning that outlines a really creepy-looking old house on a hilltop, with at least two pointy towers on the corners." I grunted, and tried to drive. Julie pouted. We were somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The people at our destination expected us vaguely "sometime before Friday", which meant that if we sank into the mud, they wouldn't even start looking for our entombed bodies for two or three days. When the big bolt of lightning did come, the house that it outlined wasn't particularly old or creepy-looking, but we made for it as quickly as your standard B-movie guy and gal. The engine died just as we pulled into the driveway. As I waded up the walk to the front door, another bolt of lightning showed me that, except for being in the middle of nowhere and apparently having no neighbors of any kind, the house would have been at home in any suburb in North America. And the couple that answered my knock and generously invited us in were as nondescript as their house. He, Jack, helped me bring our most necessary bags in from the car, and she, June, put on some tea, and found Julie some towels. "The radio says it won't be safe to drive until at least the morning; we can put you two up in the guest room, if you don't mind some clutter." We didn't mind; we sank into chairs and drank tea, and tried to strike that delicate balance between gratitude and grovelling worship. It was good to be inside. As I adjusted to not driving, not squinting, and not being on the edge of panic, I began to notice our hostess. She was not quite the generic suburban woman I had first thought I'd seen; her hair was long and lustrous, her body full and interesting in a loose casual dress that showed considerable bust and legs. The more I studied her, and I could not help but study her, the more fascinated I became. The rise and fall of her breasts under her clothing was palpable, absorbing, erotic. I took my teacup back into the kitchen. I had just rinsed it out and put it down beside the sink when I realized she was in the room with me, behind me, her clothing rustling against her skin, her breathing loud in the enclosed space. I turned, and her arms were around me, her mouth on mine, her lips opening to admit my tongue. I pressed myself against her, feeling her firm breasts against my chest, and her thighs parted around my right leg, her body rubbing against me. We kissed passionately and long, our tongues dancing together, eyes closed. She moaned deep in her throat, and her hand slipped between us to caress my body. Then she was gone. I stopped to get my breath, and stepped back into the living room. Julie and the man of the house were sitting and talking about nothing. June was also there, seated calmly with her tea, as though she had not just been with me in the next room, her lush and willing body in my arms. I sat down. We all talked companionably, but I have forgotten every word of the conversation. My eyes were drawn irresistibly to June in her chair, sipping her tea, her eyes meeting mine now and again as the rain pounded down outside. Was there lust and fire there, or just a reflection of the lamp light? Was it an accident that her knees faced me, her legs slightly spread, the warm dimness of her thighs and her panty open to my eyes? Was it normal that her hands seemed to play over her chest, pressing her dress against her breasts, framing her curves and the points of her nipples with her long slender fingers? Eventually, we all went upstairs, and Jack and June showed us the guestroom. Julie and I sat down on the double bed, not talking, unpacking a few things and then sitting in silence, in our damp clothes. Jack and June came back into the corridor, to say goodnight. Outside, the thunder boomed, and the wind rattled a shutter. June was wearing a long translucent nightgown with buttons down the front. She seemed to me naked, more than naked, every curve of her body clear to me. I thought with surprise how much she looked like Pat, Julie's older sister. Jack, in pajamas and a loose smoking jacket, said a polite goodnight to Julie. "Thank you so much!" said Julie, in an oddly strained voice. "Don't mention it," said June, "if there's anything at all we can do for you, just let us know." "Jack," said Julie, "what I'd really like is for you to let me take your cock in my mouth and suck you until you're stiff and hard, and then for you to fuck me until I scream, and you come inside me." I looked over at her; she was standing staring at Jack, looking nervous but hopeful, ignoring June and me in the hall beside her. I turned to June, trying to think of something to say to cover Julie's incredible statement. Her eyes met mine, and all I could think of was her body in my arms in the kitchen. I took a step toward her, and stopped. "I," I stammered, "I want to open your gown and bury myself in your sweet naked body." She smiled and stepped up to me, raising her face to mine as, in the corner of my vision, Jack kissed Julie hard on the mouth, and started undoing her shirt with his hands. June's lips burned mine like holy fire; my cock was instantly erect and throbbing in my pants as I ran my hands up and down her back through the thin fabric of her nightgown. All four of us, variously entwined, moved into the bedroom. I sat on the bed, June standing between my knees, her marvelous body close to me. Her fragrance was hot and musky. I slid my hands over her hips and around behind her, caressing the luscious globes of her ass. My fingers sinking into her flesh, I pulled her body toward me. I buried my face in the rounded receptive softness of her gown, her breasts on either side of my forehead, my hands squeezing her upper thighs. She ran her fingers through my hair and sighed. Jack lay back on the bed, and Julie hungrily opened his robe and ran her hands over him. There was a click, just audible over the rain, as she undid his pajamas and freed his cock. It was an average cock, no bigger than mine; Julie took it in her hands and began to stroke, and Jack's body arched, his hips thrusting at her. I moved one hand up June's back, forward over her side, up to her throat, and began to unbutton her nightgown. The buttons were small ivory discs, smooth and cool under my fingers. As each one came undone, more of her hot voluptuous body was naked before me, and my heartbeat sped up another notch. My other hand mindlessly caressed her legs through the fabric, raw pleasure running up from my palm into my brain. Julie's moist pink mouth was open, her tongue out and licking Jack's erect cock with long ardent strokes. He moaned and stretched himself out on the bed, his hands playing over her face and her small bare breasts as his cock swelled larger and harder. June leaned toward me as I sat worshipping her body on the bed. Her mouth closed over mine for a long moment, and then she took her breasts in her hands and offered them to me, and I kissed them and sucked the perfect erect brown nipples. My hands went to her shoulders, smooth warm shoulders, and slid her nightgown off of her; it drifted down her body and onto the floor, and she stepped out of it, lowering herself onto the bed over me, my mouth still on her breasts. I could hear my heartbeat loud in my ears as thunder crashed again.Julie slid her lips around the head of Jack's cock and began to suck, her cheeks pinching inwards as she took the throbbing staff in and out of her mouth and throat. Jack's hands closed on her shoulders, guiding her head up and down over him. June sighed long and luxuriously as she spread her thighs over me, supporting herself on her arms as I squeezed and licked the hot flesh of her big breasts. Then she reached down between us and finally undid my pants and tore them off. She slid back up, her body close to mine, her skin sliding over my aching penis, tears leaking from it onto the perfect skin of her chest, her stomach, her hips. She lowered herself onto me, and as she thrust her tongue into my mouth again, my cock went between her thighs, and she pressed against it with her pussy; I could feel the heat and wetness there as my staff slid over her outer lips. I pushed my tongue into her mouth, and she groaned and sucked on it. Julie's head moved faster over Jack's body, and her hands squeezed his slick cock and warmed his balls. Then he pushed her away from him. She stood up and undid her jeans, sliding them down her lovely long legs, sliding her panties down off of her marvelous ass, and standing before him, naked except for her open shirt. He stood, kissed her deeply on the mouth, and then lowered her on her back on the bed. He put his hands on her calves and pressed her legs up against her chest, knees spread, her wet yearning pussy exposed to him. He slid his body forward over her. June opened her thighs still wider, and the tip of my cock nudged at her cunt, waves of pleasure coursing though my body from the sweet weight of her, naked on top of me. My staff was ramrod stiff and throbbing almost painfully, and I wanted to bury it deep inside her. Her eyes were closed, her face calm but flushed, as she moved her body on mine. Jack pushed his cock suddenly and quickly into Julie's body, and I heard her gasp and moan as he began to pump. His breathing was heavy as he forced his penis deep into her cunt, then tore it out, and slammed it back in again. Her moans were high-pitched little cries, her eyes were closed, her hands clutched at his sides. She spread her knees still further apart, opening herself and letting him pound deeper and deeper into her. Jack's wife thrust slowly with her hips, and her cunt wetly enveloped my cock, then released it. She moved again, and I thrust against her, penetrating another inch into her vagina. Her mouth opened as she rocked, drawing my staff deeper into herself with each stroke. Then I was far inside her, and her hips moved more urgently, less controlled, and she lowered herself, her head beside mine, and her mouth kissed and bit at my neck. Her hips rose and fell, and her cunt, deep and hot, sucked and pulled at my penis, sending intense bursts of pain, pleasure, and mindless desire through my body. Julie screamed as her muscles spasmed helplessly and she came under Jack's relentless thrusting. He continued to fuck her, pressing her legs against her body, ramming his cock in and out of her wide open pussy, grunting and groaning as he took his pleasure from her. Her eyes rolled up in their sockets as her ass was forced into the mattress by the weight of his body. June's lips closed on my neck as her cunt slid unbearably sweet up and down my staff, impaling herself over and over, faster and deeper, and she came again and again, long and shudderingly, and my pelvic muscles contracted and lances of feverish ecstasy shot through me. Jack yelled and grabbed Julie's head as he came, Julie screamed as he filled her with cum, and I cried out as I also came, hot white cream spilling in streams into June's hot insatiable cunt. As I came, I felt my mind slipping away, and even before June lifted herself off of me, I was asleep. In the middle of the night, I awoke to find her naked body stretched out on the bed beside me, and I took her nipples again into my mouth. I licked her breasts, her neck, the soft curve of her stomach. I rubbed my fingers over her mons and the sweet slit between her thighs, and covered the bare skin of her torso with long hot kisses. Beside me, Julie and Jake moaned together as his cock once again penetrated her body, and the bed creaked with their fucking. June pulled me on top of her and guided my cock between her legs, and her orgasms again were long and wild, and my cock burst painfully and ecstatically inside her, and again I fell asleep beside Julie's naked exhausted body before Jack and June had left the bed. I don't know if it happened again, and again, before morning, or if I just dreamed it, dreamed of my mouth and my cock rubbed raw over June's smooth hungry flesh, Julie's cries more and more despairing as Jack entered her again and again. In the morning, I found myself suddenly bolt upright in bed, staring into Julie's eyes. Outside, the sun was rising in a clear cloudless sky. We both rose quickly, silently, and gathered up our things. We threw ourselves into yesterday's clothes, picked up our bags, and raced down the corridor. The house was quiet; we might have been the only occupants. The walls, the floor, the doors, seemed to flow and change as we hurried oblivious past them. Was there really no furniture in any of the rooms? Was the living room really bare and empty? We were out the door without noticing. We were in the car, and it started, and we were driving down the road. We crested a hill, and we were out of sight of the house. I pulled over to the side of the road. Julie and I turned toward each other again. After a moment, we were in each other's arms, hugging and kissing, and tears were running down Julie's face. I pulled her against me so hard it must have hurt, but she just hugged back, each of us clinging to the solid familiar reality of the other. Then we moved apart, just our hands touching. At that moment, there was a crash from the valley behind us, a boom, a final clap of thunder from the cloudless sky, the sound of a forest collapsing, and I felt a rush of heat, of desire, of blood and joy, and my cock twitched in my pants. "We should go see what that was," said Julie. "Go see the place in the daylight, maybe figure out what happened," I added. "Right, we should." But we didn't. We drove on down the road, to the obvious turnoff that we'd missed the night before. Found a gas station, filled up the tank. And then we drove away together, over the hills, under the clear and cloudless sky. My Friends the Allens -- The Storm by Mark Aster The End

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14479.txt

Don Quixote

The Suit

"Hello? Is anybody here?" She took a step down the dark passage. "Hello?" Her voice echoed down the passage. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up, and she was very nervous. She turned around, but the heavy oak door behind her was still locked. She turned back to the passage and tried to peer into the darkness. Her hands were covering her naked body defensively, and she could feel her arms shivering in the cold, damp air. What was going on here? Where was she? She slowly started walking down the passageway, her naked feet shuffling along over the damp stones. For a long while, she shuffled along in the dark, her fear slowly growing. After what seemed like years, she finally spotted a faint light in the distance. She quickened her pace and walked up to a single candle burning on a lone table. She looked around and was amazed to see the floor stretching away to infinity. During her walk in the dark, she must've entered a large cavern or something. "Hello?" she shouted, surprised at how small and desolate her voice sounded. A cold shiver went down her back, and suddenly she wanted to be anywhere but that cavern. She stood around for a few seconds, confused and lost. The candle was nailed down onto the table, and despite her best efforts, she couldn't dislodge it. Finally, she gave up and looked around desperately. She took a few steps and turned around. Which direction had she come from? She took another few steps, changed her mind, and set off in a different direction. Suddenly, she felt something light and sticky cling to her face and hair, and she gave a small shriek of surprise. She reeled back in disgust as her waving hands met a thick spider's web. She scratched and pulled at the hundreds of sticky strands, which quickly covered her head and hair. She turned around and fled back to the candle, dragging a net of thin wires along with her. Back at the candle, she tried desperately to rid herself of the web, but for every one she managed to dislodge, a hundred others found a place to stick. Realizing that she was fighting a losing battle, she gave up and headed off in a new direction. This time, she managed to walk quite a distance before she encountered another web. As before, she scratched and clawed at the web, but it quickly enveloped her in its fine strands. She backed off, but this time, she could feel that the strands were anchored to something on the floor. She fought the strands, but it was like fighting mist; she could break a single strand quite easily, but the whole clung to her like glue. She could feel the panic rising, and she pulled back, trying to get back to the light. The strands stretched as she pulled on them, allowing her to go without actually releasing her. It felt as if she was dragging a weight behind her as she tried desperately to get back to the distant candle. She stumbled into another web, and she was quickly covered in a whole new set of strands. Again, she pulled, and again, she felt the strands resist as she was anchored to a second point on the floor. Every part of her was being covered with silk, and it felt as if she'd fallen into a pot of syrup. She fought valiantly, but the combined weight of the two strands was getting to her, and already, she could feel herself growing tired. Before long, she'd stumbled into a third and then a fourth web, each one keeping her anchored to a different part of the floor. She was now in a full-blown panic attack, crying and shrieking as her hands and feet worked to free her from the sticky mess. The pull was too much to resist, and she stumbled backwards into the darkness, right into yet another web, then another and another. Pretty soon, she was standing in the middle of a dozen webs, each one pulling her body in a different direction. She screamed in despair, but her mouth and face were being covered by the strands, and the sound came out muffled. The more she fought, the less movement she had, and in desperation, she felt her hands and arms being pinned against her sides. She twisted and turned her body, but all it did was to wrap the strands around her like a cocoon. After a few minutes, she was almost completely immobile, and it was a battle just to keep her balance. She stood quietly, her chest heaving as she rested. Suddenly, she heard a light, feminine giggle off to her left. She twisted her head to see who it was, but could make out nothing in the dark. Something gave a hard tug on the strands from the right, and she gave another muffled scream as she almost fell over. Her whole body was shivering with fear, but there was nothing she could do. Suddenly, she heard a strange clicking sound approach her from behind, and she froze, her eyes darting from side to side in fear. The clicking stopped right behind her, and she held her breath, too afraid to move. Suddenly, she felt something cold, hard, and pointy scratch against her leg, and she almost fainted. She started struggling anew, but only managed to get herself even more tightly wrapped. She struggled for a few more seconds, but she was already too tired to do much, and soon, she was quiet again. She heard the clicking sound move behind her and held her breath as it circled around her to the front. She almost fainted as a large black spider appeared from her side and came to stand in front of her. The creature was at least as tall as she was, with ugly black spikes covering its whole body. It had a human face, and her eyes grew wide in terror as she recognized her boss. It stood quietly before her, its ugly black torso bouncing lightly up and down as it balanced between its eight legs. It lifted one of its legs, and a cold tremor ran down her body as it probed and prodded her chest. The claw moved over her neck and chest and plucked at her nipple before moving down to between her legs. It plucked at the strands and quickly made a small triangular hole over her sex. She closed her eyes in fear and disgust as the claw probed and scratched between her legs. Suddenly, there was a loud, high-pitched screech, and she opened her eyes just in time to see a second spider attack the first. The second spider was quite a bit smaller, and she wasn't completely surprised to see Mark's face on it. Although smaller, it fought with a determined ferocity, and the two spiders rolled around in a tangled mess of limbs and spikes. More spiders arrived, and she recognized Andrew and Jake as they joined in the fight, each one trying to decapitate the other with a deadly ferocity. Her colleague from the office joined in, hell-bent on trying to decapitate her boss. A large, hulking mass of spikes came lumbering past, and she immediately recognized the bouncer from the club. A large, pitch-black spider joined out of nowhere, and her heart froze as she recognized the dark man from the club. It fought with quick, stealthy movements, moving around like a flash. She was so intent on the fight that she didn't notice the last spider until it touched her. She jerked her head to the left as far as it would go and gasped as she recognized Anette. Anette was ignoring the fight, her attention focused on Sharon. She used one of her thin, sharp claws to scratch and tease her left breast. Sharon mewed, and again, she tried to get away, but it was useless; Anette could do as she pleased. While her first claw continued to play with her breasts, a second found her sex. Sharon closed her eyes as she was once again about to be invaded, but suddenly, the whole cavern started shaking from a low, deep rumbling. All the spiders froze and looked around expectantly.A second, even louder rumble filled the cavern, and the spiders scattered, the fight completely forgotten. Sharon tried to turn around, but she was still tightly bound and could not move. For what seemed like ages, nothing happened, but then she felt faint tremors on the web. Out of the blue, she was being dragged backwards, and she lost her balance. She squirmed and wriggled on the floor as her body was slowly pulled away from the light. She sensed a large, hulking mass somewhere behind her and again tried to scream as she was pulled towards it. Ever so slowly, she was pulled into the dark, the anchors breaking as easily as if they were made from clay. She looked back to the distant candle and blinked hard as it swam in the tears in her eyes. For a few more minutes, she concentrated on the diminishing light as she was pulled over the floor. The darkness finally enveloped her like a cold, wet blanket, and she uttered a last, desperate scream. Sharon stood in the queue, biting her lower lip. She looked up at the metal detector and almost chickened out again. "This isn't going to work!" She took another step as the queue moved ahead. She had an excuse ready in case she was discovered, but to her, it sounded feeble and unlikely. She looked back at the airport's entrance and watched a yellow cab drive off. Oh, how she longed to be in that cab! Instead, she turned around and looked back at the gate. She was dressed in a light cream business suit and matching skirt. Her neck was covered by one of her white librarian blouses, and she had a matching handbag thrown over her shoulder. The man in front of her placed his briefcase on the conveyor belt and stepped through the gate without incident. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped forwards. The new instructions had arrived two days into her vacation. She'd been instructed to be at the airport at eight AM the following morning and to pick up her ticket from the check-in counter. With no idea where she was heading, she packed everything she could fit into her three suitcases. The night was spent in anxious anticipation as her mind raced through the possibilities. Where was she going? What did he want from her this time? Was she going to meet him at last? The next morning, she'd woken up early and gotten ready. She had arrived at the airport a good hour and a half earlier than instructed, and her legs had felt wobbly as she'd approached the check-in counter. As the computer searched for her name, she couldn't help stepping around in nervous impatience. The clerk handed her the boarding pass, and she tried to act as nonchalant as possible while she scanned the document. New Orleans? It took her half a second to make the connection. New Orleans meant the Mardi Gras! The metal detector screeched a loud warning, and she almost burst out crying. "Please step this way, ma'am," requested the security officer in a polite, clipped voice. She stepped to one side, her face blushing a furious red. He waved a hand-held scanner over her torso, and the thing went nuts. "Ma'am, do you have any metallic objects in or under your clothes?" he asked. "Yes, uhm, I wear a medical brace. I'm afraid that's what's making the noise," she replied, praying that he would believe her. "Company policy requires us to do a body search in cases like this. Please come with me," he said, pointing the way down a passage. She retrieved her handbag and followed the officer. He led her to a small room and held the door open for her. "Please wait here. A female officer will attend to you shortly. Feel free to make yourself comfortable," he said and closed the door behind her. The room was bare except for two plastic chairs and a table. On one wall, several coat hangers hung from a bare metal pipe. She sat down and placed her hands on her knees, trying her level best to hold back the trembling that was racking her body. After several minutes of anguished waiting, a female officer finally arrived. The woman was tall with strong, almost masculine shoulders. Her hair was wound in a tight black bun, and her hawkish nose gave her an aggressive, stern look. "Good morning," she said as she entered and closed the door behind her. "My name's Liona." "Hello," replied Sharon, not trusting her voice to say anything else. "I was informed that you are wearing a medical brace. Is that correct?" Sharon just nodded. "As you might appreciate, security is of great importance. Can I request that you remove the brace for an inspection?" she said as her sharp eyes inspected Sharon's body. "I'm afraid I can't. It can only be removed by my doctor, you see," she replied, cursing her quivering voice. Liona nodded, obviously this was all routine to her. "In that case, I have to request that you undress for a visual inspection. I realize that it is inconvenient, but I'm sure you understand that it is required." Sharon just nodded and looked down at the floor. The moment the metal detector had gone off, she'd known it would come to this. Sharon stood up and slowly took her jacket off. Liona took it from her and hung it on one of the coat hangers. Sharon could already feel herself blush as her shaky fingers worked on the blouse's buttons. As the blouse slowly opened, she could see Liona's whole demeanor change from calm and professional to surprised and shocked. Her hard, darting eyes grew large as she followed Sharon's hands, and it was clearly difficult for her to keep her composure. Sharon slipped the blouse from her shoulders and handed it to Liona. She crossed her arms defensively in front of her body and stood staring at the floor. It was several seconds before Liona could bring herself to speak. "The skirt as well, please." Sharon imagined she heard something in the voice, something that made her even more uncomfortable than what she already was. She wanted to protest, but as she looked up at Liona's face, she realized that it was useless. The hard, professional look was firmly back in place. She looked down again and reached behind her, her fingers finding the clip to the skirt. Her fingers were numb and trembling as she undid the clip and pulled the zip down. She let the skirt fall down to the floor and picked it up, handing it to Liona with downcast eyes. The shame flooded all over her body, and even her feet were blushing. Liona walked around the table and stood beside her. Sharon's hands were locked in front of her stomach, trying to cover as much of her crotch as was possible. Liona slowly walked around her, inspecting every inch of her body while Sharon kept staring at the floor. For several seconds, she stood behind her, neither one of them saying a word. Suddenly, she felt two hands take a firm hold of her waist. "What the hell..." she said in shock as she tried to twist around. Liona's hands held her firmly and wouldn't allow her to turn around. "What are you doing? Let me go!" said Sharon as she tried to push the hands from her waist. Suddenly, Liona let go and stepped back, and Sharon flew around angrily. Liona was trying her best to look professional, but there was no mistaking the glimmer in her eyes. Suddenly, Sharon felt very vulnerable. "Why did you do that? I thought it was only going to be a visual inspection," she tried to sound angry, but her voice squeaked in fear. "I don't think that's a back brace. I think you're lying," Liona replied. "I've worked here for years, and I've never seen a brace like that before." She stepped back up to Sharon and stood uncomfortably close. "I have seen other things, though..." She pressed her palm against Sharon's chest and forced her back against the edge of the table. "strange, shiny, hard..." she forced Sharon to lean back over the table, bending over herself so that their faces almost touched. "kinky things. Sexual things. Erotic things." Sharon was too surprised to put up much of a fight. How had things turned so strange so suddenly? How the hell had she gotten into this situation? What did the woman want from her? Liona moved her hand slightly, and suddenly it was over Sharon's breast rather than on her chest. "No! Get off! Leave me alone!" she protested, but the woman was surprisingly strong. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and both women jumped in surprise. "Liona, are you still busy in there? We have a second search for you to do." As quick as a flash, Liona stepped back and regained her composure. "I'm just finishing up in here, Ben. I'll be done in a minute." They both listened as the steps retreated down the passageway. Liona turned around and faced Sharon. She was completely business-like and composed as she handed Sharon her skirt. "Thank you, ma'am - you are free to leave. Thank you for your patience." Sharon's jaw worked in silent shock as her mind tried to come to grips with the rapidly changing circumstances. By the time she'd gotten her vocal cords working, Liona was long gone. Sharon lay down on the big double bed. She thought back over the last couple of hours and sighed a deep breath of relief. No matter what her instructions were, she was NOT flying back home. It was either the bus or the train, to hell with the consequences. There was no way she was going to go through that ordeal again. Curling up on the bed, she was asleep in seconds.Do you Yahoo!? Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com + 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>

Chapter XVII

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12481.txt

Andrew Roller

FUCK DECENCY 390 Passions Playpen

"No offense, lad, but you've got quite a shocker here," Rod said to David. "You're liable to scare the girls away with this!" Everyone laughed. The boy had been calm and collected in the living room, but now he had risen right up to the bursting point upon finding himself stripped bare in a bondage room. His excitement was palpable and, with it, his intense need to spend. Rod himself was no slacker in the erection department. Now that he was locked into a bondage chamber with nude females and males, he offered himself proudly. Kate suspected he'd be savvy enough to keep his own manhood clear of pain, while inflicting it on the younger erections of the males around him.Mike was Jim's age, though much more controlled in his movements than Jim was. He had an easy-going, swaggering confidence. Kate guessed he'd played at bondage before, or was cool enough to fake it. Of course they'd all had a little experience. That was a prerequisite to receiving an invitation to this party. But what that experience might have been could vary dramatically. For Kate, it had been just her one previous visit to Marie's. And Kate guessed Jim and David were little more experienced than she. Cindy was gaining weight from her pregnancy, and she'd acquired a nice plump butterball bottom. Her breasts, too, had grown, and they bounced on her chest as she laughed, watching Rod fondle David's young hard-on. Nancy sidled up to Cindy. Both girls were the same age. Nancy, slim and practical-looking, with a glint of firmness in her eyes, placed her hand on Cindy's ass. She palmed it openly. Kate expected Cindy to resist, but the girl instead merely flinched. She stared straight ahead, watching Rod massage David, while Nancy caressed her ass. "You're pregnant?" Nancy asked Cindy. Nancy was slim as a gazelle with breasts almost too big for modeling, but not quite, though she had opted for the no-nonsense life of office work instead of posing on a runway or going to college. "Yes," Cindy breathed in response. "This may be your last chance to really have fun and do whatever you want," Nancy replied. And as if to test the girl's resolve to submit herself one last time in a room such as this, Nancy poked a finger into the redhead's ass. "Don't," Cindy breathed. Her hips jerked, but she did not manage to pull herself off Nancy's finger. Instead, accepting it after a moment's surprise, Cindy stood calmly and quietly as she could. She gazed at the other guests, pretending nothing was happening, though all could see it, as Nancy probed more deeply and lewdly within her. Marie moved through her guests like a lioness inspecting her brood. She was as naked and vulnerable as everyone else, with her nipples showing their stems and her bush as bare as her face. But there was little doubt, looking at her expression, that she would rule them all and bring out or repress the emotions in each of them. Her face, with a sardonic smile, her eyes hard and bright, contained just the right mixture of compassion and cruelty. She paused by Lynette and placed a hand on the brunette's tummy, then impressed her finger into Lynette's navel. Marie's nail was sharp, and Lynette was forced to gasp and draw in her tummy as the sharp nail poked in her belly. "Are you ready for a night of fun?" Marie asked her nude guest. "Yes," Lynette answered. Her eyes were wide, and she watched as Marie's hand slipped down her belly to tug at the hairs of her bush and then, going between Lynette's legs, intruded into her cunt. "You're wet," Marie said to Lynette. "Of course I'm wet," Lynette answered. Her hips twisted forward as Marie delved more deeply. "Would you like some shrimp?" the waitress, whose name was Beth, asked Marie and Lynette. She had fetched a tray of shrimp from a small refrigerator in the corner of the room. It was her job to keep everyone happy, no matter what they might be doing. Still wearing her white gloves and her spiked heels, she held its contents up to the women. "Why yes, we would," Marie said. She removed her fingers from Lynette's cunt and used them to take a large shrimp from the tray. She passed the shrimp between Lynette's legs. Behind, her other hand gripped at the juncture of Lynette's bottom and legs and forced Lynette to accept a wider stance. With Lynette's cunt wet and open to her, Marie moistened the shrimp in Lynette's slit and then lifted it up to the woman's lips. "Eat it," Marie commanded the model. Lynette, looking cross-eyed at the shrimp because it was held so close, extended her tongue and tasted it. Her face looked like that of a child forced to accept something it didn't like. "Bite," Marie ordered. Lynette took a little nibble on the fat shrimp. "Oh!" Lynette cried. Down below, where her legs joined, Marie stabbed her sex with a pointed, probing finger. In her open-mouthed surprise at being sexually violated, Marie found the opportunity she'd been waiting for. She popped the vaginally-moistened shrimp into Lynette's wide-apart lips. Immediately, seeing what had happened, Lynette snapped her lips shut. But it was too late. The shrimp was inside, and she dared not spit it out. Glumly, though perhaps not looking too sad, she chewed and swallowed the shrimp as Marie played two fingers within her dell.

Chapter Five

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13263.txt

Hotscribe

The Withering Rod Of Eridu

"Unfortunately," I began as Tara and I stopped for a rest, "so many of the stories have obviously been quite exaggerated. I am no more a great lover than even you. But I suppose one of the women I loved when I was younger enjoyed her time with me so much that she told of our intimate relations, and thus the word was spread. As you probably know, the more a story is told by word of mouth from one person to another, the more distorted it becomes, and the further it strays from the truth if it is not written down. And even then it could be hearsay. "However, if you wish to know the truth of the matter, then I shall tell you." I must have been fifteen, nay! perhaps sixteen, at the time. I had been with Ramesh Magus perhaps one year. He taught me a few magical spells in exchange for cleaning up his work space and generally helping him whenever he needed more than his own two hands. Oddly enough, working spells came quite easily to me, as if I were one born to adapt them to my life. Memorizing words and gestures and components---I found them all not only fascinating, but easy to learn. At any rate, it happened that while I was straightening up some voluminous tomes on the mage's shelves, I came across a book entitled Love-Making Spells. My interest was immediately sparked since, up until that time, I had not yet been alone with a woman, my Bliss was still yet intact, and I had only heard stories of sexual pleasures from other lads my age who weren't as naive as I. Curious, then, I removed the book from the shelf, opened to the contents page and quickly perused it. One chapter title in particular intrigued me and I turned to it. The spell wasn't difficult to learn and I had it memorized in a few moments. But then I heard the mage returning, so I quickly re-shelved the book and continued with my cleaning. Now, as was customary for the mage and I, we regularly visited his brother and sister, both of whom were about fifteen years older than I, if I remember correctly. Usually we took some gifts and foodstuffs which were then exchanged for various products of like kind. On one particular day, the mage was unable to make the journey for some reason or other, so he asked me to go myself and make the exchange ritual. I put the gifts into my bag and set off for Prithu, the home of his siblings. For the mage, it was probably a good hour's walk; but with my youth, I made it in a much shorter time. I arrived at the house, met the brother who took his gifts, then told me to go to his sister's room as she wasn't feeling well and had lain down until the sickness passed. I climbed the stairs and entered her room. Lalita---I believe that was her name---was a beauteous creature with dark eyes and hair and light molasses-colored skin. She lay beneath a coverlet of fur, her head resting on a fairly large pillow that bore the decorative markings of the Madai craftsmen. I remarked on this, and she replied that she'd purchased it while visiting Kaveh, a city in that land. I asked the nature of her illness. She replied simply that her body burned with Bliss that yearned to be released, but that there was no one here to help release it. Now, understand that I was quite ignorant of Bliss at the time, having never experienced it; and although I was relatively familiar with love-making---from what I had read in the book, for I had more opportunities to read its contents---I innocently inquired if I might be able to assist her in getting well. She patted the bed beside her and said, "Come here." I sat down and, before I realized what had happened, her hand slipped beneath the waistline of my breeches and caught my flaccid member. That first touch of a woman's hand upon me was at once both strange and yet exciting. Verily, I did swell to a good size! I had to stand then so she could pull down my breeches to allow me more freedom of movement. 'Twas then she drew aside her coverlet to expose her body, and I gazed upon a wondrous sight of two large breasts, a firm stomach and a small mound of hair between her legs which seemed to beckon to me with its dew-drenched tendrils. Lalita had already begun to moan quite loudly, and I felt sure her noises would bring her brother to the room, but such was not the case. She bade me lie down quickly, and I did so. After rubbing my firm staff several times to make sure I was good and hard, she threw one leg over me, straddled my hips and settled down upon my rod. After some few minutes of up and down movement---which brought me no end of pleasure!---I saw a look of disappointment come over her face. "What's wrong?" I asked, genuinely concerned. Her lips twisted, her hips gyrated, then she said, "You're too small---I can barely feel you!" Had I been more sexually enlightened, this remark probably would have caused me great distress and thus deflated what erection I did have. But, instead, I remembered that first spell I'd memorized from the love-making book. I closed my eyes, visualized my organ within her, then murmured the enchanted words. A strange feeling swept over me, then I heard Lalita gasp, then yelp with surprise and joy as my cock suddenly swelled and throbbed of its own accord, pressing against the walls of her chasm, filling her completely. Lalita cried aloud, and I daresay more with pleasure than pain, for she told me afterward that never had she felt so full by any other penis. Thus she rode me, not once, not twice, nay! thrice she bucked her naked form upon my magical staff, loading her innards with my seeds again and again until both of us were wet and sticky... "And that is the truth?" asked Tara, her mouth drooling at the vision of my huge stalk. "Oh, mage! Do it for me!" she pleaded. "The magic words---say them so that I might see for myself!" Already she was on her knees in front of me as I sat on a fallen tree. Her hands scrambled to release me from my robe. As her nimble fingers caught me and pulled me forth, I lay back and chanted those esoteric words once again as I had done so many times before. With a small cry of delight, Tara felt my cock increase in size until it was all she could do to fit her hands around its circumference. Then she kissed its mushroom-shaped head, ran her tongue across it, pumped that rod with all her might until at length I exploded into the air, covering her hair and face and hands with my sticky sap. And for the next while, before we bathed in the nearby Ganga River, she took me twice within her bowels so that she, too, might feel the hugeness of my enchanted member and know the truth of those many rumours.

Chapter Three

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17204.txt

Spoonbender

The Legend 6

"Homer had the head of a fool," sniped Mithras as he surveyed the Honeyed Isle from the prow of the galley. "Sorry, what?" inquired Aias, from inside his reverie. "I was saying Homer was a fool." "Homer? Oh, Homer. The storyteller. I thought he told a pretty enough tale. It made a powerful antidote to the mumblings of the Prophets of doom that dwell in the glory of the Parthenon in these days." "Maybe it is so, but he was still a fool." "Why?" "That tale of the Sirens. He got it all wrong." "Such are the tales of the scribes. Why do you bring that up now?" "Because, my friend, there is the Isle." His arm swept across the horizon to the ochre-colored island passing across their port bow. Aias fingered the bronze figurine that he kept hidden in the folds of his cloak and mumbled a furtive prayer before continuing nervously. "Should we not tie ourselves with the mast to our backs?" "By Zeus, you coward, did I not tell you that the myth was just that - a myth? They will not harm you. They have been tamed." "But the Legend?" murmured Aias. "Is but a legend." He slapped his shivering friend on the back. "Come, let us to our libation, and I will sing the real tale." So with the goblets of wine, mulled from the slopes of Mykenai itself, they settled on the cushions of fine cloth. They watched the mighty exertions of the oarsmen for some minutes before Mithras deigned to entertain his friend with the tale. "It was the brave Ulysses, on his way back from the mighty battle where Achilleus smote Hector and brought Troy to heel, that first encountered this Isle." Aias nodded. Even the urchins that dodged between the columns of the temples knew this much. Mithras noted his friend's nod. "Ah, my friend. You understand. But did you know that Odysseus himself did not rope himself to the mast like a common criminal, or a quivering maiden, but instead, and with great resolution, he did plunder the Isle. Alone and without his shield and mighty studded spear, he bestrode the bewitching beaches, with the beguiling songs smiting his fair ears. While his men lay shivering in the bowels of his ship, with the goats and the slops." "So why did the singer, Homer, weave such a poem?" "Men of Chios!" sighed his companion. "Their tiny island closes their minds. Who but Zeus could tell. Maybe it was because they were in envy. But this much I will tell: He was wrong. The victory that Ulysses carved from the heart of that island was as powerful as any great glory told by the seers. Even the battles of the mighty Agamemnon himself... Alone and naked he went into the bosom of the sirens, where many men had perished before him. And naked and alone he walked away, head held high, a plume of gold upon his sparkling locks, glory shining around him, and the laughter of the Gods rolling from the heights of Olympus itself." "But what of the Sirens? Was he not bewitched by their teasing songs and their mists of deception?" "Ah, yes. But he knew. The mighty warrior knew. He understood their wants, their needs, their lamentations whispered to him on the wind of their sorrow, which underlay their luring of men. They needed the mightiest weapon of all, and, naked and proud, he conquered them with it." "This mighty weapon of which you speak, which is it? Was he not naked, was he not unarmed, without his spear, or his sword, or his shield? What of this mighty weapon?" "It was the mighty weapon of his manhood. A full sixth hexameter tall and as proud and upstanding as the fighter himself. It was with this weapon he laid bare the songs of the sirens and silenced them into as pretty a poem of love as had ever been told by a maiden on the morn following her wedding night." "Do you mean...?" "Yes, my friend. The songs, you see, were the songs of a maiden that does not have the pleasure of the hardness of a man's thews cleaving their body, for aeon after aeon. They were the songs of despair and of unfulfilled passion. Twenty maidens alone on a rock with no man to calm them and pleasure their bodies. It was no wonder that their songs were so plaintive and carried such misery. So the mighty Ulysses took them to his pallet and cleaved them until their songs were stilled. For three nights he toiled, and afterwards he strode back with a back as straight as a bronze spear. They say that the maidens lined the beach, naked and pinkly happy, as he sailed away, and forever after there were the sounds of happiness and frivolity on the isle. Listen to the wind, my friend, and agree with me that Homer was a fool."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7864.txt

Godot

The Straying Wife

"Join us?" the girl asked in a husky voice. "Hmmm, I could take on two of you," the man murmured. Klaus laughed and pulled Kim away as she watched the two nakedly writhe in their sexual coupling. The young housewife actually looked disappointed that she wasn't joining them. Klaus led the way around the stage platform that was now an unbelievable scene of mass orgy. Nichole was standing naked on the mattress, having kicked her high heels off, her hands above her head. Hands, many hands, male and female alike, were caressing, fondling, and massaging her lush young body. So many hands that Kim couldn't count them all as they slid and fondled and probed all over Nichole's body before pulling her down into their hot writhing mass. Kim's mind was reeling as she stumbled after Klaus. She had virtually committed herself to committing adultery with Klaus. She didn't even know his last name! How was she going to get out of it? Klaus led her out of the big room, and it was as if she had a whiff of fresh air. He led her into a quiet little room with plush red walls and an oversized bed. One wall had a black drape over it. Klaus closed the door and dimmed the lights, then pressed another button on the lighting panel. There was a click and a muffled whirr, and the black drape was pulled aside, revealing a floor-to-ceiling window and a view of the platform where the wildly wanton orgy was going on! Kim gasped and stepped back. "Don't worry," Klaus assured. "It is a one-way mirror. On the other side, all they see is their own delightful image reflected back. We are very private, and we can watch!" Kim sank onto the edge of the bed, her eyes locked on the scene going on in the other room. She saw Nichole sandwiched between two men - strangers - madly undulating her sensual young body, stockings half-ripped from her. What she was seeing had to be a dream, a drugged dream, it couldn't be true, it was too wanton, too lewd! Surely, Nichole wasn't like that. Yet there she was before her eyes, and there was Ernie and all sorts of others. There was a naked young girl about seventeen kneeling between two men, a penis in either hand, sucking first one cock and then the next. There were two beautiful young girls in a sixty-nine position, their redly quivering little tongues curling into each other's violently trembling cunts, their expressions completely wanton, their hips pumping in unison. Another girl straddled a prone man and pumped up and down, her wet, gaping cunt sliding up and down his penis while she eagerly sucked the long white cock of another man standing next to her as he fondled another girl's breasts with both hands and had his tongue buried in a third woman's wide-stretched pussy. It was a wildly writhing, mad scene Kim was watching, like something out of the erotic version of The Arabian Nights. With a slow dawning, she realized that this was her wish, this was the orgy she had wanted to participate in. Except for Nichole, Kim didn't really know anyone present. Except for their names, she knew little of Klaus and Ernie. She need never see any of these people, including Nichole, ever again in her life. This was her one big chance. Hank dimmed in her memory as she saw the wantonly writhing figures in front of her. And suddenly she wanted to take part - to fuck and be fucked. "You like that?" Klaus was sitting behind her, his lips to her ear, whispering, while his hands slid around her waist and up to her breasts, cupping them, feeling them all soft and rubbery under the dress. Looking at the mass scene in front of her, it seemed natural to say, "Yes!" and let him paw her. He slowly pushed her down on the bed until she was lying on her stomach, panting, watching the salacious scene on the other side of the mirror. He had her flat on her stomach with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. She let her knees touch the floor, and she half-knelt, half-lay on the bed, her fleshy buttocks firmly rounded and stuck out, with Klaus lifting her dress and inspecting her creamy, perfectly formed ass under her little white panties. Her too-tight panties cut into the anal crevice and vanished under her flesh, more or less exposing her twin ass cheeks. Klaus looked at them, muttering in German as he gently caressed her warm flesh. Kim could feel him kneeling behind her now and leaning his weight over her. Her own torso, under him, began swaying in rhythm to the wild scene she viewed with glassy eyes. The young housewife watched Nichole getting savagely fucked by a total stranger and she began pumping her hips in time to the brunette's. Klaus stretched out over her, and his arms wedged themselves between the bed and her body; he massaged and cupped her breasts while she rested some of her weight on her elbows, lifting herself slightly and giving him greater freedom as she squirmed her buttocks back, hard against his loins. She could feel a long, hard stiffness there swelling under his pants, and when he jerked eagerly forward, she could feel the full thickness of it pressing through her flimsy panties and into the crevice of her buttocks. The thin folds of the bunched nylon material grated against her tiny, sensitive anus, sending small warning spasms of lewd pleasure rippling up her belly to the rising nipples of her breasts. Sure of himself now, Klaus unzipped her dress down to her buttocks. His hands slipped into the opening from behind, curling around her bare midsection and rising to push the tight restricting brassiere up and away from her ripe, swollen breasts. His hands cupped the resilient mounds greedily as they came free, trapping the hardened, sensitive nipples between thumb and forefinger; squeezing until a tiny excruciating sensation brought a gasp of surprised pleasure from the drugged housewife's open lips. He pushed forward with his pelvis, sinking his still-covered hardness deeper into the split of her involuntarily contracting buttocks. On the other side of the mirror, she saw a girl, her young face twisted in rapture, getting her nipples sucked by two men. Kim's breath came in obscene gasps, and the muscles in her ripe, lush body were as taut as bowstrings as she reacted involuntarily to the maddening fondling of Klaus's hands on her sensitive flesh. She jerked and jumped as one of his tormenting warm hands left her breast to trail a slow teasing path down the soft unresisting belly and insert itself into the elastic waistband of her panties where it teased thrillingly at the pubic hair raising from the "vee" of her pussy. It played there for a moment, then suddenly curled down into the moistly ready hot slit up between her legs, the nail scraping gently at the tiny bud of her clitoris, sending it springing into quivering life. Kim jerked forward slightly as the hand curled further under her vaginal crevice, parting the softly hot lips of her vagina to teasingly snake its way inside the tight little opening of her cunt, sending wild electric shocks of pleasure stabbing through her. The rigid hugeness of his cock confined under his trousers was now pressed in the deep, sweat-moistened crevice of her ass; it was heatedly throbbing as though it had a life of its own. Involuntarily, she ground back against it, imprisoned licentiously between it and the outstretched finger worming ever deeper in her hungrily twitching vagina. Klaus began a gentle rocking motion to which her own body responded in time to the bobbing head of Nichole out there on the other side of the mirror. Nichole was in the middle of a huge orgy as she sucked a man's long hard cock while one woman caressed her breasts and the other had her head buried between the sensual brunette's legs. Nichole had been fucked, and the man had turned to some other pleasure. Nichole took a massively pulsating penis that was offered in front of her face and never even looked at the man. Klaus and Kim were both looking at the pert brunette and rocking in time to the bobbing of her head out there when the German said, "Bend more and spread your legs. I'm going to fuck you from behind." "Oh, God, no!" Kim panted between tightly clenched teeth, unable to stop the rocking of her shamelessly aroused body back against his hand. "I fuck you good and you can watch at the same time," he whispered in her ear. The lewd words excited her strangely through the drugged hashish haze, and the young red-headed wife groaned in surrender as he pushed her upper body forward over the bed. Her muscles were like rubber, and she almost fell, resting on her elbows some more, her face only inches from the mirror.Her ripe, full buttocks wavered in the air behind her, and she shuddered as she felt the German's hands lift her dress above her hips, bunching it around her wasp-like waist and drawing her thin white nylon panties down over the full, fleshy, rounded white cheeks of her ass, leaving her panties to hang at her knees. A cool rush of air hit her backside, and she suddenly flushed in shame. Her whole rear end was nakedly exposed to him, waving back in a lewd invitation to any humiliation he might want to inflict on her. A last fleeting thought of Hank flickered through her conscience as she heard the metallic zip of a zipper behind her as Klaus opened his fly and his long, thick cock burst into welcome freedom. There was no time for further thought.

19/26

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/15178.txt

Lord Malinov

Flash

"A ship without sails is like a woman without breasts." - Greek Proverb I have always been a creature of habit, fixed in my ways, treading a well-plotted course to an expected conclusion. I waved the standards of causality and efficiency in my battle with chaos, putting each thing in its place, adopting the path of least resistance. Then my doctor told me to start running. The young Indian in his starched white smock looked me in the eye and calmly threatened me with death. "But," I said, starting to enumerate the reasons why my schedule would not permit me the luxury of a morning jaunt around the block. "You will die," he scolded. "Do you have time for that?" I conceded the point and stopped at the sporting goods store on my way home. I bought several smart-looking shirts, loose-fitting shorts, two pairs of sweats, and an expensive pair of running shoes. "Can I get you anything else?" asked the young man behind the register, smiling indecently as he tallied the sum. I could tell instinctively that this fellow would only waste the commission he was about to earn on the sale. A fool and his money, as they say. "Maybe I could hire someone to run for me," I said. "When do you want me to start?" he said with a laugh, handing me the credit slip to sign. I have always credited my success to the fact that I never allowed anyone else to run my business. I make my own decisions and I do things my way. I tied my new sneakers and started running slowly, methodically making my way around Glade's Park. After the first leg, I decided it was time to take a short breather and collapsed on a wooden green bench. My heart pounded like a kettle drum as I fought the fire in my lungs for a desperate gasp of air. I wondered if running wouldn't just kill me faster than not running. My pulse eventually slowed to the point where I could feel the cool spring breeze, and I sat up, resting my forearms on my thighs. Children laughed by a small pond where they maneuvered toy boats with long sticks. A starling twittered among the buds of a soft maple. "Hey," a young woman said as she approached my resting place, "you have the time?" It took me a moment to realize she was speaking to me and another to look at my watch. She jogged in place while she waited for my response. "Ten twelve," I said. "Thanks," she said with a smile and dashed down the asphalt path. I watched the young fawn as she ran headlong toward a bright yellow wall of forsythias. Her lean legs moved almost effortlessly as she took her long stride, the muscles of her bare thigh stretching taut as she scarcely touched the ground and vaulted herself forward. An impetuous gust of wind followed, chasing her into the park. I felt a tingle of interest as I watched the shudders of her firm bottom underneath her tight blue satin shorts. "Running isn't so bad," I mused and leaned back again. "A few more minutes." Finally gathering myself together, determined to go on in my quest for life, I stood up. Six pigeons waddled and cooed as they pecked the gravel near an overflowing trash can. I took a deep breath. I looked right and then left and then smiled to watch as the young woman raced back around the corner, sprinting toward me. Tightly bound full breasts still bounced slightly, enticingly fluid with the stroke of each long stride. Her golden hair streamed behind her as she ran. Seeing me, she slowed and came to a near halt, still jogging in place. "Time?" she said, panting smoothly. The woman smiled beautifully. "Hmm?" I asked. "How long?" "Oh," I said, looking at my watch. "Ten eighteen." "Six," she said. "All right. Thanks." "No problem," I said. "You going to run?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders, embarrassed. "Come on," she said, starting coyly down the narrow black path. "Run with me." "I can't," I pleaded. "I just started. I'd hold you back." "Nonsense," she said. "Sometimes I go fast and sometimes I go slow. The whole point is to keep moving. Come on. It's more fun to run with someone." I smiled and blushed and moved my feet. She matched my deliberate pace, stride for stride. She talked while I concentrated on breathing. "Wendy," she replied when I managed to ask her name. Despite my difficulty in running the mile circumference of Glade's Park, I am not particularly out of shape. I mean, I could afford to lose a few pounds, but I'm not what you would call overweight. My lungs are burned out from a few too many years inhaling smoke, and my heart has grown rather sedentary. Wendy encouraged me through that first long mile and then took me to her apartment for a cool drink. I fell onto her sofa with a groan as she poured two tall glasses of mineral water. On the rocks. I've had my share of relationships through my years, but for better or worse, I could never quite get a woman to fit into my life. I know I work too much, and I know that I'm a bit particular about exactly what happens and when. I can face the fact that I'm not the easiest person to get along with, but I've always believed that someday a good woman would happen along and she'd fit like the final piece in my jigsaw puzzle. I didn't know that woman would be Wendy as I sat in her apartment gulping down ice water, but we hit it off at once, and so while things moved quickly, it all came naturally. We had only been talking for about twenty minutes when she pulled her t-shirt over her head, exposing the sturdy white athletic bra stretched taut across her chest. My eyes probably popped out of my head as I stared at her large squashed breasts, but Wendy hardly seemed to notice. I don't think she was trying to arouse me. We were just that comfortable together. "I hope you don't mind," she said, reaching back to unclasp her brassiere. "I can't stand being tied down anymore." "No," I fought to say. "Feel free." Wendy smiled as her breasts escaped their bonds. "I will," she said. "I do." I did my best to maintain my part in the conversation with the topless girl, even as she kneaded the shallow welts her foundation garment had dug into the fair flesh of her bosoms. I couldn't begin to repeat the conversation, although I could probably do a fair job of drawing the exact curve of her dark nipples, even though I tried my best to avoid looking at them. Wendy treated me as though I was one of her oldest and dearest friends. "Excuse me," she said, reaching to the table just past me for an ashtray. "Smoke?" she said. I fought for an answer. "Live fast, die young, leave a good looking corpse," Wendy recited, pushing a cigarette between her lips and lighting it. "Yes," I said. Wendy handed me the pack. I leaned forward and licked her rigid nipple. "Yes." "Oh my," she said with a faint laugh. "I wondered how long you were going to keep me waiting." We kissed and fondled, groped and stripped. I fell in love at once with Wendy's soft firm body. I rolled on top of her, but with a shove, she rolled me over onto my back. I'm usually, I don't know, fairly dominant when it comes to sex. I guess I always like to be in control of the situation. After the run through the park, however, I had only scraps of strength remaining to assert myself, and I surrendered readily, if reluctantly, to Wendy's domination. She took hold of my stiff prick and after a brief brush of the crown over her damp lips, Wendy drove my shaft into her cunt, burying me in a flash down to the hilt. The sensation rushed exquisitely through my senses, and I trembled with excitement. Wendy bit her lip with a wry smile, tossed her gold mane wild and lifted her hips to start the ride. Wendy's silky wet pussy slid up my shaft, then down, up and then down, faster and faster in a mad gallop, but then suddenly slowed to a sweet canter. Wendy's tits, almost a shade too big as they hung before my hungry eyes, round creamy melons teasing my desire, shook in crazed circles, bouncing and flying, jiggles and flops. I felt the heat rise within my loins and catching a thick nipple in my mouth, I let a spurting tribute coat her hot cunt. Wendy laughed as I came, squeezing my prick with her tight pussy muscles. I shuddered and groaned. "You're incredible," I said sincerely as the last shivers melted. Wendy continued to ride, flipping her hips in a steady pace, caressing my satiated stick with her soft nether lips. I'm not old, but I'm not eighteen either, and I believed without shame that a short rest was in order. Wendy shook her head as if reading my mind."I can't," I murmured. She lifted a tit to her lips and sucked a hard nipple, her ass bobbing as she drove my weary dick on. "Come on, big boy," she moaned sweetly, "you can't stop now." I took a deep breath and Wendy picked up the pace, bouncing her titties so they brushed my dry lips. "One more mile and you can choose your reward." I began to stiffen as I let my mind roam over a feast of imagined desserts. Wendy purred with delight and rode my cock home. "Can we run tomorrow? Can we meet for lunch? When can I see you?" I asked, anxious to pencil in our next rendezvous. "Keep running," she said. "I'll be around." A wave of panic must have crossed my face. "Call me," she said, giving me her number. "Tonight?" I asked. "Whenever," she answered. We met in the park, from time to time. I couldn't find a pattern to her days, no schedule which I could anticipated or follow. Some days she was there, some days she wasn't, sometimes earlier, sometimes later. Wendy didn't seem to really care if she ran into me, but she always seemed to enjoy herself when we were together. I called her apartment more often than I should have, but she never answered the phone anyway. One Thursday afternoon, much to my surprise, Wendy picked up the phone. "Can you take off tomorrow?" Wendy asked. If anyone else had said such a thing, I would have laughed while rejecting the suggestion. My mind raced through the brim-packed day of meetings, conferences and inspections I had already planned. "Yeah," I said, shocked at myself as the words passed my lips. "Meet me in the park," she said and hung up the phone. "What time?" I screamed into the buzzing phone. I dialed her number. No one answered. I waited in the park for three hours until Wendy showed up. I had been afraid to move, afraid I would miss my chance to see her. She strolled up to the park bench, smiling almost as if she was surprised to see me. "Come on," she said. "I need to go shopping first." I tripped along beside her, faithful lapdog I had become. Wendy wore a short beige skirt and blue silk shirt. My mouth watered as I stole glances at the pretty blonde girl beside me. I strutted proudly when we walked past Bob Jenkins on the street, a shark I had been negotiating with the day before. I could feel the flash of bitter envy and I loved every minute. Wendy looked better than a deal closed under market. "White sandals," she explained as we walked into the department store. "I realized that what I really need is a good pair of white sandals." I nodded, my thoughts escaping for a moment as I wondered if Davis could handle the meeting with Fujitsu. "These look good," she said, picking up a pair. A young salesgirl rushed to greet us. "Sevens?" Wendy asked, handing the dark-haired woman the leather shoe. "Sure," said the salesgirl. Wendy took a quick stroll around the display. "Sandals are tricky, because they have to bite right if you're going to walk in them. Shoes are much easier." I nodded, hoping Millie remembered to call Franklins with our orders. "Here you go," said the salesgirl. Wendy took a seat and the salesgirl pulled up a short bench to sit near Wendy's feet. The girl unfastened Wendy's shoe and took a sandal from the box. She slipped Wendy's toes under the white straps. "Oh," said the salesgirl, and I looked at her curiously. Her eyes wide open, she flushed as she fumbled with the sandal. Her cheeks deepened to a dark red as the blush toyed with a frown and then a flicker of a smile as the girl looked away and then up at me and finally back to Wendy as she managed to secure the buckle. Wendy walked over to the slanted mirror and vogued her bound foot in a variety of poses. She shook her head. "No, not quite right." She sat down and let the salesgirl remove the shoe. They exchanged flirtatious smiles, and we walked back into the sunshine. "What was that?" I asked. "I'm not wearing panties," said Wendy. "I'm such a tease." "Wow," I said. "But..." "Excitement keeps my blood flowing," Wendy explained. "When I do something like that, I make the world a sexier place. I've given her an idea, showed her what can be done, dared her even, and there's a good chance that she'll pass the sexiness along. Doesn't that make you feel good, knowing that pretty thing will soon forget her panties, too?" I considered the notion and raised my eyebrows for a smile. "Anyway," Wendy said, "let's get some food." "But what if she'd made a scene?" I began, still shocked at her casual manner. My mind raced with all the trouble her little oversight could cause. "I'm only going to be in town a few more days," Wendy said. "And flashing isn't the kind of scandal that travels." My heart sank as the words passed her lips. Self-contained as I prided myself on being, I had begun to hope. Wendy had seemed like the perfect woman for me, flighty and chaotic, but still undeniably perfect. Moreover, after six weeks of being involved, she had never once complained about my work, which was usually the gripe that chased my girlfriends away. Having found her, I just couldn't let her go. "Why are you leaving?" I asked. "I scout talent," she replied, munching her salad. "I never stay anywhere long. I have to go where the players are." "But, does this scouting pay well?" "Not quite," she said, laughing. "Enough to clothe and feed." "Then why do it?" "Why do anything? I like to keep moving. I want to see the world, meet people, experience life." "Oh," I said, playing a fork through my congealed gravy. "I hope I've been a good experience." "Come on," she said. "We've enjoyed our time together. Let's enjoy the rest." "I could give you a job," I said. "We could always use someone with your energy." "I love you," she said with a laugh, "but I'd go crazy in a gilded cage." "I'll go crazy without you," I said, sadly. "Come on," said Wendy, taking my hand. "Let's go dancing." We found a crowded club and fought our way through a thick throng, a heavy haze of grey smoke, the thick scent of spilled ale. The music throbbed with a steady pulsing beat. Wendy began to wiggle her hips as we worked our way to the center of the dance floor. I looked confused, I'm sure, unused to shaking myself loose in a crowd. Wendy looked into my eyes and lifted her skirt slowly up her thighs. I shook and jumped, turned and bounced. Wendy danced so provocatively I thought they'd throw us out, but they didn't. Worn and excited, we finally left. I took her back to her place and devoured her, prodded her, squeezed and drank her. Wendy gave herself to me in every way I could dream to want, and as the first ray of dawn kissed the windowpane, I fell into a fitful slumber, a tear tracing down my cheek. When I awoke, Wendy was gone. I waited for an hour, but then dressed and went to the park and sat down on the bench. The birds sang and the children played, and I sighed. Wendy raced around the corner. "Time?" she asked, laughing. "Not too late," I said. "So, where are we going?" "How about Dayton?" she asked. I grimaced. "They've got a young sculptor there some of the better galleries have been vying for." That afternoon, we got on the plane, and with that single step, I left my whole world behind. I made some calls, and Davis has done a fine job running the business. "Any instructions?" he asked when I talked to him last, a little nervous about some proposed acquisitions. "Just keep moving," I told Davis as I tickled Wendy's bare foot. "Life's too short to sit still."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9868.txt

Mike Metlay

The Bandit

"You waited? Oh, you didn't have to do that!" Conan looked up from his magazine and smiled as Cricket came out of the Trauma Ward, a compress held up to her eye. He stood up and shrugged on his coat, and helped her ease into hers. "That's okay," he said. "I had to talk to the police when they came by, and I didn't want you walking home alone." He opened the door for her into the night, and they hustled out into the cold wind, heading for the North Habitat. "I appreciate your helping me," Cricket said after a few moments of silence. "I really thought he was gonna kill me." "What were you doing with a creep like that anyway, Cricket? You seem like too smart a person to get mixed up with someone who'd jump you like that...." "Huh! So speaks the walking beefcake magazine!" Cricket's voice held a trace of a sneer. "What the fuck do you know about getting trapped into doing shit you don't want to do, big man? Huh?" For a brief, horribly clear instant, Conan thought of Twink. "Too damn much," he whispered. "Sorry. Shouldn't have said it." "Damn right," Cricket continued angrily. "I've seen you working out in the gym, all pumped up and nowhere to go. All the girls looking at you and talking about you...." "No shit, really?" Conan grinned widely. Now THAT was an interesting revelation! "Yeah, really! And do you know what they're saying?" Cricket paused for emphasis. "They're LAUGHING at you, you stupid motherfucker!" "What!" He looked down at her in shock. "WHY?" "Because you're so fucking narcissistic it's enough to make them puke, that's why! It's so obvious, watching you pose in the mirror. The love affair between Conan and Conan will go down in history!" She shook her head and fell silent. Conan looked supremely uncomfortable in the silence that followed. "I wish they could've seen you tonight, though," Cricket whispered. "Oh, shit, that wasn't anything," Conan said with a shrug. "He couldn't have hurt me if he'd tried." "Yes he could've," Cricket said tartly. "It doesn't take a big man to carry a gun or a knife, Conan. You could've been killed! You didn't know what you were charging into-- you just did what you thought was right, without hesitation. He would've broken my nose if you'd hesitated before coming in after him. Or worse." She smiled up at him. "You know what your problem is?" "Yeah," Conan muttered. "I'm a narcissistic scumbag." "No, besides that," Cricket chided with a smile. Conan stopped and looked at her for a moment, unsmiling. "No, I don't know what my problem is," he said. "Why don't you tell me?" Cricket reached up and gently touched Conan on the tip of the nose. "Your problem," she said softly, "Is that you don't really know where your strengths and weaknesses are. You're not impressing anyone when you squat a quarter ton or whatever, but you can bet that you'll get a lot more respect from the women in the aerobics class when they hear how you saved my ass tonight! You're no mean, macho hunk. You're just a decent human being." "Oh, really," he said with a wry look. "Yeah, really," she replied, starting to walk again. The doors to the North Habitat loomed out of the darkness before them, and Cricket fumbled in her pocket for her security card with one hand while trying to hold her compress in place with the other. "Oh, damn it!" "Here, let me help you," Conan said quickly, gently placing a hand over hers on the compress. She looked up at him with her good eye for a long moment before drawing her hand out from under his and fumbling for her card. She got it out, and got the door open by feel as he held the compress steady. "Thanks." She pocketed her card and put her warm little hand over his, taking the compress from him. She smiled up at him in the doorway. "For everything." "No problem," Conan grinned. He shivered in the wind, and said, "Well, I guess I better be getting back. It was nice meeting you, Cricket." "Wanna come in and warm up for a while?" He looked at her long and hard, then shook his head. "I better not." "Oh, stop looking like a kicked dog and get in here, you moron!" Cricket grabbed him with her free hand and dragged him inside. The door shut with a clang behind him, and the night was still once more. The Bandit awoke with a start, half sitting up in the darkness. His eyes were utterly unaccustomed to the gloom, but he could feel rather than see the warm presence in his bed. There was a quiet whisper in the dark. "Oh, I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to wake you...." "That's okay, that's okay." The Bandit settled back down onto the bed and ran his hands down the amazing curve of Twink's broad back. She hummed in delight and burrowed closer to him, warm in the cold night. "This is really wonderful," she breathed. "It's so cozy." "Yeah," the Bandit said. "Cozy." He suddenly realized what had awakened him: her hand on his penis, warm and soft, gently stroking him closer and closer to orgasm. He was almost ready to pop. "You know, if you keep playing with me like you are, I'm gonna come all over you," he whispered. "Oh, really?" Her giggle was low and almost liquid in the night. "Is that so bad? I like to make you feel good...." Her inexpert hand stroked him more roughly and insistently now, and she crawled up until her lips were level with his, kissing him as she squeezed his penis and pumped it in her fist. "You like?" Her mock Spanish accent was somehow fairly effective, he noted in a haze of mixed sleepiness and horniness. "Si, I like," he replied, and she giggled again. "But there are other things I like, too, and if you're not going to let me sleep we may as well enjoy them...." "Oh! Well, what did you have in mind?" He grinned in the darkness. "Ever been eaten out before?" "Uh, I don't think so," she said uncertainly. "What is it, exactly?" "What, being eaten out?" The Bandit paused, at a loss. "It's when I, well, uh....Tell you what. Let go of me and I'll demonstrate, okay?" "Okay." Her fist released his penis, and he immediately rolled her over onto her back and began kissing his way down her body, pausing for a few luxuriant sucks at her huge nipples before making his way down lower. "Ohhhh," she moaned as he squeezed her breasts, "That feels so GOOD!" "If you like that," the Bandit said, "You'll love what comes next!" His tongue flicked out and began to touch and probe beneath her pubic hair, and she gasped in surprise. "Ooh! Careful, that tickles! Bandit, you can't really want to lick down THERE, I mean isn't it sort of--" Her breath caught in her throat.She took a deep breath and tried again. "It's not too--" Her voice died again. When she finally spoke, it was in a different tone altogether. "Oh, please don't stop...." "Mmmmmmm," the Bandit replied, his tongue teasing her rapidly-swelling clitoris gently. There was no question but that she was primed and ready for his attentions; her pussy lips, neat and symmetric, were oozing moisture, and her clit was stiff and turgid. He licked and sucked on it, and drove his tongue between her outer lips to caress the entrance to her cunt. Back and forth, back and forth between them, listening all the while to her nonstop commentary. "Oh! Oh! That feels heavenly! Don't stop, PLEASE don't stop! It feels like I'm burning up, I'm hot and cold, I'm shaking all over, Oh gentle Jesus, OH! OH! What is that you're licking? More! More, oh, yes, oh, God, I--Bandit! BANDIT! I FEEL FUNNY! I FEEL, I FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA--EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" Her body arched off the bed from heels to head and he rode her like a cowboy rides a bucking bronco, his tongue never leaving her sopping vulva. She moaned, shrieked, and gasped, her clutching hands buried in his mop of long dark hair, holding him in place as she spent and spent. Finally, he let go of her, and she collapsed sobbing onto the bed, her body soaked in a thick film of sweat. "Oh, God, oh, God, I love you, oh, Bandit, that was so, so BEAUTIFUL!" He crawled back up to join her and hugged her hard, and she buried her face in his hair and cried. "Sweetheart, don't cry, it's okay. Shhhh, don't cry," the Bandit soothed her, stroking her long hair. "Please don't cry...." "Can't, hic, I cuh-cuh-can't HELP it," Twink sobbed gustily. "It was so, suh-suh-so BEAUTIFUL, I cuh-c-c-can't help crying, uh, oh, I LOVE you!" She cried even harder, and the Bandit didn't know what else to do but to hold her close and rock her gently until her sobs gradually died away and she relaxed against him, kissing his neck. "Oh thank you, thank you...." "Uh, you're welcome," the Bandit said uncomfortably. "Are you sure you're all right? I mean, I've never had anyone start crying on me before." "Oh, I'm feeling wonderful," Twink sighed, grabbing a fistful of toilet paper from the roll the Bandit kept by the bed and blowing her nose with a honk. "I couldn't help it, it felt so good I just had to cry. Was, was that an orgasm?" "Uh, I think so," the Bandit said soothingly, smiling despite himself. "If it wasn't, when you finally have one it'll probably kill you!" "Mmmmm, but what a way to die!" Twink laughed and ran her hand back down his chest to his penis, which was just as stiff as ever. "My turn to make you feel good, now," she breathed, sliding down his body and kissing his chest as he'd kissed hers. The Bandit suddenly recalled what she'd said about Conan. "Uh, Twink, are you sure you want to do that? There are other ways...." "Mmmmm, shut up, Bandit," came her voice from somewhere under the covers. "I love you, and I want to make you feel as good as I do...." The Bandit's whole body tensed as a long, wet tongue licked its way down the underside of his penis and gently kissed his balls, then travelled back up to the head. "You like?" "Uh, uh-huh," he managed. "Oh, good," she replied, "Because I don't feel like stopping! It tastes so gooommmmbbllmmmmph......" The Bandit began thrusting his hips up off the bed as her moist, warm mouth enveloped him and gently sucked him in. She teased him with tiny nips and rolled her tongue obscenely over the head of his penis as if trying to lick a lollipop to death in under three minutes. As excited as he was, it was no time at all before the Bandit was feeling himself tense up under an impending orgasm. Twink, feeling him tense, stopped her labors for a moment. "Are you all right? Am I hurting you?" "Oh, God, DON'T STOP NOW, I'M COMING!" "Oops! Sorry! Glmmmmm....MMMM! MMMM! MMMMMM! Mmmmmmmmmmm...." "UH! UNGH! UH! UH! OH! UH! Uhhhhhhhhhhh...." Twink swallowed and swallowed again, downing every drop of hot, thick semen he gave her. She got up on her hands and knees and looked up at him, licking the last bits of sticky come from her lips. "How was that?" "Oh, god," the Bandit moaned. "I'm dying...." Twink laughed lightly and snuggled up next to him, kissing him deeply. The mixture of sweat, pussy juice and semen in the kiss was indescribable. The Bandit broke the kiss, and muttered, "So much for a night without doing anything...." "I don't mind a bit," Twink said, yawning. "I'm so sleepy all of a sudden...." "S'okay, me too," the Bandit mumbled. "Sleep well." "Mm-hmmm...." "Shhh," Zero whispered as he opened the door to his room slightly. "I just need to get fresh clothes, and I don't want to wake anyone up." "Okay," Diva said softly, tiptoeing into the living room with him. The door to Conan and the Wiz's room was ajar, and Conan was stretched out on his bed under the covers, snoring like a steam engine. "Him, we won't waken," Zero laughed, shutting the door. "But the Bandit's a light sleeper, so...." He eased the door to the bedroom he shared with the Bandit, and both he and Diva simultaneously smelled the familiar odor of sex. Zero peeked inside. The first thing he saw was the rumpled blue nightgown on the floor. Diva gasped; the first thing she saw was Twink's gorgeous back, half uncovered by the blankets. Zero looked at Diva. Diva looked at Zero. Their astonishment was comical. Quickly Zero reached into his closet and grabbed fresh clothes, and they backed out of the room and shut the door. "That was TWINK in there with him, wasn't it?" "Hard to say, I've never seen Twink naked before." "Oh, come on, I'm serious! The BANDIT, and TWINK?" "Hey, she's been gunning for him for months, and I have to admit that what I saw didn't look too bad...." "That's enough of that, mister," Diva said sharply. "You're spoken for already." "No problem," Zero said amiably. "Just commenting, that's all." The outer door closed, cutting off their voices. The Bandit smiled, his eyes still shut, and drifted back to sleep. The breakfast table was abuzz with conversation when the Bandit came out of the hot food line with his tray in his hand. He'd sent Twink off to shower and dress with a kiss, and had promised to meet her at the breakfast table, but she wasn't there yet. Zero, Diva, Conan, Bone, Thud, Plaids, and a young blonde girl he'd never seen before were sitting at the table. When they saw the Bandit, there was an uncomfortable pause, conversation dying down as the Bandit set his tray down. "What's everyone looking at me for," he asked pleasantly. Conan looked at him with a big grin, and waggled a finger at him. "Na, na ne NA na! Na, na ne NA na!" Pretty soon the whole table was doing it, and the Bandit just sat down, shaking his head and grinning. "So how was she?" "Getting a bit desperate, are we?" "Any port in a storm, I guess...." "Yes, but is she 'port'?" "All right, ALL RIGHT!" The Bandit waved them all to silence. "I have only this to say. It was not an act of desperation. Okay?" The laughter redoubled at that. "Prove it," Thud said mildly. "Okay, I will," the Bandit said with a smile. Keep your promise, Twink, he thought to himself. Don't wimp out on me, please? It's a stupid thing to have to do, but it'll make my life so much easier.... "How?" Bone challenged. "Well, it's easy enough, when--Ah, hello, sweetheart!" The Bandit stood up and pulled up a chair beside him for Twink as she entered the room. Conversation died. Thud's eyebrows went north for the winter. Conan's jaw hit his tray, and Cricket elbowed him in the ribs. Bone's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and Plaids nervously took off his glasses and began to polish them furiously. Twink had told the Bandit that she'd owned one set of clothes that he'd probably consider "sexy," and had agreed to his request that she wear them to breakfast. And sexy she was, in a clinging silk jumpsuit that was unzipped halfway to her waist. She'd foregone the bra for the meal, too. "Good morning, love," she said huskily, slipping into the Bandit's arms and doing her best Diva-kissing-Zero imitation. She then sat down beside him, and said with a bright smile, "Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!" "Uh, Twink, that's, uh, that's quite an outfit you've got there," Conan ventured. Cricket looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. The Bandit had coached Twink on that eventuality, though; she didn't even look up. "Eat your heart out, thumbdick," she said, opening her napkin. Cricket almost spat up her milk laughing. "You, I like," she said with a grin. "I'm Cricket. You must be Twink!" "The one and only," Twink replied. "What happened to your eye?" "Well, I--" "HEY! HEY, EVERYONE! LISTEN!" All heads turned about as Lanky came running in, obviously in a panic. The Bandit stood up and made shushing motions with both hands. "Take it easy, Lank. What's the matter?" "It's Livewire." Lanky's face was ashen. "The police came and took him away last night. It looked like they'd beaten him half to death."The Bandit" by Mike Metlay Part 4 -30-

Part 4, Section b: Valentine's Day, continued

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9610.txt

Dark One

Hired Help

"Oh my god, Jennifer! You look fabulous!" She saw her sister Laura walk into the room, taking small steps in her blue vinyl hobble dress. She had a matching heart-shaped cutout in her dress, covered with thin blue fabric, and her figure was definitely accentuated by a corset. She seemed to be walking confidently in her matching blue heels. Laura walked up to the edge of Jennifer's skirt. She heard a faint buzzing noise, then saw a look of intense concentration come across Laura's face. "Belt is in, I see," she said. Laura nodded. "I practiced," she said. Jennifer remembered that the belt used two C batteries that lasted an hour or two. "How many batteries did you go through?" she asked. "A dozen or so, I think," Laura replied. Jennifer smiled and giggled a bit. "Hey! I had to make sure I had enough practice," Laura declared. "You won't hear me objecting any," she said. "Vicki told me that belts like that are mandatory for all the female guests, except mother," she said. "Is mother here yet?" Laura asked suddenly. "If she is, I haven't seen her yet," replied Jennifer. Laura shook her head and took a shallow breath. "Does that mean that you..." Jennifer nodded. "I've got one too. And the guys have something like it in too." Laura rolled her eyes. "Sometimes, I just don't believe I'm doing this," she said. Jennifer heard more shoes on the floor. "I'm ready," said Vicki. Vicki's outfit was very similar to Jennifer's, but was made out of tight blue rubber. "Oohhh," she said suddenly, leaning against a wall, with the faintest of buzzing sounds being audible. There was an intense look of concentration, and a waggling of the hips. "Maybe I'm not ready." "Should have practiced more," Laura said sagely. "That's easy for you to say," Vicki shot back. "I doubt that you have a husband that would take the belt off you at the slightest hint of sexual excitement, and insist upon doing it himself!" "Ah, no. I don't have one of those," Laura said quietly. Vicki's buzzing stopped, only to be replaced by a buzzing from Laura. She hardly flinched at all, only stood still for a few seconds with the slightest of pelvic twitching visible, then the buzzing stopped. There was again the clicking of heels upon the floor. The four women looked up, and saw a woman dressed up as a French maid approaching. "Becky!" exclaimed Vicki. "You're finally here!" The woman was dressed in a very tight black rubber French maid's outfit. She had matching black heels, and fishnet stockings underneath. This outfit had only short sleeves, and extended down far enough to expose most of the top halves of her breasts. The waist was very narrow and rigid, indicative of a corset underneath. As she walked towards them, they heard a distinctive vibrating noise, but this time from the newcomer. Becky too had to stop to deal with the interruption. However, she did not seem to have Vicki's trouble with it. "You were able to practice when doing your chores," Vicki said. "It certainly spiced things up," she replied. "Although Arnold was a bit frustrated by it at times." There was the sound of music from outside. "All of the rest of the guests are here, loitering about in the back yard," said Becky. "Let's get this on the road!"And seated next to him... Her mother sat next to Ben. She was wearing a red rubber hobble dress that stopped at the knees, instead of extending to the floor. Her heels were shorter than the rest of the women there, but still at least five inches tall. Jennifer stared at her, and almost lost her balance. The look on her mother's face... could almost be classified as *envious*. This brought a smile to her face like nothing else could. She gave the attendees her best smile, then took a moment to look behind her. There, Becky was holding the end of her bridal train up with both hands, holding it at the level of her corsetted waist. At that moment, the two phalluses within her started to vibrate gently. The startlement almost made her fall. Jennifer managed to recover, and slowly work her way down the aisle. Kegel exercises, she reminded herself. Between steps, she tried her best to clench her muscles around the vibrating phallus in her crotch while staring straight forward. Five times. Nothing. Ten times. Nothing. Fifteen times. Nothing. Twenty times. It started to buzz slightly faster now. Something must be wrong with this, she thought as she grew nearer to the assembled guests. Maybe it's not *designed* to turn off that way, a subversive corner of her mind put in. Her breathing grew more rapid against the tight corset. She clenched the bouquet in her hands with a death grip, as she concentrated with every step that she took. Richard! she wanted to say. You are a *sick* man! Jennifer was more than halfway down the aisle. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate upon the task at hand. Oh god! How the heck am I going to make it? She had to concentrate like she never had before. She noticed nothing else, not the music, not the guests, not Richard, not even her mother's staring at her. One step at a time... She was now only six feet away from her spot. This translated to a couple dozen steps for her in her hobble slip while trying to balance in seven-inch heels. She could hear the rustle of her dress as she slowly inched forward. Finally! She was there! As a reward for her achievement, the vibrators within her sped up incrementally. Jennifer sighed in relief anyway. At least I don't have to try to walk anymore this way! "Dearly beloved," came the very masculine voice of Arnold from the French maid. "It may be truly frightening to behold, but I am indeed certified to conduct legal weddings within the state." There was a chuckle from the crowd, and at least one gasp, as the buzzing continued within her. She saw out of the corner of her eye that her sister was intently concentrating herself. Vicki seemed to be struggling for air against her corset, and was fidgeting madly, especially with hip wriggles. Jennifer had to guess that she wasn't keeping up well with the demands of the vibrators within her. "Weddings are solemn occasions, and deserve the proper respect. But they are also times of great joy, and great pleasure," said Arnold as the vibrators within her sped up yet again. "I know that you are all eagerly waiting to enjoy this blessed event, and to celebrate their happiness with them. Therefore, I will keep this brief." "Richard, do you take this woman Jennifer, and I do mean take, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, 'till death do you part?" "I do," he said, reaching out with an arm to take ahold of her hand. Jennifer had to consciously release her death grip on the bouquet to take his hand. The buzzing inside of her reached the highest intensity that she had ever remembered experiencing. Oh, god! Her willpower was failing, and she was starting to wriggle inside of her dress. "And you, Jennifer, do you take Richard to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, 'till death do you part?" "I... do," she said, in a voice not much above a whisper. She did not trust her voice any more than that because she feared that she might start to moan. Collin stepped forward and brought forth a ring. "Repeat after me, Richard. With this ring, I thee wed." "With this ring, I thee wed," Richard said, slipping the ring on her finger. Jennifer barely noticed it as her breath came in short, ragged bursts. Oh my god. Right in front of everyone... "You may now kiss the bride," said the reverend Arnold. Richard stepped towards her, pushing the voluminous dress back as he did so. Jennifer turned, fell forward, grabbed ahold of him. She kissed him suddenly and deeply and held on for dear life as a massive orgasm swept through her body. Chapter 52 The recessional was a blur for her. Even as the vibrations stopped within her, she somehow did not feel in touch with reality. The walk out was just as slow as her trek down the aisle. However, it was much easier with Richard to lean on. "How... why...?" she asked him as she stumbled slightly. "Would you expect any less from me?" he said with a smile. Richard had arranged for a reception of sorts in the house. There was a buffet table set up, and music was playing in the background. She felt something happening behind her. Becky, the rubber French maid, was industriously folding up her train and bustling it for her. All of the guests were about. She saw her mother flirting shamelessly with Ben, who egged her on. "These are my nieces," he said, to introduce his two live-in lovers. Jennifer smiled at this. Be careful what you ask for, mother, she thought. You might just get it. Richard was flitting about, making small talk with the guests. Jennifer, in her very restrictive and cumbersome dress, was not about to try that. Instead, she walked very slowly and let the guests come to her. Laura walked over to her. "That was a hell of a kiss you gave him," she said. "I don't think I've *ever* seen a kiss that intense before." "I doubt you ever will again," Jennifer replied. There was again a buzzing sound from Laura. A few seconds later, it disappeared. "Vicki is really having a rough time of it," she said, gesturing. Jennifer turned her head to look. Vicki had taken a seat in the corner of the room. She was writhing and twisting in the dress. Finally, she stopped writhing and let out a tiny sigh in her corset. "It's on more than it's off with her," Laura said. "What about the others?" Jennifer asked. "Ben's two nieces are doing all right," she said. Oh, she doesn't know, thought Jennifer. "The other two women are not doing so well, either. I don't know who they are with, or what their names are." She spotted Mary as she walked into the room. She headed straight for Richard. They exchanged brief words, then she saw Mary hand Richard a small box with a short antenna on it. He touched a button briefly, and her vibrators momentarily came to life. "Richard, you sly devil you!" she said. "What?" replied Laura. "Nothing," said Jennifer. "Nothing at all." There was no dancing scheduled for the event. It was not like Jennifer or any of the female guests could have danced anyway. She noticed that all of the male guests, Richard included, were walking a bit more cautiously and awkwardly than usual, and sat down very gingerly in the chairs. More people showed up as the afternoon turned into evening. Most were people associated with Fantasy Supreme, and came garbed in kinky and bondage attire. There was a sudden quieting of the general din as a leather-garbed woman made her entrance. She wore a tight leather corset over a black leather bodysuit and heels. In each hand, she held a leash. After she walked inside, she saw that the leashes were connected to the collars of two men that wore little except thin leather harnesses and minimal leather shorts. "Susana," Jennifer said, under her breath, as she recognized the woman. Richard immediately walked over to Jennifer and took her arm. "That's my ex-wife," he said. "I didn't know that she would be here. I did not invite her." "It'll be all right," said Jennifer. Susana made directly for Richard. "So! It's been a long time!" she said. "It has," replied Richard. "Please meet my wife Jennifer. Jennifer, this is my ex-wife Susana." The woman nodded to her. "Found your soul-mate at last?" she asked. "I could ask for no more," replied Richard. "And yourself?" "I don't think I could ever settle on just one," she said. "Here are my two favorites, Edward and Gerard." "You don't look happy to see me," Susana said after a pause. "I... was not expecting you," replied Richard. "I still have contacts at FS, you know. It's not hard to find out about such things, really." "I see. Why did you show up, then?" he asked cautiously. Susana smiled at him. "I don't have any ill will towards you anymore, dear Richard. You have a very lovely wife, and I wish the best for both of you." "I just showed up to say that it's truly over between us. You can get on with your life with your new wife and not concern yourself with me. I live a life that I love, and I am surrounded by people that adore me. "Be happy, for a change, Richard. I heard how you moped around after I was gone. Just be happy." Susana turned to Jennifer. "You are beautiful in that dress, Jennifer. You've caught a wonderful man. It just wasn't meant for me." With that, she turned and looked around the crowd. "Henry!" she said, and with her two men in tow, she headed away from them. Jennifer leaned over to Richard. "So... you have the remote control now?" she asked. "How did you know about that?" he asked."I saw Mary giving it to you," she said. Richard reached into the pocket of his jacket. A moment later, the vibrators within her came to life. "You twisted man!" she said, holding on to him and twisting. "That's for later," he said as the vibrations ceased. Her mother stopped by to talk to her on the way out the door. "I'm so happy for you," she said. "But I have to go now." "I'm sure I'll see you later," said Ben, giving her a leer. "I'll stop by just to get a look at you." Her mother and Ben walked out together, followed by the two younger women. There was a brief moment of buzzing from the two women, but within seconds, the buzzing had stopped and they were continuing after the couple as fast as they could go in their heels and silver vinyl hobble dresses. The other guests parted soon afterwards. Vicki and her husband Henry had been the first to leave, and Jennifer had heard a loud moan just moments after she had disappeared out the door. Richard and Jennifer were left alone, with the mess all around them. "Well, I'm pooped," said Jennifer. "I'm ready for bed. Are you?" she said with a wink. "Not quite," said Richard, as he pulled out the remote control. "We have some batteries to run out, first. Then we can retire to the bedroom. The evening is still young." "Run... out?" she said, with eyes wide. "You might want to sit down for this," he said with a broad smile. Jennifer was in the middle of the room, with all of the chairs and couches at the periphery. She tried to hurry as best she could towards a couch, but all that her extra efforts seemed to accomplish was to move the vibrators around within her even more. Gasping for air against her corset, she was seized by a wave of pleasure just feet away from the couch. She fell forward, onto the couch, as the vibrations continued relentlessly. Epilogue "I won't be long on the phone," Jennifer said as she dialed. It took several rings before the phone was picked up. "Hello?" "Mother! How good to talk with you!" she said, enthusiastically with an evil grin on her face. "Jennifer... I don't know if I really want to talk right now," she said. "Oh, but I'm being a good daughter. I have to call my beloved mother to tell her how much I love her!" "I... had a rough night," she said. "I heard that you went home with Ben after the reception. Is that true?" "Well... he invited me over for a drink afterwards," she said. "You know, Richard just talked to Ben. Ben really wants to have you over again," she said. "Now, be honest with me, is Ben going to be my stepdaddy?" "I don't think so," replied her mother curtly. "Did you at least have a good time?" Jennifer asked. There was dead silence from the other end of the line. "Ben sure seemed to think that you did. Is that the first time you did it with a woman?" There was another long pause, and the sound of ragged breathing. "All he did was watch!" she exclaimed. "That's all he did!" "So, maybe I should buy you another dildo for your birthday," she said. "You seemed to really enjoy it." "Shut up!" her mother exclaimed. "I don't want to talk about it!" "Did you really offer to suck his cock?" she asked. "Jennifer! You horrible daughter!" "I really don't have to ask you," she said. "Ben taped the whole thing. We're going to go over there and watch it next week..." Her mother's voice was replaced by a dial tone. "Hmmm... I guess she doesn't want to talk to me anymore." Jennifer stood up and smoothed out her dress. It was made of black vinyl, and covered her from neck to the floor. It was a very tight sheath dress, with no slit, and her steps were restricted to less than a foot. Six-inch black heels were locked onto her feet. Jennifer was becoming used to maneuvering around in dresses like this. Underneath it, there was a corset, and the chastity belt that she had worn under her wedding dress. There was a buzzing from the belt. "Hey, just watch it!" she said, picking up her own remote control. Richard was wearing a pair of tight black leather pants, with a white silk shirt. Underneath, he wore a butt plug and penis sheath, with vibrators attached to each. As Jennifer pushed the button on her remote control, she heard his vibrators come to life. "En garde, Jennifer!" he said, holding his remote control with antenna like a rapier. "I'm ready... I think," came Laura's voice. Laura walked in, balancing in black six-inch heels. She was wearing the rubber maid's outfit that Jennifer had worn so many times. Long sleeves, high neck, very flared skirt. Her figure was accented by the tight corset she wore underneath. Laura turned around, and as her skirt rose up, Jennifer saw the chastity belt that she had worn to the wedding. Jennifer knew that Richard had tinkered with the settings. Now, it only waited half as long before resuming its vibrations. Laura had to work twice as hard to keep it from distracting her endlessly. From the flush on her face, Jennifer guessed that she might not be able to make it the whole night. There was the sound of the doorbell. "That must be Collin!" Jennifer said, walking over to her sister and fussing with her hair. "Now, you have to look your best for this job," she said. "And answering the door is a part of your duties," said Richard. "Looking like this?" she said. "I've done it," said Jennifer. As Laura walked out of the room, Jennifer spoke up. "Do you think that Collin will like her?" she asked. "He'll positively drool over her," Richard replied. "*I'd* drool over her, if I wasn't married to you," he said. "It must run in your family. I just wonder how much longer we'll have a maid after Collin sees her." "I'd have to say three weeks, at the most," replied Jennifer. "But... there *are* advantages to privacy," said Jennifer, as she pushed the button on her remote control.

51

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12068.txt

Hidieon

Arrival

"Well," said Bart, "here we are!" Cathy looked at him, her green eyes inscrutable for the moment, but he was taking in the view outside. She heard so much in that short, deliberately banal utterance. She heard the relief and the disbelief, the edge of bitterness, and the fear that this all might still be just a fragile dream. She heard the hard-edged irony, the self-deprecation, and read in his thin hard body the struggle to detach himself from the dead anchors of the past, to seek a living future. He was aware of her gaze; she knew it. She felt her heart turn over the way it so often did, the impulse to stroke his hair, his back, his eyelids and lashes... She responded in kind, equally banal, equally layered in meaning. "It was a long trip." He turned and looked at her then; his huge blue eyes grey in the fast-fading twilight, and then again looked out to the sea. His eyes half-hidden by his absurdly long eyelashes, he answered. "Yes - it was," he said heavily, "five years long - longer!" "We made it. We're here!" Cathy said, trying to lift his mood. She succeeded; she saw the fierce joy drop into his veins like fire. A smile cracked his face, and he raised his arms. He was merely stretching, easing the kinks out of his long thin body after the long journey, but she found herself licking her lips, her hands itching to touch him. His back was an erogenous zone, and that made her smile in anticipation. She felt her body rise with his mood, as though she were to sway or leap with some new dance to music yet unwritten. "It's getting dark fast," he commented, looking out at the sea, the waves crashing over the reef far out, merely lapping where they were. "It's the tropics," she said unnecessarily, "short twilights, hardly any seasons." "Not exactly a cradle of civilization, then!" Bart laughed. "More a cradle of idleness..." "That's what we're here for." She smiled at his back - and she couldn't help herself. She went up to him, pressed herself against him. She pressed her belly to his back - feeling the old familiar tingle, the hunger building in her, knowing how he loved to feel her breasts, her nipples denting his shoulder blades. She wanted him then, immediately, but this moment was to be savored. The road had been too long, and there was too much ahead, for this planned and stolen moment of respite to be rushed. Tonight, with the windows open and the sound of the sea as their friend, isolation all that they needed as lock for the door, then would be the time. He felt the hunger in her body, and it transferred instantly to his groin. Heart and pump and hardening, and he sighed again - so difficult to believe that they had made it here, at last. He sighed again, and felt that he owned the world, that he had won all the lotteries. Her, with him. A thousand times he had wondered at her love for him, a thousand times and more he knew how deeply and vulnerably he loved her. It was such a continuing miracle that his love was returned. His cock pressing against his cutoff jeans, he longed to be free. He had a sudden absurd vision of himself, cock out, marking his territory like some dog, but in the hallucinatory flicker, he didn't know if he marked the boundaries in gold or cream... but it would be her hand, her soft pale skin upon him, pointing the way. "It's so good to be alone," she whispered, her breath warm in his ear. She felt all the interchange running between them, the history, the present, the promise of the future, and perhaps that was the sweetest triumph. There was no-one else here to try to draw them out of their world, their intense fascination with each-other, the extraordinary reality of the other's presence. "But darling, I'm with you!" he quipped, and she nipped his ear at that precise pressure between pain and pleasure. "If there's anybody else here but me, you're toast!" she said. Then she pulled away from him. She had a moment's pang about the friends that they had lost along the way, those who had tried to keep them apart. But they were not here - they might be part of the future, but they were not part of this now; this arrival at their island within an island. Their bags stood forgotten in the corner, she wanted to nest, to make this place familiar. The bathroom had to come first. The heavy smaller bag clinked as she dragged it in; she put the lotions in their half-familiar places. Coconut oil was going to be so good here, so appropriate. Plain olive oil went to the kitchen. That special aromatic oil beside the bed - she smiled at it in anticipation - it would be a nice surprise! Three bottles of that special mixture of 15+, insect repellant and moisturizer. She saw his eyes on her, the acceptance as she followed her compulsion. He loved her skin, and her compulsion had the side-effect of skin wonderfully, touchably, strokably soft... Later, he would be helping her to put it on, and she would put it on him, stroking her breasts over his back... 'If you can't change your habits, harness them!' her counselor had said, and so she had. She found herself washing her hands, but it didn't matter. The water had an odd texture, half of forest, half of sea - and that didn't matter either. Outside, he was placing other things around, hats, towels, sandals, the flowing skirts that he had grinned he might wear also; the short skirts she liked, skimpy clothes for tropical nights. "It's very dark now," Bart said, as a bird started to cry outside. It was very loud and very close - a curlew. They looked for it, but it was a small grey blob in the darkness, but a cry so loud and mournful that it half made them want to laugh. "Move over, Donna Summer!" she cried at it, and at the next cry, joined in and did a fair imitation of bird and singer both. The bird responded, as did others, more distant. The noise grew deafening; they retreated to the verandah, looking out at the sea. "There'll be a moon," Cathy said, looking at the new glister on the waves, the pallid glow in the sky. "A full moon - I checked." Bart was gazing out again, content. In the background, the curlews conducted their voice duel, although the nearest bird was moving away. "We'll have to watch out for werewolves." It was a good joke, she thought, and remembered that she had already checked the locks, and there weren't any. They were here, alone on the little island within the island and its lagoon; she stayed where she was by what felt like main force. "I sometimes turn into a werewolf when you full-moon me!" he said gently, and moved his tongue across his lips lasciviously. She laughed and put a finger to his lips, and felt herself squirm inside. "It's so dark so early!" she said, and slapped at a mosquito. "We're reverse jet-lagged - we're two hours ahead." He glanced at her. "Time to change for dinner? Lotion up?" Relieved, she went inside, and he reached for the nearest combination lotion. She turned and looked at him, and switched on a sidelight. Her green eyes locked onto his smoldering grey ones; she began to strip, slowly. Of course she could just have removed her clothes - but this wasn't the moment. She felt excited, erotic, happy to be there, happy to be with him, pleased to see herself reflected in the love and lust that burned in his eyes.With a practiced motion, he squirted a large dab of lotion into the palm of his hand, and then looked down, dismayed. He was still fully dressed, and now had oily hands. She crooked a finger at him and moved into the doorway of the bathroom cubicle. The harsh light from the recess threw her dancer's body into profile, and she played herself as a symphony in black and white. Her clothes landed awry in a basket set there for laundry; she resisted tidying them away, catching his eyes, seeing them glitter in the warm half-light. She turned as she slipped her lace bra from her shoulders, knowing how much he loved her breasts in profile, how often he had explored them with the oddly sensitive backs of his hands. Her short skirt puddled on the floor a moment later, and she stepped out of his view to remove her panties. She peered through the doorway, her panties waving in a circle from a finger, and he followed her in. "I," she breathed, "need oil." She didn't - she needed to be touched! She knew her nipples were begging, erect. Her treacherous pussy was swollen and slippery, awaiting what he might do to her. Oil? If he touched her there, he would make a dewy discovery... "Turn around," he said, and she did, a dancer's whirl, looking over her shoulder at him. She never knew where he would touch her, but for the moment, she prayed it wouldn't be her belly. She would melt; she would just have to have him, right now! That would be - well, perfect, but she knew that both of them wanted it to be even more perfect. How had they agreed that they wouldn't have sex until after dinner? She didn't know - but she felt honor bound by the unspoken contract. He ran his hands over the swelling of her hips and over her belly. Cathy fairly moaned. "Oh, God, no!" she whispered, sagging against him. "Don't get me too excited..." His erection was brushing her buttocks through his tight cutoffs; she pressed back against him, feeling able to do anything she wanted. She was also feeling unable to resist. His hands stroked upwards, cupping her breasts in the way she loved. "One of these days I'm going to get me a job as your bra," he said, and his fingers slipped towards the tips of her breasts and squeezed the nipples. She gasped again, feeling the sensation spread, hot-wired to her groin, and she found her hips rotating. "What are you trying to do to me?" she whispered, and turned and began to undo his shirt buttons. He laughed a little, and she looked up and saw hot triumph and vulnerable worship mixed in his eyes, now blue in the harsh bathroom light. "I've already done it!" he whispered, and as she peeled his shirt off, added "what are you trying to do to me?" She was business-like at his belt. "I'm trying," she said, "to get you as excited and frustrated as I am!" His cutoffs hit the floor with a clang of buckle, and he stepped out of them. More stripping of him on her part and his cock sprang free. She smiled at the familiar organ, her little big friend, and bent and bestowed a quick kiss on it, escaping his hands as he sought to keep her there. "You and me," she said to the bobbing erection, "got a date!" He reached for another bottle of lotion as she automatically tidied the day's clothes away. She pushed him into the shower, and turned the water on cold and fierce - or it should have been. But a weak lukewarm trickle emerged, strengthening only slightly when an automatic compressor cut in with a distant, intrusive mechanical noise. He laughed, jubilant, and washed away the salt of the day. He tried to pull her in there with him. She slipped free, quivering, wanting everything, denying it for now, and savoring the expectation. He managed to get her the next grasp, and caught her off balance. She staggered in beside him in the tepid stream, and then he was running his hands over her body, making slippery trails and erotic patterns in the mixture of oil and water on her skin. For a mad moment she kissed him, open-mouthed, holding nothing back. All her hunger flowed through and to him, and all her resolve was gone. She dropped her hand to his prick, and felt him jump. She knew how much her hands, worked, petted (oh, pun!) and pampered in turns, turned him on! She lifted him slightly, trailing fingers down to the base of his cock on the underside, feeling him quiver. He broke free then, just. She had turned the tables, and glanced down at her belly, seeing a little fleck of white there for a moment before the shower whisked it away. 'I just did a Monica Lewinsky,' she thought, 'but I wasn't wearing a blue dress!' She laughed at the thought and her state. She was gloriously nude and feeling free, glowing with renewed energy in the shower. He came back, decently trousered and bare-chested. She looked at him, laughing easily, seeing the bulge with her name on it in his trousers. He held up a towel, and she turned off the water and stepped out, walking towards him and threatening to wet him with her slick body. He caught her midway with the towel, wrapping it around her and rubbing her to him, drying her back while she wrapped her arms around his chest. They were sparing with the rest of the three-in-one lotion - he discovered accidentally that the taste was awful. She added a whiff of her Jasmine perfume, and smiled at him. He said he loved the smell of Jasmine; perhaps he did - or had. But now she was secure in the knowledge that he could not smell either plant or perfume without thinking of her. Once he had loved the scent, perhaps. But for the rest of his life, that scent would cue him back to her, and perhaps, to this very moment. She donned apparel appropriate for the evening. Black bikini under/outerwear; a black and orange silk top that showed through; a long flowing translucent wisp of a skirt that was tied at her waist and bared one lovely pale leg, and sandals. He was semi-formal in black trousers, black leather walkers, and a short-sleeved white shirt and short black tie. Each thought the other looked gorgeous; it showed in their eyes, and they embraced, and walked outside. The moon had risen; they walked out to see it. They started to walk, and then realized that the island was so small they would circumnavigate it in moments. So they went half way around, finishing up at the punt, with its electric motor. Tomorrow, they would explore more of their little exclusive island, and perhaps on the following day, more of the island. She had felt a slight shock of recognition, looking at the ethnically mixed faces of the locals... They boarded the punt, which skittered on the surface like all light, flat-bottomed boats. At the other end, they neared more of the expensive, discreet complex. It really had been well done. A lot of effort had gone into making the resort a series of visually isolated havens. But none, of course, was as isolated as their little island within an island. It was quiet in the off-season; only a few of the cottages showed lights. They took a quiet and roundabout journey across the lagoon, seeing whatever they could on the way. Fish jumped in the water, and they wondered what predators lurked in the depths. Barracuda, perhaps? There was a shark net. The bar/dining area was quiet. There was a band, a bunch of Rastafarians playing Harry Belafonte, which was incongruous. Waiters bustled with an uphill air, as though they'd been told to hurry but didn't quite know how to hurry, or why. This was an island in the sun, a place meant to be lazy. Why hurry? It would just make people nervous. A few wrinkly elderly couples occupied tables quietly, some in larger groups and chatting. For the most part they seemed to have a slightly bewildered air, like 'we got here forty-five years too late to have fun.' One couple was being feted for fifty years of marriage, and were flushed on complimentary champagne. That couple was interesting, if only for the warmth they spread around the room. She was little and pale and round-faced. She might have been pretty once, but it was hard to imagine. But her eyes, behind thick glasses, glittered with both intelligence and a certain never-quite-lost country-girl shyness. He was large and bald as a coot, and had a distinguished air about him. Two waiters and, unaccountably, a pretty waitress, vied for his attention. But his mild and penetrating blue eyes were fixed upon his wife, and his large, gnarled old hand clasped her pudgy one in a proprietorial way that had the gray-haired lady simpering. Then they both heard the lush lazy voice "Never mind his cock, I'll settle for his hair and his eyelashes!" Inevitably they both turned, to look at the owner of the outrageous booming voice. A couple, lesbians or drag queens, sat in a conspicuous corner, near the band. Lesbians, it soon became evident, although both girls were tall. That particular kind of slenderness only comes from being feminine, and neither had the giveaway Adam's apple. They were the most exotic couple in the room by far; and Bart and Cathy had the satisfaction of being the best looking hetero couple there. The two lesbians, obviously well into a second bottle, were eyeing them both openly and speculatively, but with such an outré quality that it was impossible to take offence. Bart and Cathy sat down, and were served. They passed up the complimentary glass of champagne. They felt vegetarian, and ordered a red salad and drank a superb vintage Australian St Henri claret, a wine perhaps better than anything out of France and one third the price. The heavy red wine tasted like all the promises of all the wine-bottles in the world; like bottled Adelaide sunshine and meditative memories of dark, cool cellars. It was odd to have a red chilled - but this was the tropics, and as the wine warmed to perfect temperature it was superb.Cathy found the smooth red slipping to her belly like fire, making her glow all over in a way that champagne never could. The warmth in her belly reminded her of the unfinished business between Bart and herself, and her nipples hardened into sharp relief under the bra. She might as well have stood and announced "I'm just so incredibly horny!" to the two lesbians, who were eyeing them still. The two girls reeked of money - someone else's money, certainly, but still money. They were like two cats; one could have been a model, she had a certain fragile beauty underneath deliberately garish makeup. The other, who had the more spectacular figure but had a definitely horsy face, was the more exuberant. And it was her voice that boomed across the room... "Now there was a nice thought!" A moment later, a waiter appeared at their elbow with a second bottle, showing the label. The first was not empty. "The ladies' compliments, Sir, Ma'am, and may they offer you a drink?" Bart's eyes glittered, a little angry. Privacy was what they were here for... "No," he said, "not tonight." The voice boomed across the room. "Won't you join us?" English upper class, used to calling down the Quorn. "We'd better do the social pretty," he said, and she knew what he meant. "No," he called back, and then they both rose and went over. "Thank you for your kind invitation," said Bart formally, "but this is our first night, and we wish to savor it alone. Another night, perhaps?" "Oh, that's such a pity," gushed the younger, prettier one - Alice, was it? "You look like the only fun people here!" "So very intense you both are," commented the other, Ruth, with the booming horsewoman's voice. "Are you on honeymoon?" the gushy Alice asked. "Something like that," smiled Cathy. "Perhaps you'll relax after a really good fuck," said Ruth, managing to have the entire room hear it. "But I doubt it. You look like you live on your nerves. Well, run along, it is refreshing just to watch you. Tomorrow night, absolutely, you must join us!" They were dismissed, and firmly committed for tomorrow night. Why not? Those two hedonistic eccentrics had accepted them in a wonderful way, and it felt good. Dessert was served, tropical fruit grown locally, and ice cream flown in - what a thought! Bart grew annoyed at the band, and its bland music. He went over during a break and slapped down a large denomination bill. "Play something," he said. "Play something that you have written yourselves. Play something that I've never heard before. And please don't play any more Belafonte!" The band looked at each other as though they'd just been woken up. There was a brief exchange in patois, and then they started. Instantly there was a commotion from the kitchen and a large man came out, sweating. The singer waved the bill and pointed to Cathy and Bart, and the manager went away, shaking his head. The music was different, louder, plaintive, incomprehensible, longing for justice and love. The singer may have been singing in English, but they didn't know - his accent had changed, and become a curious mixture of strident and intimate. Their feet were dancing to the beat; Cathy found it irresistible. "Come on, let's dance!" she said, and bounded up. She was already swaying to the music, caught in the primal beat, in the magic of the moment. She tugged at him, he refused, and she swayed out to the dance floor alone, laughing at him, beckoning him to come to her. He stayed where he was, head shaking, his face cracked with a smile. He wanted to dance with her, certainly, but he did not have the skill in his thin strong body to match her. And for this magic moment, he knew that she was going to dance for him. That there were other people there was completely irrelevant - barely noticeable. She was aroused - she had been aroused with the promise of the place, its beauty, the beauty of their being here, ever since they'd arrived. She smiled at him, ignoring the band, ignoring everyone but him. She raised her hands and flowed at the hips like a belly dancer, her slenderness flowing like a willow in a breeze. He made a show of disinterested observation; placing his clasped hands beneath his chin in a judicious considering manner. It became part of the dance, of the play. That everyone in the room was watching her, watching them, they hardly knew. He was caught by the music as well, little sensual twitches that he did not even know he made. The two lesbians openly licked their lips, a cameo in perfect timing and clockwise rotation. They were fascinated by the pale dark-haired girl, with the way her tresses fell down her back and swayed in counterpoint to her body. The two girls clasped their outer hands, kissing sometimes; their inner hands were becoming intimate beneath the table. The song, like all songs in the ephemeral art of music, drew to its close, but the band did not let her rest. The polyglot members were watching the girl as though she were some sensual extension of their own dreaming, and they started another song, unique, slow, sensual. She could not bear to dance this alone; she wanted him, and slipped across the floor towards him, beckoning again. He rose, and moved towards her. Anyone who glanced might have seen the long bulge in his trousers, but he pulled her to him, and there was nothing for others to see, only for her to feel. But the music changed again, and grew insistent that their movements become wilder, freer, and she broke away from him, clasping his hand, and whirling about him. She was a dark moth to his fair candle; dark moon to his fair earth. His chest tightened with emotion as he looked at her, forever caught in the sheer wonder that she could love him; but her love, her desire swam about them both like a cloak of privacy. The music changed again to the earlier pattern; it was the chorus that was upbeat and the main melody slow. The singer began to sing, but it was in pure local patois, rendered liquid by the song. They knew the song spoke of love, of separation, of yearning, of completion, of the grief and joy and wonder of love, the despair and joy of life's journey. Later, perhaps, he would ask for a translation of the words. For now, the music went from patois to their uncomprehending ears and straight to their souls, where emotion was all that was needed, where words were a superfluous distraction. The chorus came, and she broke away from him again, their eyes burning into each other as they swayed and turned. The palpable tension that filled the rest of the room did not touch them, they were the eye; others could be wind-blown by their storm. Her hunger built, she yearned to kiss him, to throw herself upon him and strip him naked. She wanted to straddle him upon the hard floor, to feel the boards press into her knees and his back as she rode his hardness in liquid pleasure. The message came through her eyes, and through the song that they swam through and that half played them. She saw his eyes darken, saw the tension building there, she pressed herself against him and felt the familiar prodding of his erection against her sensitive belly. Behind them, the lesbian couple teetered to their feet, staggering under wine and ridiculously tall platform soles. They began to dance as well on the open floor, to intrude into their private world. They moved to each other in hunger. They had watched, and their innate warmth for each other, the true core of lust and affection that burned beneath affectation had been deeply stirred. Determined to be outrageous, they had risen to the occasion, their lovely slender bodies intertwining, and causing some of the elderly men to smile and make remarks, and some of their wives to kick them beneath the table. The two girls kissed, and the music finished. Cathy and Bart stood pressed against each other. She felt him hard against her belly; it felt like he was already deep inside her. He was so absolutely raging hard, and he knew that any plans he might have had for the rest of the evening had narrowed to just the one. He would take her back to the cabin and make love to her until she cried out his name, make love to her until he could no longer bear it and spilled again and again... The two girls brushed past them; they had sensed somehow that the show was over, and their own hunger was roused. They teetered out, hands fluttering each over the other; they were going back to their cabin to make love and they didn't care who knew it. And so it was with them, although curiously less so. The audience was applauding; it seemed both expectable and irrelevant, like a wave washing against the shore. They were leaving too, they walked away, smiling automatically at those who applauded them, not connecting. She hungered. Her belly was filled with just the right amount of food and wine and she hungered. She was slick and swollen and ready for him, and there would be the long minutes of the walk back to the pier, the quiet trip across the lagoon, before she could have him. It seemed like an eternity - she wanted to break all bonds and drag him down here, on the path, on the beach, in the soft leaves of the forest floor. That would be perfect - but she wanted it to be more perfect. That would be quick, and when it came - soon now! She wanted it to be long. He walked beside her, his gait hampered by his condition. Had he been walking naked, he would have swung free, fully rampant. Had he been bared, she could not have resisted, she would have stopped, worshipped on her knees. She would have leaped, impaling herself, refusing to be unseated until after they were back upon their island within an island, until after he had ebbed away within her. In the middle distance, a woman's voice in an extremity of desire and passion "Oh, god yes! There, please, there!The two girls were pleasuring each other, their cries drifting out through the open windows in the tropical night. They glanced at each other, smiled. They wished the two outré creatures well; their muffled sobbing was a counterpoint and underscore to their own desire, and they had no will to wish them a night less hedonistic than their own. She felt every step, felt the deep well of desire in her, and knew that her panties were soaked. Each step was hallucinatory, her inner lips slipping slightly against each other, the crunch on ground coral rock a measuring. Each step was one step closer to that moment when he would fill her, when he would be where she so desperately wanted him. They found the punt, and with exaggerated care they boarded and cast off. Another night they would swim and make love in the water, but not tonight. She sat facing him, her eyes studying his face in the reflected light of the resort and the moonlight. She couldn't see enough of him, couldn't see well enough to read the expression on his face. She only knew that her own face was near to breaking point. She wanted to beg him to hurry, to get there, but the quiet motor was already wrung for all that it was worth. He was taking a direct route, there was no wind, they would be there. She shifted uneasily in her seat, finding that her knees wanted to splay apart. She pulled them together again; it took a conscious effort. She looked at his groin and saw the bulge tented there. He saw her glance, and the smile that she loved cracked his face. "Wanton," he said, and she just grinned back. "Wanting," she replied, and then they were nudging up against their own private pier. He fumbled with the painter and secured it. She leaned on his arm as they went back to the quiet cabin, and then they stepped through the door. Instantly, she was all over him. All of the kisses she had not bestowed on the dance floor and on the way back fought for priority of place as she kissed him, rapidly and clumsily, now. Her hands were busy, and inept in their eagerness, as she sought to bare his skin, to make him naked. He was restraining himself, but she felt the effort that this was costing him, and she wanted to kick this barrier down so that he was as uncontrolled as she. His hands caressed her back, finding bare skin beneath her clothes, finding hooks, and making her bare also. Their skins were moist and a little sticky in the humid tropical night; that would not matter. She was slippery where she needed to be. She saw the damp patch on his trousers, the place where his own excitement had been so intense that pre-cum had leaked and stained his clothes, and she had to have it, to taste it. With the sort of strength that she associated with him, she tumbled him back and pushed him to the bed, pushing his jeans down. His cock sprang free and she whispered "Hi, Dr Longdongle!" in the old joke between them. He was long, like the rest of his long thin body. She kissed it as she yanked shoes, socks, and trousers away. She was bare to the waist, and still clad below in the rucked short skirt, it didn't matter. She took him in her mouth, relishing every throbbing millimeter, every hint of the taste of him. He protested. "God, don't be too good!" he said "I won't last, I'll... you'll make me..." He was gasping and pulling at her long dark hair, pulling her away. For a wild moment she thought of doing just that, of milking him dry and asserting her power over him. But then she thought of how much she wanted him inside her, and it wasn't a bearable option. It had to happen - on this wondrous night she wanted him to spend inside her, to keep him there with her legs wrapped around him while his long cock grew soft, and then hard again. "I want to taste you too!" he gasped. He knew her state, knew how soaked she was. Her pussy would be like a ripe peach; his fingers would dip and part and find her gloriously oily, scented with her own unique female musk. She let up on him then, just a little. Although she did not completely relinquish her position, her mouth hovering, kissing, sometimes sucking at his cock, she stripped her lower half. Then they arranged themselves so that they were on the bed instead of half off it. His fingers found her first, parting her delicately, a single stroke like a broad comb to part her matted hair. She heard her shuddering gasp as he touched and exposed the sensitive inner lips, and whimpered. Then he pulled her over him, so that she straddled his face, and his tongue stabbed deep. She heard a woman cry out and realized it was her. Tears were streaming from her eyes, tears of unbearable arousal, and he was showing no mercy. He knew how to pleasure her, knew all her secret places, and found them all. His tongue swirled around her sensitive nub, and she arched back, sitting heavily on him for one moment. He lifted her up, parting her, his rangy strength still a surprise after all this time. She was totally exposed; he laved her and stabbed deep with his tongue, again and again, like a sensitive tendril of cock. She lowered her head to his cock again, but he was taking control now, and knew that he could make her arch and lift her head with what he was doing to her. It grew too much; she felt the trip-hammer explosion building and then suddenly she was there. She had no time to prepare, or even to draw breath. A cry erupted from her, of sensation so pure it was borderline to pain, and she sensed it echoing across the lagoon, and did not care. She saw that semen had spilled from him during this excitement, she bent and licked it up, and then she again threw him back as she turned and mounted him. He slipped into her easily; she was incredibly excited, and he was, as always, gentle for that first moment until she grew used to him. Then she seized both his hands, and pressed them to his chest, and rode him frantically, heavily. She knew she was being noisy and did not care; he was smiling up at her, in wonder and in near-worship; she felt devilish. But he could not bear to be passive any longer. He twisted and they rolled, and he lifted her legs high and then slammed into her with all of his gentle force. Her head tossed upon the pillow; she was wild and abandoned and tamed and caught and as happy as any Eve with her Adam. He was more imaginative and more visceral than he had ever been. He slowed, and lifted one leg high, nipped at her Achilles tendon, nibbled gently on the sole of her foot. He bent forward, and watched as his long hard tube probed her again and again, disappearing into her overheated cleft. He moved his hand from her thigh to her sensitive belly, feeling the disturbance deep inside her as his cock plunged and probed, sensing his own large adamant presence deep inside her small welcoming softness. He grasped her hands and held them above her head, and bent and kissed nipple, breast, armpit, rib. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the palm, his tongue flickering, his mouth seeming to taste the soft and surprisingly erotic flesh on the inside of her wrist. And again he looked down, seeing himself disappearing into her, seeing the tumult he caused in her belly with his intrusion. She looked into his eyes as he looked up, knowing what he saw, and grasping at what he felt. As always, she marveled that her slender body could accommodate so much, that she could take all his length and only feel pleasure. But the pleasure had never been as deep as now... He took her hand, and brought her own hand down to her own belly, to her cleft, demanding that she feel him as he stroked into her body. His probing cock was a vague sensation on the soft inner flesh of her wrist as she complied; he pressed down so that they could both feel it. She could feel the slight tension and changing in her belly, the writhing within a harbinger of the children she would one day carry. She touched her cleft, and felt him there, felt his hardness so powerful within her. She wasn't sure she wanted to touch herself, not with him there, not with him already inside. It was as though she could take a selfish pleasure in the midst of all she already received, as though her touching of herself could in some way diminish the sharp fact of his loving. But he pressed her, his long hands insistent as she complied. She felt him, slippery, plowing into her. She was wide spread and stretched for him, and terribly exposed to her own fingers. And when her own fingers touched her most sensitive spot, she was caught off-guard with another sharp little orgasm that had been building all night and yet seemed to come from nowhere. He fell flat, crushing her, and she fought her hands free and raked her nails gently over his back, and she felt his control slip as he touched that broad surface, one of his more erogenous zones. He claimed her lips and sucked the breath from her lungs, making her gasp again as she fought for breath. He grew tender, and kissed her face, her lips, her eyelids, the line of her jaw. He put a finger to her chin and turned her head, and kissed her ear in the way he knew she liked it most. He breathed warm air there, and she moaned. And all the while, gently, relentlessly, his hips continued to move, as did hers, a perfect harmony of movement between them. She was exulting, rejoicing in a way somehow even greater than the very first time. He was there, she had him, he was inside her, he was hers and she was his, and nothing and nobody else mattered. They wanted it to last forever, and they made it as long as their vigor and their mutual desire would permit. But there was too much pent up between them, too much love, too much lust, and too much need for release in the other. She was caught in approaching orgasm when she read his body and knew that he was past the point of no return.She gloried in the knowledge and rose to meet him, hips bucking and her own orgasm rising, faster and more surely now. She heard that despairing moan he made when he knew he could no longer hold back, when all there was to do was to go with the flow and to make it as good for both of them as possible. She wrapped her legs around him, and for a curious moment, drummed her heels, and then it was happening for both of them. She heard his male roar and her own soprano cry as he splashed inside her. She swore she knew it, could feel the hot fluid inundating her womb - what do doctors know about such things? She laughed at the thought, and with the sheer joy of the moment, and stroked the side of his face as he shuddered. He subsided slowly, while she felt her nipples harden to painful intensity in post-orgasmic tautness. She linked her hands behind his back and held him close. They kissed, very tenderly, feeling the perspiration cool and dry on their heated skins. They were quiet for a long time - it was more important to be like this, to let their bodies say it all, than to intrude with inexact words and ambiguous dialogue. Eventually, he grew heavy, and she grew uncomfortable. By assent, they moved to part, and settled down moments later side by side under a single sheet. "That was so beautiful," she sighed, settling in his arms. It was too hot, but she could not bear to be anywhere else. "You are beautiful," he whispered against her hair, and she felt how deeply he meant it. She was surprised to find that she had been asleep. She was not surprised to find that she was deeply aroused, again, or was it still? He was rock hard and pressing up behind her, his hand was absently stroking over the sensitive flesh of her belly. She moved to turn towards him, and got halfway. He was asleep, or dreaming, she realized; there was a randomness and a fluttering to his hands and his body that spoke of slumber and uncontrolled reverie. He spoke her name, "Cathy!" in a deep and sonorous way; he was dreaming of her. She felt him nudging at her, his long cock probing at her cleft, which was still tender from the earlier bruising encounter. And she felt a deep flame of renewed hunger for him. She shifted slightly, and he parted her, and slipped in. She was slick with her juices and his - what had she been dreaming? Replay, please! What was he dreaming? It must be nice, because part of it was happening, and she wriggled slightly, taking him deeper, as his hands fluttered over her belly, her breasts. He began to arch and push deeper into her, very slow movements, the slow-motion thrashing of a dreaming man. It was glorious, and he was so hard again. And so far inside her! They didn't often use this position - both of them loved the missionary position. But she was beginning to understand why the popes had banned it a thousand years ago, because it gave too much pleasure! "Oh, Cathy!" he said again, loudly and distinctly, his hips moving in tiny thrusts, slipping in her so very easily. He was very deep inside her now, and she found she was making little excited gasping noises at each of his tiny thrusts. She must never have come down from that last orgasmic high, to be like this! She felt half-drugged by sex and sleep and renewed sexual arousal and penetration. She couldn't have measured how awake she was - but she felt as sensual and cooperative as ever she had in her life! His hands fluttered on her belly some more - he was still asleep, truly! But his hips were growing more active. Greatly daring, she took his hand lowered across her belly it to her cleft, to find the tiny nub. For a moment, it lay there, a sleeping part of the sleeping man touching a very awake part of a sleepy, aroused girl, and then the fingers seemed to take on an intelligence all of their own. She gasped as he found the place, and a moment later she sensed he was awake. "Oh, god, Cathy!" he said in an entirely different voice, his normal voice with the sharp and vulnerable edge. "I thought..." "Don't stop," she gasped, flushing in the darkness at her own need and desperation to have him and to have herself still held, still penetrated. It was frightening to be so abandoned, so helplessly aroused and so frantic for what was happening to continue. But continue it did, for what seemed like forever, even as he muttered "thought I was dreaming... thought that this was all just a dream..." They were both past the initial explosion now, and the second time was able to take all the time they wanted, even in this unconventional and exciting position. He grew really restive, and then, unexpectedly, pulled her on top of him. His belly was to her back, his hands plowing cleft and stroking her belly. He pressed his hand down on her belly to feel the wonder of himself inside her, and she gasped again... The skin of her belly was sensitive, but now he was giving her something new, something so completely visceral that she was dually never more aware of his penetration, and never more confused about where he ended and she began. He stroked breasts and ribs, and she was a writhing thing of passion, her rump dancing on him, making it all happen for both of them. When she screamed, she fell to one side, and he rolled with her, his hands relentless and controlling, while his hips grew harsh as he pounded into her from behind. She felt and knew that change in him, when he started to come, and a second orgasm suddenly leapt from the first, taking her higher and she bit the pillow as she screamed again. They lay still for a long time afterwards, still joined, as he softened slowly. She felt the slow retreat and grieved, even as she continued in post-orgasmic high, her system awash with endorphins. 'One of these days' she promised herself 'we'll have to learn some of those oriental techniques where you make love for hours and hours without coming, just slow continuous joining.' But what she said was "Wow! You made love like there was no tomorrow!" And as she drifted into sleep, she heard his sleepy voice say, "There was only one today. But there will be very many tomorrows..." She snuggled up to him, although there was no need to share warmth in the tropical night. Yes - there will be many tomorrows. That's what we did, really - we made love like there were all the tomorrows we will ever need. We've arrived, because now it is so clear that we are on a journey; that's what arrival is, not when you stop but when the train slows down enough to see that you have been somewhere, are going somewhere... Outside, the curlew cried, the mournful sound somehow full of hope.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16590.txt

James Bellamy

Grandma's Story

"Auntie Ell" had driven away from Isabel's after the bridge group broke up just as dusk was falling. A few blocks away, it occurred to her that she had forgotten a shopping bag at Isabel's. It was a bag containing her purchases from Victoria's Secret. She smiled as she thought how naughty she had been, teasing young Jeff by showing her pretty purchases to him and then more or less forcing him to feel how silky they were. She knew how sexy it would be to such a youngster, barely out of his adolescence. She had purposely stood close to him, allowing him a view up her skirt as he lay there on the floor. His eyes had got big as saucers when she knelt down beside him and he realized he could see her panty crotch. "It was good that he was lying down; he could have fallen and hurt himself," she thought and she giggled aloud at her sexy adventuring. Ellie thought life was a bit unfair just at this time. Her husband's death three years ago had left her alone at age 50, with her sexuality still blooming. At her age, these days, it was so difficult to meet eligible, interesting men, other than the one night stand types who hit on her in bars. That was completely unsatisfying and demeaning, she thought. She really missed the regular company of a husband. So she spent her life, cursing the unfairness and entertaining her fantasies for relief. Jeff was such a dear boy. She had been practically an Aunt to him over the years. Now she found him sexually attractive, and wondered what she was coming to. She felt strangely guilty about it, but was starting to question why she should feel that way. After all, he must be sexually active by now, so how could it be considered leading a child astray? "YESSSSS!, why, why," she thought as she turned the car around to fetch the little bag she had left at Isabel's. Ellie pressed the doorbell, then recalled that it was not working. Remembering that the sliding door in the back of the house led into the family room where they had been playing bridge, she walked around the house, humming to herself. As she rounded the final corner onto the patio, she stopped short. She nearly stopped breathing. She stood stock still in her footsteps, one heel had still not touched down onto the ground; it hung there in midair. A cold shiver of shock went down her spine. For there before her was the young, muscular figure of a young man - naked! "What on earth...?" She stopped short. She didn't move. She made no more sounds. She started to retreat from the scene then stopped, fascinated by the scene. Ellie had never seen anyone else having sex, certainly not "in person". She remembered watching her husband making love to her in a mirror on their closet door; she blushed slightly, even now. But this was different. This young lover was beautiful in his athletic stroking into the partner spread open before him on the Chaise lounge. 'Omigod! ............. . ........... it can't be ..........it just can't ....... She closed her eyes and then reopened them. It ......was, though. There was her dear friend Isabel, legs spread with abandon. Ellie watched as the boy's long cock pressed into the older woman's pussy. It was fascinating. It slipped in and then withdrew, glistening with her wetness, then again disappeared, It's length swallowed up by the engulfing pussy lips standing open like caressing gatekeepers! "Oh, My, ....... I should go." She thought. Still she stood, stock-still; stood and stared in fascination. She felt her own personal juices begin to flow. Her panties were getting wet, she knew. "I must go. I must turn around and forget this!" she cautioned herself again. Still she stayed. Still she stared at Jeff and his lovely cock thrusting so thrillingly into her best friend's happy and eager cunt. "But, it can't really be! Jeff is her Grandson! She wouldn't, she just wouldn't!" Not this good, solid citizen, straight thinking Isabel. It was not possible, she told herself. Then she thought of the thoughts she had been having herself. Her longing for sex since her husband died three years ago. And suddenly she understood. Yes, it is possible. It is possible for Isabel to ......... be here, looking radiant and glowing with this lovely young athletic looking boy with his glorious glistening cock probing deeply into her pussy. Still she watched, though she wanted to go away and leave them in peace. She watched as Isabel put a hand on Jeff's hip ......... almost guiding his thrusting ...yes guiding his thrusting glistening steely hard cock to touch just where her cunt yearned and needed to be touched by the sensitive tip of his eager young cock. She was urging him deeper into her. Ellie had never looked at Isabel like this. She positively glowed. Her skin looked resilient, oiled and like those wonderful Old Master's paintings of opulent, generous nudes from the 16th century. "Omigod, " she muttered, "Don't tell me I'm finding Isabel sexually arousing. " "Good grief, ......... NO! ........... But there it was; she suddenly realized how beautiful Isabel was. They had been closest friends since high school. " Ellie wondered at the weakness in her knees. It was not just Jeff's thrusting cock that she found attractive, but both of them. They were heroically beautiful in their great wild thrusting together; their wonderful fucking together. Oh my god" she thought to herself. "That IS complicated!" She watched as Jeff suckled at Isabel's nipple, and her own nipple responded with tingling anticipation. She touched her breast. Pressing its softness. Ellie gazed with continued fascination at the scene before her. The lovers glistening with the sweat of their exertions, their great thrusting together, the two were as one. Now he slumped against her softness, completely spent, his juices dripping from her cunt, after making her feel whole, like a woman. Like a live woman, taking pleasure from giving herself, taking pleasure by receiving this hot liquid love cream so generously and urgently delivered from her young lover's balls hanging there between his legs. Yes, she could understand how it had happened, and why it was possible for Isabel to rise above the taboos of society and take her young grandson as a lover! "It was simple, it made her feel like a complete woman again!"she exulted. Looked at that way, it is easy to understand --- and easy to be envious of her, Ellie thought ruefully. Ellie thought for a moment that Isabel's eyes had fluttered open in her direction, and her blood ran cold for a moment. Had she been seen? And was that a smile on Isabel's face? Was she pleased that her friend had seen her in her happiness? --- In her completeness as a woman? Was she pleased to have been caught there, spread wide open to her young lover and having the exquisite pleasure and danger of being seen by a voyeur? At last, Ellie hurriedly withdrew. "I have to think about this carefully," she thought as she drove away. "How would I advise Isabel if she asked? " Then it occurred to her, "why would Isabel ask her?" "I'll have to keep this completely to myself," she thought. 'Completely' she repeated out loud to herself as she drove toward home, almost on autopilot, unable to think clearly. The vision of their wonderful love came back to her mind. Ellie pulled up her skirt and fondled the dampness of her panty crotch. Four weeks passed, and Ellie watched for any change between Isabel and her; but there was none. She was relieved and happy that apparently Isabel was still unaware that she had been observed. They continued to see each other regularly, and Isabel seemed no different, though Ellie thought she now recognized in her face the new happiness in Isabel's life. Ellie found it impossible to sit on the familiar chaise where she had seen Isabel and Jeff make love, but apart from that, no change was apparent. One day they were chatting alone; Isabel on the chaise and Ellie in the large drum chair nearby. Suddenly, Isabel looked at her and said, "El, come sit here with me, there's plenty of room for two. Come watch the leaves fall with me." She patted the chaise beside her and smiled. Ellie's heart was in her throat, but she did as her friend asked, perching on the edge with a little bit of discomfort. "El, dear old El, we are too good friends and have too old a friendship, not to talk about it." Ellie's heart sank. She wanted to just keep the secret for Isabel, not be dragged into judgment. "You see, I saw you..." Isabel began. "You've been a true friend, haven't you, not mentioning it to me, not judging, probably not telling anyone else either! I'm sure of that." "Good, I want you to be sure of that," Ellie said in a rush. Isabel pulled Ellie closer. "Oh, El, it has been so nice having you as a friend over all these years. Thank you." Ellie felt Isabel's soft body against hers. Felt her large soft breasts against hers. Suddenly it felt all right, too. She didn't know why. You just mature and if you are lucky your fixed hang-ups drop away and you can experience a wider range of feelings. "Any questions?" Isabel asked with a tentative smile. "I think I understand, actually, but you must have gone though hell with the decision, so Let's talk about it. If you want to, that is..." They had talked for hours and in the end Ellie felt completely confident of her understanding and her acceptance, her active acceptance of the new relationship and its possibilities. Finally, she said "How much do you think two such friends as you and I can share, Isabel? Or am I asking too much? Please say so if I am." "Oh..." Isabel paused. "Well, I guess I've known for a long time that you have more than a passing interest in my Grandson... OK, a lot more..." They both laughed. "Well, maybe... You'd like that would you? hhhmmmmm... I suspect that Jeff would fall all over himself with joy... So... well, I'll see how things go..." A week passed and they made a dinner date with their proposed shared young lover, Jeff. Careful plans were laid. They even agreed and shopped for identical underwear, including the positively required real stockings and garterbelt. "Jeff and all other men love them, even if we find them uncomfortable..." Isabel had said. They arrived at Ernie's Dinner Club, the three of them, and Isabel asked Ernie for the corner booth far in the back of the elegant restaurant. "Of course, Mrs. Welty, of course, come this way." Jeff sat in the middle of the round booth, and they ordered dinner and a nice wine. There was a small band, which soon launched into romantic dance tunes, and the dance floor soon filled. "El, why don't you dance with Jeff first?" Jeff looked stricken and started to protest that he was a lousy dancer, but was soon swept away with a silly grin on his face. The smile continued as Aunt Ellie snuggled close and her nipples pressed against his shirt. He hadn't worn a t-shirt either, so it was a sensational pleasure. As the song ended, she was straddling his leg and he felt the heat of her pussy on his thigh. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but he took a moment to enjoy it. Her heat soaked into him, and he could feel the lips of her pussy provided a flat space between her thighs. Ellie's pubic mound pressed against him was one of the most erotic things he had ever felt. It was hard to describe just how lovely it felt through the thin trousers. She smiled into his eyes as she gently pulled away, warm in the knowledge that their intimacy had just begun. Begun with the wonder of his hard thigh pressed against the sensitive mound of her sex. What a warm feeling it was to have someone pressed against this intimate and oh so loving part of her body. His hand trailed around her waist as they headed back to the table to find a smiling Isabel to greet them. As dinner arrived, he found himself having a great time as the king with two queens. They drank wine, laughed, and even talked about the Human Sexuality Course he was taking at school. Jeff still felt himself blush at some of the topics. His two older friends seemed to be handling it more easily now. He and Isabel had spent the afternoon discussing the reasons for people liking to have sex in places where there is the danger of being caught and observed. The general theory is that anything that stimulates a release of adrenaline, as the fear of being caught would, heightens the other senses receiving sexual stimulation, therefore heightening the pleasure of having sex in the open or on a stairwell, for example. "Or in a restaurant," he suddenly thought as Isabel's hand found his semi-hard cock through his pant leg. She turned and smiled at him with her big beautiful eyes when he looked so shocked. She gave it another big squeeze and winked. She looked innocent, sitting with hands apparently folded in her lap. Not even Ernie would have suspected. In fact, especially Ernie would not suspect. He came to the table several times and had no idea, as Isabel kept a constant flow of conversation with waiter, Ernie, Aunt Ellie and me. All with big innocent smiles. It was wonderful, and Jeff did feel stimulated. The white tablecloth covered their laps, but Jeff still felt pretty exposed when Isabel unzipped him and pulled his dick out while Aunt Ellie was in the ladies room. Her hand felt wonderfully smooth on his cock, and he began to enjoy the danger of it. Over the salad, Isabel looked around him to say something to Ellie, suggesting she not be so distant and come closer so that they could all talk more easily. Ellie moved her plate and scooted close to Jeff, her knee touching his. Beads of sweat formed on Jeff's forehead now with both of their nylon-covered knees touching his in the secrecy of the all-concealing white tablecloth. They kept chattering away, like he was supposed to not have this raging hard-on exposed under the tablecloth!! Isabel brought both hands into view on the table to cut and toss her salad. Jeff breathed a sigh of relief because he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself if she had continued stroking his cock that way. He relaxed a moment. Then suddenly, the sweat returned to his forehead big time. He looked at Isabel - both hands working on the salad. AUNT ELLIE! A second hand had found his cock! Tensely, he looked out the corner of his eye. Auntie Ellie was cool as a cucumber. But he was not dreaming, it was definitely her hand that had replaced his Grandmother's under the cloth. It felt awfully good, but what if Gram found it there when she came back? Now he was really feeling the stimulation of fear, and it was about to make him shower everything with his juices. Ellie's hand drifted slowly away and landed on his thigh. As if by signal, Gram's hand returned to fondle his enormous erection, touching a little of the pre-cum that was dribbling down his shaft. She pulled her hand back and offered her finger to him. "Want to taste the dressing? It's really nice." "Uh...no thanks, Gram." "How about you, Ell?" "Oh, sure, let me taste, I took the blue cheese." Jeff almost lost it as his Grandma reached across him, offering Aunt Ellie a taste of his pre-cum juices instead of salad dressing. The sweat beaded again. He really had had enough excitement for one night. Astonishingly, Auntie Ellie held Isabel's hand while her tongue licked it off the finger, and she smacked her lips with relish. "Mmm, that is wonderful! I wonder if they'll give us the recipe?" Jeff was dying between these two beautiful older, more experienced women. Again, as if by signal, Auntie El's hand appeared on his cock, squeezing it gently. Suddenly, it dawned on him - it WAS by signal. They were toying with him - both of them. "But what does that mean?" he thought. He looked from one to the other. Suddenly the innocent looks left their faces, and they giggled at his discomfort. "We have taken advantage of you, Jeff. Do you forgive us?" Gram wanted to know. "We want to share you, dear."We are all best friends, and we want to share! What do you think? Jeff was near collapsing into a heap. "My god, you had me going. I thought I was going to go crazy. You two owe me - big time." Now two hands were wrapped around his cock, gently playing around his pole. "But you didn't answer, yet?" "Oh, I would love to share you both. The two women I've had a crush on since I was about 10 years old? WOW! Where is the question?" They each kissed his cheek at the same time. Each took one of his hands below the table and lifted their skirts to open themselves to him. His hand found the heaven of two thighs covered by old-fashioned nylon stockings and garters. Jeff lost all interest in eating. Two women, two lovely thighs to fondle and follow upward to the heaven above their stocking tops. That's the way things were as the waiter took away their plates. "How was your dinner, etc." all answered by these three innocent-looking people with their hands in their laps - each other's laps, in fact. Since Jeff couldn't possibly walk out on the dance floor in his condition, they left and went home. Auntie Ellie was talked into staying overnight, surprisingly easily. All prearranged by the two women, of course. Isabel asked Jeff to open a bottle of champagne. The cork popped and flew against the wall in traditional celebratory fashion, and the tall thin glasses bubbled over with the exuberant liquid. "Here's to us," Ellie offered the toast. "And here's to truth and honesty and good friends," added Isabel. They stood toasting each other in the kitchen. Isabel kissed her grandson on the cheek, then offered her bright red lips to his. Jeff sampled the exciting taste of her lipstick, the flavor sticking to his lips, as he found her tongue searching for his. Isabel's pubic mound pressed against him as Ellie's had earlier, straddling his leg. Ellie joined the embrace from the other side of Jeff, and his hands stroked their bottoms, feeling the fabric slipping over their panties. He found each of their panty lines and ran his finger along them, streaking across the expanse of their cheeks. "Can we all kiss, do you think?" Isabel said tentatively, bringing her lips close to Jeff's and inviting Ellie with her eyes. Ellie brought her lips close, looking first into Jeff's eyes and then Isabel's. Gently, they all moved another inch and found the strange newness of this loving friendship. Ellie was first to search with her tongue, then Isabel joined her, tasting her long-time friend for the first time. Jeff soon joined, his hot young tongue darting from one to the other, then calming a little, he let the sensuality of it seep into his thoughts. Ellie's mouth was a thin line, her tongue seeking and active. His Grandmother's more generous lips, heavy with her lipstick, gave a different, luxurious effect. Their tongues played together now. Jeff found the sweetness of their combined breath an erotic pleasure to inhale. Isabel captured both their tongues momentarily between her lips and suckled them. Both Ellie and Jeff shivered, and Isabel giggled at her accomplishment. Their bodies moved closer, Jeff leaning against the counter supporting all their pressing together. Ellie felt Isabel's breast against her own. It was a lovely, comfortable breast, mature, yet still an underlying firmness. She felt her own nipple tighten crisply. Her hand found Jeff's cock through his pants, and she let the length of her hand feel all along the length of it rising up toward his belt. Isabel unzipped his pants, and their hands joined to console his balls and his rampant cock - as a team. Isabel took Ellie's hands and motioned her to a kneeling position. Jeff's cock was at eye level for both of them now. She took his cock and balls out of his pants, cupping the balls and offering his length to Ellie. Jeff felt Grandma's loving hands lift and fondle his balls, heavy in their sac. He felt her hand holding his shaft for Ellie's inspection. Ellie looked at his cock, her heart in her throat. Her lips kissed his cock head from the side, flicking her tongue to taste his pre-cum juice again, this time first-hand. Isabel joined her, her lips spreading over her half of the bulbous head, as Ellie did the same. Their lips touched around the magnificent, smooth, silky roundness of him. "Ohhhhh, ..........Jeff, ...... you are so lovely. You grew up so nice!" Isabel smiled at Ellie's excitement. And finally, they all walked up the stairs for their first night together. Jeff followed them, then whimsically, lifted their skirts to gaze at the loveliness of their stockinged legs. They stopped and let him look. Their stocking seams pointed up to the pretty lace of their panties and the still attractive cheeks of their asses. Jeff brought one hand along each of their legs, slipping up the nylon sleekness, touched the hardness of a garter snap, then his hand found his two pussies. Their panties were damp there, where their juices betrayed their excitement between the softness of their pussy lips. His hands moved to cup their pubic mounds, his thumb resting at the entrance to their love tunnels. Grandma's was a definite wide, comfortable flatness between her legs and a prominent swelling wonder under the curly thatch. Ellie's felt different, more of an "A" shape, so less flatness there for his hand to rest and support on the palm of his hand. Jeff came closer, kissed first one cheek and then the other under their skirts. His hand squeezed them firmly - revealing his mounting desire. They hurried up the steps feeling his urgency and their own now evident in the increasing wetness between their thighs. "Jeff, what are you going to do with two women?" Gram wanted to know. To be honest, Jeff wasn't sure, and he was a little drunk from the wine, too. They undressed him and put him on the bed. He happily watched as they slipped out of their dresses. He was staring at two beautiful older ladies. Gram's familiar softly contoured body and Auntie El's slim, lithe, rather athletic body. Both were in identical stockings, except El's were black and Isabel's were the medium tan Jeff loved on her legs with the dark brown at the top. Their garter belts were white satin, the matching panties with see-through panels. "Wow, you look wonderful, Grandma," "Wow, you look wonderful, Auntie El ........ ...... god, I love you both!" "Have you ever heard of a stacked ham sandwich, Jeff?" they laughed. "We found an idea in one of your dirty magazines, Jeff." "Does this give you any ideas? Auntie Ellie asked with another giggle. She was holding a photograph from Legs magazine featuring two girls on top of each other viewed from between their legs. Two panty-covered pussies stacked on top of each other, in other words. They began by making an Oreo sandwich of him. The two women played the chocolate cookies, and he was the frosting. Jeff lay between their satin-clothed bodies. They pressed against him, fondling his cock, pressing their nylons against his hairy legs, getting their thighs in touch with his cock, playing their hands over his body, fondling his cock and smothering him with kisses on his lips, his ears, his nipples. They let him suckle one of each of their breasts, pressing close to him and alternating their need for his lips. "I have definitely died and gone to heaven!" Jeff said, a strain evident in his voice. "Us too, sweetheart!" Auntie El whispered. "This is so good, dear," Grandma whispered in the other ear, then dipped the tip of her tongue into it, sending a great shudder down his spine. The bed was the single-width one in the guestroom, but there was room for their bodies striving to get into each other. Auntie Ell pulled a low stool over to the side of the bed. "Here, darling, you should kneel here." Obediently, Jeff knelt as directed. The two women lay on the bed, their bodies pressed lightly together, and Grandma pulled his cock toward their waiting lips. He was at just the right height for both to lick and tease his cock and balls with their tongues and lips. Gram pulled his foreskin back carefully, to expose the delicate, sensitive skin of his cock head, and both of them tasted his pre-cum juices and inhaled the musk of his body. Jeff's hands found their breasts, now pressed together. He gripped one of each and then rubbed their rigid nipples together, marveling at the pleasure of molding their breasts in his hands, squeezing pleasure into them. When they were younger, they were no doubt firm and stood out from their chests proudly. But Jeff found them to be beautiful now in their mature, more comfortable, state, waiting for his hands to shape them and bring them pleasure. "Lovely dressing," Ellie giggled between laps of his cock. She squeezed his balls and licked them too. Ellie and Gram kissed across his cock, and their tongues dueled between the bright red of their lips. "Are you ready, darling?" It was questionable whom Gram addressed that to, perhaps to both of them. "Yes!" both answered. Gram lay on her back, spreading her legs and exposing her pussy to Jeff's kiss. Aunt Ellie slowly and gently rolled on top of Gram, spreading her legs for Jeff's kiss too. She noticed a stirring of pleasure as her body slipped over Isabel's curves and welcoming softness. Her mound pressed now against Isabel's, and Ellie felt Isabel squirm sensuously under her. Their pussies were pressed close now. Ellie thought how easy it seemed now, how perfectly right. Jeff was pleased to look at these two pretty pussies still slightly hidden by see-through panties in front of him. He kissed first one and then the other, noting the differences in scent and in their perfumes. "Oh, My god, you are lovely, both lovely." Ellie continued slowly squirming against the softness of Isabel's body. Their pubic mounds now matched. She had felt a tremor as she first made this contact.Isabel shuddered as her breasts brushed against Ellie's hardened nipples. Her pussy felt like it was cascading with her juices from the pressure of Ellie's mound against hers. A completely new sensation, one neither had felt before that moment. It was wildly exciting. Jeff continued alternately kissing their pussies, now pulling their panties aside to dip his tongue into the "stacked pussies". Isabel's pussy was luxurious, the lips long and protective of the sensitive flesh inside, holding a treasure trove of thick juices for his tongue. Ellie's pussy lips lay flatter and closer to her body, and her inner lips were more exposed. Jeff's tongue ran from the tip of the cleft, around her clitoris, into her open love tunnel, down to circle her anus. He felt her jump involuntarily at the touch to the tight little rosebud of her anus. "Oh, Jeff, that's wonderful," Ellie gasped. Her lips found Isabel's nipple, and Isabel held her close and let her suck on the long nipple. "Mmmmmnnnnnnn... nice... feels nice..." Jeff slipped the wet panties down their legs and dropped them on the bed. He continued licking their pussies, now so completely open to him. Their legs thrashed around, trying to open more for his tongue. "Oh, now, Jeff darling, now... please..." Jeff slipped his straining cock into his grandma's waiting pussy. Her snug entry muscle gripped his cock head. "Ohhhh," he heard her moan, "yes," as he began thrusting into her. Slowly he pressed his cock into her, spreading her lips, parting her inner spaces. He felt her warm juices flowing around him. It was a snug, warm, lovely haven. He stroked his glistening cock into her pussy, so open for him, and pressed his thumb against her clitoris. "Ohhhh... ahhhhhh... Yes, thank you darling." He slipped out of Isabel's pussy, its tightness making a quiet plopping sound as he withdrew the last inch. He reached to find Aunt Ellie's pussy, sliding his cockhead up and down her pink slit, feeling the wetness of her, touching the jutting button of her clitoris, teasing her anus with the sensitive tip of his cock. Ellie reached between her legs to take his cock and direct it to the entrance of her cunt. Ellie was even tighter than his grandma's lovely cunt, her pussy eagerly grasping for his cock head. He felt the resistance of her entry muscle and then slid quickly into her deep and true. He leaned over and found her breasts for the first time. They were smaller than Isabel's, but with large nipples. He pinched the nipples between two fingers and moved in and out of her cunt with eagerness. Jeff was so close to coming, he slowed for a moment. "No, no... keep it up, Jeff. Harder, shove it into me hard!" she cried. He couldn't help it, he had to pull out of her hot, gripping cunt, to keep from coming right now. He lay over the sleek, undulating bodies of the two women, fondling them, but keeping his cock away from them. Suddenly he knew he was going to cum -- he could feel his balls tensing, ready to shoot his cream up his shaft and into a pussy. In his excitement, Jeff's long cock slipped between the two women to the side of their squirming pussy mounds, in the soft cavity made for him by the hollows of their bodies. His cock sliding wetly between the two women's tummies until he felt the hot juices firing up through the length of his column and suddenly he was spurting out between them. They rubbed their tummies together to jack him off together, as he spurt three more times onto them. His hands fondled their nylon-clad legs and his toes pointed with the strain of his last remaining spurt of sperm. He had accidentally shared it with both at once, not shooting it up into one or the other of their pussies. Jeff was happy with the arrangement, even if it had been accidental. "Ohhhh, nice and warm," Grandma whispered hoarsely. "Ohhh, yes... Yes... yes... I love you both," Ellie moaned. "Wowwwwwww, you are both so beautiful... so beautiful... Wowwww," Jeff climbed between them and hugged them both to his chest. "I love you both, too." Their hot bodies, slightly glazed with the sweat brought on by their exertions and their excitement, welcomed each other as they clung together, kissing languorously. End of Chapter 6 Comments will be appreciated and answered E-mail jbellamy@renman.net

Chapter Six - Discovered!

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17234.txt

Dafney Dewitt

Redemption

"Justice is justice though it's always delayed and finally done only by mistake." -George Bernard Shaw "Redemption" (c) 1998 by Dafney Dewitt "In the Criminal Justice System, the people are represented by two separate but equal groups, the police who investigate crime and the District Attorneys who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories." 328 E. 47th Street New York City The Fantasy Club Saturday July 2nd The owner of the Fantasy Club, Luther Stone, stared in fascination at the stage where a silicone-enhanced blonde pumped her hips toward the audience in perfect timing with the rhythmic thump of the music. But Luther was not watching the naked dancer. His eyes focused on a fresh-faced young man sitting in the front row. The kid's face was filled with unabashed awe, worshiping the smooth pale body of the dancing girl. His open mouth formed a small 'O' like a surprised fish. Seeing such awe-struck fascination was rare. For most patrons of stripper bars, the fantasy was gone. Their sense of wonder eroded by time. With time, the kid would change too. His face would lose its innocence. The kid's face. Luther Stone knew that look. It was a look that reminded him of himself, as a young kid, the first time he had been in a stripper bar. Back then, there was no total nudity. Women stripped to pasties and G-Strings. But they captured Stone's attention. He was entranced by their beautiful bodies, wanting to devour them with his eyes. That was a long time ago. Prison had changed him. Now he was hard. Now when he looked at strippers, all he saw were whores, or drug addicts. For Stone, there was no more mystery in sex. No matter how beautiful, every woman had a price. In the dark shadows, at the edge of the stage, the kid's hand pumped up and down. It was a familiar motion, but it was all wrong. His hand was way too high. There was no way the kid could be stroking his cock. He would have had to have been hung like King-Kong. Intrigued, Stone gave a nod to his bouncer, Guido. He pointed to the kid, and Guido brought him to Stone. "Am I in trouble?" "No," said Stone. "What's your name?" "I'm Tommy Kincaid." Tommy stuck his hand out expecting Luther Stone to shake it. Stone shook his head slowly from side to side and ignored the extended hand. From the silly grin on Tommy's face, it was obvious that he was mentally challenged. It explained the look of wonder on Tommy's face. It was the dumb look. Stone regretted calling this retarded man over to his table. But it did not explain what Tommy Kincaid had been doing with his hand while he watched the strippers. "What were you doing with your hand?" asked Stone. "Stroking my lucky foot." The young man held up a large rabbit's foot attached to a key chain. Luther Stone smiled. Tommy Kincaid gave Stone a goofy smile in return. Stone knew that this interchange was being watched. The other employees of the Fantasy Club would talk. Stone would end up looking like a loser because of a moment of weakness, thinking about his own lost innocence. His employees would talk behind his back about the ex-convict, drug dealer, and pimp who invited retards to his table. Stone looked for an easy way to keep his reputation intact. "Does your rabbit's foot bring you luck?" "Only if I stroke it." "Did you know that luck works best if you let someone else do the stroking?" Stone formed an image in his mind of a whore giving a hand job. "No," said Tommy, leaving his mouth open again like a fish blowing bubbles. "If you let me stroke your rabbit's foot, you might get lucky. One of the strippers might give you a private lap dance. Would you like that?" "Oh, that would be good." Then Tommy frowned. "What's wrong?" asked Stone. "I can't lose my keys. See?" Tommy held up a small plastic address tag attached to the key chain. "If I lose my keys, you get paid $15.00 for mailing them to this P.O. Box." "You won't lose your keys," Stone reassured him. "Are you sure?" "I'll keep them safe. You can watch me." "Will you help me get a girl? Girls don't like me much after they learn I'm slow." "I'm sure it will work. Give me the keys." Stone reached across the table. Trusting Stone, Tommy handed him the keys. "Now go sit over there at the corner table while I rub your rabbit's foot." As Tommy turned his back to walk to the corner table, Stone detached the keys from the rabbit's foot and handed them to his bouncer, Guido. "Tell Sherry to give the kid a free lap dance, and get me duplicate keys. You gotta be back in 10 minutes," Stone told him. For the cost of a duplicate key, Stone had salvaged his reputation. Stone saluted Tommy, at the corner table, holding the white rabbit's foot high in the air and pretending to have the keys in the palm of his hand. With exaggerated gestures, Stone stroked the rabbit's foot. A few minutes later, Sherry approached Tommy's table and began her tired routine. The lap dance ended before Guido returned. Tommy came back to Luther Stone's table. "Can I have my keys back now?" Stone smoothly evaded his question. "It worked just like I told you, right?" Tommy nodded his head, breaking into a big smile. "Do you live in a post office box?" "No, I don't live in no box. That's just if the keys get lost." "Where do you live?" "I live at 723 E. Park Avenue in Apartment #327." Tommy recited the numbers carefully, proud to have memorized his own address. "Can I have my foot back now?" "In just a minute. I'm going to give it an extra rub so you get another girl the next time you come back to the Fantasy Club." Stone moved his hand with the rabbit's foot under the table, pretending to rub it, until he saw Guido walking toward him from the back entrance of the Club. Guido shook hands with Stone who palmed the key chain and deftly re-attached it to the rabbit's foot. 723 East Park Avenue Apartment 327 New York City, N.Y. Tuesday July 5th Luther Stone rang the doorbell first. He waited. He knocked three times before inserting the key and opening the door to apartment #327. Stone had no intention of burglary. It was pure curiosity. The address on Park Avenue surprised him. Why was a mentally challenged smuck like Tommy Kincaid living in a high-class apartment building? The luxuriously decorated apartment only furthered the mystery. Stone made a quick tour of the 2-bedroom suite to reassure himself that he was alone. The lipstick and tampons in the bathroom took Stone by surprise. Was Tommy Kincaid married? He returned to a small table by the front door with a basket full of mail. Selecting a business envelope, Luther Stone read the name of the addressee. He quickly thumbed through the rest of the letters. All of them were addressed to Claire Kincaid, Assistant District Attorney for the State of New York. This was the same Claire Kincaid who had sent Stone to Attica on a three-year drug conviction. Tommy was not married. He was Claire Kincaid's retarded brother. Stone said a short prayer. The Gods were with him.Stroking the rabbit's foot had brought him more luck than he could have imagined. His mind raced with possibilities for revenge. He could stalk Claire, torment her, he could bug her apartment, and rape her in her own bed. But he quickly rejected all these fantasies. He wanted more. He wanted Claire to come to him, begging on her knees. He wanted to humiliate and degrade her. He devised a plan. Luther Stone returned to the bathroom. He did the same thing detectives Brisco and Logan had done to convict him. He went around collecting evidence. He took hair from Claire's hairbrush, looked in the waste basket and fished out a used tampon, and brushed fibers off Claire's skirts that were hanging in the closet. He wiped off both sides of the door handle with a paper towel before leaving. Hargrove Lofts #425 3007 W. Brooklyn Avenue Friday July 8th Tommy Kincaid rubbed his rabbit foot again and hit the naked woman laying across the bed. "Wake up!" he yelled. But the woman did not move. "Wake up!" Tommy yelled again. But the woman was dead. Minutes before, Tommy had handed her a balloon of heroin in exchange for sex. His good friend, Luther Stone had set him up with a drug-addicted stripper named Cyndee Lee, and a big man named Guido had given him the heroin. The sex was good. The heroin was good too. Over 80% pure heroin. It was a hot shot. Both the sex and death had been recorded from a hidden camcorder. In a panic, Tommy Kincaid fled the dead woman's apartment. He ran straight to his good friend Luther Stone for help. Police discovered the body after receiving an anonymous phone tip. When Detectives Brisco and Logan arrived at the Hargrove Lofts #425, uniformed police officers were already posted at the front door and the Medical Examiner was examining the body. Logan searched the apartment while Brisco talked to the doctor. "What's it look like?" Detective Brisco asked the Medical Examiner. "A dead lady," the examiner answered without looking up. "Yeah, or a slow whore, but do we have a murder?" "What we have is a drug overdose, and a recent sex act." The Medical Examiner inserted his plastic-gloved fingers into the vagina of the deceased woman and wiggled them sideways to make his point. The movement of his fingers made an obscene sound of sloshing liquids. He gave Detective Brisco a lewd wink, "What's it sound like to you?" "Sounds like a fresh fucking," said Brisco, agreeing with the M.E. Logan returned from the bathroom carrying a bloody tampon in a plastic evidence bag. "She on the rag, Doc?" he asked. "No," the M.E. answered. "Well, then it looks like we have another woman." "And a man," added Brisco. "Is it rape?" asked Logan, picking a hypodermic syringe up off the floor and dropping it into an evidence bag. "After Logan's run with divorce, he has trouble imagining women fucking for fun," Brisco told the M.E. in an apologetic voice. "More like sex for drugs," answered the medical examiner. "If you'd known my ex-wife, you'd think rape, too," shot back Logan. "If we find the drug pusher, we might be able to arrest him for Murder II," Brisco suggested. "The police forensics lab will sort it out," Logan predicted. "I'm done here. You can bag her," said the medical examiner. New York District Attorney Adam Schiff's Office Thursday July 14th Claire Kincaid listened politely, holding a large envelope in her lap, as Jack McCoy detailed the murder case on Cynthia Lee Crawford for Adam Schiff, the Chief District Attorney for the City of New York. "Under Barrera vs State of New York, we have precedent for charging the deliverer of illegal drugs with Murder II if that delivery results in death." Seated behind his desk, Adam Schiff nodded his mostly bald head. In an annoyed grumble, Adam protested, "Yes, but can we prove the intent of the person supplying the drugs." Rising out of his chair, Jack McCoy pointed his index finger at Adam Schiff, raising his voice with emotion. "The prosecution does not have to prove intent, only delivery. The burden of proof is reversed. Supplying illegal drugs which results in the demise of the recipient is 'a priori' accepted proof, tantamount to depraved indifference. Intent is implied in delivery. The courts have made this point clear." "OK," Adam nodded his bald head, "Who is the bad guy?" "We don't know yet," conceded Jack McCoy. Adam rubbed the sides of his head as if he were developing a headache. "Why are you wasting my time?" growled Adam in exasperation. "But we may know soon," Jack added quickly. "Claire has an anonymous informant." Claire Kincaid rose from her chair and handed Adam a 6 x 10 envelope with the photograph of the deceased woman, Cynthia Crawford, sprawled nude across the bed. "This photo," said Claire, "was not taken by the police." "So we have an anonymous necrophiliac?" Adam snapped back sarcastically. "It's more than that," said Claire. "Look in the far left-hand corner." She tapped the photo with her index finger. "That's a man's leg. That's the perp." Adam sounded tired, but nodded his assent. "OK, run with it. But you can't indict a leg. If you identify the man, we'll trot a murder charge out before the Grand Jury." New York District Attorney Claire Kincaid's Office Friday July 15th The phone rang while Claire Kincaid was reading through depositions on a rape case. The person on the other end started talking before Claire could announce herself as an Assistant District Attorney. "You've been bad, Claire," said a man's voice she did not recognize. "Excuse me, do I know you?" Claire answered, suspecting an obscene call. "You know my work." "What work?" asked Claire impatiently, checking the Caller ID display. The call was blocked. It did not show the caller's telephone number. "Pictures of dead women." Suddenly alert, Claire sat up straight in her chair. "Do you know who gave Ms. Crawford the heroin?" "Yes." "Do you know that by withholding this information, you could be charged with obstruction of justice or even an accessory to murder after the fact?" "I'm not trying to withhold anything." "OK, who did it?" "Your brother, Tommy Kincaid." Claire's heart froze. Did Tommy do it? Could she prosecute her own brother? She quickly dismissed that thought. She would never prosecute her own brother. She knew Tommy. He was retarded, but he was no killer. There was no proof. The caller was just trying to upset her, and he had succeeded. "You're wrong," said Claire, sure of herself. "Check your mail for a videotape, Claire." The caller hung up. Claire sorted through her mail. She found a Federal Express package with a videotape. In the privacy of her office, Claire watched her brother, Tommy, hand heroin to Cynthia Crawford. She watched Cynthia inject herself and collapse. The entire murder scene had been taped. A few minutes after the tape ended, Claire's office phone rang. It was the man's voice again. "Did you watch it?" "What do you want?" asked Claire. "I want you." The voice sounded threatening. "Blackmail is not going to work," Claire stated with a false certainty. "Why not?" "My brother, Tommy, has diminished mental capacity. No court would ever convict him of murder." "I knew you'd defend him." "He's my brother. What did you expect?" "You're a prosecutor, Claire. I expected prosecution." "Sorry to disappoint." This time, Claire hung up. Claire locked the incriminating videotape in her desk. She congratulated herself for not succumbing to a blackmailer. She had no intention of ever showing this videotape of the murder to anyone. The crime would just have to go unsolved. Later that afternoon, the anonymous blackmailer called back. "Did you share the videotape with your friend, Jack McCoy?" The man's voice was calm and self-assured, speaking with a familiarity that repelled Claire. "No," answered Claire curtly to discourage the caller. "That's good. Because you were right." "What do you mean?" "Tommy does have diminished capacity. He's not the real killer." "He isn't?" asked Claire, not knowing where this conversation was going. "No, Tommy just did what you told him." "What do you mean?" Claire said in shock. "You're the killer." A cold chill fell across Claire. The caller was crazy. There was no way she was the killer. She had never been in Cynthia Crawford's apartment. The accusation was insane. "You're nuts!" Claire stated boldly, taking the offensive. "I can prove it," responded the self-assured voice. "How?" Claire's voice wavered. "Send a sample of your hair and blood to the police forensics lab. Ask them to test it against the evidence collected at the murder scene." The caller hung up. Police Forensics Lab New York Police Department Tuesday July 19th Doctor R. Timmons, at the police forensics lab, called Claire Kincaid's Office with the good news. "Remember those hair and blood samples you gave me for testing on the Crawford Case?" "Yes," said Claire. "We have a match." "How good a match," asked Claire cautiously. "As good as it gets without DNA testing. We have a 98% certainty the two samples are identical. The person those samples came from was at the murder scene. I can testify to that in court. Looks like you caught your perp, Claire." "Ah, that's great, Timmons," said Claire without enthusiasm, and placed the phone back in its cradle.Claire's stomach lurched. She felt ill. Doctor Timmons had just offered to testify in court against her. It was Claire's own blood and hair in that sample. How did she get into this mess? Claire buried her head in her hands and broke down in heavy sobs that quickly turned into a torrent of tears. 328 E. 47th Street New York City The Fantasy Club Wednesday July 20th Claire agreed to meet her anonymous tormentor at the Fantasy Club. It was 10:00 pm. She had been sitting in the bar for the past 15 minutes trying to guess the identity of her blackmailer. Several men had hit on her. She brushed them off with a maddening hesitation. Uncertain which man she was meeting, Claire gave every man a shot at her. She was not drinking, not laughing, and definitely not having fun. She looked lost. Claire was a long way from the comfortable, familiar surroundings of a courtroom. She tugged her skirt sharply to keep it from riding up over her knees. Waiting for the blackmailer to reveal himself made Claire feel dirty like a whore sitting on a barstool. Luther Stone enjoyed watching Claire's distress. He delayed approaching her. He wanted to see how well she handled herself. She was obviously extremely ill at ease, but managed to maintain her outward composure. Her pageboy haircut gave her face a special innocence. Her brown hair caught the glow from the bar lights, and her gold hoop earrings sparkled. Her face was flushed. Her mouth was open. Just like her brother thought Stone. Dressed in a grey skirt with a cream-colored blouse, she looked dignified. The single string of white pearls hanging around her neck gave her a touch of sophistication that set her apart from all the other women in the bar. She looked dignified. He intended to strip her of that dignity. Claire had not spotted him. She had walked right by his booth, and he had inhaled her perfume. He liked her scent. She smelled good. He closed his eyes imagining how he would take her. Under the table, Stone pushed down on his rising hard-on, groaning. Claire continued to search the bar, her face tense. Stone calmly sipped his drink. He enjoyed watching her shame at repeatedly rebuffing the attentions of horny men. He liked seeing the way her breasts moved underneath her blouse. The slight jiggle of Claire's breasts against her pearl necklace was far more erotic than any stripper. Claire's heart pounded so hard she could feel it through her blouse. Where was he? She glanced at her watch. Fifteen after ten. Maybe it was all a cruel hoax! Tears burned her eyes, and she bit her lip to keep from breaking down, forcing herself to be strong. "Be strong," she urged herself. "You have to be strong. Do not let him get the best of you." She was moving toward the bartender to ask if anyone had left a message for her when someone uttered her name. "Claire." She whipped her head around, peering through the darkness. It was someone sitting at a booth table in the shadows. She moved off the bar stool and toward the table. She could make out the outline of a man. As she got closer, her eyes lit up with recognition. She looked at Stone, confused. "Hi, Luther Stone." "Hello, Claire." Politely, Stone stood up and let Claire slide into the booth toward the far wall, then he sat down blocking her only exit. To her dismay, Stone laid his hand on top of hers and held it lightly as if they were lovers. "Didn't think you'd meet me here, did ya?" "I thought you were still in Attica serving a five-year drug sentence." Claire glanced around the bar afraid to try to withdraw her hand from his. She avoided looking Stone directly in the eyes. She needed time to catch her breath and calm her breathing before speaking. She needed to sound firm and in control. When she finally looked at Stone, he was gazing at her breasts. She glanced away, embarrassed. "I got out for good behavior," said Stone, giving her a lewd wink. Claire was not certain what to say. She looked down at her lap, wondering if Stone was the blackmailer. She kept telling herself to withdraw her hand, but her nerve failed her. "Look at me, Claire. I've waited a long time for this." Claire looked up. "What? What have you waited for?" "To claim you. You're mine," said Stone possessively. Anger flared on Claire's usually passive face. She was no man's toy. She was no man's possession. She yanked her hand out from under his. "How dare he!" "They should have locked you up for life!" Claire said bitterly. Claire waited. She expected Stone to strike back, but he remained calm. He seemed amused by Claire's outburst. Stone slowly raised his drink and took a sip, setting the glass back on the table before speaking. When he spoke, between almost closed lips, it sounded to Claire like the hiss of a snake. "Don't make me angry, bitch. I own you." The tip of his tongue flicked between his lips. Stone smiled. Claire glared back. All doubt was gone. He was the blackmailer. "What do you want?" asked Claire, wanting to end this encounter. Stone leaned closer. He looked like he was about to whisper in her ear, but he quickly grabbed Claire's head with his hands. He pressed his lips to hers, forcefully kissing her. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, and then suddenly reversed the assault by possessively sucking her tongue into his own mouth. Claire struggled to escape this forced embrace, repulsed by his boldness, terrified by the lightning-fast assault. She finally broke away, retreating from Stone until her back was against the wall. "You bastard!" Claire gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand to get his taste out of her. Frantic, she looked around the bar expecting someone to come to her assistance, but no one was paying any attention. The taste of his drink filled her mouth. Claire was furious. But kissing in a stripper bar was not unusual. No one noticed her distress. Claire's face felt hot. Blood rushing to her head made the veins in her temple throb. She gripped the edge of the table ready to run. But she was trapped. Claire was determined not to let Stone force himself on her again. Stone lifted a hand, and Claire flinched as if she expected to be slapped. A bar maid responded to his wave. She took Stone's drink and gave him another. Claire watched him in fear. Stone studied Claire like a snake, squinting his eyes into small slits, moving his head from side to side as if were looking for a place to strike. Claire's eyes grew wide with fear. She blinked rapidly, alert for an attack. She hated Stone, but felt strangely attracted to him. He had power over her. He had something she wanted. He had a videotape of her brother, Tommy, at the scene of a drug-related murder. She needed the tape, and she needed Stone's silence. Stone was dangerous. He could strike out without warning. Claire felt vulnerable. And she feared Stone's bite could be deadly. "If you cooperate, I'll give you the tape of your brother, and I'll forget it ever happened," Stone said coldly. He looked sincere. But could Claire trust him? Claire regained her composure. "You want a little 'quid pro quo'?" she asked boldly. "That's right, honey. Move closer to me." Claire slid away from the wall toward Stone. The booth table could easily sit three, and there was still a considerable gap between them. "A little more," urged Stone. She moved closer. Stone made no move to touch her. "More," said Stone. Claire moved toward Stone until her leg almost touched his. They were sitting side by side as close as a couple could sit without touching. "Relax," smiled Stone. "This is not going to hurt." Claire needed help. She never should have agreed to meet Stone. She never should have come into a stripper bar alone. The craziness of her plight was maddening. She could not call the police. Even if there were a policeman in the bar, what could she tell him? She had been kissed without permission? As a New York District Attorney, she knew the hopelessness of such an accusation. Stone would talk his way out of it, and she would end up looking like a fool. What if she told the truth? If Claire told the police Stone had videotaped evidence of a murder, Stone would say that he had already given the tape to Claire. He was the just the good citizen trying to help out, but she could get disbarred for non-disclosure of evidence. Then there was the physical evidence to explain. Her blood. Her hair. If she admitted being blackmailed, her brother risked a murder conviction. Claire peered into the darkness of the bar. Maybe, someone in the bar could help her. But how? Even if she escaped Stone this evening, nothing changed. He would simply call her for another date. And she would come. The awful truth hit home. She would come. Claire felt Stone's hand gently rubbing her thigh out of sight, under the table. Claire knew there was no way out. Ashamed to let Stone see her tears, Claire turned her head away from him and urged herself to be strong. She breathed deeply to regain her sense of balance. Stone mistook it for a gasp of pleasure and moved his hand higher between her legs. Claire reminded herself that she was an intelligent District Attorney, a lawyer trained to talk her way out of any situation. She could reason with him. But with Stone's hand rubbing between her legs, her brain had gone on vacation. Her brilliant legal mind had turned to mush. Stone yanked her skirt above her thighs, all the way to her panties, before withdrawing his hand.Looking Claire directly in the eyes, he moved his hand over his drink and dipped his fingers into the alcohol. Claire watched Stone wet his fingers and lower his hand under the table. She recoiled from the wet fingers with revulsion. Suddenly, she seethed with anger. Claire lost her temper. She shouted at Stone. "Keep your fingers away, or I'll call the police!" As soon as the words flew from her mouth, Claire was embarrassed by how silly they sounded. People nearby stopped talking. They looked at Claire expectantly. Stone raised his drink, toasting the onlookers, and smiled affably. Claire hunched down in the booth, embarrassed. She wanted to disappear. Calling attention to herself with a man like Stone in a stripper bar was the last thing Claire needed. Her reputation would be ruined. "Go ahead and call the cops," Stone challenged her. He leaned toward Claire and grabbed her hand. She tried to pull it away, but he held it firmly. "You're a bad girl, Claire." "You don't own me," insisted Claire. "I won't let you." Claire spat the words out of her mouth like a prosecutor demanding a maximum sentence. Sensing her determination, Stone released Claire's hand. His eyes wandered over her body, tracing the contours of her curves. It made her feel violated and dirty. But Stone stopped touching her. He respected her resistance. He nodded begrudgingly, waiting while Claire pulled down her skirt. It was a stand-off. "We can work something out," offered Claire. "We can," agreed Stone amiably. "You only get one bite of the apple," continued Claire. "That a legal phrase?" asked Stone. "Yes. It means this is a one-time deal." "OK. I'll set up an exchange." Stone stood up. Claire was free to leave the booth. As she brushed wrinkles out of her skirt, she warned Stone. "Don't ever touch me again," Claire told him, pressing her advantage, "or the deal is off and I'll just take my consequences." Both Detectives Brisco and Logan were working the telephones, fishing for leads in the Crawford murder investigation. Detective Brisco called the M.E., Dr. Timmons, for the autopsy results. Death by misfortune. Death by drugs. Death by accident. Death by rape. Detective Brisco had seen it all. He did not expect any help from Dr. Timmons. "Dr. Timmons, Detective Brisco here. I was hoping you might have something new on the Crawford autopsy." "Sorry, but what we have is a heroin overdose, plain and simple. No other cause of death. From the needle marks, it looked like Ms Crawford was a long-time addict. She was overdue. It was her time." "Anything from the rape kit test?" asked Brisco hopefully. "Sorry, again. All negative. No signs of vaginal trauma. All sexual activity was consensual. Also, no DNA match with any registered sex offenders." "So, you've got nothing for us?" Brisco's voice betrayed his disappointment. "Just an I.D. on the perpetrator," said Dr. Timmons. "Whaddya mean?" shouted Brisco, slurring his words with excitement. "Didn't Claire tell you? She sent in blood and hair samples that made a perfect match with those found at the scene." "She did?" "Yep! Check with Claire. I think she solved your case for you." "Us detectives are always the last to know," said Brisco, hanging up. So Claire was holding out, thought Brisco. Why would she do that? What was Claire hiding? Logan got off the phone. "I just tracked down the owner of the apartment building. Guess who owns the Hargrove Lofts?" "Who?" "Luther Stone. Three years ago, Claire Kincaid sent him to Attica on a five to seven-year drug conviction." "It's a small world," said Brisco, rubbing his chin. "You get anything new from the forensic lab?" asked Logan. "Naw, same old stuff," lied Brisco. "Maybe we ought to run Luther Stone's prints against the ones found at the murder scene," suggested Logan. "Good idea." "We already have a DNA sample from Stone on file from his last conviction. Let's check it for a match." The investigation moved forward. At 10:00 am on Friday, the Fantasy Club was closed but not empty. Footsteps and voices echoed in the church-like silence. Stone led Claire Kincaid down a long hallway with doors every few feet. The rooms were very small, like hundreds of confessional booths in a Catholic nightmare. "These are fantasy booths," explained Stone. "The customer sits on one side, a nude woman sits on the other side. Between them is a one-way mirror. The man can see the woman, but the woman cannot see the man. The man tells the woman what he wants through a speakerphone." Claire looked at Stone with relief. This was going to be easier than she thought. "And you want me to play your fantasy girl?" "Bingo!" said Stone. "What's the fantasy?" "I'll let that be a surprise." "Do I have to change into a costume?" "No, but you may have to undress," Stone admitted. "How long?" asked Claire Kincaid. "No more than one hour. When we're done, I'll give you the tape." Stone unlocked a door with an 'Employees Only' sign and guided Claire to a booth. Facing Claire was a mirror window. "I can do this," Claire told herself. "He cannot touch me. I will not even have to look at him." Stone closed the door, leaving Claire alone in the fantasy booth. Claire looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was dressed casually in a pink blouse and grey skirt. Her only makeup was a light touch of blue eye shadow and some pink lipstick. She primped in the mirror, waiting for Stone to get settled in on the other side. Stone's voice took Claire by surprise. "So you came to gloat?" he asked. "No, that's not true," Claire said in automatic denial. For a second, Claire felt Stone had read her mind. She had been gloating. Stone would not be touching her. She was back in control. Words were Claire's life. Twisting words in courtrooms was Claire's world. If Stone wanted words, Claire was his woman. She could do this. "Why else would you visit me here in prison?" asked Stone. This question caught Claire off balance. This was not a prison. This was a fantasy booth. Then it hit her. This was Stone's fantasy. The attractive female district attorney visiting a convicted felon in prison after his drug conviction. Claire had prepared herself to talk dirty and perform to obscene commands. But Stone did not want blind obedience. To fulfill Stone's fantasy, Claire would need to play herself. "Answer my question, bitch!" hissed Stone impatiently. "You're a loser, Stone," Claire shouted back. "So you did come to gloat?" "Not, gloat. I came to show you what you'll be missing for the next 5 years." Claire let her finger trace a path down the middle of her chest and circled around the curve of her breasts. "You'd like to see them, wouldn't you?" "Yes, show them to me." "Make me." "I can't. You know I'm locked up." "That's right. The beast is behind bars." "... and the beauty is free." Claire was enjoying this. She really was in control. But she knew she would have to submit. If she did not give Stone his fantasy, there would be no deal. She needed to keep up her end of the bargain. "Eat your heart out," Claire said to her reflection, standing up. Grabbing the edges of her dress with both hands, Claire watched herself lift it above her waist, revealing her white panties before letting her skirt fall back down. She flashed a teasing smile at the mirror. "Take them off." "Take what off?" asked Claire innocently. "Your panties." "Oh, you nasty man," said Claire coquettishly. But she obeyed. She put her hands under her skirt and rolled the panties down her long legs. She held her panties under her nose and pretended to smell them. "Hmm! They smell so good." Claire pressed the panties against the mirror. "Too bad, you can't smell them." Claire heard a low moan. She must be doing it right. Why not speed things up? If he climaxed, she could leave early. She remembered what a prostitute she had prosecuted had once told her. In the hands of a skilled woman, most men lasted less than 7 minutes. Just a few squirts, and it was all over. "Look at me," Claire commanded, watching herself in the mirror as she unbuttoned her blouse. She cupped her hands beneath her bra, pushing her breasts together. "Do you like my tits?" She heard another moan. Claire lifted both her breasts out of their cups and let them hang out over the top of her bra. She pushed her tits toward the mirror, letting the nipples brush against the cold glass. Claire could just imagine what Stone was thinking. She could feel her nipples harden. She mashed her boobs against the glass, making them bulge and flatten out. From the other side, it must look gross, thought Claire with satisfaction. "Are you stroking your cock?" Claire asked into the mirror, so close that her breath left a small cloud of condensation. "Maybe," answered Stone, not giving anything away. He was as slippery as a snake, thought Claire. She would never pin him down. Determined to break Stone, Claire abruptly slumped in her chair and thrust both feet toward the mirror, her shoes making a loud snap as they hit the glass. Her skirt stretched tightly between her open legs, Claire opened herself up for viewing. She heard another groan. "Touch yourself," Stone begged. Claire pushed her fingers between her legs, spreading her lips open. With her legs spread wide under her skirt, Claire was giving Stone a perfect view.Her cunt gaped open, and her puckered asshole was obscenely visible. She inserted two fingers and fucked herself for Stone's pleasure. Any minute and it will be over, Claire told herself. She had no idea what a twisted path Stone's fantasy would take. "What if your father saw you like this, Claire? Are you daddy's little whore?" Stone asked. "Yes, I'm daddy's whore," Claire responded. She would say anything to keep the fantasy going. "What about your brother, Tommy? Would you fuck him, too?" "Yes, I want to fuck Tommy." "I..." She stopped, unable to say the words. Claire swallowed hard and started again. "I want to fuck my brother, Tommy." "Yes, you want his big hard cock," urged Stone. "I want him to fuck me with his hard cock. I want to be my brother's sex slave. Tommy can fuck my pussy, or take me in the ass. I've wanted to fuck my brother for a long, long time." "Suck on your fingers, Claire." Claire pushed the fingers from her left hand into her mouth. "No. Your other hand. Suck on the fingers that were in your pussy." Claire shook her head in refusal. "Do it, Claire. Do it for your brother, Tommy." Claire was puzzled. What was this incestuous fantasy about Tommy? She brushed the fingertips of her right hand over her lips, finally pushing them inside her mouth. She licked her fingers, trailing her tongue all the way down to the fingernails, as if she were licking a cock. "Again." Claire took her saliva-coated fingers and penetrated herself again. She fucked herself briefly before moving her fingers into her open mouth and sucking loudly. "Aah, that's good, Claire. You're a good little girl." Claire increased her efforts. She alternated her thrusting fingers from mouth to pussy and back again until she was dripping. A small pool of fluids was forming between her legs. "Beg for it, Claire," Stone hissed. She didn't reply. "Beg for Tommy's cock!" "No." "You're a dripping slut. Beg Tommy to fuck you." Claire's resolve weakened. She needed to end this. "I want it," Claire whispered. "Say it, whore. What do you want?" "I want Tommy to..." Claire could not finish. "Fuck you?" "Yes," Claire sobbed. She could no longer tell if she was acting out a fantasy or living a nightmare. Her fingers froze. "Say it louder," he insisted. "I want Tommy to fuck me," Claire gasped. "Keep fingering yourself." Claire resumed fucking herself with her fingers. "Say it again." "Please, fuck me," Claire begged. "Fuck you where?" "In my pussy." "What about your ass?" "Yes, fuck my ass. Fuck me with your cock." "Make me feel it, Claire." "Please fuck me," she sobbed. Claire heard a long low moan. "Do it, Claire, masturbate. Make yourself come." Claire paused. Nervously, she turned her eyes away from him toward the door. No escape. She realized there was no way out. Her hesitation thrilled him. Then in shame, she obeyed his command. There was nothing else to do. Slipping her fingers over her sopping mound, Claire rubbed herself. Her body trembled. Her horror at the thought of what would happen to her if she stopped stroking herself was stronger than her disgust of Stone, and what he was forcing her to do. Claire's moans conceded her state of arousal. She was his play toy. She shuddered. Claire screamed in a high-pitched wail, shaking her head from side to side in a frantic effort to deny herself the pleasure of the climax that was building inside her body, the pleasure she desperately wanted to avoid. But her orgasm kept building. The electric sensation flooded through her. A wave of pleasure swept over her. Claire could not stop climaxing. Her heart thundered in her ears. She lost control. Her body trembled more powerfully than ever, shaking from wave after wave of mind-numbing orgasm. And she started to cry. Tears streamed down her face. It was the final humiliation. Stone had forced her to masturbate herself to a climax. Her dignity had been shattered. She was mortified. She had shared her most intimate act with Stone, more intimate than sex itself. He had watched her climax with her breasts hanging out over the top of her bra, her skirt taut between her spread legs, and her shoes planted firmly against the mirror window. Claire could see her own image. She could see herself in the mirror. She was ashamed. Her dignity had always been of paramount importance to her. Tears streamed down her face. Claire moaned in misery. "I'm not done with you yet, Claire." "Kiss me, Claire." Claire puckered her lips and kissed the air. "No, kiss the mirror." Claire moved her lips to the mirror. "Lower." She moved lower. "To your left." Claire obeyed. She pressed her lips against the cold glass, kissing, twisting her mouth in a gross parody of a kiss, leaving a circle of smeared lipstick. "Once more." Claire kissed the glass again, closing her eyes. When Claire opened her eyes, her lips were pressed hard against a spurting cock on the other side of the window. The lamp in her booth was off. The mirror was now just plain glass. Claire had expected some sort of trick from Stone, but not this. Never this. The face behind the glass was not Luther's. It was her brother, Tommy. Claire watched as her brother's cock gave one final spurt that dripped down the side of the glass. Her heart sank. Claire was devastated. She was degraded beyond imagination. In a blind rush, Claire bolted from the fantasy booth. Stone met her in the hallway, pressing a videotape into her hand. Claire had earned the tape, but she was too humiliated to even ask for it. Clasping her unbuttoned blouse together with one hand, and holding the video tape in the other hand, Claire ran out of the Fantasy Club. All she wanted was to escape. 723 East Park Avenue Apartment 327 New York City, N.Y. Monday July 25th For several days, Claire deliberately avoided her brother, Tommy. She left for work early and came home late. She was too humiliated to face him, but relieved that her ordeal was over. Claire hoped that with time, Tommy would forget and forgive. Stone phoned her at home one evening when Tommy was out. "Hello, Ms Kincaid." Claire recognized his voice immediately. "We have nothing to discuss, Mr. Stone. Just one bite of the apple. Did you forget?" Claire was ready to hang up, but Stone's words stopped her. "Did you enjoy the videotape? It's Tommy's favorite." Something was wrong. The hair on the back of Claire's neck stood up. A feeling of dread crept over her. She found the videotape Stone had pressed into her hand when she fled the Fantasy Club. Claire inserted it in the VCR. It was the wrong tape. My God! This was a tape of Claire in the fantasy booth. My God, thought Claire, Stone had videotaped her through the mirror. "You bastard!" Claire yelled into the phone. "Tommy loves your video. He has seen it dozens of times. No one else has seen it. I should sell it as a porno video so millions of men could watch it and fuck you in their dreams. Your reputation would be ruined." "What do you want," Claire sobbed in defeat. "I want you to have sex." "I'd die before having sex with you," swore Claire. "Not me, Claire. I want you to fuck Tommy." Claire Kincaid's felt her life spinning out-of-control. The room started to turn. She fainted. When Claire revived, Tommy was standing over her. He was rubbing his crotch. "Tommy," Claire asked. Tommy looked down at his sister. "Yes?" "Do you want to fuck me?" "I sure do." Tommy took his shirt off and unbuckled his belt. "Is Stone forcing you to do this?" Tommy kicked off his shoes. "No." "Then why are you taking off your clothes? It's wrong to have sex with your own sister." "It's wrong, but I can't stop thinking about it. After watching the videotape of you fucking yourself, and begging me to fuck you, I can't get you out of my mind. I want you." Tommy dropped his pants to the floor. He was already fully erect. Stone had been exciting Tommy by showing him the videotape of Claire's pornographic performance in the fantasy booth. How many times had Tommy seen the video? Claire had masturbated to save her brother Tommy from a possible murder conviction. Now Tommy was going to screw her. All of Claire's good intentions were turning out wrong. Stone had twisted everything around. Claire had given up trying to help Tommy. Now she just wanted to save herself. Seeing no way out of this forced incest, Claire took off her clothes and laid down on the bed. Tommy climbed on top of her. He was awkward. All elbows and knees. His hot cock throbbed insistently against her thigh. There were no condoms. Tommy would not be using a condom, but there would also would be no baby. Claire was on the pill. Once he had a goal, Tommy pursued it with a simple-minded determination. His hands were clumsy and fumbling. He was excited. He would not be stopped. Claire felt her resolve hardening along with her brother's erection. She could not do this. She could not fuck her own brother. Claire kept stalling him. She told Tommy, she had to get comfortable and moved the pillows. But Tommy was insistent. Without warning, the telephone rang. Claire answered the telephone, but it failed to slow down Tommy's mindless lust. "Hello, this is Dr. Cook's Office calling from the Metropolitan Health Center," said a deep rumbling voice. Claire could feel Tommy's hands pushing her legs apart. "Hello," said Claire. "Is Ms Kincaid home?" "This is Ms Kincaid speaking." Tommy had managed to get his hips between her legs. She could not keep them closed. He had won.Nothing would stop him now. Tommy ignored the fact that Claire was talking on the telephone. He would fuck her as she talked. "We're calling to notify you about the test results for Tommy." Claire felt Tommy's fingers probing inside her. She was wet. His cock pressed insistently against Claire's inner thigh. "What results?" Claire asked. "The HIV test taken last week came back positive." Without a word, Claire dropped the phone. Stone was going to kill her. He was using Tommy to kill her. In a panic, she tried to push Tommy off. But he was too heavy. He pushed her back onto the bed. Tommy had a weak mind, but strong muscles. He would win this battle. Claire felt the tip of his cock touch her outer lips, getting ready to thrust himself inside her. Claire knew. She was dead. Frantic, Claire whipped her head from side to side looking for a weapon. She was fighting for her life. Without thinking, she grabbed a pair of scissors off the night table. She stabbed Tommy several times in the back. He screamed in pain. His screams, and the sounds of something falling were heard by Stone on the other end of the dropped telephone. Claire ran to her closet. She yanked a gun out of her underwear drawer, pulled a raincoat on over her naked body, and fled. Claire intended to kill herself. Suicide was the only option left. Claire wandered aimlessly for hours before returning to her apartment. She had rejected the idea of suicide. If she killed herself, Stone won. He wanted her dead. She was determined to live. She wanted to defeat Stone. Her apartment was empty. A pool of blood had soaked into her bed. Tommy was gone. A note was taped to the headboard of the bed. "Taking care of the body. Sorry things went bad. I will never tell anyone. Love, Luther" My God, thought Claire. Tommy was dead. Stone had disposed of the body. She had killed her own brother. In a daze, Claire stripped the bed, soaked the sheets in cold water, and made up the bed with fresh sheets. The routine domestic actions helped numb her mind. It stopped her from thinking. She was a killer. Claire did not sleep all night. In the morning, the telephone rang. "Claire, it's Stone." She did not answer. "Claire, everything is going to be OK." "Nothing will ever be OK," Claire mumbled. She dropped the phone and started crying. Still wearing her raincoat, Claire cried herself to sleep. When Claire woke up, Stone was holding her. His hands were caring and gentle. It felt good to be held. But Claire's anger ignited. Stone was touching her again. His arms were around her. It would never end. He was responsible for the death of her brother, Tommy. Silently, she slipped the gun out of her raincoat and shot him 3 times at point-blank range. Stone was dead. Detectives Brisco & Logan promised to make a slam-dunk case of self-defense in testimony before the grand jury. Stone was an ex-convict previously convicted by Claire Kincaide who stalked her. He broke into her apartment for revenge. But there are a few loose ends. In Stone's pocket was a key chain with a large white rabbit's foot. The key opened the door to Claire's apartment. It belonged to Claire's brother, Tommy. Tommy was missing. Claire did not know where he was. In addition to breaking into Claire Kincaid's apartment, Stone was suspected of foul play in the disappearance of Tommy Kincaid. Detective Logan was returning his daughter, Megan, to her mother. She was departing on American Airlines flight 818 from New York to Tampa, Florida at 10:00 am. He shared joint custody with his ex-wife. After his daughter, Megan, pre-boarded, Detective Logan noticed a disturbance at an adjacent arriving flight from Florida. Tommy Kincaid was sitting on the floor surrounded by 3 airport security guards. He was crying, and yelling that his rabbit's foot was lost. Detective Logan intervened. "Tommy Kincaid, I'm Detective Logan. I work with your sister. Do you remember me?" Tommy grabbed Detective Logan's leg in a hug. "Can you help me find my rabbit's foot?" "I already found it. It's in the police property room. Do you know where my sister is?" "Yes, she went to Luther Stone's funeral." "Stone is dead?" "Yes, he did something bad." Detective Logan did not want to mention his attack on Tommy's sister. Tommy was already upset. "Stone was good, not bad. He sent me to Disneyworld." "Is that where you've been for the past week?" "Yes. I had fun." "Your sister, Claire, will be glad to hear you're OK." "I don't know my way home," Tommy said. "Come with me." Tommy took Detective Logan's hand. Following the advice of her psychiatrist, Claire Kincaid attended the burial ceremony for Luther Stone. It was intended to provide closure. By attending the burial, she might avoid developing post-traumatic stress. Detective Lenny Brisco and Claire Kincaid stood apart from Luther Stone's family watching the first shovel full of dirt dumped on the casket. It was a small gathering. No more than four, not counting the minister, Claire, and Brisco. "Life is a mystery," repeated Detective Brisco, mimicking the eulogy of the minister. Claire remained silent. "Death is a mystery, too," continued Brisco. He looked at Claire as if he expected her to answer. "But not everyone's death is mysterious," finished Brisco. Claire looked at Detective Brisco. "What are you trying to say?" Claire asked. Detective Brisco did not answer. He watched Luther's family and the minister walk away. They headed across the grass to their cars. The funeral was over. Claire and Brisco were alone. "There is no statute of limitations on murder, is there?" Detective Brisco asked Claire. "It was self-defense," said Claire. "I was talking about your brother, Tommy." "Tommy?" Claire could not look Detective Brisco in the eyes. He knows, she thought. He knows what happened. "I read the note written by Luther Stone about disposing of Tommy's body. You conspired with Stone to cover up Tommy's death, and then you killed Stone so he couldn't blackmail you." Claire Kincaid offered a weak rebuttal. "In the end, Luther Stone received justice. Not courtroom justice, but justice none-the-less," she said. "But what about you?" Det. Brisco looked at Claire. He knows, thought Claire. "Me?" "Which do you want, justice or redemption?" After a long period of silence, Claire hung her head and whispered, "Justice should be tempered with mercy." "Follow me to my car and I'll give you some hard mercy." He cupped his groin. Detective Brisco was confident. He knew people. Claire was guilty. He turned his back on her and walked toward his car without looking back. Claire stood still for a long time before making her first step. Inside the police car, Claire unzipped Detective Brisco's pants. She sucked him into her mouth without a word. Getting a blow job in a cemetery by an assistant district attorney right after attending a burial was a new one for Brisco. A sense of unreality enveloped him. He climaxed almost immediately. Someone shouted. A man was running up the cemetery hill toward Brisco's car. He shoved Claire's head off his lap. It was Tommy Kincaid. Claire heard Tommy yelling her name. Tommy was alive. He was running up the hill with Detective Logan trailing behind. Detective Brisco zipped up, confused. If Tommy was alive, why did Claire Kincaid just give him a blow job? "Life is a mystery," Claire repeated Brisco's own words back to him. She flashed him a quick smile before opening the car door to run toward Tommy. Detective Logan joined his partner Lenny Brisco. They watched as Claire and Tommy hugged. "A strange case, huh?" commented Logan. "Stranger than you'll ever know," agreed Brisco.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11068.txt

Belfast Bloke

The Sauna (2/4)

"No ... not at all," I stammered. As soon as I'd finished my sentence, Nina got down from where she was sitting and proceeded to pull her towel away from her body. She then re-tied the towel around her waist and sat down again. I almost had heart failure when I saw the beauty of her magnificent breasts. Needless to say, she was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen in my life, and her breasts were sexy as hell. Almost as soon as I realized what had just happened, my cock began to grow faster and bigger than ever before. I was eager to touch Nina's breasts, even if it was the last thing I ever did. "You know," piped Katy, after a short silence, "I think you're right - it is getting quite hot in here." She continued, "I might just lower my towel to my waist as well, if that's alright by you two." "Fine by me, Katy," said Nina, without delay. "Is that alright by you, Alan?" asked Katy. "What...?" I said a little dazed. "Oh yeah; no problem, go ahead," I replied. I watched as one of the most beautiful teenagers I knew untied her towel from just above her breasts, then lowered it until it was around her waist. As with Nina, she finished the 'procedure' by re-tying the towel around her hips. By now, I was getting really 'worked-up' by sitting within a very small distance of two topless beauties in a sauna. I decided that I should pinch myself in the side, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Luckily for me, I wasn't! In order to attempt to confirm the fact that I wasn't dreaming, I chose to go and have a cold shower, as I was beginning to 'burn up' with the heat and the excitement. As I closed the door of the sauna behind me, I breathed a heavy sigh. I stood under the cool spray of the shower and tried to get my heartbeat down to a reasonable level. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to want to slow down at all. Within less than a minute, it was obvious my heart wasn't going to slow down for anyone this afternoon. With this in mind, I decided to go back to the heat of the sauna and the beauty of the two semi-nude young women. Not long after my return to the sauna, Nina started talking again. "You know, this heat is getting beyond a joke for me. I think I'll go and take a quick shower, if that's alright by you two," she said. "That's okay by me, Nina," stated Katy. "Not a problem with me either," I said. Soon after Nina had gone out the door for a 'quick' shower, Katy started asking me questions. "Well... what do you think of her, Alan?" asked Katy, anxiously. I couldn't help but let out a slight laugh at the question I'd just been asked. Of course, I thought Nina was one of the most beautiful young women I'd ever seen in my life, but I didn't know what to say to Katy. "She seems alright," I said. "Do you think she's sexy?" asked Katy. "No comment," I said, laughing. "Does that mean you fancy her?" Katy continued to quiz. "Aye, I'd say so," I retorted rather calmly, with a smile. As Nina walked back into the sauna, she noticed that both Katy and I were smiling. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Oh, nothing much," replied Katy, "We were just talking about you behind your back!" "I hope you weren't saying anything bad," said Nina. "Well..." I said slowly.

Part 2

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11969.txt

J M MCMURRAY

Citation

"Damn!" The patrol car's blue and red flashers loomed large in my rearview mirror... I had been caught. I pulled into the parking lot of a large mall simply because traffic on the street was too heavy. I held on to a faint hope the patrol car would keep going, but no luck; it pulled in right behind me. For the first time, I got a good look at the officer behind the wheel. Auburn hair and hazel eyes... the kind that could melt ice cubes or start fires in other places. "If I have to get a ticket, at least it will come from a good-looking lady," I muttered out loud. When she stepped from the patrol car, I received a double surprise - not only did she have a stunning-looking face, but she filled her uniform magnificently! She wasn't petite by any means, but she wasn't an amazon either. She was very shapely and looked like she could handle herself in any situation, from a street brawl to the bedroom. Looking at her walk as she approached my car, I felt that familiar warmth and stirring in the most private parts of my body. "What the hell, John," I said to myself, "Let's have a little fun." As she approached, I noticed the absence of a wedding ring, something I always look for on good-looking women, not that a wedding ring really makes a difference - the approach is just different. I rolled down my window and waited. She stood cautiously about three feet from my door. I put both hands on the steering wheel to let her know I meant no harm. I looked up at those deep, hazel eyes with a big grin on my face... "I hope you realize," I said good-naturedly, "this has completely destroyed any possibility of a meaningful relationship between us." Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, radiating a twinkle that promised a great sense of humor. A wide smile came shortly after, and she hid it with her hand. "Excuse me," she said in a silky voice that failed to hide the amusement she was feeling. "I'll be right back. Please stay where you are." She returned to her patrol car and got in. I could see her laughing in my rearview, aided by the lights in her car and the lights in the parking lot. Officer K. Edwards had a sense of humor all right; I was determined to test it to the limit. While she sat in the patrol car, I unzipped my slacks and fished out my semi-hard cock. The mere sight of the way she filled her uniform made me tingle all over... a few sensual strokes, and my cock stood up in my lap like a submarine's periscope looking for something to torpedo. A quick check of the rearview showed me she was returning. Her countenance composed and all business. "May I have your driver's license, registra... Oh Shit!" She had seen the periscope. I looked deep into her eyes and saw no humor in them. I had carried my little joke too far. "Sir," she said in a controlled and level tone of voice, "please put your penis back in your pants and step out of the car." Her right hand rested on the handle of the gun at her side. "I'm sorry, Officer Edwards, I..." "Do it now." She cut me off sternly, her hand tightening on the gun handle. I knew she meant business. I was sorry I had gone as far as I did and was a little embarrassed and frightened. I stuffed my cock back in my pants as best I could while she watched. I got out of the car. "Face the car, put your feet apart, lean against the car with your hands on the roof." "Oh, come on, officer. I was only..." "Please DO IT, sir." I was really scared now, and the fear only made my now aching cock even harder. I assumed the position she requested, my heart thudding in my chest, pumping even more blood into my already stiff shaft. She pulled my feet further away from my car with her own, forcing my weight onto my hands, setting me off balance. Beginning at my ankles, she frisked me, moving slowly upward, first on the outside, then the inside of my legs. When she reached my crotch, she pushed gently upward on my testicles, then moved her hand firmly along the length of my now throbbing cock. I felt a bead of lubricating liquid ooze from the tip. "I suppose you think this is funny." She seemed just a little out of breath, but her voice still had that silky, sensual tone laced with authority. "N-no, officer." I was really frightened now. "I can't help it, something about you really turns me on." Her hand left my cock and continued expertly exploring the upper regions of my body. "Put your left hand behind you back, please." Her manner was professional and all business. I felt the cold chrome steel of the handcuff close around my wrist. "Now your right hand, please." She finished cuffing me, turned me around, and leaned me against the car. "Aw, c'mon officer, you're not really going to..." "Shut up or I'll gag you too!" Her voice was even and low. It had lost that sensual silkiness. She meant what she said. "You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." I couldn't believe I had been so stupid, exposing myself to a cop. She finished Mirandizing me and locked up my car. "I'm taking you to the station for booking. The charge is indecent exposure." She led me to the patrol car, opened the rear door, and helped me in. "Shit!" I thought, "Nine o'clock at night and I'm on my way to jail for flashing my cock at a cop!" She glanced back at me in the rearview mirror from time to time. I couldn't swear to it, but I thought I saw that sparkle in her eyes again...like a predator cat toying with its victim just before the kill. "Look on the bright side," she said, that silkiness back in her voice, "I'm not going to give you a ticket." "I don't suppose you'd be willing to forget about my, shall we say, stupidity back there, would you?" "Not a chance! You're going to pay for this one, mister." "John," I said weakly. "Listen, I didn't mean any disrespect, Officer Edwards...may I ask you your first name?" "Sure," she said evenly, "you can ask." "What is your first name, officer?" "Patrolwoman Edwards, badge 6973," she said. "Now button it up, creep, we're almost there." "This is it," I thought. "My life ruined and all because I had to have a little fun...SHIT!" She pulled the patrol car into the driveway of what looked like a deserted building across the street from the police station. "Hey," I said, "isn't that the police station across the street?" "That's the new station, this is the old station. We use the old station as a holding area. You're not getting booked until morning. Give you a chance to cool off." "But Officer..." "I told you to button it! One more word and you get a gag...I mean it!" She pulled to a stop at the rear of the building and helped me out. I thought it rather strange there were no lights in the parking lot, and none on in the building. She led me in to the building, her flashlight leading the way. "Hey, wait a second! Where are you..." "Shut up!" she said, and took us to the basement and a long row of deserted cells. She stopped in front of one of the cells and removed the handcuffs. I turned around to see the barrel of her revolver aimed at the center of my chest. "Now back up, slowly, into the cell." The gun barrel didn't waver an inch...I backed in slowly. "Strip." "What?" I couldn't believe what I'd heard. "I'm not stripping for you or anyone else. I want to make a phone call." She cocked the revolver and aimed it lower. "Strip or I'll give you a .38 caliber vasectomy, you son-of-a-bitch." I stripped down to my undershorts and socks and stood there like an adolescent at his first dance. My hard-on had long since vanished. All I felt now was a slight nausea and weakness in my knees. "Take it all off," she said evenly. I did as she commanded, first the socks then, hesitantly, the underwear. I cupped my hands in front of my private parts. "A little shy?" she asked, smiling. "You were anxious enough to show it to me a little while ago." "Look, Patrolwoman Edwards," I said weakly, "that was a mistake and I'm sorry." "Kate," she said with her silky voice, "now lie down on the bunk on your back." Her revolver was still aimed at my shriveled privates. I stretched out on the bunk. "Here," she said, tossing the handcuffs at me, "put the chain through the bars on the bunk and cuff both hands.""When I had done that, she produced a pair of plastic strip ties and bound my feet, spread eagled, to the foot of the bunk. She came to the side of the bunk and sat down next to me. She put the barrel of her revolver under my limp cock and lifted it. The coldness of the steel sent shivers through my body. "Pathetic looking little thing," she said laughing, "what's the matter, stud, can't get it up?" I moaned in embarrassment. She got up and hung the heavy wool blanket from the other bunk across the cell window, then lit a large candle that had been in the sink. A warm glow of light and eerie shadows filled the cell. She stood in the center of the cell, put her gun in its holster, and removed the belt. She tossed it on the empty bunk. Slowly, she reached behind her head and did something with her hair. It fell across her shoulders flashing like deep burning embers in the candlelight. "I'll make you a deal," she said, standing with her legs slightly apart, hands on her hips, "if I'm happy with you in the morning, you go free. If not, you go to jail." My mouth fell open in astonishment and I could feel the hydraulic system in my loins begin to pump blood into my limp meat. "Huh?" was all I could manage. "Either that," she purred with that silky voice, "or I take you across the street and book you right now. What'll it be? A night of pleasure or a police record?" "What do I have to do to make you happy?" "It's really very simple. Until six tomorrow morning, you are going to be my slave. If you do everything, EVERYTHING I tell you to do, and don't complain about anything...I'll be happy and you'll be free. Fail to comply just once, or complain the slightest bit...and I book you as a pervert. Deal?" "I-I'll give it a try, Kate. May I call you Kate?" "You may. Now for the rules. You may make any sounds of passion you wish and as loud as you wish. No one will hear us. You may not touch me unless I give you my permission. I will do with you whatever I please and you will not complain. That's all there is to it." "O-okay," I said timidly, "I'll try." She unbuttoned the blouse of her uniform and removed it. Her ample breasts trapped by her bra swelled in the middle like two gently rolling hills. She reached behind her and set them free, tossing her bra on the empty bunk with her blouse. She cupped her breasts, lifting them slightly and looked from them to me. "Do you like my breasts, slave?" Frantically trying to remember the rules she had outlined, I replied, "Yes, Kate, they're magnificent." I didn't have to pretend to answer, either...they were truly amazing! She approached me slowly, still cupping those beautiful globes. When she got to me she leaned over and put one of her erect nipples about a half inch from my lips. My cock had come fully awake now and was standing at attention. I wanted to take that succulent nipple in my mouth...taste its sweetness and nibble on it...my cock began to pulsate. "May I take your nipple in my mouth, Kate?" "NO!" she said, a huskiness in her silky voice, her breathing deeper and a little faster. She closed the distance between her nipple and my lips, pushing it lightly against my mouth. My loins were screaming at my lips and teeth to open up and take that hard little bud inside...my mind kept my mouth tightly shut. After what seemed like centuries, she stood up. "You've passed my little test, slave. Do you want to suck on my nipple?" "Oh yes, Kate, please, I beg you, put your nipple in my mouth." At that moment I wasn't acting or playing a slave game, my entire being ached to taste her. "Very well," she purred seductively, "you're a good slave and deserve a reward. The better you are, the more rewards you get." She leaned over me again. I parted my hungry lips and raised my head to meet her descending nipple. She held it just out of reach. I couldn't help myself, little boy whimpering sounds escaped my throat in anticipation. "Please, oh please, Kate," I whimpered, "I'll do anything you say, ANYTHING, just let me taste your nipple." "I know you will, darling," she whispered, "I know you will." She lowered her hard nipple to my parted lips. I closed them around it and slowly traced a path around its base with my tongue. Her eyes closed and a soft moan came out of her. She pushed harder with her breast and I opened my mouth wider to take all she wanted to give. "Yessss slave! Suck my breast!" Her breathing was heavier. I captured her nipple in my teeth and began nibbling from the base, working my way to the tip, then flicked, licked and sucked, then began nibbling again. Her moaning became louder and more yearning. Without warning she stood up, pulling her breast from my mouth with a wet popping sound. I groaned in frustration and disappointment. "Something wrong, slave?" Her eyes flashed mischievously at mine, the sparkle had returned. "Do you want to suck on my nipple some more?" she asked teasingly. "You aren't complaining, are you?" "No, mistress Kate, I'm not complaining. It's just that your nipples are so sweet, and firm...I could nibble and suck on them for hours." "Perhaps later," she said, moving back to the center of the cell. "Right now I want you to see the rest of what you may or may not get to experience tonight." She kicked her shoes off and flipped them onto the other bunk. Slowly, she unfastened the waistband of her slacks and lowered the zipper. My pulse quickened and my rigid cock began waving wildly in the air, its spasms completely beyond my control. My eyes were riveted on the juncture of her thighs as she continued to lower the zipper with one hand, the other holding the waistband together. As the zipper reached its lowest point, she turned her back to me. To say she was a master tease would be an understatement. I had no doubt she was serious when she told me I may or may not get to partake of her luscious charms. It became my fervent hope that she would be a compassionate mistress and allow me to become lost in ecstasy within her body. She lowered her slacks from her waist to the top of her hips, looked back over her shoulder at me, blew me a sensuous kiss, then threw her head back and laughed teasingly. She began undulating her hips in a slow, circular motion. With each rotation she pushed the slacks lower on her hips. After what seemed an eternity, I could see the lacy waistband of her panties, black against the creamy smooth flesh of her lower back. She wasn't wearing pantyhose. Still lower the slacks went, driving me crazy with desire, until her entire buttocks were exposed, sheathed in filmy, black lace bikini panties. Her ass cheeks rotating against one another beneath the lace of her panties as she continued to undulate her hips. It was almost more than I could bear. I wanted to scream out, "Fuck me, Kate! Oh, please, slide your hot pussy down over my cock! I want to be inside you!" But I dared not for fear this would all end with a trip across the street and booking. So I simply lay there watching, my heart pounding in my chest, my cock throbbing mercilessly. She stopped undulating her hips and simply let her slacks fall down around her ankles. Her bare legs were smooth and shapely and held promises of wondrous delights. Slowly, she bent over at the waist without bending her knees. As she bent, the fabric of her panties tightened across her cheeks and the juncture between. Covered only by a thin strip of lace, her hidden pussy raised my blood to the boiling point. As she lifted first one leg, then the other to step out of her slacks, her pussy also shifted, first to one side, then the other. She was watching me now from between her legs, her upside down smile seemed somehow angelic and demonic at the same time. She raised her hand between her legs and began moving her middle finger up and down the lace that covered her charms. She closed her eyes and moaned softly...I could barely hear it over the whimpering sounds I was making. She moved the lace aside, exposing the deliriously luscious lips of her moist pussy. As I watched hypnotized, her finger slowly vanished between those lips. "Oh God! Kate," I moaned, "you're driving me..." I became silent, remembering the "no complaint" rule. She stopped, her finger buried deep in her pussy. Her eyes opened wide, staring at me upside down from between her long, shapely legs. "You may continue, slave. Don't be afraid," she purred. "CRAZY!" I shouted in pure animal lust. She jumped slightly at my shout, but kept her finger buried deep within her. I had never wanted a woman as badly as I wanted her at that moment. "Oh God, please mistress..." Tears of frustration were streaming down my face, my body arched off the bed, my hips thrust into the air. "Let me ram my cock deep inside your pussy! GOD! IT HURTS...I FEEL LIKE I'M GOING TO BURST...I WANT YOU SO BADLY!" I was squirming all over the bunk, breathing heavily and moaning loudly. "It hurts?" She asked, her finger now moving slowly in and out of her wet pussy, making me delirious with lust. "Is that a complaint, slave?" "N-no, no mistress!" I replied quickly with gasping breath. "It's a good hurt! A wonderful hurt!" "That's better," she purred, slowly removing her finger from her pussy. She stood up straight, turned sensually and came toward me, her pubic mound pushing at the lace...undulating...teasing. She sat on the bunk next to me. "We'll have to do something about that hurt," she said. She took my throbbing, pulsating, aching cock in her hand and closed her fingers loosely around it. Then she ran the finger that had been buried deep in her wet pussy under my nose. As she did this, she squeezed my cock with her other hand. The sweet smell of her juices invaded my brain short-circuiting millions of neuro switches."Her scent and the squeezing pressure of her hand on my cock was too much. My balls tightened involuntarily, and a stream of hot, creamy cum erupted from the head of my cock and flowed over her hand. I tried to pump against her hand with my hips to release more of my pent-up fluid, but she released her grip on my hot cock immediately. It jerked a few times on its own, pumping liquid from the tip with each spasm. I could feel it hot against my skin as it worked its way down my shaft toward my balls. I wanted to scream in frustration, wanted to rape this hot cop bitch who held me captive, wanted to stab her to death with my hot, throbbing cock...all I did was whimper "Oh God, Kate...Oh God...Oh my God..." "Does it feel better now?" she asked and laughed a deep, animal laugh. She slowly licked my cum from her hand. "You taste delicious, slave," she purred. "I'll have to have more....but later." She bent then, lowering her lips to mine, her tongue exploring the inside of my mouth. I could taste my own salty juices in her mouth and could smell the musky scent of my cum on her breath. My mind began to slip...I was driven slowly to the brink of sexual insanity by this taunting, teasing police officer! She broke the kiss long before I wanted her to. I closed my eyes and savored the kiss, committing it to memory forever. Opening my eyes again, I looked down my body and saw her face in the vicinity of my still hard cock. "Oh, look," she whispered sensually, "you've spilled some of your sweet cum." I could feel her hot breath on my cock and balls as she spoke. "Would my slave like me to clean him up?" she asked teasingly. "Y-yesssss, please do." There was an aching, genuinely urgent tone in my voice. "Do you think you deserve to be cleaned? Do you think you've been a good slave, darling John?" Her voice was teasing, taunting, driving me wild with desire and a deep, yawning urge to bury my hot cock into any opening she might offer. "I've tried to be good, Mistress," I said timidly, not looking at her. As much as I tried to hold on to my masculinity, I failed. I really had become this incredibly sexy vixen's slave. At that moment, I knew I would do anything she asked. I'd do it gladly if it meant sampling her charms. Every nerve ending in my body was on a razor's edge...her slightest touch, anywhere on my body, sent waves of tingles and goose flesh racing throughout my entire being. "Look at me, slave," she commanded. I looked into her sparkling hazel eyes and became lost in a place I never wanted to escape from. I felt as if I were falling into transparent pools of hazel-colored liquid....if she didn't speak soon, I knew I would drown. At the last possible second, her voice pulled me out of her liquid eyes, saving me from being trapped there for eternity. "Yes," she said slowly, "you have been a good slave, an obedient and tasty slave. You have earned another reward. I will let it be one of your own choosing. How would you like to be cleaned up, slave?" My mind raced with the possibilities. I wanted my cock deep in her inviting pussy....I also wanted to feel it slide deep into her throat...I wanted to stuff its entire, throbbing length into her ass, too. I was so consumed with desire for this creature, I couldn't speak. "Quickly, slave," she purred, "what part of your Mistress do you want me to clean your beautiful cock and balls with?" "It's not a slave's place to choose, Mistress." It was as if someone else had spoken with my voice. I'd been given the chance to let my cock explore any part of this luscious body I desired, and I actually said it wasn't my place to choose! "Ahhh, my sweet, sexy John slave." She was using that sexy voice of hers. "You are indeed the perfect slave. You pass each test I give you." With that, she lowered her head and cleaned the cum from my cock and balls with her luxuriously thick auburn hair. She wrapped my rigid cock in it and slowly moved it from the base of my shaft to the tip of its head. It was like pushing my cock through a silken tube....the sensation was so intense I nearly came again. I gasped from the pure pleasure of it. I had never imagined, in my wildest fantasies, that a woman's hair could feel so good! When she finally finished cleaning me and lifted her head, I could see streaks of her hair stuck wetly together with my creamy cum. "We're going to have some fun now, slave." She left the bunk and bent over a carry bag she had brought with her. Again, she bent at the waist, knees straight, giving me a direct view of her glorious pussy trapped beneath her lacy panties. She took her time rummaging through the bag, all the while shifting her weight from one leg to the other. The movement beneath her panties was driving me even deeper into the depths of sexual desire....and she knew it! At long last, she stood up and turned to face me. In one hand, she held a small, penis-shaped vibrator, in the other was a string of ten wooden beads, each a quarter of an inch in diameter and spaced two inches apart on the string. I had heard stories of the beads and how they were used, but I had never experienced it...my blood raced at the thought. She approached slowly, her hips undulating, her weapons in her hands, a wide smile on her face. She laid her weapons at the foot of the bed between my legs. Then she removed the pillow from beneath my head. "Lift your ass," she commanded. I obeyed. She doubled the pillow and placed it beneath my ass. "Relax," she said. I tried. She retrieved her weapons and positioned herself between my legs. She switched on the vibrator and put its tip at the base of my scrotum and moved it slowly upward. The sensations made my cock jump and wobble uncontrollably. After a few minutes, she moved it to the base of my cock and held it there. She lowered her head then, and I could feel her warm, wet tongue licking my ass and poking at my hole. Moaning sounds were coming from deep within her as she continued to lubricate my asshole with her warm saliva. I jerked my hips upward and tightened my ass muscles when she attempted to insert the first wooden bead. She raised her head and stared at me with those bewitching eyes. "Relax, John," she commanded softly, compassionately, sensually. "Your Mistress wants you to feel pleasure, not pain." "Oh God," was all I could manage to moan. She lowered her head again. I loosened my muscles as best I could, and felt the first of ten beads being pushed gently into my ass by this wildly erotic animal that held me captive. "Oooooooh GOD!" I moaned....and with each of the ten beads she inserted, I moaned the same phrase. "How do you feel?" she asked when she had completed her task. "Full," I said, "it feels so, so strange." I was breathing heavily. "Don't worry, John. Just relax your muscles, you'll enjoy it so much more." With all the effort I could manage, I concentrated on relaxing. As I became more and more relaxed, that strange feeling left me, and I felt less full. The sensation actually became pleasant. "Yes, John. That's much better," she purred soothingly. She put the buzzing vibrator back on my scrotum and rotated it in tiny circles. Her other hand grasped my throbbing shaft and held it steady. Then she lowered her head and probed the tiny opening in the head of my cock with her hot tongue. Indescribable sensations shot down the length of my tortured cock and raced through my body like an avalanche! "I'm going to make you cum in my mouth," she said, moving her head away from my eager cock. "But I promise you one thing, you'll experience ecstasy you never thought possible before you do!" I had already experienced ecstasy of the magnitude she described, and she hadn't really done anything to me, yet. All of her, her body, her eyes, her voice, her taunting and teasing were driving me insane with passion. I wanted to deposit a hot load of liquid deep within her luscious body, and I didn't care where! My hips jerked spasmodically when I felt the hot wetness of her mouth close around the head of my cock .... she was still working the vibrator in tight circles on my scrotum, her other hand rhythmically squeezing my shaft. Her tongue began moving back and forth across the opening in my cock .... slowly at first, then faster and faster. In a desperate effort to get more of myself inside her, I pushed upward. She immediately stopped all activity and sat upright, staring at me with her hypnotic eyes .... my steel-hard cock was left bobbing in the air like a drunken sailor, the skin on its head hot, purple, and tight in anticipation. "Oooooh GOD! Kate, Mistress .... please, don't torture me this way. I don't know how much longer I can stand it!" My head tossed from side to side as I spoke. The pressure of the hot fluids trapped inside my body was becoming painful. I felt if I didn't cum soon, I would explode, flooding the insides of my own body with juices. "Don't?" She asked with authority. "Did my slave actually say 'don't' to me?" She laughed a wicked little laugh, "Dear slave, you don't understand, do you? You are MY slave, I AM your Mistress. I will decide what I will and will not do, not you. Your only purpose for being tonight is to make me happy. Do you understand?" "Y-yes, Kate," I said sheepishly, "I will do as you say, it's just that you're driving me crazy .... I can't help it, I just want to feel all of me deep inside you." "Let me hear you beg for it, slave," she said tauntingly, eyes flashing, then she licked the underside of my throbbing shaft from base to tip. "OH GOD!" I moaned, my body jerking in response to her tongue. "You are the perfect Mistress." I was gasping for breath, barely getting the words out. "You are fair in your punishment and compassionate in your judgment.""Please, Mistress, I beg of you, have compassion for this unworthy servant. I exist only to give you pleasure. Ummm, please, allow my fevered and eager cock to explore the depths of your throat. Oh God, Kate, allow this pitiful slave to provide you with a warm drink of sweet juices to soothe your burning throat. Please, Kate, I only want to please you." "Oooooh, slave!" She purred, her eyes softening with compassion and just a hint of eagerness. "You have begged so eloquently, how can I possibly refuse? Besides, I am anxious to taste your cum again. I have decided to grant your request." She put the vibrator back on my scrotum and quickly slid her hot mouth down the full length of my tormented cock, enclosing it in a moist, velvety sheath that clung to the contours of my shaft and head like a glove. "Aaaaagggghhhh!" I moaned as the head of my pulsing tube came to rest at the back of her throat, her soft lips applying scintillating pressure on the base of my shaft, her silken tongue moving back and forth on the underside of my cock. Her tongue was picking up and transmitting the tingling vibration from the machine pressing against my balls. "OH MY GOD! I CAN'T STAND IT... IT FEELS SOOOOO WONDERFUL!" I was moaning and whimpering now, buried to the hilt in her tight throat. I thought I was going to die! She began a slow, steady up and down movement with her head, animal sounds of her own mingling with mine. My burning cock slid out to the head then back into that tight sheath to the base of her throat, faster and faster she moved. My head was tossing from side to side, eyes squeezed tightly shut, sparks of sexual fire exploding in my brain and showering my entire body with hot pin pricks of sensual sensation. She continued moving her head up and down, the pleasure she and the vibrator were giving went far past the concept of "normal". So intense was the pleasure, it bordered on the threshold of pain. The mechanism in my body that triggers orgasm was frozen solid. I was lost in a galaxy of pleasure and pain, without orgasm there could be no way out! I can't be sure how long she kept it up. But, if she kept doing what she was doing I knew the exhilarating intensity of sensation would never let me cum. She must have read my mind or my cock or both because she slowed her pace and began working her magic mouth on the head only, her free hand gripping my shaft and jacking me off in perfect time with her mouth. As suddenly as she had shifted technique, a whole different wave of sensations rolled in and crashed over my tingling body. The first warnings of a 10.2 earthquake began rocking my body, it's epicenter at my throbbing cock. The major quake shot throughout my body. Stream after stream of hot cum rocketed into her hungry mouth. "OOOOOOH SHIIIIIT!" I screamed, thrusting my hips off the pillow. She took all of the first load, moaning and making animal sounds. Then she grabbed the string sticking out of my ass and pulled the first wooden bead across my prostate. "OH! OH! OOOOOH MY GOD!" I was screaming in surprise as an aftershock coursed through my cock producing a second orgasm and a second flood of hot liquid. She captured it in her mouth and gulped it down. Another pull on the string, another aftershock, another orgasm, more cum than I ever thought I was capable of producing. My eyes were wide open, not seeing, my body arched off the pillow, frozen like a statue, my mouth wide and working, no sound coming out. Still another bead exploding my insides with sensation, draining me of fluid and still her mouth worked feverishly on my erupting cock, sucking out the creamy liquid, tongue swirling, urging me to produce more! I came 11 times in the space of two minutes. It seemed like an eternity, each bead worked its magic on my prostate, each pass producing an intense, cum gushing orgasm! After the last orgasm my body remained frozen in that arched position, the head of my drained cock still trapped in her mouth, still pulsating with frequent, non-orgasmic aftershocks. She slowly inserted the vibrator in my ass, my entire body began to shudder and collapsed on the bed, quivering and shaking out of control. I was gasping for breath, trying to gain control of my body. "Oh fuck it!" I thought and gave myself to the sensations controlling me. "Oooooh, slave! You have given me a wonderful treat. My thirst is quenched! But my pussy and my ass need a drink, too!" "Noooooo..." I protested weakly. My mind was telling me my body was exhausted, drained, used up. "Yessss," she purred, "but not until you've rested." She took a washcloth from her bag and held it under cold water from the sink. She wrung it out and, lifting my limp cock delicately with her fingers, placed the cool, damp cloth on my feverish balls. Then she released my cock and pulled the remainder of the cloth over it. "Aaaaahhh," I sighed, my breathing beginning to return to normal, "that feels wonderful." She reached back into her goody bag and pulled out a banana. Sitting beside me on the bunk, she peeled it slowly. Everything she did had an air of sensuality. She tossed the peel in the corner and held the fruit up delicately in front of my face. "We must have nourishment," she said and moved the end of the banana toward her parted lips. She licked it from mid-way to the tip and let the end slip slowly into her mouth. In the deepest, most remote places of my being, I felt a weak sexual stirring begin. "Ummmmm," she sighed, biting off the tip of the fruit. I watched in fascination as she chewed and then swallowed it. "It's good, slave, but not as delicious as you!" She laid the banana on my chest and took her panties off, teasingly, sensu-ally. The sight of her full, beautiful bush made my heart skip a beat. I couldn't take my eyes away from it. "You like my pussy, slave?" She asked tauntingly. She spread her legs, and her pink and inviting clit lay nestled in her flesh like a precious cultured pearl. Further down, the entrance to paradise lay invitingly open. "Would you like to fuck me, slave?" Her eyes were sparkling again, and she began slowly rotating her hips, teasing me with her waiting pink flesh. "Would you like to put your cock deep in my hot, wet pussy, slave?" "OH GOD YES!" My eyes were wide, my throat dry, the sexual stirring I felt moments before becoming a tornado of destructive passion and yearning. I felt my balls moving inside my sack, and my limp meat was beginning to stiffen again. "Perhaps... perhaps not!" She laughed deep in her throat, fanning the fires she had started deep within me. She turned the banana around and placed the unbitten end against the entrance to paradise. Leaning back slightly, she pushed the fruit slowly into her pussy. I watched in a hypnotic trance as the fruit slid inch by agonizing inch into her moist opening. After pushing it almost all the way in, she withdrew it, then pushed it in again, then withdrew it all the way. She brought the fruit toward my face, her woman scent mixed with the smell of the banana made my mouth water. I opened my mouth wide in anticipation of this delightful treat. She did not disappoint me. I took a big bite, savoring the mixed flavors. She fed me the rest of the most delicious fruit I'd ever tasted. I knew deep inside I'd never be able to look at a banana again without reliving these moments. Back in her goodie bag again, she took out a can of whipped cream. Shaking the can, she spread her legs once again and sprayed her entire bush with the fluffy white topping. "Time for dessert," she purred and put one knee on each side of my head, her cream-soaked pussy hovering above my mouth. "Bon appétit," she said and lowered that savory treat to my mouth. She didn't have to tell me what to do next. Starting at the entrance to paradise, I licked the cream from her treasures. She rocked her hips back and forth to help me, breathing heavily, moaning and sighing. I licked and slurped and sucked the delicious stuff from between her pussy lips, from the sides of her legs and her bush. Another food I would never look at in quite the same way again! As the sweet treat vanished, I concentrated my efforts on her clit. She pressed harder against my mouth, rocking faster and moaning louder. "Ummmmm... yes, slave," she sighed, breathing faster. "Eat my pussy, Ooooooh... take my clit in your teeth, that's it... Oh God Yes! Bite it, yes, yes, YEESSSSS... a little harder... Oooooh Yeah... now put your tongue in my hole... Oooooooo Ummmmmmm... yes, slave!" She was rocking faster, moving her sweet wet pussy back and forth, her nipples and rolling them back and forth between her fingers. Her head was thrown back, and she began whimpering and moaning louder. The fire that had begun in my loins was now raging out of control and spread to other parts of my body. My cock had once again become hard as steel. "Oooooh Oooooh Oooooh Oooooh, slave!" She was beginning to scream in ecstasy. I could feel her thighs quivering against the sides of my head as she moved her pussy ever faster across my tongue. She was grinding that magnificent cunt down into my mouth now. Each time her clit came over my tongue, her thighs jerked, and I tried to capture that elusive bud and suck on it, but nothing would stop the rocking, grinding motion she had begun with her hips. "YES YES YES YES!" She chanted, rocking still faster. "OOOH GOD! OOOH GOD! OOOOOOOOO YEEEEESSSSS!" She was breathing wildly now, her chest heaving with the labor. Her thighs began jerking uncontrollably. She moved her hands from her breasts to my head.Taking a handful of my hair with each hand, she pulled my face harder into her soaking wet crotch. Suddenly, she stopped rocking, her entire body quivering. She ground her pussy into my face in tiny rotating circles, pulling my face still harder into her crotch with her hands. I captured her throbbing clit and closed my lips around it, applying all the suction I could manage and, at the same time, nibbling and flicking it with my tongue as hard as I could. The quivering in her body turned to a shudder, and a loud, shrieking scream tore from her throat. Her hips were grinding in small circles hard against my face, forcing her hot, wet pussy even tighter to my hungry mouth. She was climbing to the peak of an orgasmic mountain, and I was doing all I could to help her reach the top. At the peak of her orgasm, she ceased all movement, except for her clit. I could feel it pulsating in my mouth, and I continued to nibble and run my tongue roughly across its tip. Suddenly, the scream coming from her throat was cut off, and the shuddering in her body became a heaving of all her muscles. Her clit still pulsated and throbbed in climax. She was holding her breath, and her muscles ceased heaving and tensed like those of a predator cat ready to pounce. Still, her clit throbbed and pulsated between my lips, and we were frozen in time like models for a still life artist, with the only movement being her clit and my tongue. She had reached the peak of the orgasmic mountain and was taking her sweet time, enjoying the sensations at the top. Finally, she began to descend the other side. She finished the scream, her chest began heaving again desperately sucking in life-giving oxygen, her body began shuddering again, and her hips began rocking back and forth wildly. Her clit continued to throb as it swept past my tongue. She was taking a roller coaster ride, and I had to hang on and take the ride with her. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, all her movement began to slow. The closer she got to the base of the mountain, the slower she moved. Sigh after deep, satisfied sigh came out of her, her hips slowed to a halt, and her clit rested directly on my tongue. It was no longer throbbing. I licked it gently, and she began purring like a cat, running her fingers through my hair and soothing the places she had pulled so hard just moments before. "Ummmmmmmmm," she sighed dreamily. "John, that was wonderful." The masterful tone in her voice had vanished, replaced by the voice of a soft, sensual woman who had set out on an adventure in mountain climbing, had succeeded, and was now relaxing in front of a cozy fire in a snowed-in lodge. "God! Your mouth is fantastic, lover," she purred, then sighed heavily in contentment. "Unghflnnnfggh," I replied, her pussy still resting sweetly on my mouth. "Oops, sorry!" She laughed and climbed off my face. She stretched out next to me on the bunk, her body pressing close to mine, her fingers making little curls with the hair on my chest. She was looking dreamily into my eyes, her own eyes soft and feeling. They had lost the sparkle of the Mistress who held me captive and took on the look of the eyes of a captured dove. She ran her hand down my chest and across my stomach to my cock. She stroked its head gently with her fingers, then gripped it and squeezed lightly, sending shivers through my body. As she squeezed my cock, she moved her face close to mine, her eyes searching mine. She lowered her lips to mine in a long, passionate, deep French kiss, her tongue seeking out mine and playing tag with it. Little moaning sounds came from her throat. "Oh God!" she said, her lips still on mine, speaking directly into my mouth, "I want your hard, beautiful cock in my pussy. I want to feel it fill me. I want it to explode inside of me and flood me with your hot, wonderful cum." She moaned a long, sensual moan into my mouth, and I could feel the vibrations of it on my lips. Her hand began squeezing my cock tighter and moving slowly up and down the shaft. She let it move down my cock to my balls and began massaging them gently, cupping them, scratching the bottom of my sack with her nails, and gently squeezing them. She pressed her mouth tighter against mine and resumed the passionate kiss of seconds before, all the while doing miraculous things to my genitals with her talented fingers. "Ooooooh," she purred, "Do you want to fuck me, John? Do you want to feel yourself deep inside me?" Her breathing was becoming more rapid, as was my own. "Do you want to feel my pussy squeeze your beautiful cock until you can't stand it anymore? Do you want to feel your hot cum spurt deep inside me? Oh God... PLEASE TELL me the passion of wanting to bury my cock deep inside her." "Oh God Yes!" She moaned, "SO DO I!" She got the whipped cream can and began shaking it. When it was ready, she put the nozzle at the base of my rigid cock and made a complete circle of the sweet cream from the base of my cock to the top. It looked like I had a hard, whipped cream cock protruding from my body. "Ooooooh," she sighed, "just looking at that makes my pussy hungry!" She positioned herself over my whipped cream cock, one leg on each side of my hips, facing me. Slowly, she lowered herself until the creamy head of my swollen cock barely touched her pussy lips. She was breathing heavily now, looking down between her legs to position her juicy pussy just right. When the head of my cock was in just the right position, she lowered her hips a little more, forcing the head of my cock between the hungry, waiting lips of her unbelievably hot cunt. She locked onto my eyes with her own. I held my breath in anticipation, afraid to move for fear she would revert to the slave Mistress and stop. "Oooooh God! I've been waiting for this all night!" She moaned, still suspended above me, just the head of my cock inside her. I wanted to scream and thrust upward, wanted to shout "ME TOO! SIT DOWN FOR GOD'S SAKE! COVER MY COCK WITH YOUR HOT PUSSY!" But I didn't. I just held my breath, hoping she would slide down my waiting pole. I didn't have to wait too long. Very slowly, she allowed my cock to slip into her hot, hungry pussy. I wanted to thrust, I wanted to scream, I WANTED TO BURY IT TO THE HILT! The whipped cream was beginning to melt from the heat of our bodies. I could feel it sliding down my cock, over my balls and into the crack of my ass. It was exciting, using the whipped cream for a lubricant, not that her pussy needed lubricating, it was soaking wet all on its own. Still, the thought was erotic and more than just a little stimulating. My cock was about a fourth of the way in. She was squirming and panting and whimpering. Her thighs were beginning to shake from the strain of lowering herself so slowly and from anticipation. "Ummmmmm... God that feels great!" She purred, still moving slowly down my rigid cock. One third the way in now, we were both moaning and panting. Half way in, she began to chant "Ooooh Baby! Ooooh Baby! Ooooh Baby!" Two-thirds of my throbbing cock was now out of sight, concealed within the walls of her tight love tunnel. I couldn't contain myself any longer. "OH GOD, KATE! PLEASE, BURY MY COCK ALL THE WAY! I CAN'T STAND IT... OOOOHHHH MY GOD!" Apparently, she couldn't stand it any longer either. Without warning, she slammed her hips down, burying my cock completely inside her. "OH!" She squealed with delight, "Ummmmmmmm, that's wonderful." She purred, sitting absolutely still, my cock completely and totally buried inside her. At the moment she sat down on my cock, the breath escaped my lungs, and I shouted, "HOLY SHIT! OOOOH GOD YESSSS!" Still motionless on top of me, she began rhythmically contracting and relaxing the muscles inside her hungry pussy. Each time she contracted those wonderful muscles, squeezing my cock, I would tighten my sphincter and expand the head of my cock to its fullest size. We played expand and contract for what seemed like hours, our eyes locked on one another, just feeling the sensations and being one with each other. "Oooohhh slave," she whispered sexily, "you have a very talented cock. Does it like being in my pussy?" "Yes, yes, Mistress! It wants to please you and fill you with its hot load of white liquid." "My pussy can hardly wait!" She sighed and began rocking back and forth with her hips. The motion bent my rigid pole back and forth, moving it only slightly inside her. Her head was back, and she cupped her breasts with her hands, squeezing them as she continued to rock back and forth on my burning cock. After a while, she leaned forward, pressing her breasts against my hairy and heaving chest. Her lips found mine, and we kissed passionately. I longed for my hands to be free so I could fondle her breasts and grab her ass cheeks. While she lay on my chest, I began a slow thrusting motion with my hips, driving my cock slowly in and out of the hot, velvety tunnel that held it prisoner. She began moaning softly into my mouth, and I into hers, our tongues still locked in a battle for dominance. As I thrust in and out of her hot pussy, she began moving her hips from side to side. Her motion combined with mine caused my thrusting cock to scrape one side lining of her tight love tunnel, then the other. It was a completely new sensation to me, and it was bringing me to the base of my own orgasmic mountain! "Ahhhh yes, fuck me baby!" She moaned into my mouth. "Ram that hard cock into me... deeper, Oooooh yes, that's it... it feels so wonderful I want you to push it all the way through me!" The way she moaned those words of passion directly into my mouth was helping me, pushing me, to the first ledge of my mountain. The silky wet walls of her pussy were working wonders on the sensitive head of my pulsing cock! "God, baby, you're sooo good!"So tight, so hot, so wet!" I breathed the words into her mouth. She put her hands on my chest and pushed herself to an upright position and, using the muscles in her legs, began lifting herself up and down on my rigid cock. Faster and faster she went, like a novice rider on a galloping horse. With each bounce, my throbbing [member] whimpered, and I sighed "OH GOD! OH GOD!" Faster and faster she bounced, tossing her head from side to side, beginning a low-volume chant of "FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUCK ME!" That became louder the faster she moved. She was moving at a furious pace now, with each downward plunge she made, little bits of whipped cream splashed out from between us, covering my chest and her inner thighs. "OOOOOHHHH GOD YES!" She screamed, reaching a quick and violent orgasm that made her body shudder. As she came, I began thrusting my hips upward and letting them fall, then up again, lifting her weight, helping her fuck herself into oblivion. "CUM CUM CUM .... YES YES YES .... OOOH OOOH OOOH" she was screaming as orgasmic sensations raced through her body. When her orgasm subsided, she slowed her pace until she came to a stop, sitting on my still rock-hard cock. My hips were squirming beneath her in passion, my own moaning and whimpering becoming louder .... "Ohhhhh noooo, please, don't stop now ..... Oh God ...." "Don't worry, lover, we're not through yet," she purred. Then she stretched her legs out in front of her and rotated her body so her back was to my face. Never once coming close to losing the cock buried deep in her hot pussy. The sensation of her turning sent a chill through my entire body! She reached down between my legs and began raking her fingernails along the underside of my balls. "OOOOOHHHH SHIIIIT!" I cried out in total surprise at both what she was doing and the sensations it caused. Her knees under her once again, she began that slow up and down movement with her body. Every few strokes, she would pause with my cock almost all the way out, then move her hips from side to side and slowly slide back down over my hard and hot cock, all the while scratching and squeezing and massaging my balls gently, seductively. My breathing became more rapid as I quickly approached the second ledge on my orgasmic mountain! I felt lost on that mountain and was thankful to have a guide like her showing me the way to the top! "Yes baby, fill me with that hot cock of yours!" She moaned, "I love it deep inside me .... Ooooh yes, it fills me up soooo much .... I want your cum to wash every bit of my pussy .... I want to feel it splashing hot against my walls .... I want to hear you moan as your cum gushes out of your hot cock and floods deep into me .... Ummmmmm!" Her words were making my cock even harder than it was .... I didn't know how that could be possible, but it was happening. That feeling I get when I know I'm going to last a long time. For the time being, I was lost in the sensual, tingling feelings her hot pussy was imparting to my cock. She worked her body feverishly on my erect pole, speeding up her pace, then slowing down .... shifting positions slightly, each time bringing me to new heights of ecstasy .... and all the while stroking, scratching and squeezing my balls. In the next half hour, she came twice, each more powerful than the one before. With each orgasm, her fingernails dug into the flesh of my thighs and her screams of passion pierced the very essence of my soul. Tiny beads of sweat had broken out on her body, and her breathing was becoming labored. Still, she continued, working her wet pussy all over my throbbing hot cock. As she was approaching her fourth orgasm, her buildup to it was so raw, so animalistic that my balls began to tingle wildly. The first warning that I was approaching the peak of my mountain. She pumped so hard and so fast, and squeezed my cock with her pussy so tightly, I began to go insane with passion. With each foot of height I gained on my upward climb, she matched me in intensity and abandonment. We both began grunting and moaning, pounding our genitals together mercilessly. My legs began to go numb as the tingling spread throughout my body. I could feel my balls swell slightly prior to releasing their heavy load. At that instant, I thought it would be impossible for either of us to get any more wild than we were .... I was wrong! As we approached orgasm, her hand pulled my ball sack gently, the other drew blood from my thigh. We were both screaming between labored breaths .... our bodies writhing wildly, trying to tear one another apart with pure animal lust. As my heavy balls exploded their load through my seminal vesicles, I thrust upward with all my strength, burying my spurting cock deeper into her greedy pussy than it had ever been. She screamed in a mixture of pain and pleasure and ground her hips downward, impaling her pulsating pussy even further on my exploding cock. It's hard to describe the sounds, the sensations, the movements of our bodies and the punishment we inflicted on one another during our simultaneous orgasm. I only know her screams of passion were equal to my own, the intensity of her orgasm matched by mine, and the pure animal lust that flooded over us was shared equally. I don't know how long we were lost in the throes of orgasmic ecstasy .... it just seemed to go on and on .... I felt as if every ounce of fluid was being sucked from my entire body by her gripping, hungry pussy. My balls were so drained they began to ache, and still our bodies were tangled and thrusting in an animalistic frenzy, each attempting to best the other. I wanted to be lost in this wild abandon forever .... to be washed away in a flood. I'm not sure quite how it ended. All I remember is our bodies collapsing in an exhausted heap. My cock was still deep within her, but there was no feeling, no sensation. Her fabulous pussy had literally stripped the nerve endings from my body and devoured them. There was more deliriously sensual sex between us that night. We came again and again .... she used the beads on me twice more that I can remember .... it could have been more. I never dreamed I could cum so many times in such a short span of time, but her body and imagination did things to me that had never been done to me before. I remember at about three in the morning, she released me from my bonds. We experimented with every imaginable position .... before we were finished, my cock had explored every possible opening in her body and deposited its creamy cargo within them all. At six o'clock, a travel alarm in her goody bag went off. At the time, we lay exhausted in one another's arms, caressing and frenching deeply, passionately. "Oh damn," she muttered at the sound of the alarm and got up to turn it off. "Well, John, slave, lover. Your sentence has been carried out, and I hereby set you free." We dressed in silence. She in her uniform, me in my jeans and sweatshirt. I didn't want this wild sexual animal to walk out of my life, but I didn't know what to say. "Would you like to come home with me? I'll make you a great breakfast," she must have read my mind. "I'd love to, Kate," I said softly. She took me to my car, and I followed her home. As she put her key in the front door, it swung open, a stunning brunette standing in the doorway. "John," Kate said, "I'd like you to meet my roommate Kimberly." "Hi, Kimberly," I said, my hand on Kate's ass. "Oooooh Hi John," she purred, her deep green eyes sparkling with sexual energy. Kate gave me a seductive little wink, a huge smile on her face.

M/F, light B&D

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/13108.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 arisen 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 Ralph's 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." Ralph's 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, majestically. 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 implement 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 Debra's 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 rivulets 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...

part eight

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12103.txt

Dimitri

Embarrassment

"You may be wondering just why in the hell I'm standing in front of the class naked today. Well, before Mrs. Appleby recovers and wakes up, let me explain." It all started in, of all places, the mall. I was sitting around with a couple of buddies, and this fat bitch walked past. I called out to my buddies that I had a sudden hankering for beef, after seeing that cow. They laughed, the bitch turned red and ran off. If I'd known that Maggie was watching, I probably wouldn't have cared, but within the next 24 hours, I'd learn to pay attention to Maggie. About six, I decided to go home to get to work on my assignment. It was due in tomorrow, and I hadn't even started. When I got to the parking lot, this girl ran up to me. She was short and a little dumpy, and she looked damn scared. "Help," she said, panting, "Some guy is following me. I need a lift." I looked around and saw a big guy in a leather jacket staring at us from next to a tree. He looked like a real knuckle-dragger, so I pulled her with me into my car. We pulled out of the parking lot, and the gorilla shook his head angrily and wandered off. "Thanks," she said, "Can you drop me home? I live on Clayton." I nodded in agreement. "Why was that guy after you?" "I don't know. He just started chasing me. If you hadn't been there, I was feeling really, really sleepy. My eyes began to get heavy, and I was thinking I was about to fall asleep." I yawned, "Guess it's contagious. I'm feeling a little sleepy myself." I didn't realize until later how steady and monotonous her voice had become. "I kept expecting him to pull me over," she said, emphasizing certain words. I didn't really notice; I was getting sleepy. "Pull me right over and do who knows what. You came along though. Can you believe my luck? Fuck, I thought, lucky me." I dimly noticed that she was talking in the completely wrong frame of voice for what she was saying. Some part of me was telling me that, but she kept speaking for nearly five minutes, and I slowly began to pull over. "Into that alley," she said. I nodded dully and got out, leaving the keys in the ignition. I wandered into the alley and stood still. I couldn't for the life of me think what to do unless she told me. "My name is Maggie," she said, "Look at my body." I did, and she was fantastic. She was short, about five foot five, with short, black straight hair. Her breasts were beautifully rounded, her waist impossibly thin, and her ass impossibly tight. She was a cross between the babe from Weird Science and the chick who played the new Lois Lane. In fact, I had often dreamed of fucking both of them. Now here was a babe I could. It was a dream come true. Strange though, I had thought she was short and dumpy. "Do you want me?" she asked, hands on hips. "Yeah," I said, my voice seeming dull and lifeless to me. "What would you do to fuck me?" she asked. "I'd do anything." "Anything?" "Anything." "So of your own free will, you would do anything I told you to do just to get what you see in front of you?" "Yes." "And you will?" "Yes." "Come on then," she said, "but don't cum in your pants before you get them off." She removed her top, and her large, firm tits bounced free. I fumbled with my belt and stopped suddenly. I grunted and came in my pants! "Come on," she said, pulling her pants away, revealing a nicely trimmed cunt, "Fuck me, but don't go cumming again." I pulled my pants free and rushed towards her. I stopped again, grunted, and came again. I collapsed to my knees, reveling in the pleasure, agonizing in the embarrassment, and aching in slight pain. "If you don't fuck me within the next ten seconds, you'll come again, and you'll keep cumming until you get your cock into my cunt, no matter how much it hurts." "No," I said, realizing that somehow she had hypnotized me, but I was free now. My voice was my own. She couldn't make me do what I didn't want to do. Then I came...and kept cumming. I gasped in pleasure and pain and stumbled towards her, but she closed her legs together and shook her head, a slight grin on her face. My cum kept pumping out. I tried to scream, but she shook her head, "Keep quiet now, and don't touch me." I stopped where I was, my cum kept flying out, my cock spasming wildly. I pushed forward slightly, and she grinned, "You have a strong will, come one." She spread her legs and raised her hips. "Please," she said, "don't fuck me." But I felt my muscles free up, and I knew I was truly free of her control. My cum slowed to a dribble, and I felt only pain now, but I meant to fuck this bitch and fuck her good, even if it killed me. I positioned my cock and rammed into her. She groaned in pleasure, ramming her hips upward, slamming against my groin. I felt more pain but dismissed it. My mouth ran over her tits, licking at her nipples. She tried to scratch at me with her knuckles, but I thrust her hands back against the ground. My cock continued to ram into her cunt. She pleaded with me to stop, and I laughed. This bitch was going to learn that it was her place to be fucked. I stopped, thrust forward hard, and came. I felt no pleasure physically, but mentally I felt like a God. I withdrew and grinned, "How'd you like that, you fucking whore?" She started laughing then. I shook my head, and suddenly I saw that she wasn't my ultimate woman. She was short and dumpy, her tits sagged, and her cunt was like a thick black hole, her pubes looking filthy. She grinned, "No, boy, you're my whore." I pulled my pants on and ran. This morning I awoke, all pain was gone. I decided to go to school.Before first class, I felt a sudden need to go to the toilet. I went in and started pissing. I had a sudden memory - I was in my car with Maggie, and she was speaking with me: "Before first class, you'll realize you need to urinate. Afterwards, you'll remember this conversation. Your skin will grow hot. The only way to stop this heat is to remove your clothes. Then you'll go to class and greet everyone." "But what Maggie doesn't realize is that she made a mistake," I told the enraptured class, almost unnaturally enraptured, almost hypnotized. "She inadvertently taught me how to hypnotize, and they may arrest me, but not before I tell the lot of you all about Maggie, and how much you would enjoy gang-banging her."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11248.txt

deirdre

Mall

"Well?" said Diane, suddenly out of the blue. I didn't get what she was thinking of. "Well what?" I responded. "What do you think of *that* one?" I realized what, I mean *who*, she was talking about: this girl who had just walked by us in an entirely-too-brief bikini. We were relaxing in the sun with our daiquiris, talking just a little *too* much. I giggled, but didn't know why Diane would point out the girl. "A bit daring. She must figure she's got the body for it," I finally responded. I suppose I *could* have worn a bikini, even if my body wasn't quite like that 20-year-old's, but I'm more of a one-piece kind of person. "And she does, too, the little devil," responded Diane. She just stared as the girl continued to walk away. "Couldn't you just imagine licking that rear?" Gulp. "What?!" Diane giggled. Without meaning to, I found my eyes on the girl's rear: the bikini bottom wasn't a g-string by any means, but the legs *were* cut awfully high. "It's just so *cute*," continued Diane. "You know, I did that once, in college." "Did what?" "Licked a woman's rear--just one time." I was agog. I don't know *what* I would have done if I hadn't had the drinks, but as it was I just sat there thinking. Diane after women? Well, she said it was in college: a little one-time fling. I tried to act collected: "A little experimenting?" "Sort of--she was assisting in this swim class." I realized I'd prompted her to go on, and there was indeed a part of me that did want to know the story. "We could take swimming for phys ed and Liz was a senior helping out with the class. After the semester was over, we were both around for the summer session and she coached me a few more times." She paused for a little while, then went on. "She had a key and we could get in in the mornings before the pool opened. At the end of Summer once, at our lockers after our showers, she... well, she started telling me to do things." She paused. *Things*? I almost said it out loud, but I guess my inhibitions made me just sit there silently waiting for her to continue. "She told me to come over to where she was. I didn't know what was up and did it, still wrapped in my towel. She then said 'Get on your knees for a minute'. I was confused by it all, but I did it just like she said. Then she took off her towel and looked down at me. "*She* had a *really* great body--she was athletic and in perfect shape. I guess I'd had a crush on her for a while but just didn't realize it. I still remember: she smiled at me, then turned around so her rear was right in front of me. She put a hand on the lockers to brace herself and looked over her shoulder down at me. 'You like my rear?' she asked. Then she said 'Touch it.' "It *was* so perfect--muscular and round. I reached up and touched her cheek. She giggled a little and told me to get dressed. We walked back to her dorm room. I think she had a room by herself for the summer. When we got there, she put her hand on my face and sort-of caressed my cheek and chin--I still remember that: she was a little shorter than I was and I felt like this big geek next to her. "Then she pulled off her shorts and underpants. I stood there like an idiot. She lay on the bed face down and twisting around so she could see me, told me to get between her legs. "I was right there at her rear. She told me to kiss it. I kissed her cheek and she told me to do it 'between'. I pulled her cheeks apart and tried. She said to use my tongue and I did. Then she turned back away so she wasn't facing me. I just did it some more and she just said 'nice', once in a while, and I heard her breath catch a little. Finally she said 'OK' and hopped up and pulled on her clothes again. She said 'You're a good little learner' and opened the door, signalling me to leave. On the way out, she gave my rear a little pat. "In the hall, there was another girl--probably a senior because it was a senior hall, and I still remember that she and Liz exchanged these sly little smiles while I stood there like an idiot. And that's the last I ever saw of her." Well, I didn't know how to answer *that*. It would seem natural to ask her if she had other such experiences or thoughts, but there was *no way* I was going to continue along those lines. Actually, we just sat there a while, me feeling a bit uncomfortable, and then we talked about other things. Well, the next morning, the whole story came back to me, and without the influence of drink, I was feeling absolutely mortified. Diane telling me those things! It was going to be hard to face her for lunch--part of me wished we hadn't planned something quite so soon. I'd rather have had more time to get used to what she'd said. "You're having trouble with it, aren't you?" Diane said in the middle of our lunch conversation. "With what?" "My little confession yesterday. I'm sorry I embarrassed you." "No, I'm ok." "You're not afraid of me now, are you?" "No--I guess we do a lot of wild things in college: it's not like you do that stuff now." She didn't answer. I looked at her and suddenly felt funny. Something about the look on her face. The moment suddenly seemed awkward to me and I involuntarily giggled to try and cover it up. Then she spoke: "I did it again." "No!" came my involuntary answer. She smiled. "Last night, with that girl we saw." "Diane..." I was at a loss to know how to go on. I must have been blushing so much. "It's really rather nice." "Diane!" I stood up from the table. My reflexes were about to make me run, but for a moment I stood there, my brain still trying to figure out what I should be doing. "Jeez I'm sorry, I embarrassed you," she said, quickly putting some money on the table. We left, having hardly touched our lunches. Out in the mall, we walked and I realized Diane was leading the way. And I came to think she had the right idea: shopping together would take our minds off our disastrous conversation. Why had Diane pushed the subject so much? Did she want me to know this stuff about her? She'd led me into a clothing store and was talking to a salesgirl.The salesgirl led us toward the back, then right into the stock room. "Get on your knees," said Diane to me, as she did it herself. Suddenly I was confused. Diane pulled on my arm and I ended up kneeling too. The salesgirl lifted her skirt and turned away from us. She wore nothing underneath! We were on our knees right behind her. She looked back at us over her shoulder. Diane looked at me and grabbed the woman's hips, one hand on each side. She smiled at me and gave me a slight nod. I stood up and practically ran out of there. I'd been kneeling behind that woman! I reached the mall and looked back. No sign of them. I sat down on a nearby bench, my heart beating almost out of my chest. I suddenly realized that the salesgirl was the same girl as we saw at the pool, or at least it might have been her. I'd driven us to the mall so I had to wait for Diane. I was so confused, just sitting there. I waited and waited. Occasionally a vision of them back there flashed through my mind. Doing whatever. *That* certainly kept me on edge. I waited. Finally the salesgirl came out and saw me. Seeing her again, I was almost certain it was the girl from the pool. She came over. "Your friend left through the back," she said. I stood. What do I do now? "Do you know where she went?" I asked. "Come," she said and headed back into the store. I didn't know what else to do so I followed her. She allowed me to catch up and we walked toward the back of the store. "Listen, please don't be angry with your friend," she said. "I'm not," I answered, just to be saying something. We'd reached the back of the store and were walking into the same stock room. "It really isn't so bad--you should see what it feels like when someone does it to you." "Uh..." Suddenly I was wary. "You'd see why we like it. I want to show you what it feels like." Suddenly she was on her knees, undoing my pants! She briefly looked up at me. She was such a lovely little creature. I had the brief thought that she planned to put her tongue right on my anus. I didn't move. She turned me around, having gotten my pants and underpants down. She started caressing my cheeks, then put a finger between them. I twisted around for a second to see her and she smiled up at me. She licked a finger, then started touching me with it, back there. The feeling! I was facing the wall, but in seconds, my mind was mush. She kept touching me for a while. Then I felt her spreading my cheeks, and felt her tongue. I know my breathing was no longer normal. I looked again. It was Diane! She was completely naked and a long black cloth was tied around her eyes! The woman was standing a bit behind Diane. She had this satisfied smile on her face. I lie on my bed on my stomach, my chin resting on my fists. I'm naked and my legs are spread. Diane is between them, holding my cheeks apart, her tongue right *there*. Occasionally I indulge myself like this and give in to her constant begging to come see me over and over. I shut my eyes, lay my head sideways and slide one hand under my body so I can reach my clitoris.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14176.txt

Bernadette

FRESH PRODUCE

"Ma'am, are you okay?" Nora looked up from the cold, linoleum floor where she lay blinded by the bright fluorescent lights. For a brief instant, she thought she had died and gone to heaven. "May I help you? Do you need medical assistance?" As her vision began to focus, Nora realized she was staring directly into the biggest pair of dark blue eyes she had ever seen. His gentle face was encased by ringlets of jet-black hair. The Angel Gabriel had come to bring her to heaven and she was -- lying flat on her "ass." "I think I need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!" she murmured. He smiled and extended a slightly muscular arm to help her to her feet. The entire back of her dress was drenched with chocolate milk. "What happened?" he asked. She could feel her face becoming beet-red. This was surely the most embarrassing moment of her life, but Thank Heavens she wasn't going to be on "Candid Camera." She hoped. "Can't be for certain. One never knows why one falls. I am known to be a klutz." Nora suddenly wished he would just vanish and leave her in peace during her moment of pathetic self-pity and humiliation. "Hey, guess there's no use crying over spilled milk!" he replied. His response didn't help at all. It just increased her desire to cry. "Um . . . that was pretty lame, sorry. Look, are you sure you're okay? Perhaps we should call the manager and fill out a form or something...you could file a law suit if you're hurt." "No, no, I am fine -- really. The only thing bruised here is my ego." She refrained from making any negative comments about the degree to which her well-padded derriere had cushioned the fall. Now it was his turn not to laugh. "Well," she said, "Welcome to Cliché City! Now we're even. One-to-one. Tit-for-Tat." "Yeah, like meeting in a grocery store isn't the most cliché place of all. This is getting so corny I am going to introduce myself. Hi. I am Henley." "Hi, Henley, I am Nora. Nice to meet you." "Nice to meet you, Nora. Can I treat you to another carton of chocolate milk?" "I feel like a complete idiot. A well-educated, mature woman drinking chocolate milk," Nora blushed. "Hey, I drink it too. Man, I still eat Pop Tarts." He glowed at the thought. Henley had dimples the size of half-dollars. "Pop Tarts!" I used to love the chocolate ones with the marshmallow centers," Nora laughed. "Not as much as I adored Captain Crunch cereal," Henley added. Nora's brown eyes lit up like sparklers. " I ate that every morning for ten years." She paused. "No wonder my growth was stunted." It had occurred to her that Henley was towering above her. She was at least a foot shorter. He must have been 6'2", maybe more. She felt like Sprout next to the Jolly Green Giant. This reminded her: she needed some French cut green beans. "Wanna go grocery shopping, Madame?" he confidently asked. "There is a God," Nora replied. "Pardon me?" Henley looked confused. "Nothing . . . I'd love to go shopping with you, Sir. If you don't mind being seen with a woman with a chocolate-covered butt." Henley laughed. A good hearty, fiber enriched laugh. "Not at all -- my pleasure." They began to stroll down Aisle Five, their carts side by side. "Soup." Nora stopped. "Soup, uh, soup is good. Soup is good for you." "Yes, that is what they say. Hmmm. I think I'll stick to basic tomato," Nora said. "You say ta-may-toe, I say ta-mai-toe," Henley sang off-key under his breath. Aisle Six beckoned. "Fruit." Henley stopped. "Canned fruit." "Yes, canned fruit is good," Nora added, "I like peaches. Pineapples, I can deal with pineapples too. I like the ones shaped like little rings." "Peaches and cream," Henley chimed in, "that would be heavenly...used to stick my tongue through the hole." "I beg your pardon?" Nora's eyes were wider than ever. "The pineapple rings, you never did that as a kid?" "No, we just used them as life preservers for our Barbie dolls. So, Henley, do you live around here?" "Ah, the BIG question. And I wanted to ask you first. Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, I do. Live right down the road at the St. Tammany Apartments." "NO WAY!" she exclaimed. "Way." "I live there - so you can't possibly." "Why? Is the St. Tammany too small for the both of us?" "Too much chocolate milk in one place. Maybe we should lay off of it." Henley laughed again. Nora surmised that his choosy mother had chosen Jif, by the depth of his dimples. He looked around forty -- give or take a couple of years. He could have been reading her mind. "How old are you Nora, if you don't mind me asking." "Fifty-four!" Nora exclaimed. "You're fifty-four? Wow. You look fabulous. I am hitting the chocolate milk again tomorrow." Nora giggled. "No silly, I meant the peas are only fifty-four cents a can. Not bad." "No, not bad for a can of peas. Ever notice that frozen peas always look a funny shade of green?" "I'm thirty-eight." "Years of age or thirty-eight cents a can?" He winked at her. "Very funny. Don't let me forget the coffee." "Yes, Ma'am." Henley stopped and grabbed a bag of rice. "I'm thirty-nine." "Wow. Marvelous. Someone my own age," Nora mused as she picked up a box of saltines and tossed it into her basket. "Like you said, there is a God." Henley groaned as one of his grocery cart wheels suddenly stiffened, forcing him to delicately negotiate the turn into Aisle Seven. "I really hate it when that happens," Nora remarked. Henley suppressed the urge to complain about the absence of lubrication. "Fresh Produce!" Henley exclaimed as though it were a truly novel concept. "These red grapes look fabulous! Look how ripe and succulent." "HEY MISSY! Don't be using words like "RIPE" and "SUCCULENT" around me or I'll be squeezing the "CANTELOUPES" next!" Henley began to juggle three russet potatoes in the air. Nora was trying to feign an interest in the bananas as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was so handsome, so friendly and so spontaneously funny. "You look pretty fascinated by those bananas there. Looking for a REAL big one?" "Henley, are you trying to flirt with me?" Nora batted her eyes, ever-so-subtly. Or perhaps ever-so-evidently. "Yes, I believe I am. It's not everyday you meet a beautiful, brown-eyed brunette with a chocolate covered butt -- a nice butt, I might add." "Thank you." It was a royal flush. "You are beautiful." Henley dropped all three of the russet potatoes on the ground. His expression turned serious and dream-like as they stared into one another's eyes. Nora felt as frozen as the vegetables in Aisle Ten. With the speed of a dribble of Heinz Ketchup slowly emerging from a bottle in a TV commercial, Henley reached over and kissed Nora briefly but passionately on the lips. Her ice cream was beginning to melt. Any minute now it would be turning to liquid and start seeping out of the edges of her box. "Let's get out of here," he whispered in her ear. Nora's common sense was telling her that leaving with Henley might not be the most sensible idea in the world. But a rush of adventure had came over her. Grocery store fever. "Okay," she said seductively. A little too seductively, she thought. Henley took her hand and led her down Aisle Eight. "Where are we going?" Nora asked. "Wanna live life, really live it?" "Yes, I always have -- what?" "Tired of feeling trapped in the same environment, of living in the Saint Tammany Apartments, your mundane job, shopping for chocolate milk and tomato soup and overripe bananas?" "Yes, yes!" Nora was becoming another person. "C'mon!" He led her to the back of the store. The Meat Department. He pushed the swinging doors open to the butcher shop. No one was back there. It was very cold and raw meat was hanging everywhere. Henley led her through another door. "How do you know your way around here? Do this often?" Nora asked, her pulse rate flying. "Worked here as a teenager through high school. There is the stockroom." He pulled her into the room and shut the door. It was dark. Henley immediately began to kiss her, deeply and sensually. Nora let go and allowed her passion to take over. It was scary, sexy, adventurous, and dangerous. She knocked over a couple of boxes of Cracker Jacks as Henley began to unbutton the front of her dress. He kissed her neck and ran his tongue slowly down to her breasts. Nora could feel herself wanting more from him as he ran his hand under her skirt and into her panties.Their breathing became faster and heavier. Nora was running her hands through Henley's mass of curls as their lips locked in an inseparable embrace. Before she knew it, she was on the floor, amongst cartons of chocolate chip cookies and boxes of gingersnaps. Nora's dress fell to the cement floor, as she lay in her matching black panties and bra in front of Henley's hungry eyes. The thought that someone might walk in and catch them any minute made her as creamy as a Twinkie. "Lick me like the middle of an Oreo," she cooed. "Baby, I will eat the best part first and save the rest for last," Henley replied as he pulled down her lace panties and ran his hand between her wet thighs. His fingers easily slid from her buttocks to her vagina, where his fingers nestled deep inside her love hole. She moaned in ecstasy, then spread her legs as wide as she possibly could, almost hoping someone would walk in and watch - in all her glory. "Oh, Nora," Henley mumbled as he gently massaged her anus with one hand and rubbed her clit with the other. "Henley, oh, God, that feels wonderful," she exclaimed in pleasant surprise. "Not as wonderful as it smells," he began to use his warm tongue to dip into the exotic pudding that filled her pastry. He pumped her vagina with his fingers, her juices flowing as he drank and sucked her round, hard almond in a sensual frenzy. "You taste like heaven." Nora gasped and shuddered, as she climaxed in his mouth - dripping -- like an ice cream sundae on a hot summer day. He relished in it, the icing to his cake. Once her convulsions subsided, her face became glazed over with a sultry look, as she frantically unzipped Henley's pants and freed his tortured, hard member. "Hot dog!" She giggled and teased him with her soft touch. He raised his body to her beautiful face, touching her cheeks lightly with his Oscar Mayer Wiener. Nora took his penis into her open, full mouth like a popsicle. She sucked him hard and ran her tongue along his needy shaft, until he was begging for mercy and his hot, hearty soup came out like an open floodgate, filling her mouth as it dribbled everywhere else too. Click! They could see the lights under the doorway. "Hello?" a deep, older voice asked. "Anybody in there?" Henley put his hand over Nora's mouth. She could feel her heart beating against her chest as she tried not to breathe. After a minute, they could hear the intruder's footsteps moving away. Close call. They began to giggle. Their moment was gone. Like adolescents they snuck out, back to the safety of their grocery carts. Minutes later, Henley helped Nora put her groceries into the trunk of her car. The wind was cool that night, blowing a breeze through her long, brown hair. The back of her dress had become stiff where the milk had dried. "Henley?" Nora said. "Yes?" "What happened in there, I just don't know if it was right. I got carried away and . . . "All's well that ends well." He looked deep into her eyes. "Nora, I thought you wanted it." "Yes, I mean, no. "What? You can't say it wasn't good." "I'm not saying it wasn't good, I am just saying . . . Hell, I just met you! You're a complete stranger. I need time to get to know you. I like you, and I want to do this right." "It's okay. I guess I got carried away too," Henley replied. "Can we start over?" "Sure," Henley said. "Sure. You are absolutely right. I like you too and I want this to be more than just . . ." "Sex?" Nora filled in the blank. "Yeah, but you are sexy, you know. Little Miss Cantaloupes." "Okay, Henley, enough. Ask me to dinner. No more stock room sex, at least not tonight." "No stock room sex. I promise. It's a deal." He began to rummage through her shopping bag. "What are you doing?" she asked. Henley pulled out her new carton of chocolate milk and let it fall to the ground. Chocolate splattered all over his clean khaki pants. "We are starting from the beginning, Miss." "No use crying," Nora said, standing in the puddle. "No use crying," he repeated. "Hi, I'm Nora." She reached out her hand. "Hi, I'm Henley." He lightly kissed it. "Nice to meet you," Nora said. "Very nice to meet you." They looked into each other's eyes and smiled. Then, Nora and Henley burst out laughing. "That was a good one, Honey," Nora giggled. "The stock room? Did you really work in the stock room?" Henley laughed. "Why yes, I did, Honey! I thought it was rather exciting! "But you didn't have to go and spill the milk!" "Sweetheart, you didn't have to spill it AGAIN!" Nora chimed as she got into the passenger's side of their car. Henley took the keys and got into the driver's side. They drove off into the moonlight, covered in chocolate milk, holding hands, and smiling. As their car pulled away from the parking lot, they could hear an announcement on the supermarket's intercom system. "Clean up on Aisle Two."

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17614.txt

Paul Clarke

Jem'n'I

"Ben, telephone!" Jay's voice shrieked across the house. I put down the book I was reading and grabbed the receiver from next to my bed. "Got it!" I shouted. Then, into the phone, I said, "Hello?" "Ben? Hey, this is Erin," came the lovely young voice on the other end. "Uh, Erin? Hi," I stammered. My heart skipped a beat. What was I going to tell Erin? Luckily for me, I'd been spared the trouble. "Listen, Ben, Ryan explained it all to me," she said. She didn't sound disappointed. It was more of an "I'm cool just being friends" voice. "Then you aren't mad at me?" I asked hopefully. "Nah, I have lots of gay friends these days. It was nice to get a date with you while I still could," she said. Before I had a chance to respond, I heard what sounded like the words "Oh my God" and the click of a phone being hung up. My brother had heard the entire conversation. "Shit. Erin, I'll call you later," I said and slammed the phone down. I jumped to my feet and walked into the hall. I had known Jay long enough to know that I needed to talk to him fast. "Jay?" I called loudly. No response. I heard the front door slam shut. Jay was probably going to his friend Shawn's house. He told Shawn just about everything, and I didn't have time to stop him. I sat down on the nearest chair and rested my head in my hands. Little did I know how interesting life was about to get. "Hello, class. Welcome back to school. My name is Mr. Jacobson," an elderly man in a distasteful suit greeted on the fresh August morning that began a new year of school. "Did you all have a pleasant summer?" A groan resonated through the entire room. Most of us were looking at the clock and wondering how it could possibly be 8:00 in the morning. The first day of school is always like that. I looked to Jem and rolled my eyes. We were about to spend an entire year in Mr. Jacobson's English class. The good news was that he soon promised we would not be assigned seats. In high school, that's always good news. The lecture was brief. We were given an idea of what the year would cover and a chance to ask questions. With no students eager to raise their hands so early in the morning, Mr. Jacobson was content to let us sit and talk for the half of class that was left. "So how's Jay?" Jem asked, trying to start a conversation. So far all we'd done was complain about having to be awake before noon. "He's fine, I suppose," I answered sarcastically. "Still not talking to you?" Jem's voice had a note of concern. I knew he cared, but he and Jay never really got along. "No. I don't know what he's so upset about, it's been two weeks now," I said. "He's pretty stubborn," Jem offered. He was trying to comfort me, but not talking to my only brother for so long was really bugging me. Jay had never gone that long without acknowledging me in his life. "Maybe he just doesn't like gay people," offered a female voice from my left. I spun quickly and found myself facing Rebecca Kain. I felt my face turn a shade of red, something that commonly happens when someone mentions something I'd rather not hear. "What?" I asked in the most confused tone I could find. "Maybe he won't talk to you because you're gay," she replied. I heard a small sound from Jem who was on the opposite side of me. It did not sound pleased. "Where.. where did you hear that?" I stammered. It simply didn't seem possible that she could know that. She didn't hardly know me! "Kristen Abbett," Rebecca answered. Kristen Abbett was Shawn's older sister. It all fell into place. Jay told Shawn and Shawn told his sister. If Rebecca knew.. "It's all over school." "All over school? It's only the first day!" I said in a suddenly angered tone. "Yeah, well, news travels fast." I turned back to Jem and we exchanged glances. I wasn't sure what I wanted at the time, but some decisions had obviously been made for me. The only real good news was that nobody knew Jem was gay yet. I'm sure it made him feel better, but it was of little comfort to me. "How was your first day at school?" Dad asked when I walked in the door. I think he could tell by my expression that it wasn't very pleasant. "What are you doing home so early?" I asked, trying to change the subject. "I took the afternoon off." "Where's Jay?" "I thought he wasn't talking to you." "He'll talk even if I have to beat the words out of him. Where is he?" "He isn't home yet. Ya know, it'd be a lot easier if he could ride home with you and Jem." "If he can't bother to talk to me, I sure as hell ain't offering him a ride." The door opened behind me. I turned to find myself face to face with my little brother. Face to face may be the wrong choice of words because I could easily see over his head, but the idea is the same. "We need to talk," I said. Jay looked up at me and then pushed past and walked toward the hallway. I was already angry with him and his attitude wasn't helping much. "Don't even fucking ignore me!" I shouted. "Benjamin," my father warned. I shot a glance at him and then followed Jay to his room. He shut the door before I could enter, but I refused to let that stop me and as the doors had no locks, opened and walked in. Jay was sitting on his bed, knowing I would let myself into his room. He was starting to cry, but I wasn't sure why. He was just sitting there with tears running down his face. "Jay..." I started, about to apologize for shouting. I stopped and tried to think of the right thing to say. Seeing him cry made the anger quickly subside. "Ben, I'm sorry. I only told Shawn. I didn't mean for it to get all over school like that!" he said. I sat down next to him and put an arm around him. My brother has always been hard to comfort when he's in a bad mood. "It's okay. You could have tried talking to me about it," I said. Jay looked up and smiled. "I didn't know how. It's just..." he trailed off. I felt so much better being able to talk to him, but all he could do is cry. "It's okay. Really. Being gay isn't such a bad thing, is it?" Oh boy, I was really stretching it. I was never much for serious discussions and just flat out saying it like that wasn't easy. "No, it's just... well... can I tell you something?" he asked. He wanted to tell me something? In his entire life my brother had never wanted to discuss his life with me. "Anything. I'm your brother, right?" "Yeah. But you have to promise not to tell anyone!" "I promise I won't." "When I ran to Shawn's house to tell him, it's because Shawn is gay, too. And so am I and... well... you know... It's always been so lonely, but you're gay too and it just made us feel less alone. Before that, it was just us." "Then why did you ignore me for two weeks?" "I thought you'd be mad at me!" "How could I ever be mad at you?" I asked as I hugged Jay. He looked up again and wiped a tear from his face. "You sure sounded mad when I walked in the door." Jay smiled slightly. It was the beginning of the first real friendship my brother and I ever had and it really felt good having him actually talk to me about such a serious subject. "Being gay is a huge step, Jay. You're only thirteen," I said in the same joking manner."I'll be fourteen next month! Besides, I'm in high school now," Jay protested. And he was right. I wasn't about to stand in the way of his life. "I need to go talk to Jem," I excused. As I stood, Jay shot me an inquisitive glance. I knew what he wanted to know without him ever asking, and I nodded. "What's up?" Jem asked when he answered the door. He knew very well what was up, but it was his style to ask anyway. "Your parents home?" I asked, walking into the living room. "No. Did you talk to Jay?" "That little bastard. He says he only told Shawn because they felt like they were all alone before. Like when we talked to Ryan and Mike," I explained. Jem gave me the same inquisitive glance as Jay had. "So he was comparing apples to oranges?" he asked. I smiled. "Yeah. Fruit is fruit, though," I replied. "I just had a great idea!" "Oh, do tell." "Let's call up Ryan and Mike and Jay and Shawn and all go hang out at the mall. Just for the hell of it. One big queer group, to show people we don't care," Jem suggested. There was a spark of enthusiasm in his voice I'd never heard before. A month earlier, he'd never have even used the word 'queer' in a sentence like that. Life was changing all around us, and things were getting better. Jem, who had been my lover for years but never wanted to even think about it, was finally accepting who he is. After rumors were spread at school, I discovered that my kid brother and his best friend were also gay. Best of all, despite the fact that half the school had heard I was gay, not a single person had made a rude comment about it all day! "Are we there yet?" Jay asked from the back seat of the Taurus. Jem turned around and glared at him briefly before returning his attention to the road. "Well, I just wanted to know." "You know where the mall is, we'll get there soon enough," I said. Jay was always fidgeting in the back seat. He couldn't hold still. "So who are we meeting there?" Shawn asked in his usual muffled voice. Shawn was fourteen, but he was tiny. He always dismissed it as forgetting to grow one year. "Ryan Zimmerman, Mike Roberts, and two of their friends," Jem replied in his most irritated voice. "Who are their friends?" Jay asked. I, too, was irritated. "You boys ask too many questions. Chris something-or-other and somebody else. I don't know their names!" "Geez, just asking," Jay apologized. The rest of the ride was quiet. I later regretted raising my voice, but anyone with a younger brother can easily agree that they get annoying. We pulled into the lot and found a place to park very close to the entrance to the mall. The four of us climbed out of the car and strolled casually into the mall. Standing there to meet us were Ryan, Mike, and two guys I'd never seen before. We all introduced ourselves as most of us had never met each other. I discovered that the two boys I didn't know were called Chris Morgan and Tom Nelson. "So what do you all want to do?" Ryan asked once the formalities were complete. "It's been such a good day, I felt like getting together with all the queers I could find and do something fun!" Jem exclaimed. A few of us laughed, myself included. "You wanted to do something fun but you brought us to the Park Mall. Okay," Mike said, looking for a laugh. He got one from Shawn and Jay. "We could all pick out curtains," was Shawn's contribution. Nobody laughed, so he shut his mouth. "Well, whatever we do, let's start with some food," Jay suggested. "Boy, you never stop eating, do you?" I asked. Jay shook his head. "Where do you guys want to eat?" Chris asked. "Coffee Etc.?" Mike offered. I looked to each person for confirmation. The entire group looked enthused, with the exception of Tom who was quite stoic. "Sounds good to me," I said. We quickly found the Coffee Etc. restaurant and took a seat. The unusually large group required a long table, but we found one. Food was ordered, and we sat to wait. "So you guys just wanted a quadruple-date?" Chris asked. "Nah, I just thought it would be cool to show some team spirit by going someplace with a group like this," Jem replied. "I see. I heard Ben's gay all over school, but they don't know about you, do they?" Ryan inquired. "No. That's okay, I'll tell them. It doesn't matter anyway, does it? I'm with Ben, and if they know he is, I might as well be," Jem said valiantly. "Something like that happened to me. The guy who was my boyfriend got the shit beaten out of him at school one day for being gay. That kinda put the spotlight on me, and I said 'Fuck it,'" Chris related. His story was kind of inspiring. It also sounded familiar. "Oh, you're the Chris who was dating Jim Kellogg. What ever happened to him?" I asked. "After he got out of the hospital, we tried to keep things together, but the relationship just wasn't working. Shit happens, though," Chris answered. "So Ben, I've been wondering something all day. How did it get all over school that you're gay?" Mike asked. I was about to answer, but my brother beat me to it. "That was my dirty work," he said enthusiastically. I was about ready to hit him for the pride he suddenly took in it, but a part of me was thankful. He did save me a lot of trouble. "How so?" Mike requested. He seemed very interested in the whole thing. I found myself wondering exactly what people were saying about me that would attract that kind of interest. "Well, I sort of overheard a phone conversation between Ben and some girl," Jay began. "'Overheard,' my ass. The little shit was listening in on the other phone," I commented. The group chuckled at the comment, and Jay continued. "Yeah, so I told Shawn here about it, and he told his sister, and she spread the rumors," he finished. "It all makes sense now," Mike said. "It's kind of like a game of telephone. 'Ben MacArthur is gay purple monkey elevator,'" Ryan said. "They twist the rumors around, and then nobody is safe." "What do you mean?" I asked. Twisted rumors were news to me. I hadn't actually heard the whole thing. "Well, just this afternoon I heard you were sleeping with Jordan O'Neil. I can only imagine how he feels about it, he's straight," Ryan explained. "Okay, well, I hadn't heard that one. So, Tom, you don't say much, do you?" I quickly changed the subject. I suddenly realized that Tom hadn't said or done much of anything. "Umm, me? No, not really," he said softly. "He's a bit shy around people, give him a few months," Chris explained. "Oh, I see. Well, Tom, could you tell us how you and Chris met?" I asked. Shy or not shy, I was going to get something out of him. "Yeah, I guess. He wrote 'call me' in my yearbook, so I did," Tom answered. He was pretty stubborn. "So introduce yourself here. Tell us about your family," I said. Tom looked from person to person and then up away from the table. "Umm.. Food's here," he mumbled. The boy was inveterately shy, I'll give him that much, but Jay and Jem joined me in the persistent questioning, and by the end of the meal, we had Tom talking. It was a hard-won battle. After eating, we walked back into the open mall to find something of interest. It was fun to be out with a large group of guys like that because we could keep the conversations going and check out guys without worrying about what the rest of the group would think. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a group that wouldn't judge me. A group that I could really talk to. A group of friends. And it was the best feeling in the world. "What are you thinking about?" Jem asked quietly. It was two in the morning, and we were both laying there in the dark with our eyes shut. The icy chill of the air-conditioned room kept us close together, but activity had caused us to sweat, so we didn't bother with blankets. "This week. It's been incredible," I replied, equally hushed. "School's not all that fun, Nerd Boy," Jem snickered. "You know what I meant," I mumbled. "Yeah, I guess so. You wanna know what I was thinking?" Jem asked. He was already half-asleep, I could hear it in his voice. He just liked to talk late into the night. "Sure," I answered. "What's going on in the great mind of Jeremiah Little?" "I was thinking we don't sixty-nine enough," he said. I'm sure that at hearing such an offer, most people would jump ecstatically; but this is Jem we're talking about. I hardly had to ask if I wanted something like that. The offer, however, was tempting. "You're right," I said. I wasn't even done with the sentence before Jem was turned around and on top of me. We weren't clothed, that was never required late at night because nobody in my family ever disturbed us in the morning. We were too tired to make much noise. Other than an occasional erotic groan, we were totally silent. Jem's cock slid into my mouth quickly. We'd done it before and knew quite well what to expect. Once my lips were securely around his firm tool and my teeth were sufficiently under control, Jem slid forward, and a warm, moist mouth enveloped my own teenage member. The feeling of his mouth on my cock, the sensation I cherished above almost all others, sent fireworks through my exhausted body. Jem's head began to bob, and his thin hips followed suit quickly. He was humping my face quickly, and I loved it. I ran my hands down his smooth sides and moved my head to match his rhythm. Electricity shot across my body as Jem's mouth massaged my cock. I could feel it flow in and out at a pace that grew more and more rapid. In my own mouth, I was enjoying the flavor of the sweat on Jem's dick and the scent of his body in general.The heated passion continued for several minutes. Several brief, but sensual minutes. And then, as inevitably must happen, I shot a small load (all that I had left in me after several hours of on-and-off excitement) into Jem's mouth. I could feel him slow his pace to give himself time to swallow. Soon afterwards, Jem came in my mouth. I savored the salty fluid as long as I could, but was forced to swallow by a mouthful of the delicacy. Jem pulled his spent cock from my mouth, but I continued to clean it with my tongue. Exhausted once again, Jem returned to his place next to me and we kissed. I knew there was one thing on Earth I liked more than my cock in Jem's mouth: his warm lips pressed to mine. And we just laid there. It was just Jem and me. And that was all we needed.

Part III

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12366.txt

Caterinka@aol.com

Frankie and Adam III

"Hey, Doll," Frankie heard when she answered her mobile phone. She hadn't expected to hear from Adam so soon, and she felt her heart race like a teenager. Geez! "Well, hi there!" she said softly. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked her in that sexy voice that made her tingle. "Working, silly," Frankie replied, trying to keep her breathlessness under control. It had only been four days since she'd seen Adam, and she couldn't stop thinking about him. Her husband and kids had noticed that she was in a very good mood and that she was walking around grinning like an idiot. They had assumed it was because business was going well, and she didn't bother to correct them. "Oh?" he responded, dragging that one syllable into both a suggestion and a question at the same time, making Frankie giggle. He liked the way her voice traveled a full octave's range when she giggled, going from low to high. "Well, maybe we could play a little pool this afternoon, if you're not too busy." Frankie quickly looked into her Palm Pilot to see if she had any critical appointments. What woman needed to have her teeth cleaned when she could meet her lover? "That sounds like a lot of fun, Adam," she said, her voice growing husky. "Unless we could just dispense with the pool and fuck like greased, crazed weasels in a hotel somewhere." Adam burst out laughing. "I think we could arrange that," he replied. He named a hotel in a town between the two they lived in. It seemed like neutral territory, where they wouldn't be likely to run into anyone either of them knew. Frankie agreed that she'd be there in 45 minutes. "And Frankie?" he said before hanging up. "Mmmmhmmm," she said. "I really want to slide my cock into that tight, virgin ass of yours, OK?" he suggested in his raspy, sexy tone that made the prospect sound delightful. "Well........," she said hesitantly, "I still don't know, but maybe." "Fair enough, Frankie," he said easily. "We'll just have to see, then." As she was getting into her car to leave, Frankie started thinking about the prospect of anal sex with her newfound love. Hmmmmm. She'd been thinking a lot about it since they'd seen one another a couple of weeks ago. Honestly, she'd always heard that it could hurt pretty badly, and she'd had a pretty serious case of hemorrhoids since her son was born a couple of years ago. But in their phone conversations, Adam had talked about it in his sexy, sweet voice, making it sound very attractive indeed, especially since he wasn't being too pushy about it. Then again, it was a tremendous amount of fun to tease him with the prospect, too. Perhaps she'd just tease for a while longer, to see how much he could endure. The late summer air was hot inside the car, so Frankie pulled up her flowing skirt to let the air conditioning reach her crotch. Actually, her pussy was already hot, weather notwithstanding. The moisture and heat began to accumulate quickly whenever she thought of Adam's thick cock. Thoughts of him made her nipples stiffen, her cunt quiver, her clit throb, and even made her mouth water. Those same thoughts, however, did absolutely nothing for her asshole, which made Frankie consider the anal sex prospect once again. She was positive that it had to have been a male's idea to begin with. She imagined some Neanderthal fucking his female from behind and thinking to himself, "Hmmm, I'll bet it would fit in THERE, too!" whereupon he promptly jammed it into the unsuspecting female's ass, thereby forever giving anal sex its reputation for pain. Frankie giggled to herself, contemplating prehistoric sex as she pulled into the hotel parking lot. She had hoped that Adam would be waiting in his truck for her, lending her the opportunity to flash him as she got out of the car. Unfortunately, he appeared to have already gone into the hotel. Frankie wondered to herself if it was obvious to the hotel staff that this pudgy woman (she preferred to think of herself as built for comfort rather than speed) in the sapphire blue business suit was meeting her lover. Let's face it, how many people checked into nice hotels without a suitcase on a Wednesday afternoon? Because of her ruminations, she was loath to ask the desk clerk if Adam had checked in when she failed to see him in the lobby. She feared he might have checked in under another name, and she didn't want to mortify herself by a discussion with the clerk. She wandered over toward the hotel bar, feeling that all this clandestine nonsense certainly livened up her days. There was Adam, nursing a Guinness in a booth in the corner of the bar. It appeared that he'd ordered a Glenlivet for her, thoughtful man. "Did I keep you waiting long?" she asked as she slipped into the booth next to him, deliberately mashing her breast against his arm and sliding her palm up his thigh as she kissed him. "Well, it seemed like forever, but my watch says about 10 minutes," Adam replied. Good answer!, thought Frankie. He was really great at saying what would please her most without being insincere in the least. "I've already checked in." Frankie picked up her scotch and drank it down smoothly in one gulp. "Then let's go upstairs!" she said as she set her glass on the table. Adam laughed uproariously. "Mind if I finish my beer first, amorous one?" This woman never ceased to amaze and amuse him. Her directness was a bit unsettling at times, but very refreshing. Frankie heaved a mock sigh of resignation, "Oh, if you must!" Adam chuckled and pulled her close, kissing her lingeringly. Frankie was quite certain that at least the bartender and the few other patrons in the bar knew they were lovers by now. "So how's business been?" Adam asked Frankie innocently as his hand slid up her stockinged leg to her soft, smooth thigh. Frankie cleared her throat in an effort to control her breathing. "Oh, it's great. We've .....ummm.......got some great....mmm.....projects working.....right now." His fingers had found the soft folds of her shaven cunt and were lightly, playfully stroking them. "Adam?" "Yes, Frankie?" he asked as he slipped a finger into her drenched pussy beneath the rose-colored tablecloth and nibbled discreetly on her neck. "Can we go upstairs now?" she whimpered. The forbidden thrill of Adam's digit sliding in and out of her cunt where no one else could see was getting to Frankie very quickly. "Nooooo," he replied. "I'm still not done with my beer." He leaned toward her for better positioning, slipped another finger into her cunt and began to massage her throbbing clit with his thumb. Frankie looked around frantically, hoping no one else could see what he was up to. No one seemed to be taking any notice of them, and from all outward appearances, they looked like an affectionate couple having a drink. Except for the rapidly rising flush to Frankie's cheeks, that is. Adam continued trying to get her to make conversation as his fingers continued their expert manipulation of her pussy. Frankie was biting her lip and giving monosyllabic answers, trying to maintain a modicum of composure. "Cum for me, baby," Adam whispered in her ear, "and I'll take you upstairs to the room." Frankie struggled not to moan or thrust her hips against his hand, but it was taking all her concentration. This was the most exquisite torture she'd ever been subject to, and she could tell that Adam was nearly as excited by it as she was. His fingers continued their assault on her poor, aching, sodden pussy, stroking slowly in and out with two fingers while his thumb worked her swollen clit. Frankie was trying desperately to preserve composure as Adam felt her cunt clasping desperately at his fingers. "That's it, baby," he whispered to her, "Cum hard and I'll reward you with the fucking you deserve." That did it! Frankie's head rolled back as her eyes closed and she whimpered, desperately trying to keep quiet as her orgasm shook her entire body. She was in grave danger of screaming out Adam's name and begging him to fuck her here and now, but she managed to only whisper, "Oh, shit, Adam. Yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes." As Frankie's spasms subsided, Adam slowly withdrew his hand and made a great show of licking his fingers clean somewhat surreptitiously. Frankie looked around the bar, but no one seemed to be paying any attention.She found it difficult to believe that she could have had a tremendous orgasm right here in public, and no one in the room was any wiser. "Can I get you two anything else?" the bartender asked as he approached their table. Frankie blushed furiously as Adam said, "No, I think we have everything we need for now." "Adam," she whispered after the bartender retreated, "I'll get you for this!" "Oh, God, I hope you do!" was his fervent reply.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16893.txt

The Libertine

Libertine Repost: Pussy Babrber's Love Fuck

"This is perverted," Kristen thought to herself as she crept down the hallway, moving closer to the soft moans coming from the guest bedroom. It was almost three in the morning, and Kristen, clad in her flimsy powder blue nightie, kept fighting the urge to peek. Images of being caught peeking flashed into her mind, the outrage of her friends, the embarrassment of it. But other images flashed too - of passionate, wriggling bodies, of glistening skin, a hard cock, swaying testicles, sensual legs spread wide and spasming. Kristen quietly opened the bathroom door, the one that connected into the spare room. Just as she had hoped, the door to the bedroom was open. In the darkness, she crept silently forward, until she could see the bed and the writhing bodies upon it. The soft creak of the bed could be heard now, and in the dim light of the room, she could see Jerry kneeling behind his girlfriend, Janet, who was also Kristen's friend. Jerry had a handful of Janet's hair, from behind, and his body was pressed firmly to hers. Her head was arched back, and her luscious ass was arched up against her man. The dimness of the light reduced the image to black and white, Janet's ass looking smooth, round, and unblemished. The covers were a heaped mess on the floor at the foot of the bed, and Janet was threatening to shred the sheets with her grip. Kristen felt a knot in her stomach, one that twisted all the way down between her legs. Jerry moved in slow, even strokes, arching his back and thrusting into Janet with a long, even movement. Each thrust brought a primal growl from deep inside Kristen's friend, and her hips moved back instinctively, forcing Jerry's shaft deep inside her. "God! You're so fuckin' tight!" Jerry whispered, his words carrying easily to Kristen's ears in the nearby bathroom. Janet half moaned, half sighed her response. Janet pushed her upper body up on her hands, her full breasts swaying underneath her. "Fuck me hard. Pump me hard and fast. Cum in me," Janet breathed. Kristen's nipples were already hard, excited by what she'd seen and heard so far. Now they ached to be touched, and Kristen's right hand found her nipple, teasing it. She watched as Jerry began thrusting faster into Janet, their bodies making an audible "smack," Janet's breasts bouncing, and the flesh of her ass rippling. Kristen felt her panties clinging to her crotch, moistened with her own juices. "Yes! Fuck my ass. Pump your cum in my asshole, stud," Janet hissed. Kristen heard the words and let out a deep sigh, a sigh of lustful arousal. Her left hand replaced her right on her nipples, and her right hand slid under her panties and between her legs. Kristen knew she was wet, and she slipped one finger deep into herself, rubbing her clit frantically. The two bodies undulated and writhed about, glistening even in the darkness of the room. Janet's long dark hair flailed about as her body heaved and bucked to Jerry's rhythm. It wasn't long before Jerry groaned and began thrusting hard against Janet, trying to drive his cock and maybe even his balls inside her. Their groans filled the air for a few long moments, and then fell silent. In the sudden silence, Kristen stopped cold. Her own heavy breathing was covered by theirs, as was the wet, squishing sounds her fingers had been making in her pussy. She slowly caressed herself and watched the two lovers lay on the bed, him on top of her from behind, both kissing and floating along together. Kristen finally realized the show was over, and she crept back to her bed, still excited by what she'd witnessed. Her own sleep came only after fantasizing about feeling Jerry coming in her ass, not Janet's. The next morning, Janet was in the kitchen first, having made coffee and preparing to make breakfast for the three of them. Kristen shuffled in wearing her light robe, shaking out her long golden hair. "Well! Good morning!" Janet said cheerfully, handing over a hot cup. "'Morning," Kristen said blearily. "Thanks." "Well, you look dreadful. At least I have an excuse," Janet joked. "Ummm. I know," Kristen said automatically, then regretted it. "Oh. I'm sorry, did we wake you?" Janet asked. "Yeah, it's okay though," Kristen said. "It's better than David Letterman." Janet laughed. "ANYTHING is better than David Letterman. Especially a..." Her voice trailed off. "A good ass fucking?" Kristen asked. "Oh, shit. I shouldn't have said that," she argued, "I'm cranky before my first cup." Janet had blushed, even through her early summer tan. "Well, Jerry does have the right equipment for that," she giggled. Kristen smiled. "I've gotta take a shower," she said, walking down the hallway. Before entering the shower, Kristen surveyed herself in the mirror. What she saw pleased her mostly. Fair skin but with a few too many freckles (never mind that her boyfriends told her they were sexy), a pair of slightly bloodshot blue eyes, even though there were some circles forming under them, a very attractive face, but her nose was too big she thought, but no one ever complained. Her best features, the ones she knew would always get the guys to look, still pleased her. Her hair was straight, and long, stopping just below her waist, like a golden-blonde waterfall. And her eyebrows, which matched her hair exactly. Many men had asked her if her "other" hair was so perfectly matched. If he was that bold, she invited him to see for himself that it was. Her breasts weren't as large as she wanted, but they were well proportioned to her body. Her waist was slender still, and she was trim, but she always criticized any flab on her butt or thighs, even though most men would have killed to kiss her naked form. At five foot seven, she was leggy, but still nicely put together. Kristen stepped into the shower and soaped up, thinking of Janet and Jerry's performance earlier. She didn't masturbate, she never could in the shower, but she did feel much better after she'd cleaned up and put on what little makeup she usually wore. She brushed out her long hair, still wet, and used the blow dryer for about ten minutes. It was still damp when she stopped to answer the knock on the bathroom door. Jerry stood in the hallway wearing jogging shorts and trying to keep an erection down. Kristen wore her robe but was obviously naked underneath. Kristen smiled and let Jerry into the bathroom, while she returned to the kitchen and the smell of bacon and eggs. Janet's t-shirt was outside of her shorts now, something Kristen noticed quickly. "I see Jerry's said good morning to you," she said. Janet glanced down at her top, then looked over at Kristen, grinning. "Yeah. The animal!" She added with a wink. They ate breakfast when Jerry returned, and afterwards, Janet braided Kristen's long blonde hair. She took her shower with Jerry, and Kristen tried to ignore the sounds of splashing fun in the bathroom.Janet and Jerry went out to visit the casinos on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe, while Kristen contented herself with sunning on the deck and reading a new book by her favorite writer. This vacation started out wrong, with Mike cancelling out at the last minute, leaving Kristen feeling alone and like a party crasher. But then, she didn't gamble and besides, she wasn't old enough anyway. Kristen worked on her tan, hoping that her freckles would blend into a semblance of a tan at least. It was pretty and quiet in the mountains, but still warm. Kristen only stayed in the sun for a short while before moving into the shade. She read for about an hour and a half, then dozed off. Kristen awoke, stretching like a cat, and then stood up. The light coating of sunscreen still glistened on her skin and felt slippery since she'd perspired during her nap. She picked up her towel and turned to enter the rented cabin when she saw Janet and Jerry inside. Kristen watched through the large glass doors, her eyes wide, blinking in amazement or sleepiness. Janet lay on her back on the sofa, her ass at the edge of the cushions. She was naked with her legs high in the air, and Jerry was crouching between her legs, rolling his face around in her cunt. Janet was shaking and rocking her hips, obviously enjoying his tongue. Kristen wondered what to do as she watched. Somehow they'd come back while she'd dozed off, and hadn't seen her on the deck. Jerry made Janet come in a gasping orgasm which made Kristen very wet, and she wanted to finger her pussy, but she didn't dare. She didn't want them to catch her masturbating while she watched them. The two lovers swapped places, and now Janet was sucking on Jerry's cock. In the daylight Kristen could see that Jerry's cock was just about right for fucking, in any hole. Not too big, not too short, just nice. Janet sucked him with practiced expertise. Janet's body was smooth and evenly tan, except for the small light areas that showed the tiny suit she normally wore. Kristen felt her feet moving, and she felt as though someone else was controlling them. As she moved, it came to her that she was going to walk in on them, and she prepared an "excuse". If they objected or were embarrassed, she would simply go to her room, then shower off from her sunbathing. If they didn't object then...well, she'd see. Kristen took a deep breath and opened the door, walking in and closing it carelessly behind her. Just as she entered, Janet looked up, and Jerry began to shoot. Both young women locked eyes for a moment, then Kristen's were drawn to the thick white cum spurting against Janet's neck and tits. Janet looked down, paused, then gulped down Jerry's spurting cock, making him cry out with loud "ahhh's". Kristen decided to go to her room, as if she'd interrupted completely by accident. As she walked she could feel the slipperiness of her own pussy and the stiffness of her nipples. "Nice timing!" Janet said loudly as Kristen turned the corner. She stopped and turned back, looking back at Janet, her tits glistening wetly. "Sor-reee!" Kristen said, grinning. "I thought you guys were going out all day." Janet stood and walked closer, her sperm-splotched breasts wobbling as she walked. Kristen couldn't take her eyes off the cum that dribbled down between them, or the cum that clung to one of her dark nipples. "Surrre." Janet said softly. "Come with me, I have something to show you." Kristen followed Janet into the bedroom and Janet opened a small paper bag. From the bag she pulled a thick vibrating dildo, covered in a soft, flesh-like latex. "Watch this," she said, then switched it on. The head vibrated and as she worked the controls, the upper third began to twirl or rotate and piston in and out. Kristen's eyes got big. "Where did you get THAT!?" Kristen laughed. "At a little novelty store in town," Janet giggled. "And this too!" She handed Kristen the vibrator and Kristen felt it buzzing, twisting and thrusting in her hands. It sent an erotic feeling deep inside her pussy. Janet pulled another item from the bag. This dildo looked like a "Y", with two cocks joined at the base. Kristen knew how this was meant to be used. "Look at this though!" Janet said, connected a rubber ball and tube to the dildo. She set it humming and the tips of both heads blurred, then she squeezed the ball. Water jetted out of both tips, squirting several feet. Kristen's pussy spasmed at the sight. "Think of the possibilities with this!" "Um, yeah. Nice!" Kristen said. "Er, I'm going to take a shower. Maybe even a cold one." Janet handed her the thrusting dildo. "Here, have fun." Kristen refused it, as much as she would have tried it in privacy, she didn't want to seem too desperate or horny. She went into her room and couldn't resist the urge to finger her pussy. Kristen lay on the bed, her fingers blurring over her clit. She came quickly, thinking of the images of Jerry's cock spurting all over Janet's tits. A few minutes later Kristen pulled on a robe and picked up some clothes, then went into the bathroom for a quick shower. She was just about to climb into the shower when Janet knocked on the door, asking to be let in quickly. Kristen opened the door for her. "Shit!" Janet said, "I got it in my eye and it BURNS!" Kristen got a look at her face as she moved past to get to the sink. There were thick globs of sperm on her cheek and in her hair. Jerry had cum again, but somehow Janet had gotten some of the salty stuff in her right eye. After a minute of splashing water she stood up and toweled her face off, most of Jerry's cum having been washed off. "That'll teach you to watch too close!" Kristen laughed. "Thanks a bunch," Janet said. "Would you mind if I showered with you?" she asked, feeling the cum in her hair. "No, c'mon. You do my back, I'll do yours," Kristen said. Together they showered, trading secrets and laughing over Kristen's unannounced entry earlier. Kristen's hair was pinned up so she didn't have to dry it all over again, and Janet scrubbed her back. The oily sunscreen needed to be scrubbed off, and Janet didn't stop when she reached Kristen's ass. She worked down, not sexually touching, but scrubbing hard. She kept going down those long, lean legs, until she reached the ankles. "Thanks," Kristen said. "That felt good." She turned around, hand extended for the washcloth. Instead, Janet soaped it up and began scrubbing Kristen's chest, above and between her breasts. "Jerry would kill to do this to you, you know," Janet said evenly. "He said that last night he fantasized about you joining us." "Really?" Kristen said, forgetting that Janet was washing her front. "He really said that?" Janet nodded, scrubbing around Kristen's tits and then down her belly. "He even said he'd like to eat you while he fucks me." Kristen's mind imagined that, and she felt a little excited. Suddenly Janet's hand was sliding over her mons, and then between her legs. The touch was lighter, more sensual now. Kristen's legs parted slightly, and her lips parted to take a sharp breath. Janet's hand lingered a little longer, then she began scrubbing the fronts of the blonde's legs. Kristen looked down, watching Janet kneel and scrub. Her hand moved and touched Janet's head lightly. Janet leaned forward and kissed Kristen's pussy lightly, then she stood up. Close. Kristen seemed to move on automatic. She leaned forward, tilting her head slightly, and then it happened. Their lips met in a kiss. Kristen was surprised at how warm and soft Janet's lips were. Their breasts touched lightly, making Kristen's nipples stand up even harder. When they parted, Kristen gazed into the eyes of her friend, now to be her newest lover. Trembling with excitement Kristen reached out and touched Janet's breast. This was the first time she'd ever touched another woman's breast sexually. The soft flesh was so warm, and Janet's full orb drew Kristen's hand into a cup shape which she slid over the end of her friend's breast. Janet's hands slid down and cupped Kristen's ass, kneading it slightly. Kristen's whole body trembled, as though she were going to have an all-over orgasm. Somehow Janet realized her friend's nervous excitement and she leaned down, taking one of Kristen's nipples in her lips. As she sucked on it, biting down delicately, Kristen gasped and pressed her soft tit into Janet's face. Janet pulled on the other nipple with her fingers, then gently licked all around Kristen's puffy areola. The tall blonde's breathing was shallow and ragged, and Kristen could feel her cunt leaking its warm cream down her thigh. Janet stood upright and Kristen felt like she was on fire. She grabbed Janet's face and kissed her, one of the most passionate kisses she'd ever given. Janet returned it, with her hands exploring the lean, smooth texture of her friend's body. When their kiss broke, Kristen burned with a madness, a desire, a carnal need. She bent and licked around Janet's nipple, then sucked hard on the erect bud. Janet cradled the blonde's head to her breast, and felt Kristen suckling and licking her tit. Kristen's right hand slid between Janet's legs, lightly at first.Kristen's pussy spasmed when her fingers found Janet's cunt soaking wet and slippery. Her fingers slid back and forth through her friend's cuntlips, then Kristen sighed as her finger slid into her friend's body. Janet sighed too, rocking her hips forward and trembling against Kristen. A few moments later, Kristen stood with her hands on the wall of the shower, legs spread, and Janet sitting on the floor, her head bent back and her tongue, her wonderful tongue, swirling around inside her. Janet was sucking her pussy, lapping her free-flowing juices and sliding her hands up and down Kristen's legs. Kristen gasped for breath, her stomach heaved in and out and her legs threatened to buckle. Janet sucked and licked, and Kristen shuddered. A wave washed over her, starting in her cunt and spreading outward, returning to her twat as a flood of thick creamy juice to be lapped up by Janet. Kristen sat down on a ledge in the shower, weak and flushed. Janet rolled to her knees and kissed the blonde's tits, then kissed Kristen on the mouth. Kristen tasted her juices, not for the first time but certainly the most erotic. Janet's lips were slick and their tongues danced. Moments later, when Janet stood up, Kristen took the floor and tongued Janet's pussy. Kristen looked at Janet's pussy, seeing the swollen lips surrounded by her curly bush. Her tongue licked lightly over Janet's slit, finding her clit at the top, all swollen and hard. Janet's hips jerked, and Kristen continued to lick circles around it. Soon Kristen's chin was slick with the juices seeping from Janet's opening, and her tongue was sliding all around. Kristen loved the feeling on her tongue, and her face. The smooth, warm, slippery wetness excited her, and the musky scent of Janet filled her nostrils. "Put your fingers in me," Janet said breathlessly. Kristen did. First one finger, then two, then a third. Janet's hips bucked and Kristen flicked her tongue over the girl's clit. She felt the spasms around her fingers, the grasping, pulsing squeezes as Janet began to cum. Kristen shoved her fingers in deep, moving her hand back and forth until Janet moaned loudly and began shuddering. Janet's hips ground against the intruding fingers, and her hand pushed Kristen's face tightly against her mons. When Kristen pulled her fingers out, they glistened with Janet's cream, a few whitish globs clinging to her fingers. Kristen licked her fingers off, savoring it like a fine sauce. They finished their shower, hugging and kissing each other tenderly. They had shared something very special, and they both felt close and loving to each other. After eight years of friendship, they had become even closer.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/14530.txt

M Quayle

A "Farrell" Story (Late for Dinner)

"I can't believe you told him we'd go to some dumb old miniature golf course," Christi whispered to Kathy in the back seat of the doctor's Volvo, "when we could have had some real fun in the hotel dungeon." "You mean YOU could have had fun," Kathy whispered back, "now that I'm out of that chastity belt, I'm in the mood for men, men, men." "I bet they won't even have a set of stocks or a rack or anything fun," Christi continued to pout. "You and your mom will be languishing in the afterglow of a three-hour guyfest and I'll still be laying there hoping someone will come along with a cat-o'-nine-tails in his golf bag." "Oh, you never know," Kathy smiled mysteriously. "Well, here we are," the doctor broke the back seat mood. He pulled into a "Reserved" parking space next to the front gate, then leaned back in the driver's seat and moaned happily as Mommy's mouth propelled him to a riotous climax. "Ooh, you taste minty," Mommy licked her lips as she sat up in the passenger seat. "Yeah, flavored semen is the latest thing," he helped Mommy unbutton her blouse. "I had it added to my birth-control implant last month, most of my patients really like it. They have flavorings for mother's milk now, too. You really should consider lactating, I'm sure your family would really enjoy having you at breakfast." He cupped the striking blonde's C-cups in his hands, "and it would make these beauties even firmer than they already are." "It's funny you should mention that," Mommy blushed, "my son has been begging me to start making milk. I never did when he was little. I left that up to the surrogate who carried him and I think he feels deprived." "Well, it's never too late," the doctor turned to the teenage girls curled together in the back seat. "What say, ladies," he winked, "ready to play some golf?" Christi began to demur, but the doctor cut her short. "We've got something really special planned for you, blue eyes," he stroked her curly brown hair, "don't we, Kathy?" Several players looked up, and a few missed their shots as the doctor led the trio through the winding maze of windmills and waterfalls that dotted the miniature course. They stopped at the seventeenth tee, where golfers had to putt through a five-foot-tall black castle to reach the hole. A tired-looking girl lay spread-legged on the green, an evil-looking speculum spread her open to create a most inviting goal. "Hi, Debbie," the doctor greeted his employee. "I'm giving you the rest of the night off with pay," he smiled, "this young lady wants to find out what it's like to be the toughest hole on the course." "No problem, boss," the girl smiled weakly as an attendant handed the doctor a putter and a little white ball. The doctor knocked the golf ball into the inviting opening. "Let me demonstrate the automatic ball return. It's my own invention," he pushed a button mounted to a waist-high post next to the hole. Kathy heard a sharp electrical crack as the girl squeaked and -- pop -- shot the ball back into the doctor's waiting hand. Christi squealed with delight, dropped to her knees and began unbinding the restraints that held Debbie in place. "I've got to admit I wasn't really too excited about coming here," the brunette smiled eagerly, "but it looks like golf may be my game after all. "Only one thing, doctor," Christi added. "What's that?" "Can you turn up the voltage?" "Not a problem," the doctor laughed as he inserted the speculum and guided Christi onto the slanted metal anal probe that would both hold her in place and power the ball return. The doctor proceeded to strap Christi into a very attractive "X" position, then picked up the putter for a test shot. The ball stopped just two inches from her heavenly hole, and he gave it a good hard whack to drive it inside. Christi shrieked as she and the putter collided, and the ball kissed her ovaries hello, then howled when the ball return was engaged. Like magic, the sphere rocketed from between her thighs, propelled by the muscle spasms induced by the electric shock. "More," Christi pleaded. "Give me more!" "I'm afraid that's all the voltage the health department will let me give you," the doctor apologized. "Now have a good time, but try not to scream too loudly or you'll distract the other players." Christi looked lovingly up at Kathy. "Thanks, darling, I should have known you wouldn't let me down." Kathy dropped to her knees. "Have fun, you little torture mouse," she softly kissed the happy tears from Christi's eyes, "and we'll come get you at closing time."

S&M, Family Fun, Miniature Golf

Chapter 34: Never Too Late

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/18325.txt

Ann Douglas

The Adventures Of Ultra Woman And Mega Girl

"Oh my God!" Jackie exclaimed to the empty room as she spread out a half dozen of the drawings she'd found. The pictures were all of characters from the Ultra Woman comics, but not the type you'd ever find on the newsstands. She picked up the closest sketch; it was one of Mega Girl being held captive by their arch-enemy - the Black Cat. In this case, however, Mega Girl was stripped to the waist and had her face pressed between the legs of an equally semi-naked Black Cat. It was so detailed that you could even see the dark hairs of the Cat's pussy. It suddenly occurred to Jackie that the picture was also familiar. She'd seen it a year ago when one of the editors had downloaded a half dozen erotic fan drawings off the Internet. He had attached them to a memorandum suggesting that they follow the lead of some of the larger companies and try to sue the artists for copyright infringement. Jackie had tossed the memo into the trash. She looked at the pictures in the same light as fan-fiction. The artists weren't selling them, they were posting them to share with other fans. If anything, Jackie had said at the time, they should think about trying to hire a few of the amateur artists -- some of the pictures had been quite good. In one case at least, the Editor In Chief now knew why. The next picture showed the same two characters. Only this time, Mega Girl had on her full costume and was down on all fours, her skirt pushed up over her back -- exposing her pussy. Buried deep inside it was a large strap-on dildo, worn again by a semi-nude Black Cat. The look on Mega Girl's face was pure delight. Ultra Woman appeared in the next three images. Twice with her younger sidekick in various stages of undress and then once by herself with her fingers buried deep within her pussy. "Hmm, it's a pity we can't publish these," Jackie laughed to herself. "Might give some of those self-righteous assholes who complained about the book a few heart attacks." Totally captivated, Jackie began to go through the rest of the pile. She found two more images she recognized from the Internet. It wasn't until she looked at about twenty-five more of the drawings that Jackie abruptly realized that there was something conspicuously absent from the collection. There were no men in any of them. There was no shortage of male characters in the Ultra Woman series. In fact, at least half of those original Internet pictures that had been sent to her last year had been of Ultra Woman and Mega Girl being fucked or giving blow jobs to those characters. Of course, none of those images had the quality of those she now knew had been drawn by Jo. "Is Jo into women?" Jackie asked herself as she looked at another dozen images. "Is that why she broke it off with Bill Thomas?" The surprise Jackie felt when she first found the drawings was nothing compared to that she felt when she unwrapped the last bunch. More detailed than any of the others, these had been both inked and colored. All of the pictures were of Ultra Woman and Mega Girl, either nude or semi-nude and mute testaments to a lesbian relationship between the two. What was different from the previous drawings were the features of the two comic characters. That long ago day when Jackie had first read Jo's home-made version of Ultra Woman, she'd noticed a certain resemblance between the depiction of Mega Girl and the real-life Joanna Simon. It was a likeness that had increased as Jo lost some of that baby fat and paid more attention to how she looked. It had also come to Jackie's attention that the version of Ultra Woman that appeared in the first 'real' issue differed slightly from that of the 'homemade' one. The new Ultra Woman bore a passing resemblance to Jackie herself. At the time, Jackie took it as a sort of thank you for the chance she'd given Jo. Remembering her Uncle once telling her that the original Captain Marvel in the 1940's had been made to look like the actor Fred McMurray, Jackie took it as a form of flattery. After all, it was only a passing resemblance, one which wasn't even that apparent to some people who worked there. These pictures, however, gave no doubt. The Ultra Woman and Mega Girl captured in numerous sexual acts were clearly Jacqueline Kirby and Joanna Simon. The depictions were as detailed as photographs, Jackie noted, even down to the small scar she had on her left breast from a childhood accident. In fact, there was even a picture of Mega Girl (Jo) kissing Ultra Woman - (Jackie) on that scar. Jackie sat there for long minutes, not knowing what exactly to make of her discovery. As much as she wished she'd never found it, she knew she couldn't simply put it all back and pretend it didn't exist. She had to do something -- but what? The beeping of her watch alarm broke her train of thought. Knowing her tendency to lose track of time when she was working late, she'd set it to remind her when to leave for the airport. By now the car service she'd called earlier would be waiting downstairs. Quickly she replaced all the material she'd taken out of the bottom drawer in the same order in which she'd removed it. Jackie let out a sigh of relief when the drawer slid shut smoothly and she pushed in the lock. Everything she needed for the weekend trip had been packed hours earlier and was waiting by the outer doors. Jackie just had to grab the case and the garment bag with the costumes and be on her way. As she watched the floors pass by on the elevator display, she again wondered what she should do about her discovery. "I was beginning to worry you weren't going to make it," Jo said as Jackie stepped out of the car at the entrance to the shuttle terminal. "I lost track of time," Jackie apologized as she paid the driver both the fare and a generous tip. He had gotten her to the airport in near record time, making up for her late start. A quick glance at her watch told her she was still a half hour late. "We'd better run for it if we're going to make that flight," Jackie said as she picked up her bags. "What gate are we at?" "No need to run, we've got plenty of time," Jo said as she picked up her own bag. "We're on the 09:30 shuttle." "You said we were on the 09:00 flight," Jackie said. "And if I said we were on the 09:30 you'd still be at the office," Jo smiled. "I know you too well." "But how well do I know you?" Jackie thought as she followed her friend into the terminal. "Obviously not as well as I thought I did." Jackie closed her eyes on the short flight to Washington. Jo didn't seem to mind and it gave her another chance to think about what she perceived as a change in their relationship. That Jo might be a lesbian, or at least bisexual she corrected herself as she added the failed romance with Bill Thomas, didn't bother her. She had no problem with gay people. While she'd never actually had a relationship with another woman, she'd had a good friend who came out to her a few years back. Susan Wong and she had been friends since they were in the junior year of high school. Along with Debbie Mazowiecki they'd been a female version of the Three Musketeers. When Susan revealed that she was a lesbian, it didn't shock her as much as the fact that she further confessed that she and Debbie had been intimate a few times over the years. The fact that she hadn't realized it shocked Jackie, not that they'd been intimate but that she hadn't realized the special connection between the two. She then understood why Debbie's decision to move to the west coast after college had hurt Susan so much harder than it had her. Mentally she made a note to give Susan a call when she could. They hadn't talked in a few months. The last time they'd chatted, Susan had moved in with a new love. It was a pity she couldn't talk to her now, Jackie mused, her advice might be helpful.So be sure to take those few minutes, as it can only result in more and better stories in the future. 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/erotica/assm/

Part Four

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16131.txt

OddManOut

The New Carpet

"Oh, yeah, that's good." "Yeah, fuck me." "I'm fucking you." "Yeah, you are, fuck me harder, yeah, just like that!" "Oh, my god." "Yes!" "OH, my god!" "Oh, yes!" "Oooh, I'm going to come in you!" "Yeah, come in me, I mean wait, I mean, oh, YES!" "OH, I'm COMING!" "I'm coming too, YES! YES!!!" "OH MY GOD!!! HERE I COME!" "YES!!!" "OHHHH!!!" "OH, GOD, YES!!!!" "OHH! Oohh, wow!" "Oh, yes." "Oh, wow, I love you so much." "I love you." "You're so good." "You're good too. It's so nice." "I can't believe we just did it twice in a row." "TED! WAIT!" "What?" "Don't pull out!" "Okay." Ted stayed where he was, right on top of Carol. Not that he had any problem with that. He'd been in worse places before. "I don't know if I can get hard again so quickly, though." The second time had been enough of a shock to him. It wasn't like he was twenty again. It wasn't even like he was thirty again. "It's not that." Carol's voice was a little strained beneath him, trying to support the weight of his hips. She was still pressed against him, keeping him as deep inside of her as he could. "What do you mean?" "Dammit, I told you when we started. I didn't want to get the carpet dirty." They were in the middle of the living room, lying on their new carpet. The workmen had finally finished installing it yesterday, and Carol and Ted had decided to break it in by watching television. It had been Ted's idea, over the objections of Carol, for them to try lying on it naked. He had been very persuasive about it, he thought with a grin. Carol had objected, but it was hard for her to object to something when that something involved Ted's fingers moving over her clit. They tossed their clothes on the couch and after that, things just came naturally. When the first round was over for him, he found that he was still hard, so he decided to keep going until he softened up. The fact that he hadn't softened was a blessing, and soon he'd added his second load to the one already inside her. Now he could feel the pressure of the come held inside her by his penis, and he knew what Carol meant. If he pulled out now, a large mess would come with him. "Can't we just wash it off? I thought that this carpet was stain-fast." Ted said. Carol glared at him, and Ted suddenly realized that he had just made a Male Mistake. "The seats in your sports car are also stain-fast, Ted. Would you like to make love there next time?" "Sorry." Ted gave her a kiss on the forehead and tried to think. Carol didn't want to mess up the carpet, but his T-shirt was somewhere on the couch. That wouldn't be such a great loss, would it? "Hey, stop shrinking like that!" She caught Ted by surprise. "Huh?" Carol looked at him and said "You're getting soft. I'm going to leak out around you." Ted rolled his eyes and said "I just came twice, Carol, and I'm trying to think of a way out of here. And it's not like I can get hard on command anymore." "Yeah, I've noticed lately." She could see that her last remark hurt him, and she was instantly sorry she'd said it. Despite her initial objections and the predicament they were now in, the last hour and a half (and when was the last time THAT had happened!) had been lovely. She didn't want to thank him by insulting his manhood. "I'm sorry, Ted. I didn't mean it that way." Ted gave her a look, but she went on. "This was nice, it really was. I guess he does need a rest, doesn't he?" She pushed herself up into him hard, trying to pressure-seal herself to him. It was a good idea, but she realized she couldn't hold it forever. Especially once he started pushing her towards the bathroom. The carpet covered almost all of the ground floor in aquamarine, connecting the computer room to the living room to the dining room. Only the kitchen and bathroom were untouched. It was a definite improvement over the carpet that came with the house. Tom had called that one the Orange Fungus. Who bought orange carpets, anyway? The bathroom was the closest uncarpeted area to them, nested just fifteen feet away between the living room and the computer room. If Ted could push her over the carpet to the bathroom, and then if they could get the door open, they'd be home free, and they could finally decouple. Carol could feel Ted's sperm inside her, pushing their way back against his softening cock as if they wanted to fertilize the carpet. Carol's carpet. Carol's carpet was still a virgin, and she was very protective of it. She didn't want it stripped of its innocence so early in its life by Ted's sperm. She slid her hand over his rear and cupped his balls in her hand, stroking them softly. "What are you doing?" He was a little surprised when he felt her fondle his testicles. He looked down to see her smiling up at him. "Well, we can't have you going soft, can we?" she said, with a small squeeze. "I just came twice." He repeated, but he wasn't objecting. If Carol wanted to turn him on, that was okay with him. "We can't get mad at each other." She said. "Not now. It's like Peter Pan. Think happy thoughts." "Okay." Ted tried thinking of something that turned him on. Something that would be guaranteed to stop his softening member. He found it. "Remember when we went camping in Yellowstone?" Carol closed her eyes and smiled. "Of course I remember. We had to get a new sleeping bag, as I recall." "Oops, bad example, I guess." Ted started to think of something else. "No, Yellowstone's fine." She said. "Yellowstone's great. That was when you finally got me to give you a blow job." "Yeah." Their talk was having the desired effect. "I told you it wouldn't be so dirty." He said. She could feel him get harder as they remembered her first honest attempt to make love to him with her mouth. She had been tentative at first, preparing herself for what she thought would taste filthy and awful. When she had finally touched it with her tongue, she found that it wasn't filthy, but tasted just like the rest of him, maybe a little oilier.And when she looked up at him and saw the rapture on his face as she swirled her tongue around the head, she had decided it might not be so bad after all. Thinking back, she said, "That wasn't our only first, if I recall." She remembered the "incentive" he had given that had disgusted her when he said it (it had turned her off to it, even). After she had finished sucking him off, she had told him that he didn't need to eat her out in return, and that she didn't want it. He backed off at first, but later that night he did it anyway, and Carol had woken up to the most incredible feeling in her life. It was that night that Carol had decided to herself that it wasn't sinful to engage in oral sex, at least not if they kept it in moderation. "Well, that wasn't so hard after all," Ted said. He was firm inside of her. Not stiff yet, but hard enough to keep their combined juices from leaking out of her. "At least, it wasn't hard then, but it sure is now." Carol smiled at his little joke. "Okay. I think you can push me over to the bathroom," she said. Ted shook his head. "My T-shirt's on the couch. We can use that to soak up the juices." She looked at him like he was crazy. "Ted, that's disgusting!" He bent and kissed her breast, maintaining his erection. "It's only a T-shirt. It can be sacrificed for the carpet." She thought for a second. "What shirt is it?" "It's the shirt I got from the Shedd Aquarium." She was shocked. "Ted, you can't use that shirt!" He raised his mouth from her nipple and said, "Why not?" She looked at him in disbelief. "That's a beautiful shirt. I love that shirt. Penny had me get you that shirt, and I'm not going to let you use it that way. Why couldn't you have worn your Hooters shirt today? I wouldn't mind using *that* one." Ted rolled his eyes and slid a little bit further in. "All right, we'll go to the bathroom." Digging his feet into the soft carpet, Ted began to push forward into her with all the power he could use. It was a tricky balance. Too much strength would make him slip back on the carpet. Not enough, and he'd just be pushing back into Carol. Ted struggled for a couple minutes, sliding and flopping around as he fought to stay buried in Carol's vagina. Two minutes' work only moved her two feet, and already Ted was feeling tired. "Hold on. I'm going to try to lift you up." He did try, but found it was impossible: his need to remain inside of her kept her pinned to the floor when he tried lifting her from above. They flipped over, but this was even worse. Ted was too heavy a load for Carol to push, and Carol's position above him kept him from getting any significant traction on the carpet with his feet. They rested for a while, and she rode softly on his member, keeping him hard inside her. Suddenly Ted got an idea. "What if I sat up like this?" He said, placing his arms at his sides and pushing his torso up. Carol started to go down, remaining perpendicular to him. "Wait, Carol. You sit up, too." "Okay," she said, pushing herself up to join him. He put his arms around her to keep them together as he surveyed their position. They were both sitting up, facing each other and joined at the hip. Carol's legs wrapped around his waist and rested on the carpet, while she sat on his lap. Ted's legs were splayed out behind her. He moved them together and raised his knees, so that now only their feet and his butt were touching the carpet. "Okay. Now I'm going to push off with my legs, and I want you to raise up and pull yourself into me with yours. Okay?" She agreed, and he pushed his legs out as hard as he could. She pulled her legs in, and they slid forward about an inch. The move was jerky, and the sudden motion almost overturned the couple. "Hold your arms around me, and I'll use my arms to lift our butts off the floor when I push." She put her arms around his back, and pulled him up close to her torso. He could feel her hot breasts crushed against his chest, and his hard-on grew half a notch. "Mmm. I feel like I could add a third load right now." "Don't you dare, Ted." He pushed down on the carpet, and their bodies rose for a split second as he pushed back with his legs, and she pulled forward with hers. This time they moved a full foot. "There we go," Carol said. She kissed him and said, "You are so clever." She wanted to keep Ted feeling good and hard if they were to have any chance of saving the carpet. "Shall we do it again?" He asked. She said yes, and they began their slow progress towards the bathroom door. Every time they came down, she pulled herself a little bit forward, pressing her hips against Ted's waist. Each impact caused her to crash down into him, like a slow, hard fucking. Carol found herself getting hot again from this new stimulation. Ted was looking behind his shoulder at where they were headed, and he turned back to face his wife. Carol knew he was seeing her face flushed with arousal, and turned even redder with the realization that he knew she was hot. "You like?" Ted asked. She nodded her head slightly. The next time they came down, she pulled herself forward, but kept her legs closed around Ted's waist for a few seconds before allowing him to draw in his legs. Ted gave her a kiss on the forehead and said, "I thought you didn't want to go again." Fighting to keep her head clear, she replied, "I don't. We've got to get into the bathroom. Then we'll do it." She laughed quietly and said, "This is crazy. We've already done it twice. When was the last time I was turned on this much?" Ted smiled and pushed them back further towards the door. They had only six more feet to go. He said, "Remember back when we were both working two jobs? When we managed to get some time alone together, you were like this." "I was?" All she could remember was that they really had to scrounge for quality time back then. "Trust me, I remember," Ted said. They'd been having sex every day for the first few weeks after their honeymoon. When they had to start supporting themselves, the frequency dropped down to about once every two weeks, whenever they weren't working or tired. They'd done the best they could to make up for the lost time, sometimes spending the entire afternoon in bed. Carol had been insatiable back then. Ted could remember a time after he'd just had his second orgasm and Carol had had her fourth. He'd gone to the bathroom to wash up, and returned to find her playing with herself under the sheet, wanting more. She'd been mortified when she saw him looking, but he'd managed to calm her down, and they'd enjoyed another round. Carol felt him getting stiffer inside of her as they closed in on the door. She looked at his face and said, "Happy thoughts?" Ted smiled and squeezed her nipple. She gasped softly, and pulled herself down on his penis steadily. Carol's feet were now about one foot away from the bathroom door, and she began to guide Ted on his last few pushes. "On our next one, let's angle a little bit to the right. My right. There we go." He lifted and pushed, and pulled their bodies parallel to the door. Relieved, Ted reached up and grabbed the knob. It wouldn't turn. "It's not turning, Carol," Ted said. He turned on it harder, but the knob wouldn't budge. Carol looked at his hand, confused. "Is it locked?" Ted's eyes closed in frustration as he tried to strongarm the door. "No, it's not locked. It's broken or something. It's not jiggling like it's locked." "What do you mean, it's not jiggling?" Carol's voice was getting desperate. "Why don't you try it and see what I mean?" Ted said, frustration giving his voice an angry edge. Carol reached up and grabbed the knob. Sure enough, it wouldn't turn. Nothing even rattled in protest when she tried to turn it. Whatever was wrong inside had frozen the gears. She jerked the knob angrily, then sank back into Ted when the door refused to yield. "I guess it's the kitchen, then." Ted was angry at the cheap doorknob. Their house was fairly new, and it was obvious that whoever had been contracted to build it knew how to cut corners. If there was one thing he hated, it was a half-assed way of doing things. He planted his hands into the carpet and pushed himself forward roughly. He slammed into Carol, and she fell back on his lap, holding her nose. "Honey, are you okay?" Instantly his anger evaporated as he pulled his wife back up on his lap. She was holding her nose in her hands, still surprised from his sudden movement. "Let me see, honey. I'm so sorry." She held her nose with a hurt look and said, "I'm okay. You didn't slip out, did you?" Damn! He hadn't noticed! Frantically, Ted checked his penis, and was relieved to find that he was still deep inside his wife. "I'm still inside you. I'm getting a little soft, though. Let me see your nose, honey." He pried her hands off her face and inspected her nose tenderly. A small trickle of blood flowed from her nostril. Worried, Ted prodded the structure of her nose. "Ouch!" "It's all right. Nothing seems to be broken. You're just bleeding a bit." Carol smiled weakly, but soon began to cry. Ted held her in his arms and comforted her until she could get control of herself. "I'm sorry, Carol. I was just mad, and I didn't think about what I was doing." She snuffled it in, and said, "It's all right, Ted. Here, help me up." Ted protested. "You're getting up? What about the carpet?""I don't care about the carpet, I just want to wash my nose. I can clean the carpet later." She tried to get up, but Ted didn't let her. "Uh-uh. The least I can do to make this up to you is to get us off this rug without staining it." Carol looked at him sullenly. "We've got to go all the way to the kitchen. If we just jerk around like this, my nose will start bleeding more." "It's OK. I've got an idea. Here, I'm going to lean back. You come with me." He leaned back slowly. "Put your legs down by mine as you lean forward." Awkwardly, Carol rocked from side to side, moving one leg, then the other around them to rest against his. She was lying on top of him, spread out from his chest to his thighs. "OK. Now I'm going to put my arms around you, and we'll roll our way to the kitchen." He held her and began to roll, but she stopped him. "Wait. You're not hard yet. You're going to slip out." They sat in silence, waiting for Ted to make himself hard. Carol said "This isn't going to work." She felt unattractive, with her eyes puffy from crying and her nose trickling blood. She was doing her best to lap up the blood from her nose before any dripped on the carpet, and she imagined how horrible she must look to him. She'd always felt a little surprised that he could have a sexual desire for her, she'd never looked anything like a centerfold. Now that she was old, he should have been out at the strip bars, looking at younger women, not here with her, trying to keep her damn carpet clean-- "Honey, what's wrong?" Ted stared up at her. She realized she'd started to cry again, and knew he'd never be able to get hard now. "Don't look at me." "Why not?" He was still staring up at her face, and she felt hideous. "I look horrible, and you need to get hard again." His hands started to stroke her back, finding her soft spots and touching them lightly. "You look great. I love looking at you." "I've just been crying, my hair's a mess, and I'm licking blood that's coming out of my nose. How could I possibly look great, Ted?" Ted looked her straight in the eye and said "Maybe I like to see crying women drink blood." She held his gaze for a few seconds, then they both began to laugh. Ted could feel her walls contract around his cock as she laughed, an erratic jerking and squeezing that came from deep within her. Maybe he *did* like her this way. He'd started to get hard when he first saw her stick out her tongue to lap up her blood, sliding it above her upper lip to the bridge of her nose. It looked very sensual, and was made even more erotic by the fact that it wasn't supposed to be. Propping himself up on his hands, he reached up and kissed her on the lips, tasting her metallic blood through the saliva. Carol recoiled a bit when he did this, but he remained there, leaning back against his arms, and she brought her head forward again and kissed him back. He was semi-hard now, and as their lips locked and he felt her tongue slide in, Ted could feel the blood pulsing back through his penis. He closed his eyes and enjoyed her kiss, which was one of the reasons he'd married her. For a girl who looked and acted so proper, Carol had always been able to turn him on with her lips and tongue, turning even a pristine kiss goodnight into an erotic act. Right now they were anything but pristine, and that made it that much more erotic. Once their mouths were joined together, she sucked in, creating a vacuum in his mouth that she filled with her aggressive tongue. She traced the gum line of his teeth briefly, then pushed her head into him to go back down his throat. He felt the hot breath from her nose as she exhaled onto his cheek, not wanting to come up for air. His own tongue was trying to push back into her mouth, but was pinned to his cheek. Carol let up a little on her probing, and he took advantage, diving into her mouth before she could attack again. He was rock-hard now, and pulled his head away from her mouth long enough to say "I'm going to start rolling now." "Okay." She said, and he brought his mouth back to hers. Joined together at the hips and mouth, they began to roll slowly away from the bathroom. When it looked like he might begin to fall out, she wrapped her legs around his and hooked her feet together at the back, trapping him inside. Whenever Carol's nose leaked a little blood, Ted would break their kiss and lick it up for her. By pushing his torso away from hers, he could widen one end of their joined bodies, allowing them to turn as they rolled. They turned away from the bathroom, then slowly rolled across the floor towards the dining room. They rolled up to the dining table and stopped. Here was another obstacle. The dining table was large and wide, and there was only four feet of clearance between it and the wall on either side. The swing-door to the kitchen was just beyond, ten feet from where they lay. Ted looked down at his wife. "Do you want to do the sitting thing again?" She smiled and nodded her head. As he rolled over onto his back, they heard a faint jingling sound coming through the house, and Daisy trotted out into the living room. The sight of two naked humans flopping about on the floor was unfamiliar to her, and she cocked her head and looked at them. Ted saw the dog looking, and said "Daisy, go away." Daisy just stood there, trying to take in the unfamiliar sight and the odd smell. Ted may have wanted her to go away, but she was intensely curious about this particular smell. She had smelt it before, of course, but it was always after they had created it. She was never allowed in the room while the two humans did whatever they did that smelled like that. She *was* allowed in the room with the younger female, and had even witnessed as she produced a smell that was similar. However, that smell definitely lacked a quality that was present with the older pair. Now they were right in front of her, and it was overpowering to her senses. Whining a little bit, Daisy took a few steps closer to get a better look. Surely that wouldn't hurt. Carol spoke, saying something stern to her. What could she be stern about? All Daisy wanted to do was explore this odor. "NO!" That was from Ted, and it was very firm and commanding, and it made her pause. They obviously didn't want her to get closer, but the smell was so intriguing. It looked like it was coming from the place where they were joined together. Were they mating? Warnings or not, she had to get a better look! "Oh, god, Ted, the dog is sniffing at us!" Ted leaned back and tried to push Daisy's nose away from their bodies. His efforts only made her more insistent, and she ducked under his hand and buried her cold snout right between Carol's legs. Carol jerked with a squeak when she felt this, but didn't dare pull away from Ted, who was frantically grasping to get some sort of a hold on the dog. He was finally able to grab Daisy's collar, and began pulling her away from their crotches. On her way out, Daisy tried to take a lick, and ended up running her tongue lightly up the crack of his butt. The shock of this feeling caused Ted to jump and let go of her, and she went back at it again, diving into their junction and licking up as much as she could. Ted flailed behind himself to get the dog, but every time her uninhibited tongue rasped against his testicles or ass, the unwanted stimulation caused him to spasm. His arm found Daisy's collar again, and he roughly pulled her around to his side before she could do any more strategic licking. The dog came with a yelp, and immediately assumed a submissive posture when she sensed that she had done a Bad Thing. Self-consciously, she licked the residue of her master's fluids off her mouth, and stared up into Ted's eyes. Ted was trying to think of a way to discipline his dog for licking them, but he couldn't come up with any ideas that involved him staying inside Carol. Also, Daisy was giving him her "sad-dog" look, and he could never bring himself to be harsh with Daisy when she had her "sad-dog" look on. It was a trick she used often. He shoved the dog away, then said "Go!", bringing his arm up and pointing out of the room. This time Daisy got the message and slunk away. The smell hadn't really been all *that* interesting, anyway. Ted looked down at Carol, who looked to him a little traumatized about the whole affair. Suddenly she started giggling, and he realized that she'd been trying to keep from laughing the whole time. He joined in, and they spent the next minute just laughing together, waiting for it to pass so they could finish their trip. As they pulled each other up, she was still laughing in little spurts, and she twitched appealingly on his cock. They passed through the dining room in the same way they had approached the bathroom. They moved more slowly, being careful not to catch their feet in the chairs that were pulled in at the side of the table. After ten minutes of careful motion, they passed the table, and pushed themselves through the swing door into the kitchen. As soon as he felt the cold tile beneath his thighs, Ted leaned back to the floor and rested his aching arms. That wasn't all that was ached. As Carol started to pull herself off him he stopped her, and they enjoyed a third time on their kitchen floor. Carol rode him slowly as he gently rolled her nipples between his fingers. She came first, and as she came down from her climax she bent forward to give him another one of her fabulous kisses. Ted groaned into her mouth and added his third load to the mess that was already inside of her.After she felt him come, she kissed him on the forehead and pulled herself off of him. Her pussy was wide open from two hours of stretching, and their combined juices rushed out of her to coat Ted's belly. Naked, they walked to the sink and wiped themselves off with paper towels, cleaning themselves off enough to walk to the shower without ruining the carpet. That night, after Penny was asleep and Daisy was safely locked out of the room, they talked about the day, and how it was nice to have had so much time together, even if it was under accidental circumstances. "You know," said Ted, "after talking about it, I think I'm ready to go one more time." "Ted, please, not now." "Why not?" "We did it three times this afternoon." "And we can do it a fourth time tonight." "Can't you go to sleep? Mmm. That feels nice though. Okay. You can give me a backrub. Ted, I said a BACKRUB." "This is part of your back." "Ted, a backrub is--oh, Ted, not now!" "Why not?" "Ted, these are new sheets, and--oh! Ted, I just did the laundry yesterday. We're going to leave a wet spot!" THE END?

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10036.txt

J M MCMURRAY

Cindy's Audience

"Wow, sweetheart! You look incredible!" David's jaw had almost dropped to the floor once he saw his beautiful young wife emerge from the bedroom. David had never seen Cindy dressed in something so tight and skimpy before - except before or during their lovemaking sessions. But this time it was different, because David knew that his 25-year-old wife would soon go out into public in that very provocative and sexy outfit. "Thanks," Cindy smiled in return. She did a pirouette and added, "I'm glad you like it." "Like it?" David gushed. "I LOVE IT!" Cindy's outfit consisted mostly of an aqua-colored top and matching short-skirt, both of which were made of a very thin, stretchy material. Needless to say, the aqua-colored outfit displayed the considerable and luscious curves of her 38d-24-35 figure. Since the top was cut low, it displayed a generous amount of Cindy's ample cleavage. Her breasts were very large and firm, without any sag or give in them. Just like the top, the short-skirt fit Cindy's body like a tight glove. It went down to the mid-point between her hips and knees, and offered a wonderful view of her richly-tanned long legs. To complete the outfit, the beautiful young lady wore a pair of white high-heeled shoes which accentuated her firm, toned legs even more. Cindy had long, stylish blonde hair which went down to the center of her back. Even without smiling, there was no argument that Cindy had a beautiful face. But she looked even more appealing when she smiled. Since Cindy was a warm and pleasant person, the 25-year-old woman usually had a happy expression upon her lovely face. David's eyes surveyed the incredible sight of his wife in that outfit and surmised, "If I knew that you weren't headed out for an acting audition, I'd take you back into the bedroom and make wild love to you all day long." "Hmmmm," Cindy squealed, leaning over and pecking her husband's cheek with a kiss. "I will have take a rain-check on that, for another day." "You better get going," David said. "The last thing you want to do is be late for this audition. If you land this part in the movie, that would be great." "The audition is not for another four hours," Cindy told him. "I just decided to get ready for it a bit early." "Early?" the man said, confused. "Early? You have to go now, Cindy. I don't want you here when the guys show up, to watch the football game." "Why?" his wife giggled. "Because you'll be talking about 'guy things'? Come on, I have no place to go for four hours. I definitely couldn't go to a book store or the shopping center in this type of outfit. Where else could I possibly go?" "I don't want you here, honey, because the guys who will be coming over to watch the game are a bit rowdy. I don't think you would like them." "Oh, listen to you," Cindy smiled, flipping her hand at him. "I won't like them? I don't judge anyone because they scream or hoot and holler when their favorite football team scores a touchdown." She paused and giggled, "If that was the case, I'd have never married you!" David shook his head and returned, "No, you do not understand. I would just feel uncomfortable with you and them here at the same time." "I'm not leaving," Cindy insisted, "until it's time for the audition. You can try to change my mind, but it won't work." She turned and started strolling toward the kitchen. "Besides, I won't bother you guys. Neither you nor your friends will even know I'm here." As David watched Cindy's round ass jiggle and twich seductively with each and every step, he mumbled to himself, "Oh, I have a feeling they'll know you're here..." Over the next hour, David's group of friends made their way to the apartment. All of them were his co-workers and were also very close to his age of 28. Alex had blond hair and a physically-fit body, thanks to many surfing sessions at the beach. Shawn's hair was brown and he had a slim but strong body. Kris had black hair and a handsome face, but just an average build. Tyrone had the best-looking body of the group. He was tall and attractive, and black. An African-American man, Tyrone was best friends with David. The four guests expected to come over to David's place to get loud and rowdy for their favorite pro football team. None of them expected to find a blonde bombshell like Cindy; especially one dressed in such a tiny little outfit. They had never met David's wife before, and to no great shock, were extremely impressed with Cindy's beauty. The young woman found herself giggling like a schoolgirl with some of the forward comments coming from the men. "Wow David, where have you been hiding this?" one man said. "What a fine-looking lady," another observed. "Too bad you're married, sweetheart," one of the men told her. David figured his friends were just kidding, so he laughed while telling them to stop teasing his wife. The group finally relented, and made their way to the living room. The football game was just about to start. Nonetheless, the compliments from the guys made Cindy feel very lightheaded and bubbly. She liked her husband's friends. As a result, the blonde decided that she was going to help them out until leaving for the audition. David protested at first, but Cindy nonetheless wound up serving the guys drinks and snacks from the kitchen. It was her own idea, of course. None of the guys objected to having a "waitress" serve them food and refreshments. This way, they would not miss any action of the big game. Over the next hour, the young wife must have made her way in and out of the living room 20 times. Instead of watching the television screen when Cindy was present, most of the eyes in the room were now focused on her large, firm breasts as they seductively bounced and wiggled with each step. If a set of eyes wasn't fixated upon her breasts, they were on her sweet ass, watching it twitch while she moved along. "Why is your wife dressed that way?" Shawn asked David once Cindy left the room. "She's an actress," David replied. "There is an audition later today, and she wants to look her best for it." "Whoooo weeee," Alex commented, shaking his head. "If they are choosing actresses based on looks - in that outfit, your wife should be a lock for whatever role she wants." The other three guests all nodded their heads in agreement. "Come on guys, watch the game," David insisted, shaking his head with a tiny smile. "Get your minds out of the gutter! That's my wife you're talking about!" A short time later, Cindy was preparing a bowl of popcorn and some nachos when she heard a defeaning cheer come from the living room - and not the television set. "Those guys," she laughed to herself. "The team must have scored a touchdown." The 25-year-old lady shook her head and added, "Ahh, men. Absolutely crazy for their sports." When Cindy went back out to the living room, all eyes were on her again. While the four guests had explored nearly every subtle curve and shape of Cindy's hot body, they all wondered what she would look like without wearing that tiny outfit. An erection shot up in less than three seconds, in Alex's pants, once Cindy leaned over while handing him a bowl of nachos. Alex had received a clear, unobstructed view down the middle of her deep cleavage. "I'm gonna go upstairs for a second," Cindy told her husband. "I'll be back soon." "Okay," David replied. Once Cindy turned and started walking toward the steps, all four guests turned their heads and watched her ass as it jiggled and swayed with each and every step. "Stop it, guys!" David admonished once his wife went upstairs. They all looked back at him. "This is the last time we ever have a football party at my place." "Ahh come on," Shawn said. "You know, Dave, you're enjoying this just as much as we are. You like showing off that hot wife of yours to us - it's like bragging." "I'm not showing her off!" David told them. "I didn't even want her to be here! I asked her to leave earlier." "Bull..." most of the men chimed in, simultaneously. At this point, Cindy was making her way down the steps. When she heard voices coming from the living room, the woman stopped and decided to eavesdrop. "I'm glad she's here," Alex said with a toothy grin. "I much rather watch your wife than some football game."Damn it, guys..." David sighed. "Come on, stop..." "What kind of actress is she?" Shawn asked. "What do you mean?" David inquired. "What kind of films does she go for?" "Regular films," David told him. "I think this movie she is auditioning for today involves a night club scene." He paused and added, "Why do you ask?" Shawn shrugged his shoulders and replied, "She reminds me of that hot blonde from the gang-bang movie we watched last week at Alex's house." Kris, Alex and Tyrone all nodded their heads in agreement at that comment. Meanwhile, still on the staircase, Cindy's eyes grew wide at that statement. "Shut up, guys!" David told them. "I don't want you talking about my wife that way!" "We wouldn't mind gang-banging Cindy," Kris smirked. "GUYS!" David exploded. "STOP IT!" "Dave would probably like to watch us do her," Alex joked. "I've always thought you could find the most fascinating conversation while listening to men," Cindy remarked as she made her way back into the living room. All of the guys turned and looked at Cindy, their jaws almost touching the floor in sheer embarrassment. "Uhh... we're sorry, ma'am," Kris said apologetically. "We were just teasing your husband." "Ahh..." David struggled to find the right words. It was difficult, since Cindy had a mean expression upon her face. "Honey, would you like it if I sent my friends home?" Her arms folded, Cindy tapped a high-heeled foot upon the carpet while staring angrily at the group of men. "I've been real nice to all you guys, all afternoon, and this is the thanks I get for it? You compare me to some porno slut?" "We're sorry," Shawn told her. "As Kris said, we were just teasing. Nothing serious. Please, it was just a joke." Though angry on the outside, Cindy's insides were aglow with heat and excitement. No one had ever spoken about her, at least that she knew of, in such graphic terms. Those nasty words actually made her hot! "Oh?" she commented, her anger loosening up. "Was everything that you guys said just a joke?" All of the men looked at her quizically. David was the one who broke the silence. "What do you mean, honey?" The young wife shrugged her shoulders and replied, "What was it you guys said?... You want to... yeah, you want to gang-bang me? Right?" This time, everyone looked at her with shock. But the one most shocked was her husband, David. However, Kris broke the silence this time. "We'd love to gang-bang you." "KRIS!" David exploded, in pure rage. "Would you like that, honey?" Cindy asked her husband. "Would you like it if these guys gang-banged me?" David's demeanor changed from rage to stunned disbelief. He looked at his wife - amazed at what she said. "You probably would," Cindy quipped, "since you spent last weekend watching some gang-bang porno movie at Alex's house." She paused, surverying the stunned reactions around the living room. "I heard what you guys said." "I'm gonna send these guys home," David said cooly. "You didn't answer my question!" Cindy remarked, raising her voice. "Would you like it if these guys gang-banged me?" "If you would like it, yes, I would," came the words from David's mouth. A second later, he could not believe he had said that. Cindy was HIS; she was his prize possession. But on the other hand, it had always been a deep-rooted fantasy of David's to watch Cindy get fucked by a group of men. He often thought of what the scene would look like, while watching adult movies of this particular genre. "If any of you guys want me, come and get me." The four guests looked at each other, then Cindy, then each other again. They were all shocked. However, Kris was the first one to take the initiative. He stood up and started walking over to her. "My pleasure, baby." David looked on in stunned silence as he watched Kris take Cindy into his arms and smother her mouth with a kiss. He saw a brief exchange of tongues, then looked at the other guys. They too, were staring at the scene in front of them in sheer amazement. David never imagined that he could sit idly by and watch another man kiss his beloved wife. Cindy whimpered and nearly melted in Kris' arms as the kiss grew stronger and deeper. Kris snaked a hand between their pressed bodies, and pawed away at one of her ample breasts, hidden underneath the tight top she still wore. Cindy squealed in arousal when Kris pinched one breast with a hand and used another to paw her bottom. When Kris grabbed Cindy's short-skirt and pulled it up, past her waist, everyone had a clear view of her perfect ass and the string bikini-panties which hid less than 5% of it. At this point, David jumped up and demanded, "Let her go, Kris! She is MY wife!" "Hush David," Cindy admonished him, while breaking the kiss. "You said if I wanted to, I could have sex with these guys. Now sit back and enjoy the show." Her mouth went back to Kris' for another passionate kiss. Defeated, David sat back down on the sofa. It was true. He did give her permission to carry on with these guys. His husbandly side was screaming at him, telling him to stop the scene before him from unfolding anymore. On the other hand, his erotic side was urging him to let it continue. Slowly, David's erotic side was gaining the advantage. Shawn got up and decided to join the action. He walked over to Cindy and Kris, who were still embracing one another with their lips locked. He nudged up behind Cindy and pressed his bulging crotch against her backside. The pretty blonde sighed at the initial contact, then moaned as Shawn wrapped his arms around her from behind. His hands came to rest on her massive breasts, and he cupped and squeezed both through the top she wore in repeated succession. Kris brought Cindy down to the floor with him, his lips still firmly attached to hers. He cupped her ass with his hands and pulled her body hard against his own, while kissing her deeper. Meanwhile, Shawn dropped to his knees behind Cindy, and thumbed her tiny bikini-panties down. He slipped her white high-heeled shoes off, then flicked both them and her bikini-panties away to the side. David quietly sat on the sofa, a mixture of wild emotions still running throughout him. That was WIFE on the floor, getting worked over by two guys. But at the same time, his cock was as big as it had ever been. It was so erect and hard that it felt as though it would explode in his pants. As Shawn rubbed and caressed her supple ass from behind, Cindy broke the kiss with Kris and reached for his jeans. In a hurried rush, she unbuckled his belt and then pulled down his zipper. Her delicate hand dove inside his jeans, underneath his briefs, and gripped his rock-hard cock. Cindy squealed with delight as she pulled Kris' jeans and briefs down, exposing his massive erection. Soon, she grasped the base of his cock and then slipped its fat, juicy head between her moist red lips. Kris moaned in arousal as Cindy's blonde head started to bounce up and down over his erection. He looked down at her and smiled, then glanced over at David and grinned at him as well. "You're a very lucky man, Dave," Kris announced. "I'd give my right arm to have this lusty babe as my wife." On her hands and knees with her bottom perched in the air, Cindy gave Shawn ample access to her pussy. Behind her, Shawn parted her slick pussy lips with two fingers and then drove his tongue inside. In response, Cindy sighed in utter lust. She had never taken part in two-on-one sex before; this was definitely something new - and exciting. Shawn then grasped each side of Cindy's ass with his hands as he buried his lips and tongue in her moist pussy. Cindy glanced back at him for an instant, but immediately resumed sucking Kris' cock. "I can't wait until I get my hands on her," Alex said to himself, sitting on an adjacent chair. He had already undid his pants and was openly stroking his erection. On the other hand, Tyrone sat still and watched the action, but figured he would not get a piece of Cindy for himself. Tyrone was an African-American man, and though he had tried for years, no white woman ever wanted anything to do with him. Tyrone was very attracted to white women - especially ones with long blonde hair, like Cindy. But if no white female ever wanted to have anything to with him, why would Cindy be any different? That was Tyrone's line of thinking. Tyrone expected to just be a voyuer today. Nonetheless, he was enjoying the show before him. Cindy's head was bobbing up and down over Kris' cock at warp-speed, while her hips were wiggling back and forth in response to Shawn's oral work on her pussy. Neither Kris nor Shawn could believe what they were doing. They came over here to watch the football game with David, but instead were in the process of making love to his lovely wife! Even more, David was watching the action, too! A loud chrous of moans and gasps were coming from the three individuals as the action got even more heated and passionate. Cindy was doing her best to swallow Kris' monster cock right down her greedy little throat. At the same time, Shawn was feasting on the sweet recesses of Cindy's juicy pussy. Kris had already come to the conclusion that Cindy was giving him the best blowjob of his entire life. No one had ever given him a blowjob any better than this one, and she wasn't even finished yet. However, Kris brought the blowjob to a close when he could no longer contain himself. His cock erupted in her mouth, filling it with gush after gush of thick sperm. Kris sighed deeply at the discharge, and was amazed at the same time by Cindy as she sucked and swallowed his fuck-juice down her hungry throat. Still getting her pussy eaten from behind, Cindy slipped Kris' shaft out of her mouth and lovingly licked away at it.Kris gasped at the sight of Cindy's beautiful face as streams of cum dripped and dangled from it. "Did you like that?" she squealed at him. "Oh yeah," he sighed in return. "Oh, I loved it, baby. That was the best fucking blowjob of my life!" Cindy smiled and giggled, happy to draw such praise for her sexual skills. "I'm gonna fuck that sweet pussy of yours," Shawn said, as he withdrew his lips and tongue from her slit. But just when he was about to get himself into the doggie-style position, Shawn was yanked away by Alex. Shawn looked at him, angry. "HEY MAN! What are you doing?" "You and Kris have already sampled her," Alex told him. "Now, it's my turn. You can fuck her later, but I'm going to fuck her NOW." Alex had already stripped off his shirt and pants, and his cock was at full erection. He dropped to his knees behind Cindy as she stood on her hands and knees, then fisted his cock and nudged it against her pussy. Cindy squealed at the sensation - this was the first time a cock other than David's had touched her pussy since they started dating more than six years ago. Alex grunted as he popped his erection into Cindy's tiny, slick pussy. In response, the young woman squealed again, surprised at the sensations swirling throughout her. Alex's cock was definitely bigger than her husband's, she thought to herself. As a result, Cindy was going to enjoy this. On an adjacent chair, Tyrone felt very jealous. For the first time in his life, he really wished that his skin color was white instead of black. He wanted to get a piece of Cindy for himself, but figured she would not go for it. After all, no white woman had ever been attracted to him. He figured that before the day was through, Cindy would take care of the other guys in the room - all of whom were white. Unfortunately, Tyrone figured, he would be left in the cold. Shawn sat still, fuming, as he watched while Alex started to pump his cock in and out of Cindy's pussy. He knew that should have been him fucking her now - not Alex. But Shawn knew that there were other parts of Cindy's body which he could explore and play with, while Alex pounded her pussy. Thus, Shawn crawled around until he was sitting in front of Cindy, who was still in the doggie-style position, her body rocking back and forth in tune with Alex's thrusting hips. Shawn reached underneath her, then palmed her large breasts with his hands. Cindy looked up at him and grunted, then offered a charming smile. "My, what a fine pair you have," Shawn said as he pulled the tight top up, exposing her large breasts. Shawn tilted his head and stared at the twin pair, liking the sight of an erect nipple topping each of them. Then, using his thumbs and index fingers, he pinched both nipples. Cindy squealed in passionate delight - she loved all this attention! As Shawn continued to pay homage to Cindy's breasts, Alex kept up the pace by pounding into her from behind. He had his hands firmly planted on her bottom as he thrusted his cock in and out of her pussy, in the classic doggie-style position. Alex drilled her with all of his strength, his hips pumping back and forth harder and faster than he even previously thought possible. David sat on the sofa, with the same stunned expression as before. His cock was so hard in his pants that it hurt. The repeated loud SLAPping sound, caused by Alex's heavy balls hitting Cindy's upturned ass, reverberated throughout David's ears and mind. Watching his beautiful, angel wife get hammered like this was the most exciting thing which had ever happened to him. "I'M GONNA CUM!" Cindy screamed as Alex continued pumping into her from behind, while Shawn still pinched her nipples. "CUM WITH ME!" Alex exclaimed. "LET'S CUM TOGETHER!" Both individuals roared out in unequaled passion as they experienced mutual orgasms. Alex pumped his thick seed into Cindy's willing pussy, mixing it with her own release. The two shuddered together in shared lust for several seconds, until Alex pulled away. Next, the 25-year-old woman collapsed upon the floor, her breathing ragged and heavy. As Shawn caressed Cindy's long, silky blonde hair, David finally got up from the sofa and rushed over to his wife. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" he insisted, fearful that she may be hurt. After all, she had collapsed upon the floor and was gasping for breath. He had never seen her this way after a sexual encounter. "I'm okay," Cindy managed, in response to his question. "But I'd feel a lot better if I could have some more cock!" David's jaw almost hit the floor because of her lewd comment. She usually did not talk that way. Cindy's head rose from the floor and she looked at her husband. "Hmmm, three guys have had me already. You have four friends here... which one am I missing?" She glanced around the room and gasped once her blue eyes found Tyrone. Tyrone gasped as well - due to the lust-ridden eyes which Cindy intently stared at him with. Was a beautiful white woman actually hot for him? "What do you think about white pussy?" Cindy squealed as she rose to her knees. She started moving toward Tyrone, a sexy smile on her face. "Have you ever had sex with a white woman before?" Suddenly, Tyrone's cock was bigger than it ever had been before. He never dreamed of that this scenario would take place for real - not even in his wildest fantasies. "Ma'am," the polite-sounding man said. "I've never been with a white girl before - sexually speaking." Still walking on her knees toward him, Cindy flashed a charming smile and said, "Would you like to?" "HONEY!" David exclaimed. "You want to have sex with Tyrone, too?" "Why not?" Cindy giggled. "I've always had a thing for black men." She made her way up to Tyrone and stared directly into his eyes. "I find black men... ATTRACTIVE." Tyrone gasped in utter shock at her comment. "I... I... I'd love to have sex with you..." he mumbled. Tyrone's body stiffened and he sighed as Cindy reached for his belt buckle and unlooped it. She whipped his belt off, then nearly tore open his trousers. With her right hand, she fished his erect shaft out from within a pair of boxers, and squeezed it. "Oooooh, black cock..." Cindy squealed as she eyed and held the huge monster. The young woman gave the tip of his shaft a lick and added, "I've always wanted a black cock..." All of the other men in the room watched with amazement as Cindy's mouth opened and then closed over Tyrone's giant cock. They had never witnessed interracial sex before, but were quickly becoming a fan of it. Of particular interest was the strict contrast of Cindy's white face and blonde hair as they hovered over Tyrone's throbbing black shaft. The extreme contrast in color nearly blew the men away. For the longest time, Tyrone had dreamed of one day having sex with a beautiful white woman - especially one with long blonde hair. Now, that dream was quickly becoming a definite reality for him. Tyrone sighed in lust as Cindy worked his shaft over with her fabulous mouth and tongue. She sucked and slurped away at his slab of man-meat as if it was her sole purpose in life. Tyrone reached down and placed his hand on top of her head, then lovingly caressed her long blonde hair as she bobbed up and down over his massive member. While twirling his testicles between her fingertips, Cindy looked up into Tyrone's eyes and smiled as she continued sucking him off. Tyrone grinned at her in return, then shook his head in wonder. Cindy was his "dream girl". There was no doubt about it. "I want you to fuck me," the young lady squealed, rising to her feet and then settling down in his lap. Tyrone's heartbeat went into extreme overdrive as Cindy positioned his cock over her heated pussy. The other men watched with awe as Tyrone's black shaft slid up between the folds of Cindy's white thighs. The blonde let out a squeal once the cock was in her all the way, then she wrapped her arms around Tyrone's neck and vibrated in lust. In no time flat, Cindy was bouncing up and down upon Tyrone's prick. Their rhythmic fucking started slow, but steadily grew faster and harder. Tyrone had his hands at Cindy's waist, grasping it, while she continued to ride him. The others could easily see that the man's massive cock stretched Cindy's pussy lips to the absolute max. David wondered to himself if such a large cock would hurt her... but apparently not. He could tell by the lustful expression upon her face that Cindy was enjoying every single moment of having Tyrone's huge cock stuffed in her pussy. The intense action between the two lust-lovers hit a fever pitch, then things started to slow down. Tyrone screamed at the very top of his lungs while jettisoning a fresh batch of cum into Cindy's hungry pussy. In response, the wife-turned-slut buried her face against Tyrone's shoulder and shuddered, experiencing an orgasm of her own. "HONEY!" David exclaimed seconds later, once his wife finally slipped out of Tyrone's lap. "HONEY!" Not only was Cindy's face covered with sperm, but it was also sliding down her tanned thighs like a waterfall. "Honey, I didn't know that you had that type of sexual appetite!" Cindy giggled and shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't either... until now." She let out a content sigh. David looked at his wristwatch. "You only got an hour or so until the audition starts. I know you really need this part... but there's no way you could make it there in time. Look at you... you're a mess! You have to wash up!" "Screw the audition!" Cindy exclaimed, dropping to her knees in front of David. She reached for his pants and undid them, saying, "Who needs a job when they could fuck five hot studs instead?" Giggling with lust, Cindy slid David's hard cock between her lips and started sucking on it eagerly.Instead of watching football, David's friends knew they had something better to do on Sunday afternoons from now on.

M+/F, gang

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/6940.txt

Lucinda Gavin

Alone in Berlin

"Hello?" "Chris? It's Meg, Meg Kruger," I felt my heart beat quickly as I waited for the voice on the other end of the line to respond. "Meg? Hi... Where are you?" I let out a rush of air, I could hear myself talking too quickly. "I'm in Berlin, I fly out tomorrow... early... I'm at the Hotel Ibis," I heard myself laugh, but it sounded forced. "Hotel Ee-bis here, not eye-bis." "Oh... I hope it's not in the combat zone..." "No, but it's a little funky here, lots of immigrants and young intellectuals," The words poured out, was I making sense? "It's a little rough around the edges, one building will be beautifully restored and the others dingy and covered in graffiti. On street level you see tacky, crowded storefronts; it reminds me of parts of Chicago that way. On the other hand, like Chicago, you can tell real people live here. If you look higher, above the ground floor, there are all these flower boxes on the ledges and... if you look closely, there are lace curtains in all the windows. It's a neat place, really." Stop. Take a breath, I told myself, "But it's weird, walking down a street knowing you're completely alone in a foreign city..." "That explains the phone call, but I know what you mean..." Yes, he understood... I fear that he'd think I was a freak for calling him may have been unfounded. "Yeah... When are you supposed to return to the States?" "This Saturday, I'll be staying over in Berlin Friday night... I'm surprised you didn't call your boyfriend..." So was I. "Time change... He'll be at work, our moods won't match... It's nice to talk to someone who is in the same time zone, you know?" In more ways than one... "It's nice just to hear English, at least you know some German..." He was making conversation, he wasn't blowing me off, that was a good sign. Maybe he was actually glad I called. "Yeah, but I'm afraid to use it. If you ask a question in German, they answer in German, that's the problem!" Chris laughed softly. God, what was I doing? This was crossing so many boundaries... "You don't mind, do you? Me calling like this?" "No, I don't mind... Don't have anyone at home to call... Except maybe my dog..." Yes, Chris had made it clear all week just how single he was. "You've got that seminar tomorrow, don't you? You need to prepare for that?" Give him an out, remind him that business comes before pleasure. "I got that ready yesterday, once I didn't have you and Gordy and Sacha around to distract me..." I could hear the smile in his voice. If voices could be described by colors or textures, my boyfriend Tommy's resonant baritone would be a highly polished bronze, but Chris had a voice that was smoky blue, with a gentle, reedy quality, like a softly played saxophone. It was different than I was used to, and I was surprised that I liked it. I liked it a lot. Over the phone, I couldn't see that blinding grin, I could only hear Chris' relaxed, friendly voice. "Oh, yeah, we really had to twist your arm..." "You're a corrupting influence, Meg, admit it." Yes! He was teasing me, maybe even flirting... "Yes, I forced you to visit that castle..." "Yes! The castle, and the tavern, and the disco..." "Well, isn't that what conferences are about?" "Apparently the sharing of scientific discoveries within the international community is not a priority with you..." "During the day, of course it's a priority! After dinner... well... you saw me talking to Korlov at least..." "He was trying to pick you up! And then you go and have a date with Minowitz..." "It was not a date! The man's in his sixties at least!" "Consider yourself lucky, you were able to discuss your work with him. Minovitz wouldn't give me the time of day until I was made permanent staff. Tell me this, did he pay for your drinks?" "Yes..." "Then it was a date." "Argghh!! It would have been rude to refuse. Can I help it if some men like to be gallant around a woman? Would you rather I pretend that I'm 'one of the guys?'" "It doesn't matter what I prefer, you should do what you feel is right." "Exactly, and I'm going to behave like a woman, whatever that means. If, as a result, some men won't take my work seriously, oh well. I doubt they would take me seriously if I tried to behave like a man." "Excellent point, I hadn't thought of that. Although I don't know exactly how we got there." "Yeah, well, it's a little hard for me to avoid thinking about such things." I realized Chris might get defensive at this, most reasonable men would, "Actually, now that I've worked through it, being true to myself in a male dominated field and all that, I've been feeling a lot more confident, with respect to work." "I see..." "I'm rambling aren't I?" "Well, Meg, I wasn't going to say anything..." "Yeah, well, now you know... I tend to go off on tangents... It makes me very creative but..." "But it's something I should keep in mind if I want to hire you." "Well, Chris, I wasn't going to say anything..." The voice on the phone laughed again. God, what was I doing? Did he think I'm trying to sleep my way into a job? The truth was, Chris was incredibly sexy, but I needed to get to know him better. He was still so much of a mystery. Chris was handsome, charming, sophisticated... and reserved. He didn't talk much about himself. The fact that he was still single made me wonder if he was gay. On the other hand, he could have just been hurt very badly. Sacha, short for Alexandra, and I speculated about that. Didn't he say his parents were divorced? I definitely got the heterosexual vibe from him. He had a way of approaching me and flirting, then backing off. I never pressed it, I let him take the initiative, until tonight. Why was I doing this? See, I also wanted to work for him. Chris was very well respected in the field, I couldn't go wrong having him as a boss. The smart thing would be to stay cool, keep it professional. If I did end up working for him, or even at the same lab, the romance could happen eventually, if it was meant to be. Otherwise, I could blow my reputation entirely. "So what does your boyfriend do?" Shit! Tommy! I was mentally running off with a man I've known for a week. What was happening to me? It was perceptive of him to turn the conversation in that direction. "He's a network manager, for the electrical engineering department at the university." "Really? A very portable job, I see..." "You noticed, huh?" "I'm well acquainted with the two-body problem, let's just leave it at that." The two-body problem. Academics live the life of gypsies in the early part of their career, asking spouses to pull up stakes after grad school, the first post-doc, and maybe the second post-doc, before even thinking of settling in as a staff scientist or as a member of a faculty somewhere. Tommy had the type of training that could get him a job anywhere, if the need arose. Not necessarily a reason to start a relationship, but definitely a factor in keeping one alive. "You and ... Tommy are engaged, right?" "No..." I knew he was going to ask if Tommy was willing to follow me once my post-doc was up next May. "But you're living together..." "Yes..." "Have you two discussed the future?" "Not really..." "Meg..." His voice had that gentle scolding quality, the one you hear when a male friend is about to give you the 'Men are pigs' speech. "Do you want to marry him?" he asked. I hesitated. If he had asked me the week before I would have said... Christ, I didn't know what I would have said. That was the question wasn't it? "I don't know." "That pretty much answers it, if you don't know." "No! It's not like that. I just haven't thought about the future, because... because..." "Because?" "I wasn't ready to ask him to follow me, and I didn't know how he felt about getting married again after his divorce... and..." "There's more?" "I don't know if he's ... the one." Chris was quiet on the other end of the line. What could he have said, really? "I guess Tommy and I need to talk some." "Can I ask one question? If you weren't sure this guy was 'the one,' why did you move in with him?" "For the obvious reasons, I guess, and I feel comfortable with Tommy. He's like the guys I used to hang out with in high school. Maybe I thought this was as close to 'the one' as I was going to get, I'm still not sure that he isn't. This trip is messing with my head." Why was I talking like this? What was I trying to accomplish?"It's not doubts, I don't think. It's just that when you're in a relationship, you slip into roles. One's the sensitive one and the other is the rational one, for example. So when I am away from him, I'm forced to be a whole person. I remember what it's like to be independent... It was a nice feeling." "You can't be a whole person with your boyfriend?" "I guess I haven't been... I suppose that's asking a lot, huh? To be a whole person and still give yourself to a relationship. This afternoon, I took a walk in this old church yard... well not that old, the cemetery seemed to have its heyday in the 20's and 30's with all these Art Deco monuments and the newest markers are in the 60's. Most of them say, "Hier ruht mein lieber Mann." Here rests my beloved husband. It was quite moving. I guess I want that, too... I want to find the real thing, whatever that is." Chris laughed, "I'm sorry, but I just realized that I'm getting used to your meanderings. You did get to the point eventually." I laughed, too, "Why, thank you. I have my moments." Chris didn't respond, but I heard him move and stretch on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, if you have things to do, I can let you go. I've monopolized the conversation with my favorite subject.. me." I was relieved to hear him chuckle a bit, taking my joke as it was intended, "Well, I do need to visit the bathroom." "Then I'll let you go." "Wait, give me your number and I'll call you back in a sec." "Are you sure?" "What else do I have to do except watch TV with German dubbing, which I don't understand, or turn to the porn channel and try to decipher the action with a blackout over the middle of the screen... It doesn't cover everything..." Once again I could hear the grin in his voice. He was ready to change the subject... but to what? "You could just pay, you know..." "I've never had to pay for it before, I'm not starting now..." "Oh really?" Chris paused, "Um, I'll call you back in a sec. Give me your number." I gave him my number and I put down the receiver. I decided to get into my robe and I brought a pillow over to the desk by the window. The sun had gone down and I watched the city lights. I turned off the lamp in my room so no one could see in while I reclined against the window. I sat for a moment, aware of the feel of the terry cloth against my skin. I wondered if it would be a good idea to slip my hand inside my robe. Instead, I turned on the television while I waited. It was 'X-files' and through the dubbing, Scully just didn't seem right without the inflections Gillian Anderson put in her voice. All of her vulnerability was in her voice. The phone rang. "Hello?" "Meg? It's Chris... Now where were we?" "Something about paying for it, I think." I slid down on the ledge so that I was lying on my back. The lower half of my robe fell open and I felt goosebumps rise on my thigh where it touched the cold window. "Yeah... Well, I meant before that." "Well, we pretty much established that I don't know what to do about Tommy, thank you very much." "What did I do?" "Fine, go ahead and feign innocence. See if I care... No really, I'm just going to have to think about that, I guess I've been putting it off. It's never been easy for me to decide what I want." My hand rested on my covered belly. As long as I didn't tell him, and I could still enjoy his smoky voice, what was harm if I... "Maybe we should talk about something else." "Like what?" "Something lighter I suppose, this has been a rather intense conversation. Any suggestions?" I slipped my hand under the robe, exposing one breast to the conflicting sensations of the chill air and my warm hand. "We could talk about the weather... or talk shop..." "Okay, we'll talk about the weather. What does it look like in Berlin?" I looked out the window, starting to roll the nipple between my fingers. I wanted to gasp a little, but with effort, I kept my breathing steady. "It's dark, with scattered bits of light." "You can see the stars?" "No, just the city lights." I pinched the tightening flesh and the muscles between my legs twinged, I began squeezing them in rhythm with my fingers. I had to be careful to continue breathing naturally. "It looks much better at night. Right outside my window I can see this god-awful tower with this globe thing impaled on it. I think it's some sort of landmark, but there's all these radio and microwave things on it that it spoils whatever charm it may have had." "Thingy, dazzling me with those highly technical terms, huh?" "Bite me, Chris." It was out before I could take it back. My voice was tight, and I heard myself say this more as an urgent plea than as a curse. I could only hope he would ignore it. He didn't answer right away. "You'd like that, wouldn't you." I abruptly ceased my surreptitious explorations. "Maybe... among other things... but... I won't go into that..." "Oh please, 'go into that', I'm curious." I thrilled at the impish curl I heard. My clitoris reawoke in gleeful anticipation. I ran my thumb over the warm, smooth flesh I cradled in my hand. For the moment, Chris was unaware of my actions. "I don't think we should go there." "Go where?" "You know..." "No, I don't know, why don't you tell me?" Shit, the game men must learn from the cradle. Making it seem like it was all the woman's idea. Well, might as well get it over with. "Talking about sex, you do remember sex, don't you?" "I don't think I do remember, could you describe it to me?" I grasped the soft breast and kneaded it, rolling and teasing the nipple again. I imagined that grin of his, if only he knew. "Well, yes I could. I could describe it quite well, in fact." I stopped. I heard a soft, clear, sensible tone, "But I don't think that would be a good idea..." "I suppose you're right, you have a boyfriend, after all..." I heard a curl from burning incense belie the words and beckon me into some hazy, heady chamber. "And we're colleagues..." "And we're colleagues..." he replied, suddenly as hard and grey as pewter. "Maybe that's a good thing, though. Can I ask you something?" "I guess..." There was a pause. The facts diffused in the moonless night. "Do you feel like a whole person right now?" Yes, I did. That was it, wasn't it? The reason I pursued this man against all my better judgment. I felt that I could explore all of myself, without the fear of excluding him or leaving him behind. "Yes... What about you?" "To tell you the truth, I don't know," Chris offered cautiously. "I haven't thought about it as much as you have. Maybe, you're not the only one who has been avoiding the future." "So if something happened tonight, nothing would be resolved." I felt my body withdraw, or perhaps merely hesitate. "We wouldn't be alone." I paused a moment. Why had I called in the first place? Because I was alone. Put this in perspective, Meg. Life is short, I thought. "Okay." "Okay? Meg, you mean that?" "Yes." "Well, then," suddenly Chris was silent. We were starting from scratch. Now what? "Cat got your tongue?" Chris let out a burst of nervous laughter, "Heh-heh, she said tongue." I let my voice drop a little, adding some huskiness to it, "Yes, I did." "Oh wow, I like your voice like that... it sounds like..." "The voice of your car? 'The door is ajar,'" I said, with a deep, even voice. Chris chuckled in recognition, "Yes... You've done this before, haven't you?" "Mmm hmm," I hummed in wordless affirmation, "Are you comfortable?" "Uh... for the most part, I'm on my bed, and you?" "No, I'm sitting by the window. The lights are off so no one can see in." "Aw, not an exhibitionist?" "Oh, I can be, but that would take the focus away from you." Chris laughed again, but it seemed more relaxed, "How thoughtful of you." "I do my best." "Hmmm... really? What are you wearing?" "My bathrobe, do you want me to take it off?" "Not yet. Are you wearing anything underneath?" "No." "Are you touching yourself?" "I have one hand under the robe, cradling my breast." "Just cradling it?" "Well, I could do more if you'd like.." "Yes, I would like." "I'm taking the nipple between my fingers and rolling it, pinching it a little. It's a bit cold in here, so they both feel nice and tight. Mmmm... I'm getting a bit of reaction down below." "Down below? You think you could be more specific?" "Sorry... I usually don't have a problem saying those words, it's just that... Well, you're different." "It's okay, you have my permission to say 'pussy.'" "Umm... I feel my pussy beginning to twinge again..." "Again?" "Yeah.. well... I was doing this before... right when you called me back..." Chris let out a short grunt, "Oh man, so you're telling me that all this time... hold on a sec, I'm going to have to get rid of the jeans." I heard the rustle of fabric. "Okay, I'm back. Wow, you were touching yourself while we talking, huh? Well, that little piece of information got quite a reaction... Please, tell me more." "I'm glad you're ... um ... responding. I'm rubbing my thumb in circles around the areola, now. I'm becoming more aroused, especially since I know that I've had an effect on you. I'm going to slip my hand between my legs. First, I slide it down my belly, warming the cool skin. I've gotten to my ... uh... pussy and I separate the folds with my fingers. I've become very wet, my fingers are covered in the warm, slippery fluid... How are you doing?" "I am very well, thank you," he replied from an insubstantial haze. I listened for indications of his arousal, the shortness of breath, urgency in his voice. "What are you doing?" "I've got my hand around my cock, and I'm stroking it slowly. Listening to you please yourself."Okay, I return to my pussy and begin pressing on my clitoris in small circles. It's slick from the wetness, and that makes the tingling more intense. I can feel the tension building..." "Meg, I've got this picture of you lying on your back with your robe half open and the city lights behind you. I can just imagine you arching your back... I'd walk over and watch you get more and more aroused..." I used his image, seeing Chris stand over me. I continued rubbing myself, frequently pressing two fingers along the valley between my inner lips and into my depths. All the while, describing it to the other voice. I opened my robe and let the cool air nip at my skin, opening myself to the sensual experiences available to me. My flesh and my voice both felt tight and swollen, and I needed more... "Chris, I need you to talk to me, please..." He told me how he wanted to taste me and cover me with his own body. He wanted me to feel him in order to bring me closer to the edge, but I needed only to hear him speak of his desires. His voice had thickened into grey-blue storm clouds, and in my mind I stood facing the wind, awaiting the downpour. Chris' once placid timber now possessed me, gusts of arousal buffeting and twirling around. The words were secondary to the thundering passion. "I have you up against the wall, and I lift up one thigh around me," he huffed. "I press my cock against your entrance and drive myself in. Sorry, Meg, but I'm just going to take you now, thumping you hard against the wall. "I grab your ass and press my hips against yours. I feel your cock rub inside of me as I clamp down on it. Uh... Please, keep talking... I'm almost there..." I looked outside at the lights, imagining that some trick of lighting displayed my legs and my robe spread open for all to see. I began squeezing my pelvis, pushing down with all my strength. My own moans were like the wind over an old house, keening and shuddering under the assault. I pressed my feet into the wall as I squeezed and sweat. My hand rubbed urgently between my legs as lightning struck, heat and electricity searing my flesh. I trembled and slid to the floor, listening to Chris' own distant tempest. "I'm done, baby..." I panted, "Thank you... What can I do for you now?" There was only a heavy stillness, evoking images of dripping trees and a lightening sky... "I kind of figured that, that you were done. You don't need to do anything, that last part put me over, when I heard you. I should thank you..." The wind had died down and the storm had run its course. I looked outside to see the moon appear from behind the clouds. "I wish I could hold you, Meg. I wish I could have seen you," Chris' said in periwinkle tones. His tenderness curled up next to me as I slipped into bed. "Yes, I know, but it was lovely hearing your voice..." "I'm about to fall asleep, Meg. We should talk when we get the chance." "Yeah, go to sleep. We can talk later." "Night, Meg." "Good night, Chris." I kept the curtains open and watched the few stars that could be seen over the city lights. The clouds had passed, and it was a clear night. I didn't know if I would stay with Tommy or pursue something with Chris, but I knew I didn't feel alone anymore. I felt whole.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17039.txt

Sniffer

DEUTSCHE STORY-Tagebuch1(pedo)

"Moni," said my father. He held my head firmly and pushed the warm, hard thing deeper into my mouth. "You know it, don't you! Show Papa what you learned from Grandpa!" I knew it, yes, I knew it all too well. How did he know? I heard the moaning and knew what he expected of me. It was in the middle of the night. I had woken up when he began to caress my body. It was deathly silent in the house, I only heard his breath. I pretended to be asleep even when he took my tiny breast buds between his fingers. What did he have in mind? This had never happened before, but it was nice, warmth flowed through my body from his hands. He let me go for a moment, then I felt something hot and pulsating glide over my face and then press against my lips. I opened my eyes, proud, though a little uneasy, for so far I had only been with Grandpa. Dear diary, you ask how it started? It must have been about a year ago, yes, I remember, it was shortly after my tenth birthday, high summer, when Grandma was out shopping and he was alone with me in the house. He took me on his lap as he often did and started stroking my then still flat chest, which I liked, although it was a bit unusual. Afterwards, he made me promise to keep silent, which I gladly did, for I liked it and was also proud to have a secret with him, my dear Grandpa. When we were alone, I would sit on his lap right away and he would also stroke my back and my bottom. Then he would hold me tight, shift around and pant strangely, let me go and reward me. When he stroked my legs, which I liked very much and which gave me a pleasant goosebump, it always went further. First it was the calves and the knees that he played with. I leaned my head against his chest. He whispered wild stories in my ear and kissed my hair. Meanwhile, his trembling hand stroked over the top of my thighs, slid under the hem of my dress and felt its way to the groin. Then his hand went to the side, massaged my bottom and glided back on the outside. Over and over, it was wonderful! I snuggled up close to him and hugged his broad back. He pulled me close, whispered more and more incoherently, and when I looked up, he covered my face with his wet kisses. He moved in a very strange way and his face was flushed. Finally, he pushed his gnarled, wrinkled hand panting between my knees. On the inner side of my sweaty thighs, I felt his fingers glide higher and higher. Gently and purposefully, he guided his hand. Goosebumps ran over me. Confused thoughts ran through my head: "That's none of your business, he shouldn't touch there!" and at the same time: "Oh well, no one will find out and it's so nice!" I let him do it until he very gently stroked over my panties. It was more beautiful than anything else and I automatically opened my legs a little wider. Smiling, he asked me if I liked it. I just nodded. A moment later I was lying on the sofa, Grandpa kneeling on the floor and staring between my thighs. I got hot ears because that was dirty, but he just kept going. He stroked me again on the inside of the thighs. Higher and higher, I asked him to stop because I was so ashamed, but he already grabbed me right on the panties, pressed his fingers against my immature sex, I heard his jerky breath. He smiled at me. Then he pushed the slip aside and as I felt a finger glide over my hairless slit, it was so wonderful that I gave up all doubts. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the hot waves that raced through me. Goosebumps and tension shook me. I don't remember exactly what happened then, but in any case I came to when I felt Grandpa covering my eyes with his hands, asking me mysteriously to open my mouth, and then something hot and pulsating was pushed between my lips, which smelled of Nutella, while his knee rubbed against my slit. I liked that and started licking even before he uncovered my eyes. How I was startled then: He stood over me with a flushed face, a triumphant smile, and with open pants, and he squeezed his gnarled penis, which was smeared all over with Nutella, into my mouth! I was disgusted, wanted to defend myself, but he held my head firmly and whispered: "Moni darling, just do it, it doesn't hurt and he's freshly washed. After all, you can also do something for your grandpa, can't you?" His half-hard thing filled my mouth, he pushed it deeper and deeper in and I had trouble not to gag. He asked me kindly to be nice and lick and suck him: "So it will be as nice for Grandpa as it was for you before." I understood that I owed him that and obeyed. It wasn't so bad, and after a while it was even fun to feel him getting harder and panting, and then finally coming. The little salty slime startled me and didn't taste so good, but he persuaded me to swallow it. Then he thanked me effusively and rewarded me. No, it was really nothing new for me when Papa's penis entered my mouth, except that it was much bigger and harder! And yet it was different. I knew I no longer had to keep any secrets from my father, that was over now. It was like a gift. It was my own father who did this with me. And if he did it with me, it must be right. My father does nothing wrong. I was his little angel. He loved me! "Moni," panted my father. I licked over his velvety glans, then along the shaft. "Moni dear!" I choked a bit as his hot semen shot into my mouth. I was only used to a few drops from Grandpa and now this slimy flood! Like a fountain, stream after stream of his dear juice shot into my mouth and although I swallowed as much as I could, some still oozed out of the corners of my mouth, soiling my face, my nightgown and my bed. "Moni," said my father as I licked his flaccid penis clean, "now we have a secret. My little girl and I and Grandpa. Just the three of us, understood?" "Yes," I whispered, quite dazed by the smell and taste of his semen. "My dear child," my father kept saying, and zipped up his pants, then wiped his traces with a handkerchief. While doing so, he stroked my small breast, which immediately stiffened and sent pleasant feelings through my body. His warm breath blew in my face as he now kissed me, really kissed me - the way I had only done once before, secretly with my friend. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, like before his penis. Happily, I hugged him. Now all that was missing was... - A hand slid under my nightgown, over the thigh, to where it itched and burned. His fingers slipped under my panties and gently he began to explore my sex; he scratched the barely visible, fine hairs and rubbed my slit. He pulled the panties away. I sighed. "Now he'll stroke me there just like Grandpa!" I thought, but he slowly pressed me down onto my bed. With his full weight he then lay panting on me and fiddled with his pants; I felt his hardness between my legs, which I had opened on his demanding pressure. I knew only roughly what he intended and was terribly afraid. At the same time, I was somehow curious! Who if not him should show me how it's "really" done? But it must be terribly painful, my friend has told me, who knows it from her sister. But she was fourteen and I am eleven. And his thing is so huge!Herzklopfen, Angst, aber auch Stolz, dass ich es so jung lernen sollte. Noch dazu von meinem Vater, dem ich blind vertraute! Das war's: Er wusste es am besten, und wenn es heute sein sollte, war mir das recht. Leider fuhr in diesem Moment Mamas Wagen in die Garage. Blitzschnell erhob er sich und richtete seine Kleider, dabei flüsterte er: "Papa hat dich ganz doll lieb. Aber wenn du Mami verrätst, was wir tun, muss ich ins Gefängnis. Möchtest du das?" Ich schüttelte den Kopf und sagte leise: "Ich sage nichts! Ich will dich nicht verlieren. Ich hab dir doch auch das mit dem Großvater nicht verraten und dich hab ich noch viel lieber! Bitte, komm bald wieder!" Mein Vater eilte aus dem Zimmer. Donnerstag, 7. Mai Es dauerte fast eine Woche, bis ich wieder einmal mit Vater allein war, da er sehr viel arbeitete. Aber am Freitag holte er mich mit dem Auto von der Schule ab, wir hatten nicht viel Zeit. Kaum waren wir losgefahren, legte er seine große Hand auf meinen Schenkel. "Darf ich?" fragte er mit einem Seitenblick. Statt einer Antwort nahm ich seine Hand und schob sie unter mein Röckchen. Sanft tastete er sich zwischen meine leicht gespreizten Beine. Ich lehnte mich zurück. "Ach Moni, mein Schatz!" seufzte er, während seine Finger über mein Schlitzchen rieben. Ich schloss die Augen. Willig ließ ich ihn meine Hand nehmen und sich in die Hose schieben. Er war schon sehr steif und ich freute mich darauf, ihn bald in den Mund zu nehmen. Gut hatte unser Wagen eine automatische Schaltung, so konnte er ungestört weiterspielen, während wir gleichmäßig nach Hause fuhren. Einer seiner Finger glitt durch meine Spalte, während sein Daumen meinen Kitzler massierte. Ich wurde unruhig, es war so schön! Sein Finger glitt hin und her, immer tiefer bohrte er sich in mein jungfräuliches Geschlecht und plötzlich fühlte ich einen Schmerz. Ich bäumte mich auf und spürte gleich darauf seinen Finger tief in mir drin. Hitze schoss durch meinen Körper, ich vergaß alles um mich herum, dann war es vorbei. In meiner riesigen Lust hatte ich ihn total vergessen. Erst als er seine Hand wieder hervorbrachte, glitzernd von meinem Saft und etwas Blut und ihn genüsslich ableckte, erst da merkte ich, dass meine Hand die ganze Zeit ruhig in seiner Hose gelegen hatte und er nur noch halb steif war. "Entschuldige, ich hab dich ganz vergessen!" stammelte ich, beugte mich über ihn und öffnete seine Hose. Während er immer langsamer durch unser Quartier steuerte, holte ich seine halbharte Nudel heraus. Mit beiden Händen begann ich sie sanft zu massieren und im Nu war sie wieder steif. Dann zog ich die Vorhaut ganz zurück, sodass seine violette Eichel freilag und küsste sie. Die Haut war samtweich, roch nach Papa und schon war er zwischen meinen Lippen. "Aufsitzen!" zischte er mir zu, denn am Straßenrand stand Moser, ein Nachbar. Er schien nichts bemerkt zu haben und winkte uns freundlich zu. Wir fuhren in die Garage. Wir blieben im Auto sitzen. Mama war noch nicht da. Ich beugte mich wieder über Papa und jetzt schob er seinen riesigen, lieben Pimmel in meinen Mund. Er hielt mit einer Hand meinen Kopf fest und die andere schob sich zwischen meine Beine. Mit kräftigen Beckenstößen fickte er meinen Mund, während ich saugte und leckte wie wild. Es dauerte nur wenige Sekunden, dann schoss ein heißer, schleimiger Strahl in meinen Mund. Ich schluckte was ich konnte, es schoss immer mehr von seinem Samen heraus, bis er endlich versiegte. Ich konnte ihn kaum noch sauberlecken, da hörten wir Mamas Wagen. Der Geschmack von Papis Samen war noch in meinem Mund, deshalb sauste ich aufs Klo, bevor ich Mutti begrüßte. Zudem musste ich pinkeln. Ein leichtes Brennen und einige Blutstropfen in meinem Höschen ließen mich vermuten, dass Vati das Jungfernhäutchen beschädigt hatte. Na, egal. Nach dem Pinkeln rieb ich mich noch etwas, es war schön, doch Mami musste auch aufs Klo. Ich putzte rasch meine Zähne, damit ich Mutter unverdächtig küssen konnte.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12438.txt

kellis

Hidden Journal: Luncheon Fist

"Hello." A woman's voice: "I just wanted to make sure you understood I wasn't teasing." "Eunice?" "Who else has offered to be your masturbation substitute?" I looked at my wristwatch: 11:03. "I rarely jerk off in the morning." "What's wrong with the morning?" "Since my teens I wake up with other things on my mind." And that is the truth. Often my eyes snap open with the solution, in the forefront of consciousness, of the technical problem I fell asleep worrying. "You no longer wake up with an erection?" "Not so often." "Watch that, Harry. Before you know it you'll be an old man." "What do you know about old men?" "I see. You surmise my expertise is limited to the young. I practice with them now because I'm an old woman, but when I was young I learned a great deal about old men." "Old woman! Did you call to fish for a compliment?" "I told you why I called." "Okay. It's half hard already." "Then come on. Mama's waiting." "Give me fifteen minutes. I've got to run all these young girls out of here." "Harry, I don't care if you haven't shaved." "For three days?" "Or even if you skipped your shower. Just think of me as your fist." "All right. Go unlock your front door." "It's unlocked." I heard that in the receiver as I was hanging it up. I took her at her word, strolled the elevated boardwalk between her front door and mine barefoot in jeans and the same shirt I wore when I left her place two days ago, front open, tails dangling. It was warm in the late morning sun. The super had better switch to air conditioning soon. More than unlocked, her door stood open a few inches. I pushed my way in and turned into her living room. The equivalent room on my side is my office. It's first off the hall, too, but I made them install a door in my case. Hers had only a wide doorway. She was kneeling facing me, sitting on her heels naked on the thick carpet in the center of the room. Emeralds gleamed in her ears and nipples. Her eyes twinkled. "That's just the way you were on the phone, isn't it?" "It's hardly been thirty seconds since I hung it up. I don't have to be naked to use my fist, though it's better." "Oh, get naked. You're almost there anyway." It only took three or four seconds. Clothes on the floor, I advanced directly before her, wondering if she meant -- She did. Her hand took me and her tongue made one swipe on the very end of my dick. She breathed, "God, I love that odor!" Then my dick disappeared. Entirely. Of course, it still had a bit of growing to do. I said, "I'm afraid to ask what odor. I've not had a shower since I left here." She grunted, "Uh huh." "You asked for it." She grunted louder, "Uh huh!" The fingers of one hand wrapped my balls, two or more of the others pried their way into my asshole. "And you're about to learn my most shameful secret." Her mouth took every gush I could stand to give it. Question: should I reveal Daisy's technique? Suction right on the glans, though sweeter than any honey, is totally unbearable after about the second good squirt. I had to back away. It popped out and upward. The next squirt, still a strong one after two days, laced across her nostrils. Her eyes grew large. She sniffed as one does a nose full of mucus. Her larynx bobbed as she swallowed. Then she burst out laughing as her hand captured my dick and milked the last emissions. "I can't breathe sperm, Harry!" "I'm s-sorry." My knees actually felt weak, but she held me by an arm around my ass. "As you said, that was accidental." Her eyebrows rose. "When did I say that?" "You said some such when you sprayed my face on Tuesday." "Perhaps I did." She looked up with twinkling eyes, semen dripping from her chin. "This reminds me. Do you know what you call a snotty nosed whore?" "I've heard it. Full." "All right. What do you ask a snotty nosed whore?" "What?" "'Do you have room for one more?'" Another bray of laughter. I had to chuckle with her. "If you say so... You took all my starch, Eunice." I dropped to my knees, pulling myself free of her hand. "I'd be happy to return the favor." "I'm in no hurry for that." Her arms rose and draped over my shoulders. "How old are you, Harry?" "Twenty-six." She nodded. "I could've born you when I was sixteen. I wish I had." "You'd really commit incest?" "Huh! If you'd been mine, your organ would be twice as long." "Twice? You're pulling something else now." "Twice as long both soft and erect. If a boy's equipment is given the right attention, frequently enough, it can grow significantly beyond his natural endowment." She shook her head. "Unfortunately the opportunity ends at about age fifteen. Sorry." Again her eyes twinkled. "What kind of attention?" "Suction, mainly, applied as constantly as he can tolerate. It gradually stretches the tissues, you see, without compressing them. If you could just pull on it, all the boys' would be big as horses! Constant attention also enlarges the seminal reservoirs. He becomes a real gusher." I grunted. "Your sense of humor is outstanding this morning." "You think I'm joking? You've heard of the Cuban superman? He was raised that way. I have some photographic evidence I'll show you after awhile." "Never mind. It'd just make me envious. Why'd you ask my age?" "Because you climaxed like a teenager. I can help you with that, too, if you want it." I had to squirm. In fact I had climaxed sooner than Tuesday's teenagers. "Shouldn't I want it?" "Well, if Daisy knew how, she could relieve your pressure by fellatio, which would stimulate her. Then you could bring her to frenzy with cunnilingus, simultaneously renewing your starch, as you call it, and finish with a lengthy and glorious missionary session." Good god! That was the exact program Daisy and I had settled into! I'd never admit it to anyone else, of course. What I said was, "I don't think you have those words right." "I don't care for Latin. The initial fellatio must be brief. If it endured Daisy would get tired. Your intercourse would likely end there, leaving her cross and irritable." "Very reasonable. Excuse me, Eunice. Much as I enjoy hugging you, this is tough on the knees." She smiled, standing and helping me rise with a hand under the elbow. "I'm sure I have a lot more practice on them than you do." According to the wristwatch, now my last item of clothing, it was 11:14. I breathed, "Inveigled and blown in eleven minutes." Her lip twitched. "A lot less than that. We've spent the last five talking about it. But you did say you were easy." "You are one interesting broad, Eunice! We've lived next to each other what -- eighteen months?" "Longer than that." "I hadn't the slightest idea you'd entertain this kind of ..." "Of what?" "Casual fucking." "And if you had?" I stared at her. My semen still glittered on her chin. "I'd've been fucking the shit out of you." Her face sobered. "What's the matter?" She shook her head. I hastened to ask, "Let me rephrase that. I would have been at your side very often -- and at your front, back, top, bottom, wherever." An eyebrow rose. "Easy to say what you would have done!" She came into my arms. "Kiss me, Harry." I was willing, wet chin and all. She pressed her mouth firmly to mine, ignoring the bristles, I supposed. After a while she withdrew her tongue from my mouth and began to lick my chin and the adjacent cheeks. Does she like bristles? "What're you doing?" I asked. "Yours is the one dirty." She stopped. "Then lick it." When I had administered a few strokes, her mouth dipped and captured my tongue to suck. I butted her in the belly with my erection. One hand dropped to that, the other to my balls. When our mouths finally parted, she said, "Before you make me totally forget, Mama must administer a rebuke."Anyone seeing you walk between our doors in the bright sunlight, dressed as you were, could hardly mistake your purpose. "Eunice, you're right, I never realized! It won't happen again." "I hope not! I should turn you over my knee." I had to grin. "And do what?" "Stretch your thing, of course. I dare you to walk it stark naked next time." "Wh-what?" She laughed. "With me draped around your hips. Have you noticed at night how the trees block the street light? Come on, Harry. We have time before lunch. It should just about be full." I followed her, presuming she intended a bath. She said over her shoulder, "How is it your car is in the parking lot every time I look?" "I have the week off." "Congratulations! You didn't tell me that." "Would you have called me yesterday if I had?" "I thought about it but hoped you'd call me!" I was only partly right about the bath. I saw that her apartment had no guest bedroom. Instead the guest bathroom had been enlarged slightly with a separate door added into what was the guest bedroom in mine. In hers you have to climb a few steps onto a high floor in the center of which is set a small pool, about six feet in diameter and three feet deep or a little less. It was full of water, steaming gently. We heard water running as we approached. Apparently she had turned on the hot water and let it run, depending on a high drain to catch the overflow. Helps to be a coupon clipper. Now she turned the water off and stepped slowly into the pool, sinking down until only her head remained out of water. Water burbled in the overflow drain. "Come on, stinky," she invited, beckoning with her head. "I warned you of that, too. What did you mean just now? You said 'I love that odor.'" "I meant old semen. You let it dry in your pubic hair." "And you like that?" "Yes." "How can you possibly..." "It's an odor associated with pleasure and security, when I was very young." "You were ... mistreated badly?" "Mistreated!" she repeated scornfully. "My early years were spent with two uncles, Harry. They treated me as a goddess." "I see. I can imagine their sacrificial offerings." "You needn't be so sarcastic. It was wonderful!" "Excuse me. I suppose I am prejudiced." "It's just your upbringing. You didn't have my advantages." "No, I didn't." "I'll help you overcome it. Come on in, the water's fine." "Looks awfully hot." "So get in slowly. Hot water loosens sphincters. You can put your whole hand in me." "I ... what?" She chuckled. "Come along. You're sweet, but you really won't dissolve." It took me a while, but I made it beside her finally, sitting with my legs crossed. Her hand found my shrunken dick and stroked it gently. I gestured around me. "What do you call this thing? I've never seen anything like it." "It's a furo. The design comes from Japan." "Really! You've been to Japan?" "Oh, yes. And I fell in love with the furo. Nothing is so relaxing! But I must tell you that one does not normally enter the furo without first taking a shower." "I would've done that." "If I had let you." "Why didn't you?" "Because I didn't want to be apart so long from this fine, upstanding bit of gristle." "That morning sense of humor again?" "No, Harry. In this I am perfectly serious. The immature specimen is sometimes inadequate." "How do you classify this one?" Her eyebrows rose but she said, "Definitely mature, after the first blush." "Blush!" I had to chuckle. "You accused me of using words strangely!" "I can't believe you haven't noticed the change in your glans as you climax." "Well, it gets a bit larger. I know that girls sometimes notice that." "Yes, but in your case, uncut, it turns from blue to red. Very chameleon-like, considering where it is -- or should be, I mean -- at such a moment." "What's different about my case?" "Your intact foreskin. The circumcised and thus constantly exposed glans isn't blue." I nodded. "It makes sense for a woman to notice." "Of course. She studies it the better to use it." "D'you call this using it?" "Are you complaining?" "No." She squeezed me. "It doesn't complain. It's improving as we speak." "You've squeezed it, tickled it, jacked it and sucked it. I can't believe that's enough for you." "Don't forget: today I'm merely your fist." She fell silent, eyes closing. I snaked a hand between her legs. Yes, the cunt ring was in place. I hadn't asked her if it was removable. I recalled my earlier resolution to insist on that before a second go, forgotten when the second go occurred. It had made the top of my dick slightly sore, especially the uncut corona behind the glans. My arm was across her breasts. I felt a vibration pass through her as I fondled the ring within her labia. "What does this do for you, Eunice?" She took a breath. "That thing has simplified my life, Harry. It keeps me buzzing, rather as I imagine a man feels when he's almost but not quite erect. When it's actually stimulated, by walking, say, or paddling or -- oh, god! -- horseback riding, it produces low-grade climaxes. As a result it's much easier for me to have full climaxes, I think, than most women. Apparently they spend most of their lives completely without sexual arousal. The hard clitoris and puckered nipple is rarely enjoyed, for some rarely even in sexual intercourse. When I was young my uncles made sure I avoided that fate, and I have averted it since. The vestibular ring readily focuses the attention. The slightest motion in that part of the body, any vibration transmitted through the buttocks, the barest touch of a fingertip -- any of these is sufficient. "As you observe, today your penis has so far touched only my hand and mouth, which ordinarily is considered but foreplay. But in my case I've always been extremely fond of the penis. In fact suckling my uncles' is my earliest memory. Such contact with one enlarges the clitoris, which makes it more aware of the ring. The effect is that I feel a measure of true sexual pleasure with one in my hand or especially in my mouth." "It makes a weird kind of sense," I admitted. "Will it come out?" "What?" "Can your ... vestibular ring be removed?" "Yes, by someone else. I can't do it! But Harry, I've come to depend on it. With it out ... The last time I took it out, even a tongue couldn't do me." "Look. My dick is only average, I know. And I'm sure with your vast experience, you've had ..." "Larger ones? Many times." "In all directions, I'm sure. What I meant to say is that mine is still too big." "What do you mean to say, Harry?" "It's still a little sore. Along the top." She laughed a little. "Does it amuse you?" "The simplicity of the problem amuses me." "Thought you didn't want to take the ring out! Oh. You mean 69." "That, too. Another solution is just to put my finger in above you." "Your finger!" "As you're doing now." She was looking at me with a slight smile. She scooted forward in the water, rotating her pelvis more upward. "Give me your left hand. Form your fingers and thumb like this." She held up a hand with the fingers straight but drawn together, the thumb extended between them. It reminded me of the configuration by means of which kids throw a duck's head shadow on the wall. I mimicked her. "Hold your fingers so but let your arm relax." She took my hand under the water and between her legs. I felt her pubic bush and her labia. She adjusted my fingertips, pressing inward. That damned ring scraped the base of my thumb. I twisted my hand back and forth, utterly fascinated. Her slippery flesh parted for me. It passed tightly over the knuckles but once past was only a yielding softness. She trembled and I felt the kiss of her labia about my wrist. Her head went back. "Ah! I do love that in this hot water!" It stands to reason that a cunt should accept a man's hand. Mine is average, compared to some that I've shaken, and the organ presently clasping me was intended to pass a far larger object: the skull of an infant. I'm given to understand by all witnesses that the latter operation is most painful. Clearly my hand was not. Her head remained tilted against the tub side, a dreamy smile on her mouth. She asked softly, "What do you feel, Harry?" Experimentally I moved my fingers slowly. "How easily you hold me! Would it hurt if I pushed deeper?" "If you pushed hard. The vagina is shallower than -- There! Do you feel that?" "The lump?" "You should feel three lumps, close together, like fingertips." "Y-yes. Your cervix?" "Mama gives you an A!" "Mama is kind. I have to admit this is educational." "Never felt one before?" "I've never done this," I answered, grasping the tips of hers between finger and thumb and gently tugging it back and forth. Her eyes flew open. "Oh!" "Hurts?" "N-not exactly." I squeezed the lumps lightly. "And this?" She twisted her hips. "An interesting feeling." "A dick does this, I think." I rippled the lumps gently with my fingertips. "Yes, it does." I studied her face. "But it's nothing special for you, eh?" "Not erotic, if that's what you mean. Too much of it will make me sore." "Hmm. Does that have to do with the way women walk after a strenuous fuck?" "Of course. Harry, this is becoming too scientific." "Too what?" "Your erection is failing." Imagine that -- with my whole hand in a cunt! I suggested, "Maybe it's too ... different." "Is 'esoteric' the word you want?" "Probably, if I could remember what it means.She chuckled. Her hand tightened on me. She raised up on her knees. The motion produced powerful muscular thickenings near my still buried hand. She leaned over me and said, "Mama's baby will suck." I took the nipple in my mouth, ring and all, along with as much of the surrounding flesh as would fit. "That's a good boy," she crooned. Her hand worked faster between my legs. "And this is a good fellow, too. I want to show you still another way to avoid friction with my vestibular ring." I released her tit. "Your hand?" "Far better than that. Now, Harry, stretch out a bit... No! Don't remove your hand. Let me get my foot over you. I'm turning my back to you for a good reason. Stretch your arm and bend your wrist... Yes, I think that will work." She was crouched over me, out of the water from waist up, facing away, my hand still mostly up her cunt. Her hand thrust down behind her and grasped my dick firmly under the water, holding it upright. She settled on it slowly. I felt it pass through an elastic obstruction. The constriction slid down the shaft. My fingers felt it through her vaginal wall. She looked askance over the shoulder with the extended hand. "You do feel it, don't you?" "God, yes!" "Spread your fingers a bit. See if your penis can feel them!" "Y-yes. By god, it can!" She chuckled throatily. "Enthusiasm is nice." "But ... how does it feel to you?" "I am stuffed, Harry. At that end it is quite pleasant. But concentrate on your own feelings. Your wrist is in the way, of course, so you cannot penetrate me nearly as far as you might without it. But the novelty should be some compensation. I'd bet you never before, ah, jacked off in such manner as this." "No bet," I said. Her hand released me and she began to bounce on my wrist, her motion necessarily languid in the water. Waves splashed back and forth. I had to raise up slightly to keep the crests below my nose. And she was right. The glans was far enough within her to feel the extra compression of my fingertips readily. Examined objectively, however, the purely penile sensation was inferior to a vagina with well-toned sphincters, as everything is. But, god, the circumstances -- dick up her ass, clasped by hand up her cunt! I could never imagine such a thing in my life. "I'm about to come," I announced. "Then try this." Suddenly the looseness tightened. She squeezed with surprising strength. I realized she had deliberately kept all sphincters relaxed until now. She controlled the timing of it, waiting for the deepest thrust, otherwise she'd've shat me out. I strained as far into her as I could. I presume she felt the moisture, but however detected, she relaxed her grip after the first good squirt. Good thing, too! "Finished?" she asked after a while. "Oh, god, yes," I breathed. "Follow me up with your hand." I understood that when she rose off me, flexing her legs, until she stood straight. The water was above her knees. I stared at my hand, lost between her legs. She leaned around and grinned at me. "Fascinating, isn't it?" I had to agree. "Curiously," she added, "large things enter better under hot water but emerge best in the air. It has to do with creating a vacuum." I suppose that makes sense. "Straighten out your fingers just the way they entered me. Now push forward a little as you withdraw." My hand came free easily, again with tightness over the knuckles. This time I felt the stone on the back of my hand, which had twisted inside her. Not surprising. She stepped over me, giving me a glimpse of labia apparently as well closed as ever, and clambered out of the pool. I couldn't believe I hadn't stretched them. It was a fine demonstration of the elasticity of cunt lips -- I guess of flesh in general. She took up my wristwatch and grinned at me. "Almost noon, Harry. Aren't you hungry?" She made cold sandwiches with sliced ham. We washed them down with beer. She has a padded window seat in her kitchen, built into the corner, and a small table on rollers that she positioned near it. We sat across the corner, both naked except for her emeralds and my wristwatch. She held a sandwich in one hand. Most of the time my dick lay in the other. "What did you think of the furo, Harry?" "An interesting setting for a unique experience." She chuckled with evident pleasure and said teasingly, "I apologize for making you masturbate yourself after all." "Don't be ridiculous, Mom!" "Then I take it little Harry enjoyed his bath?" "Very much. But what about Mom?" "The furo offers me low-intensity sensation. Water damps vibrations, you see. But the pleasure endures. My entire bottom is stirred up." "Still?" "It builds slowly and dies away slowly. It's like a bright glow. I'm sorry, Harry, but I don't think a man is equipped to understand it." "Sounds interesting. Should I have my glans pierced?" She grinned. "A touch of envy? I think the net of that would fail to please you. How could you protect it? Mine is internal!" "I see." "Would you like to see? Here. Look at it." She stood and put a foot on the table, holding herself open directly before my face. I put a finger in her and caused a bit of gold to fold forward, tipped with a smooth stone showing green through the coating of her thin emissions. The flesh of her belly and thighs vibrated involuntarily as I tweaked the stone. "It's certainly sensitive," I remarked. "What about this?" I leaned forward and stabbed her clit with my tongue. She jerked back. "Ugh, Harry! You'll leave bits of food in me." I grinned up at her. "Sorry." She handed me my beer bottle. "Wash it down first." "Thank you. I'd be surprised if you were finicky." "I'm not finicky at all. But yeast can be the most intractable affliction." "I'll remember that." "Men are fortunate in their own way." She resumed her seat, hand resuming its play. "You said you're off all week. Will you be home tomorrow?" "Tomorrow is Friday. I'll be there." "My nephew is coming to visit tomorrow afternoon." "Your nephew!" "By marriage. The son of my ex-husband's brother. His name is Charles and he's seventeen." "So?" "He's an odd boy, Harry. Very bookish. Skinny. Doesn't care for sports. The girls have little to do with him, which is their loss. He could really please them." "Aha!" "What aha?" "Is he a graduate of Seduction One-oh-one?" She smiled. "Yes, he is, with the fairy extension." "The what? Does that mean what I think?" "I expect so." I had to chuckle. "Missed the mark, did you? Instead of seducing girls he became one?" "Not exactly. He enjoys a female almost as much as you do. But he also enjoys males." "A cock sucker?" "You and your deliberate crudeness! Do you enjoy shocking me?" "I enjoy the idea of shocking you. I wonder what it would really take." "Harry, don't be mean." "Well, is he?" "Yes, he is a willing fellator. And a catamite." "What's that?" "He enjoys being taken anally." "As you do?" She laughed. "Not as I do it!" "But he also likes girls," I mused, "Aren't such people called bisexuals?" "If so it's a new term." "Eunice, who taught you 'catamite?'" "My uncles. They gave me a thorough education, especially in their favorite subject." "No need to ask what subject. Why are you telling me about Charles? Seventeen, eh? At least they can't charge you with aiding his delinquency now." "He's no delinquent, Harry. Sex is his only vice. He's actually ingenious at it. He's built several electrically powered machines to help him masturbate. Did you know electric shock can be used for that?" "No, I don't! Don't let a kid pull your leg." "He built a ... pulse generator, I believe it's called, arranged so that he can vary the rate and the strength. He's the one who understands electricity, not I. But it works. I've seen it cause boys to ejaculate." "You have it here?" "No, no. It's a small device, about like a cigarette pack with clamps. He had it in his bag." "Interesting. Of course, damn near anything will cause boys to squirt! Eunice, once again, why are you telling me this?" "He's arriving tomorrow afternoon to spend the night." "I see." "I don't think you do." She stared at me. Suddenly I understood. "You want me here, too." "Harry, he's a diffident lad, not aggressive at all, with a sweet disposition and complaisant to any suggestion. And most importantly he has learned discretion very well. I am the only one he dares tell of his exploits." "How do you know that?" "Because I know the father. He's deathly afraid of the man. But Charles knows he can trust me." "Why do you want me to meet him, Eunice?" "He represents an opportunity for you, Harry. Two opportunities, actually." "I suppose I should be flattered that you find me trustworthy." "It's a bit early to be certain," she said, her face composed, "but I believe you are." Apparently she does. I could do her much greater harm, I think, than she can do me. "What are these opportunities?" "I gather you've had negative experiences with homosexuals." I shrugged. "I've submitted a couple of times, because females weren't available and because I wondered if there was anything to the claim that another man should be able to give better head, knowing what a man needs." "What did you find?" I almost told her nobody does it as well as Daisy, not even she. What I actually said was, "Nothing special. Sensually speaking, nothing compares to a cunt." "But you never did it yourself, did you?" "Did what?""I just told -- oh." "This is your chance to do it. You can use Charles any way you like." "I've already told you, Eunice: I'm no cocksucker." "I believe you said you have no use for men. Fair enough. Charles is not yet a man. But he has sweet equipment." "Sweet! What does a woman mean by that?" "Usually she means 'small.'" "Small?" "As in 'cute' or 'precious.'" "Say it, Eunice. Is his dick smaller than mine?" "About two-thirds the size, as I recall. He has never seen fit to complain about my ring." "Your stretching program didn't work?" "Oh, he wasn't with me nearly enough for that! The Cuban superman's father made his four older sisters alternate that duty around the clock." "Just how long was that superdick?" "22 inches." "Ridiculous!" "I saw it measured." "You've been to Cuba, too, eh?" "Often -- before Castro, of course." "Well, I won't call you a liar, but I don't see how a woman could enjoy one like that. No cunt is that deep." "Her rectum is." "If you say so. But taking it up the ass -- how can that be pleasurable?" "Think back, Harry. A child's anus furnishes pleasurable sensations to encourage him to defecate. Most people lose that as they grow to puberty: that is, the intrinsic pleasure, though there are ways to retain it longer. And women can climax anally because of the compression transmitted to the clitoris." "What about men?" "I have little data. Charles claims to enjoy it. One of his machines simulates a plunging penis rather well, though a bit too frenzied." "I can imagine," I said dryly. "You said two opportunities!" "Yes, I did. Did you ever share a woman with another male?" "Huh? Of course." "I mean at the same time." "Uh, no." In Vietnam I had turned down such an offer. As a result I'd wondered what I missed. Not much, I think. She was watching me with a twinkle. "The Greeks are given the credit for inventing it, Harry, but it's pictured in paintings 20,000 years old on the wall of a French cave." "Trust the French, eh?" "They don't show that part to tourists, but I've seen it. It's surrounded by religious marks. It's powerful stuff." "For the woman." She nodded. "Of course." "And that's the real reason for this interesting invitation, isn't it?" She laughed. "I admit it. I hope you aren't being sarcastic." "No. It is an interesting invitation!" Abruptly she changed the subject. "This fellow seems ready again." "He likes attention." "Does he like to give it?" "Certainly." "Well, Mama needs a little." She released me, stood up and bent over the table, her tit rings clicking on the surface, her smooth rump spread before me. I said curiously, "Eunice, how do you avoid the pimples that everybody else has all over their ass cheeks?" "I give the furo full credit. Now don't go scientific again." I chuckled. "Never heard that word used to mean 'soft' before." I rose and worked it into her. Now the damned ring was only too evident on the bottom of my dick. In this orientation, to my surprise, I was just beginning to think something good might be said of it, when she raised her head enough to turn back and regard me from the corner of her eye. "It's wet enough. Put it where you can avoid my ring." I might've stooped and put it between her compressed thighs or gone to tiptoes and laid it in her crack. Sure! Instead I presented it to her anus. Right guess! Her hands came back and spread her cheeks wider. "All the way this time." When I was pumping satisfactorily, she spread her legs and put both hands between them. Her fingertips rippled my balls. Both hands? I felt a vibration in my dick. Apparently the other was flicking the ring. Her sphincter alternately tightened and relaxed, again and again. The anal sphincter is particularly noticeable, of course. "Tell me when you start to climax," she commanded. Fucking someone over a table with rollers turns out to be distracting. It tends to slip right out from under you! I solved the problem by turning it against her bar counter, where it bumped annoyingly with each thrust. A man's third climax does not focus his attention nearly so well as the first, but hand and rectum eventually reached their goal. "I'm starting," I announced as the fluid rose. With startling speed she spun about, shoving the table away, knelt and hugged my buttocks, nearly tripping me up. Her mouth clamped me. My third offering, such as it was, disappeared. Of course, I couldn't bear to stay in place, though I had to force her face away with my hands. Does she treat her boys' tender dicks the same? Is mine truly that much more sensitive than the cut ones? She pulled herself up with her arms, lips raised to kiss me. I was reluctant, considering where my dick had been before she took its juice. But I accepted the kiss, expecting the same present as before. Though she presented her tongue, nothing else came with it. I was pleasantly surprised not to detect offal. The furo? She cocked an eyebrow. "What's the matter, Harry?" I took a breath and simply asked. "How is it that your ass doesn't stink?" Her eyes twinkled. "An enema before you came and of course a swabbing in the furo." "An enema!" "Did you think I hadn't planned our little tete-a-tete? You'll find that I'm a good mama!" "I see. Thank you kindly." "Well, it does avoid the ring, you must admit." "That's ironic. I discovered that your ring has a certain advantage on the bottom of a dick!" "Really? What advantage?" "A little extra stimulation." "Wouldn't it make you just as sore?" "I don't know." "Let's find out." "Uh, not just now, if you don't mind. Eunice, don't you ever get enough?" She answered with feeling. "No, I don't! I hope to die right after I finally do." Very rare in a woman, I think: one who lives only for sex. Rare in my experience, at least. In truth, unique. For an hour or two we talked about the many ways she has pursued "enough." I realized after a while that what she was doing was bragging. Did she have no other confidant? The conversation lagged. She kept turning around to look at the clock on her kitchen wall. I got the hint and returned to my place, where I found that I could just see the edge of her balcony from the window in my guest bedroom closest to it. I had been watching less than five minutes when David ran down the bank, leapt and caught the bottom of her railing. He swarmed up it like a monkey. That's an avenue to her pussy not usable by everyone! No further mention of her invitation. That's something I'll have to stew. There is tremendous novelty in the idea of holding a woman between me and another man, feeling his dick jostle mine through her flesh. A hell of lot would depend on the other man. If he was one I respected -- except is it possible to respect the man who'd do such a thing? Talk about hypocrisy! A man who deserves little respect, less than a man though equipped like one, might be another matter. An issue of power and control. I could slap that one down, treat him as one of his masturbating machines. But what am I afraid of? I am mildly curious as to how a spurting dick would feel, how it would taste or smell. Would it gag if it reached the back of the throat? Strangle? I've noticed such reactions in women. Surely there is no sexual difference in throats! I amuse me. I react to these ideas the way I imagine a virgin girl might.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/17519.txt

Schulzie

At His Daughter's Mercy

"At His Daughter's Mercy" PART FOUR: Mf; teen; inc; cons A half-hour had passed, and Dana Sykes still lay in bed recovering from her very first orgasm at the tender age of 14 years. It wasn't even the middle of the afternoon yet, and already she felt as though she had experienced more in a few short hours than she had in her whole lifetime. Only a little while ago, Dana laid eyes on her first penis, a grown man's penis, her own father's penis. Not only had she seen it, but she had touched it, too. It was huge and it was beautiful. When she saw drawings of penises in her sex ed book, she thought they were kind of silly looking. But now, having seen her Daddy's penis, up close and personal, she thought it was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. With her Daddy asleep on top of the bed, his robe slightly open, she managed to slowly pull his robe ever so slightly to expose all of his intimate parts to her admiring gaze. She saw his scrotal sac which contained those big balls. She saw his flaccid penis which, for some reason she didn't understand, had folds of skin which covered his glans. She was disappointed not to be able to see the head of his penis, but by carefully rolling the skin back she was able to get a look at what was hidden by the skin. She couldn't believe how large her father's penis was when it was soft. It was as big soft as the average man's penis was hard. She had a pretty good idea of what it looked like when it was erect because of the size of the bulge his erect penis had created in his underwear when she had seen it earlier in the morning. And she almost saw her father have a complete erection when, as she was playing with it, it began to grow in her hand. Only her quick exit out of his bedroom when he started to stir prevented her from seeing it at its full glory. She was lucky that her father was unaware of her playing with his penis while he slept under the influence of the pain pills he was taking for his skiing accident the night before. With both wrists in casts, he was going to be incapacitated for a while. And she would have to do things for him until his wrists were healed. Like this morning when she had to hold his cup for him so he could drink his coffee. Better yet, when she had to help him pull his underwear down so he could go use the toilet or put his robe on him afterwards. He had kept his back to her both times so she didn't get to see his penis right then. But she did get to see his hard, tight butt both times. But all of her thoughts and activities of the day, centering on her Daddy's massive male organ, had made her horny beyond her belief. No wonder she had to masturbate after that long, lingering look she just had at her father's naked penis. And actually touching it and beginning to feel it grow in her tiny, teenaged hand only made her need to touch herself more demanding. Her masturbation led to her first glorious orgasm ever. But in the process, her replaying of the experience only moments before in her father's bedroom led her to one conclusion. She was not going to be satisfied with just seeing his penis or touching it. She was going to have it inside her virgin hole. She knew it was going to happen. She didn't know how, but she knew she would have to initiate it because her father never would. She didn't know when, but she knew it would be soon. With his wrists in those casts, she knew that she would have to become his hands; feeding him, dressing him and...bathing him. And she wasn't exactly sure how he would succumb to her plans, but she had time on her side. Eventually, she would have him where she wanted him...in her vagina. She didn't have to wait long for her plans to begin. After she let her father sleep a little bit longer, she heard the toilet in his bathroom flush. He was awake, she realized, and she started to go check on him. Then it occurred to her: if she was going to seduce him soon, she better give him a little enticement. She looked at the flannel nightie she was still wearing since this morning, and replaced it with something more revealing. Looking through her dresser, she had come upon a sheer set of baby doll pajamas her Aunt Suzi had given her for her 14th birthday. Not only were they skimpy, with the bottoms barely covering her developing adolescent butt, they were also nearly transparent. When the top pressed against her swelling teenaged breasts, you could see her pink nipples showing clearly through the thin material. And through the bottoms, the outline of her brown pubic hair was obvious to anyone who might look at her crotch. Though she had worn it several times, she never wore it when her father was around without a robe on top of it. She knew he would be too embarrassed. But she was going to wear it now, whether it embarrassed him or not. On second thought, she put her robe on, reasoning that she better spring it on him slowly when the time was right. She walked down to his room, hoping she could put the first phase of her plan into effect. Knocking on the door, she said, "Daddy? Can I come in? Are you decent?" Jim replied, "Sure, honey. Come on in." Dana opened the door to find her father sitting up now on the edge of his bed, robe on, looking at the various scrapes and bruises on his body from that tumble he took on the slopes the night before. "You really got it bad last night, didn't you, Daddy?" "I'll say," he replied, "but it could've been worse. If I hadn't gotten my hands up in time, I might've gone head first into that tree. I guess I'm lucky." Dana went to him and gave him a big hug. "Oh, Daddy. I'm so glad you didn't get hurt worse. I don't know what I'd do without you!" As she hugged him, she pushed her young breasts into his chest, and squeezed him tight. She not only meant to demonstrate her daughterly love for him, she also felt compelled to show him the affection of a young, lusty woman. She wished they were naked, she and her Daddy, so her naked breasts could touch his chest. She imagined what it would be like if he could see her most intimate parts just like she had seen his earlier that day. She pictured her Daddy's eyes, gazing at her breasts and her nipples that were poking out even now as she hugged him. Would he like them, she wondered? In her mind, she could see his eyes travelling down the length of her young lithe body, admiring her smooth, white skin until he focused in on the triangle formed by her downy-soft, light-brown hair covering her womanhood. Would he get an erection from seeing his own daughter's most secret part, she pondered as she pulled away from him, giving him a kiss on the cheek in the process. As she stepped back, she looked at his face. "Daddy! Look at your face!" Dana must not have noticed it before, but there were scratch marks on her father's face, and patches of dirt here and there on his nose and cheeks and forehead from taking that spill the night before. She took his arm, gently, and pulled him up. "Let's go to the bathroom and let me clean your face up, Daddy. You're a mess!" Dana was surprised by the look on her father's face and his body language how childlike he was becoming. He didn't seem to mind being led to the bathroom, complying with her tugging at his arm, and treating him as the helpless person he had temporarily become. She walked him into the bathroom, pushed him firmly by the shoulders down onto the toilet seat. She took the washcloth from the rod on the wall, wet it with a little soap and water, and began to clean up some of the dirt from his face. Jim sat there watching as his daughter, ever so carefully and lovingly, took the washcloth to his face. Part of him felt bad having to put Dana in the position of taking care of him while he healed. Yet, he felt a father's pride that he had raised such a fine daughter who would do what she had to do to help him in his situation. He looked at her face as she tended to his face. She seemed so willing to take care of him, even though she surely had better things to do than take care of her clumsy father who brought this upon himself with his less than skillful skiing. She's such a good girl to be doing this for me, he thought to himself as he continued watching Dana tend to his face. For Dana's part, this was only the first step on the path of getting her Daddy to make love to her. It might not happen tonight, she knew, but she was going to have him. All she wanted to do was to plant a little seed in his mind.As she finished up his face, she lifted his chin and discovered his neck was dirty, too. And so was the top of his chest, at least the part she could see at the opening at the top of his robe. Time for the next step, she figured. "Daddy, you're a mess all over. You really need to get cleaned up. You need a bath!" she said to him, almost as though admonishing her father like he was a small boy who had been playing in the dirt. When Jim heard that, he misunderstood. "I guess a little sponge bath wouldn't hurt," he said. "Sponge bath? Daddy, it's more than just how you look," Dana said, lying a little bit, "but you're beginning to smell, uh...a little funky, too. No offense, Daddy, but you're beginning to smell a little bit. You need to hop in the shower and wash that odor off of you." Jim just looked at her, mouth open. Then he said, holding up his hands, "And how am I gonna do that with these on?", referring to the casts on his hands and wrists. "They'll get all wet!" "Don't be silly," she replied, "we'll wrap some plastic bags around your hands and arms and seal them with tape so they don't get wet." "And just how am I supposed to wash myself with my hands wrapped up in plastic bags?", Jim wanted to know. Without hesitating, Dana answered him. "I'm going to wash you, Daddy?" Jim looked at his young daughter, shocked at the suggestion. "You'll do no such thing! You can't wash me. I'm your father. I'd be too embarrassed. You'd be embarrassed, too. No, I won't hear of it." Dana stood in front of her father, put her hands on his shoulders, and spoke to him firmly. "You're being ridiculous, Daddy. Didn't you use to give me a bath when I was little?" "That was different. You were younger then, and you couldn't wash yourself!" "Just like you are helpless now, and you can't wash yourself. Besides, wouldn't you insist on washing me if the situation was reversed? Suppose I was the one wearing casts on my arms. Wouldn't you be the one to take care of me?" She grinned at him. "I would not," he said, "I'd have your Aunt Suzi come and help you." "Aunt Suzi? Daddy, Aunt Suzi lives 200 miles away, has three kids, and works part-time. Do you really think she's gonna drive all that way just to give me a bath? Be serious. If I were the one who was hurt, you'd have to bathe me." Jim was beginning to lose the argument. "I would not! I'd have one of your girl friends come over and help bathe you!" "Daddy!!! That's gross! I couldn't ask one of my friends to wash my body. They'd think I was a lesbian or something! How about you? Do you want me to call Mr. Bill, your friend from work, and ask him to come over and give you a bath? How would you feel about that?" Dana was pleased with herself. She could tell from the look on her father's face that she had just won the battle. Jim looked down at his feet. He knew Dana was right. She would have to help him take a shower. There was no other way. "Okay...okay...but, we need to do this with the least amount of embarrassment...for both of us." He paused. "I know I'm going to feel funny having you see me...naked. And I'm sure it won't be easy for you to have to look at your father's co...uh, I mean...my privates." Dana's ears perked up at her father's word choice, that is, his "almost" word choice. He almost started to use another word for "penis". She wasn't sure what the word was, but she could tell he was about to use a dirty word. It kind of surprised her that her Daddy knew any dirty words. Oh, he'd occasionally let loose with some "hells" and "damns", and the occasional "shit", but she had never heard him say anything dirtier...until today. He had another name for his penis, and she was determined to find out what that word was. After considering her father's concerns, Dana replied, "Daddy, I understand this could be a little embarrassing for both of us, but I think I'll be alright with it...if you will." And then, to show her maturity, she added, "I'll respect your dignity." Dana had no idea where those words came from, but they seemed to work. Her father seemed a little more relaxed with the idea now. "Listen, here's what we'll do. You get in the bathtub, close the shower curtain, and take off your robe. I'll go downstairs to the kitchen and get some plastic trash bags to put around your arms. Okay?" Jim sighed and stood motionless for a minute. "C'mon, Daddy. I'll be right back with the bags, then we'll get you all cleaned up. And we'll make it quick." Dana had no intention of making it quick, but if she could get her father to go along with her plan at this point, the next step would be much easier. "Go ahead. Get behind the shower curtain and get ready." She watched as her Daddy stepped into the tub, and closed the shower curtain behind him. She started to head for the kitchen to get the plastic bags, when she heard her father call to her. Oh, no. He's not going to back out now, she worried. "Yes, Daddy?" "Sweetie? Would you help Daddy get his robe off? Please?" Dana just smiled. Yes! He's gonna go through with it. "Sure, Daddy. You can't take a shower with your robe on, can you?" She opened the shower curtain. There was her father, his back turned towards her, waiting for his daughter to remove his robe. Gently, she helped him get the robe off, leaving his backside exposed to her again, just like earlier this morning. This would be different though. This morning, she could only look at his firm butt. Now, in just a few minutes, she would be doing more than just looking at it. She would be touching it, soaping it up, and squeezing it as she'd wash it. She'd be able to feel those hard butt muscles she had seen earlier. But that wasn't all. In a little while, she'd be washing his penis and his balls. She'd be lathering them in her tiny teenaged hands, feeling the roundness of his balls resting in their sac, and stroking that huge penis she had touched this morning. And, if all went as she had planned, she would finally get to feel her Daddy's fully erect penis in her hands. Continued in Part Five

Part Four

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7384.txt

Morgan

Kathy

"Thanks, Charlene. I'll think about it. By the way, where are you from?" "Charlotte, North Carolina. Why?" the girl replied. "Because I'm from Norfolk. I thought you were a good old Southern gal like me. Charlene, Norfolk's a tough town. We'll see what happens. But thanks for the thought... and for the great race." Kathy went off to look for the Alphas. She found them huddled together reading a paper. "What's up, guys?" They turned to look at her. "Kathy, we got trouble. Guess what the strength event is?" "Arm wrestling?" she asked quizzically. "My God, there is no end to this kid's talents. Guys, this girl is scary! She's smart enough to put you in jail. If you come after her, she'll put a bullet in your eye at twenty paces, or she can run your tails off at short or long distance. Now she reads minds, for chrissakes! Kathy, how *do* you do it?" Kathy looked at them. Then she pointed her toes sharply inward, put her hands behind her back forcing her belly out and crossed her eyes. "Cause Charlene told me. That's how!" she exclaimed in a little-girl voice, making sure she sprayed spittle around with the last words to underscore her little-girl act. The guys cracked up with laughter. "Okay, Kathy. We give up. We *really* give up. Guys, they say if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. We went one better. We got 'them' to join us! Kathy, I suppose it will just bore you, but your 1,500-meter time was the best at Yale this year. And Charlene Brown, the girl you beat, is the top middle-distance runner in the school. But I guess you already knew that, too." "Guys," said Kathy, now being serious, "Charlene did tell me. She says that it's a setup. There's a girl named Sophie Stotz, Charlene warned me about. Does anyone know her? No? Well, let's go see about the luck of the draw." The final athletic event was to be held back on campus at the Payne-Whitney gym. They piled into the cars and returned to downtown New Haven. After entering the gym they took the elevator up to the weight floor. They were in luck. Looking over the elimination pairings they found that Sophie and Kathy were at opposite ends of the draw. If they met at all, it could only be in the finals. Arm wrestling is a match of strength, leverage and timing, but psychology can enter into it. Kathy made it a point to try to see as many of Sophie's matches as she could. The schedule permitted her to see Sophie in action before her own first competition. Sophie was big. She appeared to stand nearly six feet tall and weigh about two hundred pounds. She had broad shoulders and biceps that would look normal on a longshoreman. She looked like one of the Soviet or Bulgarian women shot-putters. 'Like them,' Kathy thought, 'Sophie would have trouble with both steroid and sex testing.' She smiled to herself. 'At least,' she thought, 'she won't be much trouble in the beauty competition. If I'm still alive, that is.' Sophie's first match was called. She sat down across from a real contestant who looked terrified. When the referee signaled the start, Sophie just looked into the eyes of her terrified victim, and kept her arm in the starting position. Then she grimaced and slammed her opponent's hand down on the mat with a crash. The loser jumped up crying from the competition table and fled from the room. Sophie slowly got up and stretched. Her breasts were no more visible than a man's. She smiled like the cat that swallowed the canary and was now looking for a new victim. Kevin, another Alpha brother, came up to Kathy and smiled. "I've been elected to be your strength coach. How do you feel?" "Hi, Kevin. I feel fine. Look, I just watched Sophie's first match and I'm planning to see as many more as my schedule permits. I want you to do something for me, but first, what do you think of the competition on my side of the draw?" "A piece of cake, Kathy. You're a cinch to meet Sophie in the finals. And I don't see anyone on her side who could possibly take her." "That's what I thought, too. Now, here's what I want you to do..." Kathy went off to get ready for her first match. When she sat down across from her opponent she realized that it was timing and leverage as much as strength that made a difference. She gripped her opponent's hand and then appeared to relax. She looked away from the girl and allowed her hand to relax in the other girl's grip. The signal to start was given and Kathy suddenly and smoothly took her opponent's hand backward to the table. It was a quick win. Her opponent jumped up saying, "That wasn't fair! You weren't ready." The referee looked at the girl in amazement. Was he hearing things? "I beg your pardon, young lady, but did you say that you weren't ready when the match began?" "No. I said my opponent wasn't. She was relaxing and looking away on the start signal." Kathy was struggling to keep from rolling on the floor with laughter. Valiantly, she tried to maintain a straight face as she listened to the backwards protest. "Well, then," the referee said, "If I understand your protest correctly, the match should be redone because the winner wasn't ready. Is that correct? Did you wonder how Miss Smith could have beaten you if she hadn't been ready? The match is official: Kathy Smith is the winner." Kathy saw John and Bill standing back from the table. They left the competition room, went out into the hall and around a corner. Then they cracked up. Kathy was laughing so hard she couldn't stand. Tears were rolling down her cheeks while John and Bill were pounding on her back and howling with laughter. Finally, side by side they sat down against the wall. John looked at Bill. "Now you have to add comedienne and actress to Kathy's list of talents! Hold on! Kathy only gets the prize for actress. The loser of the match wins the comedy prize." It was late afternoon, getting close to six o'clock. They had heard the beauty contest was scheduled for nine but might be pushed back if the arm wrestling ran late. The people making up the schedule never dreamed there could be nearly ninety competitors. Except for the written test, the large numbers meant running more heats and more elapsed time. Kathy commented to Bill, "Good grief. If there hadn't been dropouts this afternoon, this competition would be running nonstop into tomorrow afternoon." She continued to win her matches and was able to see one more of Sophie's. It was a replay of the first. Kathy won her semifinal match and moved into the finals. Then she went off to find Kevin. He was waiting for her outside the competition room where the finals were going to be held. "You have it absolutely right, Kathy. Sophie *is* the cat swallowing the canary! She likes to terrify her opponents before whipping them; I think she's sick. I think she gets a sexual charge out of her opponent's terror. I can't be certain, of course, but I don't think a single opponent even tried to move! I think they were all scared shitless. She is a monster and a real sadist. I would hate to meet her alone on a dark night!" The final match was called. Sophie was sitting in her assigned position glowering. Kathy came up and gave Sophie her most dazzling smile and stuck out her hand. "Hi! I'm Kathy Smith. You must be Sophie Stotz! I've heard *so* much about you, and I've been simply *dying* to meet you!" Kathy thought that even the most hardened Junior Leaguer would have been sickened by her gushing. It seemed to be having its effect, though, because Sophie looked puzzled. Kathy took her position at the table. Where she had been gushingly friendly when she came in, she now appeared bored. While their hands were being placed in position by the referee, Kathy appeared to concentrate on a fascinating spot on the side wall. The referee yelled, "GO!"In a split second, Kathy came to life. Concentrating all her thoughts and all her strength, she smashed Sophie's hand back against the table. Then she leaped into the air with her arms upraised. Sophie jumped up and rushed at Kathy, determined to destroy her. She screamed, "I'll kill you!" and charged with her arms outstretched, intending to crush Kathy in a bear hug. Kathy surprised her. She stepped inside the outstretched arms and slammed the tips of the fingers of her right hand into Stotz's solar plexus. Her hand was rigid so her fingers drove into the girl's belly like a knife blade. Kathy thought she could feel Sophie's backbone with her fingertips as the woman doubled over in agony. As her head came down, it exposed the back of her neck. Kathy had withdrawn her hand. Now it came down on the back of Sophie's neck like an ax. The female giant just continued over and crumpled in a heap on the floor. The spectators were stunned. The whole fight - both fights - had only taken seconds. Suddenly, there was a thunderous roar from the crowd. Kathy was surrounded by screaming, cheering spectators. The Alphas, screaming like lunatics, fought their way to Kathy, picked her up and carried her out on their shoulders. When they finally put her down, she looked around, found Kevin and gave him a warm hug and a long kiss. "You did it, Kevin! It worked. She didn't know what to do! I think she's so used to terrifying opponents that she's forgotten how to fight. She wasn't ready when I put her arm down." "But Kathy, what happened then? Suddenly she was coming at you like a bear. It looked like she was trying to kill you." "She was! That's why I had to get a little rough. Sorry about that." "But where did those moves come from?" Kevin asked. "That's easy," Kathy replied. "It comes from a youth misspent watching Kung Fu movies!" She ducked and wrapped her arms around her head as the Alphas pummeled her. Bill had the last word on the afternoon. "John, I hope you paid attention to what happened to Sophie. She didn't touch Kathy and look what Kathy did to her! You were spanking her with a wooden paddle for hours!" Everyone howled with laughter as they headed back to prepare for the beauty contest. Because she lived away from the campus, Kathy had brought her things to the Alpha house. When they entered, her companions were mobbed by other brothers trying to find out what had happened. "Guys," John announced, "We've done it. *Kathy's* done it. With ninety competitors including a bunch of ringers for particular events, she won it all. Everything! If she dissolved into a glob of protoplasm on the stage tonight, she'd still win! Kathy is so far out in front, I don't think there *is* a second place. If there is, God knows who's in it or what her score is. Fellows, it was like the Olympics but with one person winning every event. It's unheard of." The house shook with the cheers. Meanwhile, as Kathy was standing in a corner she could feel her knees start to sag. Seeing what was happening, Jack went up to John and whispered in his ear. "Two more things, guys," John announced. "First, the basement lounge is closed and off-limits for at least the next hour. Second, Kathy is changing for the beauty contest here at the house. I want some of you slobs to be sure the bathroom is as clean for Kathy as you can get it." Jack put an arm around Kathy and put hers over his shoulder. "Come on, kid. I know the signs. You need help, don't you? I just realized that John was absolutely right. You had a full Olympic schedule in one afternoon. And you've done it on nothing but adrenaline and one steak sandwich. Let's go." Exhausted, Kathy smiled up at him. "Lead on. I'll try not to collapse." They went down to the basement room. Kathy was startled to see three tables - probably the same three - arranged together, covered with towels. Jack helped her off with her sweat jacket and supported her while she took off her pants. "Kathy, get up on the table and lie on your stomach. I've got to get a few things. Just take off your clothes, and I'll be right back." Jack left, and Kathy slowly stripped off her top, then her shorts, and finally kicked off her shoes. She didn't have the energy to bend over, so she worked off her socks with her toes. She thought for a moment then stripped off her bra. Carefully she positioned herself on the table and was almost instantly asleep. As Kathy drifted out of her sleep, strong hands were working on the muscles in her upper thighs. Whatever Jack was using was warm and penetrating, and she could feel her muscles respond. Hiking up her hips, she allowed him to work off her briefs. 'Oh, well,' she thought, 'I tell myself I like to be in the nude. Jack has probably seen just about all of me, anyway.' She could feel his strong fingers working on her buttocks. She remembered what Charlene had said about moving her ass. The ache in those muscles said that she had been moving it fast. Jack worked up her spine and finally started working on her shoulders, neck, and upper arms. It felt *so* good. Then he gave her two towels and turned his back, asking her to roll over. She did, positioning the towels across her breasts and loins. Jack started to work on her legs, and then her stomach muscles. He devoted particular attention to her right arm and biceps. Finally, he pulled over a chair and straddled it. He rested his chin on his folded arms and just looked at Kathy's body. Feeling his eyes on her, she opened her eyes. "Kathy, there's no one else like you. I'm convinced. Forget the muscles and the pain. I could work on you for hours. There are no blemishes - no imperfections - anywhere. Your body is perfect. Do you feel better?" She quietly smiled at him. "I'm fine. I thought I was just tired until you started working on my body. I didn't realize I had so many muscles. And they all ache! Thanks Jack. It felt great." She lifted her head and studied his face. "Jack, there is just one thing. Do you think I could get a hamburger? A big, red, juicy hamburger? With everything, so it drips all over?" "One big, red, juicy, dripping hamburger with everything coming right up! Kathy, here's a robe you can put on. It's not much, but I don't think you want to put your other things back on. I'll be right back." When he left, Kathy carefully got off the tables, stood up and stretched. 'With a little food and a shower,' she thought, 'I'll probably feel human again.' She ran her hands over her breasts and cupped them. Kathy decided that they would do. They weren't as big as some, but were beautifully shaped and needed no support. She picked up the bathrobe and put it on. It must have been made for a man at least six inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier than she was. It carried a masculine smell which she breathed in hungrily. As she wrapped it around herself, Jack reappeared with a tray. Putting it on the counter, he stripped the towels off the tables, pulling one away from the others. Then he retrieved the tray and served with a flourish. "Dripping sloppy red hamburgers for mademoiselle." He put them on the table along with one for himself. They were followed by two bottles of beer. To Kathy they looked beautiful. When she picked up one and started to eat, the juices started running down her chin. Not having a napkin, she wiped her chin with the back of her hand. Jack just looked at her. "God, you're cute. I know that's a stupid thing to say, but you really are. I've never met a girl as natural as you are. You have a style and grace and beauty... even with juice dripping down your chin." Kathy grinned at him and pertly stuck out her tongue. "Thank you for the compliment, kind sir. I think! Now eat your hamburger before it gets cold." They finished eating and Kathy went up to shower. On the first floor she met John and Bill. "Do you know any details about this evening? I was going to put on my bathing suit instead of underwear and then wear the sweater and skirt I wore this morning over it. What do you guys think? I was planning on wearing a bikini." John looked at Bill, who nodded. "That sounds fine with us. How long will it take you? It's nearly eight o'clock, and, as far as we know, the contest is still scheduled to start at nine." "I'll be ready," Kathy said. She grabbed the small bag with her things in it and raced up the stairs into the bathroom. "My God," Bill said to John, "Kathy says she'll be ready for a beauty contest that starts in about an hour. The girls I go out with couldn't be ready for a movie date, for chrissakes, in less than three. And then I would be waiting for at least half an hour." Unlike the first time, Kathy now had her own things with her. As the water flowed over her body she started shampooing her hair and then applying conditioner. She carefully soaped her body, trying particularly to remove the odor of whatever Jack had been massaging her with. After letting the water rinse off the soap, she stepped out of the shower and toweled herself dry. Then she plugged in her hair dryer and worked on her hair, wiping the steam off the mirror first. After studying her face for a moment, she decided that extreme measures were in order. She carefully applied a small amount of lipstick. Going into her bag, she extracted two small scraps of fabric that together made up a white bikini. It was absolutely plain and pure white. Turning around, she viewed herself in the mirror. Then she put on the skirt she had worn in the morning, substituting a cardigan for the pullover to avoid mussing her hair. After putting her things in the bag, she went downstairs to where the boys were sitting. They stood up as she approached. Bill glanced at his watch. "Guys, that was thirty-three minutes, 23.2 seconds. I think Kathy has set another world's record." He ducked away as Kathy swung her bag at him.She took up a model's pose: hand behind her thrown-back head, breasts jutting and one leg forward. "How do I look, guys?" The boys just looked at her in silence. Kathy dropped the pose and looked at them with concern showing in her eyes. "I *do* look okay, don't I?" John looked at the others and then at Kathy. "No, you don't look okay." He frowned. "You look spectacular. Like a dream. Like an angel. Definitely not just okay. Right, guys?" He grinned and the brothers applauded. Kathy smiled her relief. "Thank you, kind sirs." She made a deep curtsy. "On the other hand, it's a well-known fact that Alphas have their taste in their feet," she grinned. "Come on! We're going to be late." They arrived at Woolsey Hall where the competition was to be held. While Kathy went in the back door, her brothers went around the front to get the best seats they could. She walked in and found a large group of girls primping. Many were wearing dressing gowns over their bathing suits. Most of the suits were one piece. Kathy noticed that several of them were the highly-engineered models capable of concealing various bodily imperfections. She noticed only a few other two-piece suits. While some were small, none were as revealing as her own. She went over to a board where a paper was posted. It was the scheduled order of appearance. There were also instructions for the girls: The contestants were to enter from the rear, stage left. They were to proceed to center-stage front, go to the left, across to the right, back to the center, and exit stage right in the rear. Kathy was surprised to find that she was scheduled to be the last contestant. Shortly after nine o'clock, a master of ceremonies walked out on the stage. Musicians, who had been playing as the audience got settled, played a fanfare. "Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the final event of today's Queen of Yale College competition, the beauty contest." There was an immediate chorus of boos from parts of the audience where the lesbians and their friends were seated. The lesbians considered beauty contests to be sexually exploitative of females, but their boos were quickly drowned by cheers from the rest of the audience. The MC went on to explain the procedure. Since there had been no rehearsal, the band played music of its own choosing as the first contestant was announced. Kathy went to the back and slipped off her sweater and skirt and changed shoes. In addition to the bikini she was wearing, she had on plain white pumps. She went to see what was happening on stage. After parading around the stage, as each contestant paused at center stage, the MC called for applause. It was then measured by applause meters rigged up by the electrical engineers. A large dial at each side of the stage measured the applause, and a group of judges seated in front recorded the readings. As the contestants paraded one after the other, Kathy noticed that the readings were mostly in the first quarter of the applause scale, although one girl reached the midpoint. Kathy stood there, apparently oblivious to the looks of envy and jealousy aimed her way. Since she had brought no wrap, she was grateful for all of the time she had spent nude. Her exposure didn't bother her in the slightest. One after the other the names were called. Finally, it was her turn. "Ladies and gentlemen," the MC announced, "Representing Alpha fraternity, Miss Katherine Smith!" Kathy walked out to the center of the stage. There was an audible intake of breath from the audience. She was holding her back straight and her head up. At the center of the stage, she paused for a moment and posed with her head back slightly. She turned in a complete circle and moved to the left. She posed again and slowly walked across the stage. She saw a concentration of Alphas and gave them a quick wink, turned, and returned to the center of the stage. She struck the same model's pose she had at the Alpha house as the MC said, "Miss Katherine Smith!" The applause roared and increased in intensity. As men rose to their feet and cheered, the needles on the applause meters reached the stop at the end of their scales and stuck there. The cheering continued and then slowly subsided. Kathy quickly walked off the stage. As a number of girls led by Charlene surrounded her with congratulations, Kathy could hear the master of ceremonies making an announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present the Dean of Yale College who will announce the results. Ladies and gentlemen, Dean Charles Mansfield." Charlene folded Kathy in her arms. "You were spectacular. This couldn't happen to a more deserving girl!" She patted Kathy on her bottom. "Go get 'em, tiger!" Kathy moved closer to the stage to hear what was being said. The Dean had taken a small mike out to center stage. He was speaking without notes. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am here this evening to crown the new Queen of Yale College. I'm supposed to talk for a while to allow time for the judges to total the scores and try to determine a winner. It won't be necessary. I know that some of you in the audience oppose this contest. You consider it exploitative. You believe that a girl appearing in front of you is presenting herself as a toy - a sort of sexual plaything. Frankly, up to this morning, I was bothered by the same thing. But there was more. I heard that efforts were made to disrupt the competition. I heard that a number of contestants were entered, not with an intention of competing in the full range of events, but rather to dominate some particular event. If there was such a scheme, it didn't work. "This morning the judges found it necessary to communicate directly with Princeton. One of the contestants' scores on the GRE was so high it seemed to be off the top of the scoring scale. It counted. In the 100-meter dash, the winner had the fourth fastest women's time ever recorded on that track. In the riflery competition, the winner achieved a score of 248 out of a possible 250. For the ignorant - and I include myself in that group - that is twenty-three bull's-eyes in twenty-five shots. The other two shots were nines. I have it on good authority that a person believes there was a slight defect in one of the bullets, otherwise it would have been a ten." There was laughter from the audience, and Kathy could feel herself blushing. She was amused at the thought of what a blush must look like when wearing a tiny bikini. The Dean continued. "The 1,500 meters - the so-called metric mile - was one of the best middle distance races our track experts have ever seen run. Not only did the winner have to beat one of the finest runners who has ever attended this school, but she had to do it while threading through runners she was lapping on her way to the finish line. And still the time was close to the record for the distance on our track. In wrist wrestling the winner defeated a woman rated by the experts as unbeatable. She also quelled a slight disturbance at the end of the final match before the spectators were aware there was one." Laughter rippled through the audience. "That brings me to tonight. I'm not an engineer. However, it took only a minimum of consultation with my distinguished colleague, the Dean of the School of Engineering, to determine that when the needle on the applause meter bends on its end stop, it's a high reading. I shouldn't say this - I suppose I'm supposed to be impartial - but I was applauding so hard myself I had a hard time focusing on the meter. Fortunately, I was able to focus while the needle was still stuck on its stop. Another thing I'm not is a mathematician. However, it doesn't take a degree in higher mathematics to compute an overall winner when the winner of every event is the same person. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am truly delighted to present the Queen of Yale College, Miss Katherine Smith!" Kathy felt a push in the small of her back. She joined Dean Mansfield at center stage while the applause thundered from the audience. Virtually everyone was on his feet applauding. As she stood there, someone came up behind her and held up a blue academic gown. Kathy slipped her arms in and turned to allow the girl to fasten it. As she turned back, a man came across the stage and presented her with an armful of roses. Dean Mansfield, watching the proceedings, smiled at her warmly. She saw him switch off his mike as he said to her softly, "At graduation I've always wondered what some of the girls are wearing under the gowns, particularly if it's a hot day. Kathy, what is under your gown is breathtaking." He switched the mike on again as a man brought out a crown set on a blue pillow. At the same time, the other contestants were filing onto the stage behind them. "Kathy, it is indeed an honor to crown you Queen of Yale College. In one body you combine all of the things we want to have here at Yale and which God so seldom combines in a single person. Congratulations!" The applause roared out again. Just then, the band played a fanfare followed by Yale's alma mater, Bright College Years. The entire audience stood and sang. Holding her head up proudly, Kathy could feel tears of joy rolling down her cheeks as she joined in. Other girls crowded around to offer congratulations as the audience filed out. She accepted them gracefully and looked around for someone to take the crown. No one was interested, so she gathered that it and the robe were hers to keep. 'Oh, well,' she thought, 'they can always add it to my Bursar's bill.' Finally, she retrieved her skirt and sweater and put them on. After changing her shoes for loafers, she carefully folded the gown and left the theater. The Alphas were waiting for her at the door, and mobbed her when she emerged. They all wanted to hug her, kiss her and tell her how proud they were. Kathy was mauled.Finally, they backed off and just smiled at her. She shook her head like a terrier and ran her fingers through her hair to get it back together. She grinned at the guys. "This calls for a celebration. Let's go back to Mory's. I'm buying." The celebrating group marched up to Mory's. One of the members was carrying her crown, and another had her gown. It was almost eleven o'clock when they entered. Kathy was immediately recognized by people near the door, who began to applaud. As word of who had just arrived spread through the old building, Kathy could hear the sound of applause flow around and fill the structure. The headwaiter ushered them up to the Whiffenpoofs' room. Mory's unique concoction known as a Green Cup passed from hand to hand until closing time. As she took a sip, Kathy realized that she had left Mory's less than twelve hours earlier. It seemed like years, with so much happening between trips.

M/F

Chapter 9b

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/7415.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, 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, he loves me. We have two precious little ones sleeping down the hall. 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 my 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 ass. 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 thrust 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/Year98/7106.txt

Jeannette C Wilson

Us Three

"Bye, Mom! And thanks for everything!" Rachel waved goodbye to her mother and jounced to the Jeep with her backpack. "Who'd have believed it? She *accepts* me!" she exclaimed. Well, I for one would have believed it, but I kept quiet. I'd been working behind the scenes for the past ten weeks to get her family used to the idea, arrange for some financial help in getting her in college, and just plain keep them informed of what was going on in their daughter's life. So I was never really a Mother (it comes with the territory of being M2F TS), but I *can* relate to how they feel. "Yeah, isn't it nice to have your family back?" said Michelle from the back. I tried to put on a smiling face for them both. I have no family anymore, they all ran like scared rednecked rabbits when their son/brother, John, suddenly became Jeannette, a lesbian. Michelle leaned forward and gave me a kiss. "Oh, Jean, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way." She has a way of *knowing* how I feel, without me even saying anything. "Hey, I *do* have a family, one that loves me very much. They're just not related to me." "Am I part of your family, Jean?" asked Rachel. "Sweet one, you hadn't noticed that yet? Yes, you are. You, and Michelle, and Susan in New York and Joan in New Jersey, are my family now." I smiled wistfully. So they're not my kids, exactly, and they're not legally married to me. Heck, we'll have a *long* wait for that - first gay marriages need to be accepted as legal, then poly families need to be accepted too, then cross-generational relationships, and cross-racial ones need to be more accepted. I've done what I can, legally, to give us nearly the same benefits, and in the eyes of the Goddess we are married. That's enough for us. "Anybody need to go potty, or need some munchies? There's a McD's at the next exit..." We stopped, grabbed some chow (they had McRibs again, my favorite!), made our nature calls, tanked up the Cherokee, and continued driving. I put Melissa Etheridge's "Brave and Crazy" CD on for tunes, as Michelle and Rachel conspired in the back. "Are we there yet?" Michelle whined, then giggled, as we pulled into Woodruff, Wisconsin. "Almost, my loves." I checked the USGS map, as the campground I wanted was very out-of-the-way. We turned west off the highway, then zigzagged around for a while on dirt roads, till we arrived at our campsite. Ours was the only car there, despite this being Labor Day weekend. I pulled up to a site near the lake. The quiet when I shut down the Jeep was awesome. In the distance, a loon called out. "There's nobody here!" chirped Michelle excitedly. Just as I remembered it from fifteen years before. That day it was raining when I arrived, very tired and sweaty from the July heat. Then, I had taken a washcloth, soap and shampoo, and had a very pleasant shower in the drizzle. This time, I had other plans. Apparently, so did my two grrls. First order of business was the mosquito repellant! Within minutes of our arrival, we heard them buzzing around, and the *slap!* started. We unloaded the Cherokee, and had the tent up in no time, with our clothes and air mattresses and sleeping bags stowed safely inside. "We'll need wood for the fire tonight if you want to have s'mores. Would you two beauties care to venture forth with me, in search of some?" And we set out, collecting. I actually did have some dry wood with me in the Jeep, but not enough for a three day weekend, and up here you can never count on the weather staying good for long. We had a fair pile of wood, when we stumbled on to the beach. It was small, maybe thirty feet wide, very sandy, and very inviting. We all put the wood down, to rest a while on the sand. *SLAP!* "Oh, these damned mosquitos!" *SLAPSLAP!* "You know, they won't bother us if we're in the water..." I said. "But I didn't wear my bathing suit," cried Michelle. As I began to strip, I said "Use your birthday suit then. Last one in is a rotten egg!" We all peeled down and piled into the lake. The cold of the water had an immediate effect on our nipples... or was it the sight of two other pretty women, nude? "Hey, Rachel, what's this?" I said, sticking out my tongue. "I dunno, what?" Before I could say it, Michelle chimed in. "A lesbian with a hardon!" Rachel giggled, and stuck her tongue out at me. "Don't do that unless you mean to use it!" I warned her, jokingly. She dogpaddled over to me and kissed me. I kissed her right back, raising the ante by rubbing my nipples against hers. She called, and raised again, by sucking my nipple ring into her mouth. Pretty soon Michelle joined in, too. I was outnumbered, two against one. I did my best to keep them both occupied, but somehow during the fray, Michelle had done the unthinkable. She had removed my panties. "It's only fair, Jean! We're both nude, you should be, too!" Now, Michelle has seen me nude many times, and so has Rachel, when we shower together. It's not like either of them would freak over seeing the wrong plumbing... it's just, well, it's not something I enjoy. I prefer to be loved as *me*, the person I am, and not as some freak, a girl with a dick. I can't help it, I was born male, but was really a girl inside. I'm as much a girl as I'll ever be now, just I still have the wrong plumbing (and with putting two kids through college, I'll probably never get that fixed). Rachel hugged me, smiling, but broke off when she saw that I was crying. "Jean, what's wrong?" "Nothing you can fix, dear one. Nothing anybody can ever fix." I tried to stop crying, but it was hopeless. I felt myself falling into the abyss again, and hated myself for it, and that hatred made it worse, over and over in a neverending spiral down. "I'd best get on shore before I drown. You two go and have fun, just let me be for a while." I knew if I had enough time, I could pretend again that nothing was wrong. "No, Jean, you're always there for us when we need you, now it's time for you to let us be there, too," said Michelle, quietly yet firmly. As I sat on the beach, she sat beside me, holding me tight. Rachel joined in on the other side. "It's not fair," I sobbed. "You two deserve somebody better than an old wreck of a transsexual like me." Michelle adopted her "I mean business" tone of voice. "Jean, when will you understand that we *love* *YOU*. Just as you are. We love you for the sweet, kind, warm person that you are, *just* as you are. I love you because you're kind, and generous, and sweet, and you took time to actually *listen* to a young girl who was trying to come to grips with being gay. When nobody else in the world gave a shit about me, you did. You took me in, you got me back in school, you showed me how to be proud of myself. When Rachel came out, and was rejected by her family and friends, *you* gave her a good home.You sweet-talked her parents into helping get her back in school. You got her mother to finally accept that her daughter is still her daughter, despite who she chooses to sleep with. You did that. You, the 'old wreck of a transsexual'. Nobody else on the planet cared if I lived or died, not my brothers or sisters or even my Mom. You cared, and for that, I love *you*, just the way you are. Rachel agreed. "Yes, Jean, when will you learn to love yourself? Geez, so you have the wrong plumbing. You already *know* that #you# are not defined by your plumbing!" "It's hard to accept it when I have to live with it, day in and day out, and *know* that no lesbian will ever want to make love with me because of it." "No lesbian, ever? Is that why you're always doing us, and never even take your panties off?" demanded Rachel. I nodded silently. "Well, that's gotta stop, and pronto!" she said sternly. "Now you just lay down, relax, and try to get it through your head that *we* *love* *you*, ok?" She pushed me down on the sand, and began kissing me. Michelle joined her. When I tried to be more active and kiss Rachel's neck, she scolded me. "Now, no topping from the bottom, Jean! This is our time to show *you* that we care about #all# of you, the physical you as well as the mental, emotional and spiritual you." What could I do? My Mistress had spoken. I lay back as Michelle and Rachel toyed with me, using my body to give *me* pleasure. While Rachel nibbled at my neck and ears, Michelle was busy kissing and munching on my breasts, every now and then reaching a hand down to scoop out some of her own wetness and rub it on me. "See? You're getting wet, too! You just needed a little help." Between the kisses, the nibbles and the touching, I was beginning to feel OK. OK, hell! I was beginning to enjoy it, to finally bask in the sunshine, warmth and love of two incredible young women. "Remember Joan," Michelle said to Rachel. "Joan?" "Yes, didn't she tell you?" "Oh, about the time on the phone?" "Yes, that time. Shall we? You first." I had a clue what was in store for me (I was going to say, "what was coming", but that pun is too bad even for me!) "Dear Jean, are you enjoying this?" "Ooh, yes I am, Rachel..." *SLAP!* on my thigh, went Michelle. "That's Mistress Rachel to you. Now, are you going to be a good girl and do what I tell you?" "Yes, Mistress Rachel." "Yes what?" "Yes, I will be a good girl and do as I am told, Mistress Rachel." "For now, Jean, your job is to relax, enjoy this, and experience it. Get into what it feels like, really *experience* it. Feel the sun on your body, feel the sand under it, feel the way our hands and lips caress you, run down your hot flesh, tease you to new heights of pleasure." So I did as I was told, like a good little girl, while they kissed me, caressed me, sucked on my fingers and toes, blew in my ears, tugged on my nipple rings, occasionally touching me "down there" but never lingering there, just enough to include it as part of the whole package deal. After a while, I was squirming and moaning under them... "Jean, do you like this?" "Yes, Mistress Rachel, I do!" "Very well, then. I think it is time for you to come. We know that you *can* do it, entirely in your mind. Show us how." As Michelle dragged her fingernails over some *very* sensitive skin (that born-females do not have), I started faking an orgasm. As it did the first time I tried this, within moments it was real. Incredible pleasure, wave after wave of it, and no icky fluids from the wrong parts. I thought it was over, but they had other ideas. "Very good, Jean! Now it's time for you to do some work to earn your next one." Next one? Urp! Rachel then climbed up to sit on my face. Goddess, how I loved it! Her wetness, so warm and tasty, all over my chin, so delicious, so delicate... But what's that? Huh? I felt somebody else straddling me. Michelle? As she grabbed me and eased me into her, I recognized her touch. Yes, Michelle, once again using what she calls my "organic strap-on", as we did the night she gave me her virginity. With Michelle *and* Rachel on me, I was quite occupied. Michelle leaned forward a bit, to kiss Rachel's back, and tweak her nipples. Rachel came, washing my face in juices, but I did not stop. She came again, shortly after that. Michelle was having fun, too. She shifted her hands till they were on my breasts, and as she moved up and down, she scraped her nails over my nipples. "Come for me, Jean!" Michelle demanded. I did, for the second time, totally mental, and even better than the first one. I must have blacked out for a bit, cause next thing I knew, we were all lying in a tangled heap on the beach. We couldn't have been out long, though. When I stood up to get dressed, two people in a canoe on the lake applauded us. I took a bow, and handed the grrls their clothing. And to this day I *like* the taste of Citronella. Most of my friends think I'm nuts, but Rachel and Michelle just smile and agree with me...

Part Four

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12117.txt

James Bellamy

Grandma's Story

"Oh, good grief, Jeff, I'm too old to think about anything like that," I said with feigned shock and a laugh. But the thought did linger in my mind for a few minutes. Even though I've been a widow for fifteen years and am getting painfully close to sixty years old, I still have occasional sexual thoughts and I still have the vanity for keeping my appearance under some sort of control. I like to dress well and I would like to think that some men think I still have some attractive features. Jeff is the idol of my life these days. He is my 28-year-old grandson who has lived with me during his senior year in high school and more recently while attending college for his advanced degrees. Our relationship took on an even deeper relationship when I found some of his erotic books and magazines and he caught me looking through them. That led to a discussion of sexuality, and we have confided in each other ever since. We have found it interesting to read and compare our impressions of the books "the Story of O," "Lady Chatterly's Lover," "The Pearl," and many other historical and more recent erotic writings, art, and photographs. He had just suggested that for my upcoming birthday, he invite some of his friends home for what I can only term by the coarse title of Gang Bang. Shocking, of course, and he wouldn't have opened if it had not come up jokingly in some of our conversations. Especially those which have taken place over a glass or two of wine, late at night after he has returned from a date. The ball was in my court. I was thinking that in fact it might be just what I would like, in spite of the fact that it was outrageous. I was having the old "you only live once" and "life is getting short" arguments with myself. When he brought up what I wanted for my birthday again, he said, again jokingly, "unless you have decided to take me up on my original offer?" Taking a deep breath, I replied, "well, now that you bring the subject up, maybe I have." "At least maybe we could have them over for a game of poker, or something like that," I chickened out at the last moment and softened it a bit. "Oh, well, maybe so," he mused, looking at me intensely, as I averted my eyes and then returned his gaze. Then with a big reassuring smile, "I'm not sure you'll be able to fight them off, though, the way you look!" "Do you think it would be OK?" I said, seeking some reassurance. "Or will they just think I'm a fat dumpy old woman who has lost her senses?" "No, I don't think that at all," he replied. "Look at yourself." I think you look terrific, but then I've always had a crush on you!" he said in his charming way. " I can still remember that you were my first sex symbol, and how I couldn't take my eyes off your breasts." I would work hours trying to find an angle to see more of them, or to see you in your bra, you know. I'm sure you were aware of that, eh?" "Oh, the way you talk. But, of course that is the way all little boys are, aren't they. I mean it is perfectly normal to have an attachment for the first women you are close to." So, the night has come. I have been worrying about it for two weeks and have been torn between canceling out several times. Each time Jeff has been reassuring that it will be all right and I have relented. I even went out and spruced up my wardrobe a bit, buying a sort of teddy or bustier with garters for the old-fashioned black stockings I thought might set the mood. I have had a long luxurious bath now and dabbed my favorite perfume everywhere you can think of and maybe a couple you haven't thought of. Just in case this does go further than a few hands of poker! Slipping my breasts into the cups of the bustier, I began to feel a little bit seductive and then had the old misgivings. "Oh, what the hell," I said to myself, "what have you got to lose at your age anyway?" I tugged a bit and got the garment fastened and looked at myself in the mirror, bending over to see what the view was going to be. "Not bad, old girl," I said aloud, admiring the cleavage the little bit of padding gave me. As I readjusted them in the cups, I noticed that my nipples had hardened a little. Holding up the Christian Dior stockings, I could see that they were deliciously sheer. I slipped the first over my foot and then pulled it evenly up my thigh and pulled it up snug. I straightened the leg for an admiring glance and was glad to see that it looked pretty good, if I had to say so myself. I was just pulling on the other thigh when Jeff came to the door to see if he should open the wine. I teasingly opened the door and slipped one leg through like they do in the movies. "Wow, holy cow, Gram, you're going to be a smash. Can I see the rest?" he said rather eagerly. "Here now, young man, this is your grandmother you are talking to, mind your manners," I chided. Jeff's friends rang the doorbell and I realized that there were three of them, and that Jeff intended to be the fourth active partner in this party. Probably I knew that all along but had not faced up to it before. I slipped into my new black panties and slid them up my thighs and felt the silkiness of them over my buns and the way they fit snugly over my pussy. I sprayed a little perfume there. I slipped into the skirt and blouse I planned to wear, slipped into my heels and with one glance in the mirror; I boosted my breasts once and headed down to my dates for the evening. Luckily I liked the young men that Jeff had invited. Billy was a black boy I had met before, tall and handsome with charming manners. Ted was a bit brash, good-looking with a lot of talk, and his young brother Eddie, who looked a little out of place with the older boys. We did, in fact, play a game of strip poker while we were getting better acquainted over a few glasses of wine. I lost my shoes fairly quickly and then my skirt. The boys were complimentary as I slipped the skirt slowly down my legs and stepped out of it. I affected a little bump and grind to their cheers. Billy lost steadily until he was totally nude and the others didn't seem to be very good players either. As my blouse joined the pile on the table, I noticed my breasts were getting a lot of appreciative attention. At this point, we changed the game a little. The boys decided that since they were out of clothes that the bets should be for touching, feeling, licking various parts of the loser's body. They all agreed that girls are more interesting in their underwear than nude anyway, so they wanted to enjoy me in my black undies. Jeff had the low hand and I had the high hand, meaning that he had to fondle my choice of my body part to receive attention. I was starting to like this game. Starting slowly, I said "OK, Billy, I want some tender fondling of my panty-covered tush and hips." "Ah, my pleasure, ma'am." With this, he took my hand and brought me to my feet, began slowly and gently fondling me. Starting with his hands on my waist, he moved around to lightly brush my panty-covered ass with his fingertips. His hands were wonderful as he expanded the caress to involve his whole hand, which eventually cupped my buns as I watched his cock rise to full staff in front of me. I stared at the nice purple head of his cock emerging from under his black foreskin. Billy was not circumcised and I wondered if that would feel different, since I had never had the pleasure of a man like that. It isn't very attractive, I do think, but the bulbous head looks nice when it finally is exposed. "Does the winner get to touch whatever she sees that she likes?" I joked. His voice was tense as he answered "anything you want is fair, Gram." He thrust himself closer and my hand surrounded the largeness of his cock and slowly began moving back and forth. "Ummmn, he moaned. That's great." His hands moved around to the front of my panties and his fingers sought their way under the tightness of the elastic in the legs. I could feel his nails trail down, just touching the hair of my pussy on both sides of my panty legs, and my hand tightened on his cock, pulling it closer to just touch the silkiness of my panties where they tented over my mound. I could feel that I was already beginning to get wet between my legs. "Time for another hand, you two!" Ted interrupted. "There are other players here, you know?"Reluctantly, we resumed our seats, and I retained my grip on Billy's lovely black cock for a moment longer under the table, then reluctantly let it spring back to its vertical erect position pointing skyward under the table. "Whose deal?" I managed to choke out. My panties were sopping wet wedged there between my thighs. I could feel the snaps of the teddy there against the lips of my pussy as I crossed my legs. Ted won the next hand and elected to have his cock sucked by the favorite loser (ME). He took his position in a soft armchair. "Billy, how about continuing your attention to my ass while I attend to Ted? I don't think we took enough time on our turn, did we?" I was feeling fairly mischievous and getting comfortable with the pleasures of the game. "God, you get the best ideas." He smiled enthusiastically. I was starting to like this smiling, tall black boy. Teddy was very nice too, it turned out, waiting patiently staring at my tits with his nice medium-size dick sticking up like a poker from his lap. I leaned on the arms of the chair as I admired that sweet young dick staring up at me. Taking it in my left hand, I massaged it slightly as it hardened even more under my warm hand. Teddy was tense, and I encouraged him to relax. "It's okay, don't be embarrassed, sweetheart, just relax and enjoy." I settled into the chair a little more. "Oh, you have such a nice big dick, Teddy, I want to kiss it, my little lamb, is that what you want?" "Yeaahh," his voice was raspy and huskier than normal. I don't think he had had much experience. It was nice to have this chance to teach him with the tenderness I felt. I kissed the tip of his cock, flicking my tongue lightly over the split tip of it. His pre-cum juices tasted sweet but slightly salty, and his male scent met my nostrils. "Oh, Billy, that feels so nice when you fondle my buns, keep it up, baby." "You got it, momma. I love the feel of your panties over your hips." I could feel that he had moved closer so that his huge cock was pleasantly leaning against the split of my ass, feeling the silkiness of my panties over the softness of my buns. Turning my attention to Teddy, I brought my lips down around the sweet bulbous head of his cock, letting the tightness of my lips pop over the ridge of his glans. He surged deeper with a little thrust of his hips, and he slipped deep into my mouth. I circled his balls and the base of his cock with my hand. "Oh, my god, he murmured, this is so good, give me more, baby." I was glad to oblige. His young cock was smooth, long, and tasted good. The heat of it was deliciously sensual against my tongue as I circled it with my wetness. Jeff had pulled aside the crotch of my panties and had discovered my wetness there between my thighs. His finger explored. I spread my thighs a little to make it easier for him to continue his exploration. As I gulped Teddy's cock, I felt that huge dick of Jeff's between my legs, nuzzling the wetness of my cuntal lips. The feeling of having two men was new to me. I found it wonderful. It's shocking, I know, but I suppose it is obvious that two would be even better than one, and I can now testify to the pleasure of it all. One hot dick deep in my throat and one very large and very hot one between the lips of my pussy, sampling the wetness of my juices. Wow. Billy's uncircumcised dick was just gently sliding between the lips of my pussy, parting them and then letting them return as he pulled out in the other direction. I could imagine but not feel the effect the seesawing motion would be having on the foreskin as it slipped back and forth over his bulging knob. Jeff's hand reached between my legs and unsnapped the crotch of my bustier. My mouth intensified its enjoyment of Ted's cock as the excitement mounted in my loins as my black silky panties slipped down over my hips and were slipped down my legs by a third set of hands helping Jeff. I moved my legs to allow them to slip them off more easily and then stepped out of them. Billy quickly slipped his cock into my eager pussy. It felt so good to have my cunt being stretched to accommodate a man again after so long. His cock felt hot as he thrust what felt like the entire length into me. I could feel its tip bump against my cervix. Apparently sensing that he was a little big for me, he seemed to go slowly and carefully, making a number of delightful in-and-out strokes to my great pleasure. I could feel my juices lubricating this huge battering ram of a cock and feel them make my thighs slightly wet and sticky. Mmmmn, delightful. "Oh, I said, maybe we better stop for a breather, boys, I don't want this to end too soon. You're wonderful lovers, you know. I love your beautiful bodies and especially these lovely cocks you brought along for me!" "I'm for that," sighed Teddy, "this is the greatest! You're the greatest!!!!" "Well, since you mention it, I won't deny that I'm good at sucking the best out of a good man's dick! I've always been partial to it! And, it's nice of you to say it. I like the taste of you, you know?" We settled for another drink and another hand of poker. What could be next, I thought. My stomach started cramping up from holding back on my orgasm, but being so close to having my first one. The pleasure of all this was really deliciously exciting, so I was holding back to extend the enjoyment. I got everyone another glass of wine, and the boys each fondled my nyloned legs or put their arms around me low on my hips so they could enjoy the softness of my ass on their bare arms. The youngest one, Eddie, had not said or done much other than look, so far, so I decided to try to make him more comfortable. Sitting on his lap and giving him a wet French kiss. "Oh, I think you liked that, eh?" I smiled. Bringing my lips to his again was met with his tongue fencing with mine, and I moved my ass against his little cock. I could feel the nervous excitement as he tried to nearly swallow my tongue. "Eddie, would you like to try that tongue out on my other lips? I'd really like you under the table between my legs while we play the next hand. What do you say?" He was a nice kid. He eagerly agreed, though he was feeling a little embarrassed in front of his friends. Knowing how men like our panties, I slipped into a pair of black lace ones and dabbed my bush with a little more perfume. Then, I led him by the hand, and he ducked under the table amid the cheers of the rest of us. As I sat down, spreading my legs, I could feel his hands tentatively sliding along my thighs and then the back of his knuckles as he touched the panties covering my pussy. Then his breath was on my pussy. I could feel his nose bump into my mound as he found his way to my cunt for the first time. His tongue tentatively tasted my bush through the lace and then found its way around the elastic to my lips. He was off target to one side at first, but soon was licking his way along the wet slit between the generous folds of my waiting cunt. He pulled my panties aside and held them firmly out of his way as his tongue spread my juices all over my cunt lips and his own lips and face. I guided him to the erect clit at the center of my body and pressed his face deep into my cunt. He got the idea, and his tongue was magic in its excited eagerness to please. He swirled my engorged and sensitive clit around and around as if he couldn't get enough of it. I clamped my thighs tightly against the sides of his head as the next hand was dealt up on the tabletop. I was having a little trouble concentrating on the game, but it was exciting, exciting, exciting. Eddie continued to attack my clit and then moved down a little, and I felt him striving to slip his tongue deeper into my love hole. I was close to cumming. I pushed his head down a little lower, and his bewildered tongue touched the bud of my asshole. My juices were following him down, and my asshole was soon bathed in wetness, too. After his initial surprise, Eddie seemed to like licking it too, and he ringed my hole again and again as he squeezed my nyloned thighs with his hands. "Oh, oh, I'm, I'm cumming, oh, cum, oh, ooh..." Suddenly there was no holding back, I was cumming wildly. My body shook and shuddered, the electric thrill starting in my chest and coursing down through the rest of my body. I spasmed again and again, and my legs clamped around poor little Eddie and nearly squeezed the breath out of him. He kept licking gamely, though, and my body slowly subsided from its extreme high tenseness into a complete and warm relaxation. "Better than I have had in years, sweetie," I moaned. I pulled him up between my legs and hugged him to my breasts. On his knees, his cock was buried against my pussy, as hard as could be. "Oh, my," I said, "I should return the favor, shouldn't I? Look how hard you have gotten. Come on, baby, let me help you with that." Taking him to the living room, I had him lie on his back. "Now you are going to feel as good as you just made me feel, okay?" He nodded enthusiastically. Straddling his slight body and still not full-grown cock, I lowered myself onto him. He was small, but that made it a little more exciting to feel that little cock sliding into my cunt. I wanted to make him feel very good and tightened the muscles of my pussy as much as I could. He was going crazy under me. I think he was afraid to move, so I got to do all the work. I played with his little cock, moving my pelvis in a circle with his prick in the center. My juices made us both slippery and wet and warm. He slipped out of my tunnel, and I reached between us and played with it, rubbing it just a little bit against my wet slit, careful not to bring him off just yet. He was not large, but he was long enough to be entertaining. "How's that feel, honey?" I whispered hoarsely.He answered with a gasped "yes," and I pulled my bra cups down so he could play with my breasts. His hands roamed eagerly over the ample flesh. I guided him to pinch my nipples a little as I pressed my cunt forward against the length of his cock. Clamping tighter, I raised my ass a little higher and gave his cock some tight, hard thrusts. He arched his back and pushed into me as his sperm was ready to rush out. Three or four more thrusts, and I felt his sperm shooting out into my cunt and then slipping out along his shaft. I pressed against him, holding onto his softening little cock, draining the last bit of pleasure and juice out of it. I released it slowly from the muscles and lips of my cunt and felt the pleasure of the semi-hard shaft slipping wetly out of my happy pussy. Eddie was smiling and scratching his head fiercely the way men sometimes do after a "good piece of ass," I thought modestly. I wonder what causes their scalp to itch when you rub the other end of their bodies!? After serving another glass of wine, I slipped upstairs to freshen up a little bit. My stomach was still a little crampy in spite of the good orgasm, so it felt good to go to the bathroom and let my water flow. I really felt good, relaxed and enjoying the pleasures the boys were giving me. And also the pleasure I was obviously giving them. They were all so cute and excited. With my foot up on the stool, I washed myself with a warm cloth, cleaning all the sticky juices and sperm from my thighs and then gently parting my pussy lips and washing it very gently. I was still tingling, and the slight roughness of the cloth made my clit bristle with the expectation of more pleasure to come. I slipped on a fresh pair of panties for the boys to take off and dabbed a little perfume on my mound. Another dab between my breasts and a little behind my knees, and I was ready for another round of card playing revelry. They greeted me as a queen alighting from a carriage and escorted me to a large easy chair for my throne. They had decided that I should be worshipped on my throne and that the chief medicine man would be Billy, whose cock was swollen and stood out with a youthful hardness. He had started it off this evening with his nice caresses and much-needed fondling of my ass and had been patiently waiting ever since. I thought he was likely to be a very good medicine man and admired the bulbous head of his cock. I could imagine what it was going to feel like as it filled me up completely. Billy was the largest of the boys, in stature as well as having the largest cock. Fondling his balls, I said, "This looks like it could hurt someone! It's so big and beautiful. I'm sure you'll be gentle, eh, Billy?" He smiled with pride at my praise. His black skin emphasized the whiteness of his teeth. I thought, "This is another first for me, having a black cock inside me." The old myth about black being better and much larger came to mind. Well, if there is any truth to the size stories about black men, certainly Billy was not going to let it down. His cock looked truly beautiful, and I kissed it on the underside near the end. His glans stood out from the shaft, smooth and glistening. The ridge around his cock head was deep and gave a strong delineation, which was beautiful and exciting. It looked like it would feel wonderful sliding into my waiting cunt. Luckily, I could feel myself getting wet already as my tongue slipped up over the head of Billy's cock, and my lips closed around it for just a moment. His sharp intake of breath warned me that I should not linger, or his ejaculation would be premature. "The queen is happy with this reception and ready for the ceremony!" I smiled as I slipped low in my throne and waited for his friendly invasion. Billy knelt between my legs and sniffed the mixture of my scent and my perfume steaming up from my warm, panty-covered pussy mound. His lips were pressed against the flatness there between my legs where my pussy awaited him. His nose rested over the ledge of my mound. His finger slipped along the elastic of my panties and found its way into my cunt. He lingered a moment and then began slipping my panties down my legs and off. He laid them close at hand, "I want to smell those some more a little later. You have a wonderful scent," he murmured. They had turned the lights a little lower, and Billy's assistant, grandson Jeff, stood at attention with his erect penis awaiting my command. Billy moved closer and helped me slide down into the chair to meet him. My ass was on the edge of the chair cushion, and my head was against the back of the chair as I waited for my punishment or my treat, or perhaps both. Handling his cock gently, Billy rubbed that beautiful, bulbous cock head against my clit, moved it down so that it opened the lips of my pussy and then down past the tunnel of my cunt. My juices were flowing with excitement and pleasure. His cock head was well lubricated now, and I could see it peek out above my pussy hair as he made his upward movement, teasing my clit into erect excitement. My juices glistened on his cock head and about a half inch of the shaft of his magnificent instrument. At last, he slipped inside, taking my breath away for a moment as the head of it popped in against the slight resistance of the muscles of my cunt. It slid easily, but it was stretching me with its girth, too. Lord, he was a big boy, no doubt. I squirmed a little for comfort as the wonderful invader made its way forcefully and persistently down the wet, hot channel of my cunt. His cock felt very hot as it slid in, and I melted with the pleasure of it. It seemed to be filling me up entirely and stretching my cunt and exploring every crevice and fold of my vagina as it straightened it out with its length. I felt the cock head touch my cervix, but the pleasure was so great that I found myself straining to get him in deeper. The bristle-like hair of his mound now found the protecting hair of my pussy mound. His breath came in excited jerks in my ear as he rammed himself against me. I spread my legs even wider to welcome the sensation of his body touching the sensitive concavities in my thigh muscles which lie on either side of my pussy when my legs are spread at their widest. His warm, smooth body nestled against me, trying to find a perfect, complete contact. He was so warm and lovely, it was a nice contrast to the searing heat of his cock or the searing feeling that his largeness caused as he stretched me to receive his entire cock. He had stopped to enjoy being all the way inside my passage and probably to avoid coming too soon. This I appreciated. I clamped my legs around his back to hold him in and to gain leverage to tighten my muscles around the tubular length of his cock. I could feel it better as I alternately squeezed and relaxed around him. I could tell that it felt very good to him because of the way it felt to me. It was like having a very high-quality leather glove tight on your hand. The pleasure is a sensual one, too, as this one certainly was. The snugness of the glove makes you aware of the shape of your hand and fingers, and it grips you in the same way I was feeling about this large, lovely shape in my pussy. I squeezed him more and more, and then squeezed hardest as I felt him begin to slide out to begin thrusting. I could feel the head of his dick as it made its way until it was close to leaving me, and then as it was thrust hard back into me, pushing the folds of me out of its way in its eagerness to be satisfied with pleasure and release. Billy was not in control anymore, he was just thrusting in and out mostly by instinctive need for the tactile pleasure of the penis inside a warm, welcoming cunt. Eagerly ramming in and out, pulling more of my juices with it. He was covered with my juices, I could tell from the feel of his cock, and soon from the feel of his belly sticky and wet against the entry to the heavenly heat he was seeking. As he was thrusting, I sensed the cock of his assistant nearby and took it in my hand and squeezed it as my pleasure continued to swirl around inside my body. I don't think I have ever before had such a feeling of joy and physical pleasure. As his cock rammed into me again and again, I had multiple orgasms starting with one big one which coursed through my body from my clit up to my throat and back again and then a series of little shivering things which made me tremble to the luscious stimulation of my pussy and my clit. The young body pounding against my clit in its vulnerable, moist little chapel was a sheer delight. I was too young and inexperienced to have enjoyed it in this way when I was their age. That excitement was more the fumbling type, while now I was able to help these inexperienced, eager young men play a magnificent symphony of pleasure on my eager body. It was heaven, for sure. Billy was now completely spent, of course. He had lasted pretty well for such a young man, and he had given me unbelievable pleasure with his wonderful thrusting. Now his juice was slipping out of my limp cunt muscles. Those same taut muscles which had hugged his cock and played with it, and massaged it, and most of all had felt for my pleasure. In a real sense, I had been "feeling him up" with those lovely muscles for the same kind of pleasure that men get in "feeling up" our breasts, I guess. I slipped my hand between our bodies as he began to pull out and gripped him one last time and felt the joyous combination of our juices there between us. Coating his body completely and now seeping sensuously down my thighs. "Billy, you were wonderful," I said to him, meaning it with all sincerity. "You are a very good lover, you know!" "Ohhhh, so are you, lady, so are you!" It was a nice compliment, and I think he meant it, too.Jeff, sensing that I was getting a little tired, started cleaning up the table, and his friends helped. "I think it's time to hang it up, guys. What do you say?" They were all pretty worn out as they got back into their clothes. "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... End of Chapter One Comment to jbellamy@renman.net May Be Continued Later If Any Interest Is Expressed

Chapter 1 Revised

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16682.txt

Jordan Shelbourne

Pidge's Story

"You're sure," Mary asked Pidge, "you don't mind if I don't kiss you?" Pidge shook her head no. "It's Ben's present. We're both here for him. The point is that he has a good time." "Oh," said Mary. "What if he wants us to--you know?" Pidge smiled. "You politely avoid the issue by sucking his cock." Mary laughed. "Brent and I did it with Simon once, but they were more interested in each other than in me." "Ben's different," Pidge said, tucking a lock of purple hair behind her ear as she checked the clock in the kitchen. It was 11:55. Ben was supposed to arrive at noon, but the bus from campus was notoriously unreliable. Pidge poured Mary another champagne-and-orange-juice to calm her down. "He looks cute," Mary said, shifting on the stool. "What about after?" "After?" "A threesome with another woman? It changes stuff. The relationship." She took a sip of her drink. "You're dumping him, right?" Pidge sighed. "Yes." It was 11:58. "Will you quit looking at the clock already? You're making me nervous. If he's so great, why are you dumping him?" Because, thought Pidge. Because you're his age and I'm not. Because his enthusiasm will drive me mad. Because I've had fun teaching him about sex, but now he expects every day to be exotic, erotic, and marvelous. Because I don't want to invest the time to remake his image of me, she thought, and hated herself for it. "Because it's time to be alone for a while," she told her friend, knowing that was an acceptable answer. "Oh," said Mary. She sipped again from her champagne glass. Pidge knew she would be fine once Ben arrived. Pidge knew that Ben would treat her well. And that was another because: because Ben held no more surprises for her. She knew what to expect from him, and from Mary. She knew they would be fine together. There was a knock at the door. It was exactly noon. Pidge touched her hair again -- it had been purple only for a week -- and opened the door. Ben stood there, neatly dressed in a sport shirt and gray slacks. His brown hair was still damp from showering. Pidge noticed he had an erection; already, she thought, and smiled. This would be fun. Ben looked disappointed when he saw Pidge was not alone. Pidge almost laughed but smothered it because a young man's ego is a fragile thing. His erection was wilting. She stepped aside to let him into her tiny apartment and then said, "Ben, Mary. Mary, Ben. Champagne and orange juice, Ben?" Ben followed her through the kitchen into the bed-sitting-room. "Uh," said Ben, and then, "Yes, please," and then, finally, clumsily, "It's, uh, nice to meet you, Mary." Mary lifted her eyebrows and looked at Pidge. "Are you disappointed to see me, Ben?" asked Mary. Her voice had dropped half a register and become husky. She stared at him over her champagne glass until he blushed and looked away. Her eyes were dark with gold flecks. She changed position on the stool to emphasize her large breasts. "Close your mouth, dear," said Pidge as she poured his drink. "Flies will get in." Ben shut his mouth. "I don't mean disappointed to see me specifically, of course," said Mary. "You don't even *know* me. You would have been disappointed to see *anybody,* right, Ben?" "No," he said. "No, I just-- I just--" He took the glass from Pidge. "Is this mine?" Mary sighed heavily. "You wanted to be alone with our Pidge," she said sadly. "No," Ben protested lamely, trying to smile. "I just wasn't expecting... Look, I can come back later--" He took a deep draught from his glass. "You're squandering it," said Pidge. "Drink it slowly." She sat on the edge of the bed to watch. Ben was trying, but Mary had blindsided him and he wasn't getting a chance to recover. While his attention was focused on Mary, Pidge permitted herself a tiny smile, ready to lose it if Ben looked her way. As she watched, she twisted her finger in the ribbon that tied her blouse. "No, no, I understand. You wanted to be alone with Pidge, probably for some immoral purpose--" "No, no--" Ben protested. "Well, what's wrong with you?" Mary demanded. "I'd do immoral things with Pidge. She's quite attractive, if you like them tall and thin." She frowned as though she'd thought of something shocking. "You're not a breast man, are you?" Ben stopped suddenly. "What?" "Oh, Pidge, don't tell me you were trying to convert another big boob man. You're supposed to call me for those." She said to Ben, "I'm her stunt tits." The women waited, and there was a moment of silence before Ben laughed heartily. Pidge let herself laugh too, and Mary grinned. "Happy birthday, Ben," said Pidge, and they toasted him. "Thank you. I wasn't sure what was going to happen for a moment, there." "Neither was I," said Mary. "Pidge assured me you'd be a gentleman, though." She giggled. "'I could come back later, though--'" "*I* had faith in you, Ben," Pidge said. She leaned against one of the big silk cushions on the bed. "Turn over the coffee table." The coffee table was a huge overturned enamel washtub she'd painted and stenciled, and which usually hid her dirty laundry. "Ah," said Ben. "My present is to sniff your used underwear." He smiled. Pidge loved to see him smile. "I'm game." "If she's not gamey," said Mary. "Even if," said Ben. Mary said to Pidge, "Oooh, he *is* chivalrous." When he turned over the washtub, half a dozen helium-inflated condoms floated to the ceiling, trailing crepe streamers. "Now we have a party atmosphere," said Pidge. She smoothed the skirt around her legs and leaned on one elbow to look at him. "It's time for you to unwrap your present." Ben looked at her and then at Mary, and then back at Pidge. Delicately he said, "I'm not sure where to begin." Pidge tugged at the bow on her blouse. "With the ribbon, of course." Ben sat in the crook between her thighs and her body, and touched the ribbon. Instead of pulling it, he gently kissed her mouth. They kissed again, with increasing hunger. On the next kiss, her tongue touched his and she pulled away. "Go on," she said. He pulled on the ribbon. Her blouse fell open, exposing her small breasts. Ben gave each nipple a careful, damp kiss. From beside him, Mary cleared her throat. When Ben looked up, her blouse was already off. Her large breasts were remarkably firm: Pidge thought of them as magazine breasts. Mary said, "Union rules. That's to be done to the stunt tits." "All right," said Ben, "but we may need several takes." Pidge leaned back to watch. Evaporation made her nipples cool and erect. The sun through the sheer curtains was warmed her feet. "All takes and no give," said Mary to Pidge, "that's the problem with these men," but there was no anger in it. Ben settled Mary on the stool beside the bed so he could reach both women. "Now," he said, "I believe it went like this." He kissed each of Mary's fat brown nipples. "No," said Mary. "You took hers farther into your mouth." "Like this?" "Mmmm. And I think I saw you bite them. Gently!" She closed her eyes as his teeth scraped across the surface of each nipple. Pidge stroked her own swollen nipples as she watched Ben alternate between Mary's breasts. Mary's shoulders sagged as she finally relaxed. Ben's slacks looked tourniquet-tight across the ridge of his erection. Pidge could feel the heat of his body through her skirt, against her thighs and crotch. Her pussy was already heavy, full and prickly-aware. After a few minutes, she gently stroked the nape of his neck. He pulled away from Mary and glanced sheepishly at her as if to apologize. "Shh," Pidge told him. "Nothing to be sorry for. It's your birthday." He leaned forward and gave her a full-throated kiss, his lips warm, soft and slippery. Mary reached around him and unbuttoned his shirt.When his back was bare, she scratched her fingernails along his spine. He broke the kiss and arched his back, rubbing his head against Mary's shoulder like a cat. Ben was always eager to be touched, anywhere. "Excuse me," said Pidge. "I believe you were busy." She squeezed her breasts once to emphasize them. "Sorry," said Ben, grinning. He returned to her breasts, licking and sucking them as she had taught him. Her breasts were hard with passion, and each flick of his tongue and each press of his fingers increased the heavy pressure in her pussy. She knew -- and he knew -- that she could come from this alone, a quick bright orgasm that would bring some relief but end nothing. Behind him, she saw Mary smiling, cupping her own breasts, and then Pidge closed her eyes as she came like the spasm of a copper spring released in the sunlight. When she opened her eyes again, Ben was kneeling before Mary, holding her wrap-around skirt as Mary turned slowly, unveiling herself. It wasn't fair, thought Pidge, that Mary's breasts didn't sag at all, or that her legs were sculpted by years of swim meets. And though she knew that Mary might have been designed from Ben's adolescent fantasies, his obvious lust for her didn't seem fair, either. Now Mary's bare hip was visible, now her muscular buttocks and the dimples flanking the base of her spine, now her other hip and smooth thigh, and finally the tightly-trimmed bar of brown pubic hair above her fleshy vulva. Ben dropped the skirt and slid his palms up the outsides of her legs, ankles to hips, his thumbs resting on the ridges of her hipbones. He kissed those ridges and then stood up, his hands still on her hips. Mary stood only as tall as his eyes. Pidge was taller. "Excuse me," he said, "but there are some things I like to know about a woman before I go too far." With a pang, Pidge remembered him once saying something similar to her. It had been dark, and she'd ordered him into bed, this bed-- Mary looked up at him, her eyes half-closed. "Such as?" Ben kissed her, and Pidge remembered that, too. That kiss had been a seduction by itself; it moved from delicious flirtation and promise to arousal and intimate knowledge. She watched Mary wrap her arms around Ben...and then Mary melted against him, thighs, hips, breasts, and lips. Her nails raised red tracks as her hands slid loosely down his back until they reached his slacks. Ben stepped back and Mary sighed gustily. She looked over at Pidge and nodded. "Okay," she said. "Okay." Pidge said mildly, "Ben, I think she'll need a moment to recover." Then she grinned. "I'd like to help you with your fashion problem." Ben looked down and laughed. His gray slacks showed two damp stains, one small one at the end of his cock and a larger one on his thighs where Mary had pressed against him. He crossed in front of Pidge. She leaned forward and touched her tongue-tip to the larger stain. "I like the way she tastes, Ben." Ben gently stroked her cheek. "Let me taste." He bent to kiss her; as they kissed, she unfastened his slacks. "Umm," he said. "Very nice. Goes well with the taste of you, too--" Mary tugged down his slacks and underpants; there was the sound of his stiff cock slapping against his belly, he grabbed Pidge for support but she wasn't expecting it, and he fell forward onto her as she rolled backward. "Oh my god," said Mary. "You okay?" "I think so," said Pidge. Ben laughed into Pidge's hip. "Oh, the elegance!" he said as he rolled over. He kicked his legs once; his legs were tangled in his slacks. His shoe heels thumped on the floor. Pidge smiled. Mary grinned sheepishly. Ben took his erect cock in one hand and waggled it at them. "I hope it's not broken." He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks and slacks. "I'm sorry, this is such a lovely gift, you're both lovely," Ben told them. "I want desperately to fuck you both, and to be worthy of your loveliness." He shook his head. "But I don't think I can be dainty about this." Pidge said, "You talk too much." She pulled her skirt up about her waist and straddled his head. "Yum," he managed to say before she had adjusted herself over his mouth. Then he began to lick her, teasing her anus, sliding his tongue over the sensitive skin, then poking his tongue into her cunt. His nose brushed against her damp labia, tickling her. Mary whispered into Pidge's ear, "I like him." "Good," said Pidge softly. Ben was gently stroking the length of her lips as he licked her. "Oh, good," she said again, more loudly. She began to relax, to let the orgasm build, fluttering, in her belly. Beneath her, Ben grunted once in surprise and his tongue stopped. Mary had taken his cockhead in her mouth. Pidge felt a momentary twinge of something -- irritation? anger? -- that Ben had been interrupted, but he kept on, now with one finger gently in her ass and his tongue flicking her clit. She began to roll her hips against Ben, encouraging him, timing it as if pumping a swing, building the orgasm. Mary's head bobbed on Ben's cock. It would be a shame, Pidge thought, if Ben came so soon, oh-- She closed her eyes again, feeling it grow-- The bed shifted slightly and the rhythm changed slightly and her orgasm slipped away. Behind her, Mary was humming something. It was almost a tune, almost recognizable and finally in irritation Pidge had to abandon her orgasm to listen and watch, kneeling stock-still over Ben with her legs knotted beneath her. Ben had stopped licking her, too; he had moved his hands near Mary's head, as though wanting to guide her but afraid she would stop. Mary held nearly all of Ben's cock in her mouth, and Pidge was vaguely envious that she could deep-throat it at that angle, for that long. Mary took the last inch of his cock into her throat, still humming. The shaft of Ben's cock shone as Mary pulled her head up. "--hmmmhmmmHMMMMhmmmhmmmhmmm--" She finally dropped it from her mouth to sing "--happy birthday to youuuuu!" Mary brushed at the string of saliva that connected her to Ben's cock and grinned up at Pidge. Beneath Pidge, Ben laughed, gusting air on Pidge's pussy, and Pidge suddenly remembered why they were there, and felt ashamed of her irritation. Pidge grinned back and said, "You know you can't sing." Ben poked Pidge's ass with his tongue and then said, "She didn't need to be on tune for that." He clutched her thighs and sucked her clit hard, scraping the sensitive nub across his teeth. It was as sudden and unexpected as lightning, and she came with her eyes wide open, staring at Mary's breasts. When she could move again, Pidge rolled off Ben, feeling shy, vulnerable, exposed. She hugged a pillow to her chest. Beside her, Mary stroked Ben's cock; it twitched at every touch, like a nervous horse. She looked at Pidge and said softly, "May I?" Ben groaned. Pidge nodded, still unable to speak. Mary lifted her hips and plunged down, greedily stuffing her cunt with Ben's cock. Pidge watched as Mary enthusiastically fucked him, her breasts bouncing. Mary grunted with every thrust; her grunts came closer, and the bed, Pidge's bed, bounced faster until Mary moaned, and then Ben groaned himself and said, "Stop -- unless you want to end this right here." Mary stopped moving. Her belly muscles twitched with unspent energies. "Um. No," said Mary hoarsely. Raw and naked, Pidge lay silently for a moment, looking at them. She had never come like that before. She had not planned for this. Both Mary and Ben were stretched tight, waiting. Waiting for orgasm. Waiting for Pidge to do something. Then she made a cheerful voice and said, "Ben, you can't leave her like *this.*" She laid one hand on the small of Mary's back to brace her and reached around. She found the base of Ben's cock and followed it until she had a finger on Mary's clit, meaty and slick. She stroked it lightly, and that was all Mary needed. Mary threw her head back and shuddered as she came. Ben moaned again. Pidge reached down between Mary's legs and squeezed the base of his cock. "Not yet," she said brightly. "I want some, too." "Too late," he said. "Too late?" she asked, surprised. "Uh-huh," said Ben. "Too late." He grinned. "But I'm young. I'll get over it." Mary leaned over and kissed Pidge on the mouth. "Thank you." Pidge could smell Ben on her. "Whoops," said Ben as his softening cock fell from Mary. "Let me clean that," Pidge said. She took his soft cock in her mouth and cleaned it with her tongue. His come was sharp on the back of her throat. He tasted of Mary now. She made a loud slurping noise, and Mary laughed. Ben was watching her thoughtfully. He cleared his throat and said, "Is anyone up for Chinese?" "I love Chinese," said Mary. Ben grinned at her. "I thought you might. Pidge?" "Nah," said Pidge. "I just ate." Mary laughed. "Funny girl," Ben said. "I have to go to the toilet first," said Mary as she got up. "Ooh, I'm all rubbery. I just don't want to drip come all over my patent leather shoes again." "Again?" Ben asked. "Yes, again," she called from the bathroom. Once the bathroom door was closed, Ben said to Pidge, "So this is the end, is it?" She sagged. "How long have you known?" He smiled sadly. "When we all got naked. I've felt it coming on since you colored your hair." He traced a finger along her ribs. Goosebumps followed in the path. She shivered. "You remember that night we talked until four and then you finally told me to get into bed?" She nodded -- the first time they made love. "One of the things you said was that when you needed a change, you started from the outside in: hair, makeup, clothes." He inhaled to say something else, then sighed heavily. "If you knew, why didn't you do something about it?" she asked. "Do what?" he asked reasonably. "It takes two people to stay together. Otherwise one is just following." "But," she began and then stopped. If he had tried something, anything-- but maybe it wasn't in him. Or maybe it wasn't time for him."It must be difficult for you," Ben was saying. "What?" "Reading people so well. Knowing what they're going to do, how they're going to react. You've surprised me through all of this, pleasantly, constantly. I'd hate to think I didn't give some of that back to you." Despite herself, she felt tears welling up. "Sometimes," she told him, "I don't know anybody at all." He hugged her tight. "Shhh. You'll be okay." His skin was hot and damp against hers. "I know," Pidge said, "I will," as they rocked together on the bed. She knew herself that well, at least.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8437.txt

Miles Naismith

Lucy Stays

"She wants you to stay." Lucy stopped, but she didn't turn around. Her hand was resting on the doorknob. She knew she should go, but fear and a prurient fascination made her hesitate. "Tell her." The deep voice was commanding, arrogant. "Please stay, Lucy." Lucy's eyes squeezed shut. Her grip on the knob tightened. But she didn't move. "She wants you to stay and watch," came the deep voice, smugly confident. "Tell her." "Please stay, Lucy. I want you to," whispered her friend, low and pleading. Lucy was torn. Prudence said to leave, and quickly. Something more primitive said stay. She was frozen between the two when she heard the footsteps approach. She felt a large hand lift hers from the doorknob and pull her around toward the living room. As he led her across the room, she opened her eyes. The scene was just as surreal as when she had innocently walked in that door on an average Tuesday in August to return a borrowed chafing dish and some serving pieces to Anne. The man leading her by her hand was still nude, still erect, and still not Anne's husband. Across the room, Anne's head was tilted down, but her eyes looked up at Lucy. She had on a white terrycloth bathrobe. Lucy's sense of unreality deepened as the man bowed slightly and gestured at the window seat in the bay window. As he turned and walked across the room to Anne, the setting sun cast a pale, faintly red light through the sheer curtains behind her, washing out colors in the room and adding to the surreal feeling. At Anne's almost imperceptible nod, Lucy abruptly dropped onto the seat, stiff and upright, primly swinging her knees together and crossing her ankles. In her pristine white cotton polo shirt and pleated shorts, she was the epitome of the thirty-five year-old soccer mom. Which was, of course, exactly what she was: a demure, monogamous mother of two confused as to why she was still here. But her thoughts were not on her children, nor her husband, nor even her own shock and surprise. In reality, she had no coherent thoughts at all. Her mind was simply filled, obsessed, with a snaky intermingling of voyeuristic anticipation, fear that the man would hurt her or Anne, and a morbid, compelling sense of arousal, unlike anything she had felt before, that shocked her by its very presence. Staring as if in a trance, Lucy watched the man turn Anne to face her and bend to kiss her neck from behind. Still kissing her neck, the man brought his hands up, his hands folding under the collar of the robe on either side. Anne stood unresisting as the hands slid to the sides, over the shoulders and down her arms, taking the lapels with them. The robe pulled up from the belt and opened, its fall halted short of her waist as the front hung suspended for an instant on Anne's erect nipples. Then it dropped again, only to be held at her waist by the belt. Lucy watched as Anne's hands twitched up, a reflexive attempt at modesty, she supposed, stopped by the sleeves that still covered Anne's forearms. A petty thought, "My breasts are better; a little bit smaller maybe, but I don't droop as much" flicked quickly through Lucy's mind, just as quickly forgotten as she watched Anne blush. The red flush moved like a tide from Anne's cheeks down her neck to her chest, momentarily stopping at the tops of those pure white mounds that had never known the sun. When the man used his forefingers and thumbs to gently stretch the nipples toward Lucy, the breasts themselves turned pink. Lucy heard a small gasp, and realized it had come from her. For a moment, her attention turned inward. She hadn't noticed when her nipples had become so hard, but now she was acutely aware of the pressure of her bra against them. She realized she had been gripping the edge of the seat with white-knuckled strength and relaxed her hands, letting her arms cross under her breasts, squeezing the sides and lifting them a little. She squirmed on the seat, trying to get comfortable. A gasp that didn't come from her drew her eyes back to her half-naked friend and to the naked man who stood behind Anne. The man's left hand had come around Anne's left hip and disappeared under the flap of the robe. Lucy could see nothing of it except a terry-covered mound, a mound that pulsed in the same slow rhythm as the wrist that moved forward and back, in and out, from under the robe. She watched the slow movements for what seemed a long time. Another gasp caused her eyes to flick back to Anne's face. Anne's mouth was open and her head had arched back against the man's collar bone. Lucy was sure Anne was about to orgasm. With that realization, Lucy's mind began to work again, if only for a moment. "I should leave now. It'll be too personal if she knows I've seen her come at the hands of this stranger. It'll affect our friendship," Lucy thought. "How could I explain this to Fergus if he found out? How could I face the neighbors?" Then she flushed with shame. Not for Anne, but for herself. She was going to stay. She was going to watch her friend stripped bare, body and soul, before her. The thought excited her, inflamed her. Nothing this exciting had ever happened to her, and her mind was engulfed with an erotic intensity that wouldn't let her leave. The wrist was moving in and out of the robe faster now, and Anne's panting kept pace. Lucy watched as Anne stiffened and her face strained, mouth wide open and eyes unfocused. She heard Anne's breath catch, three times, almost like hiccups. "How can she be so quiet?" thought Lucy. "I'd be screaming." Then she saw Anne's hand flash down to pull the man's hand away. Lucy nodded in sympathy. Fergus too often kept rubbing her after an orgasm, after she had become too sensitive. Lucy's breath was coming more quickly now. One thumb moved unnoticed up to her nipple to caress, but she jerked it back down when she felt it. The man was turning Anne's back to her. Anne seemed almost passive. Lucy had never seen her like this. The Anne she knew was active, confident, always ready to do what needed to be done in the community. She wondered what power the man had over her. The man put his hands on Anne's shoulders and pushed gently. Anne bent forward at her hips, spreading her legs slightly at the same time. Lucy was presented with a featured view of Anne's terry-covered rear. Lucy's eyes went up to the man's face and, for the first time, she really looked at him. He was tall, but not as tall or powerful as Fergus. Black hair brushed straight back, with a hint of five o'clock shadow. He had a trace of a smile but it didn't reach his eyes. Those eyes were hypnotic, deep and cynical. Lucy couldn't look away. Movement finally drew her eyes back down, as the man's hands slid down Anne's back, finally reaching the fold where the robe doubled over the belt. The hands pushed. The belt loosened, and suddenly the robe was gone. Lucy stared at her friend's sex, as if in a dream. She saw the outer lips engorged, dusky with desire. The inner lips had pushed up, blossoming like a pink flower in the darker furrow. Anne's lubrication gleamed in the light. "Is that what I look like?" thought Lucy. "Do I look like that right now, under my panties?" At the thought, Lucy again felt the pressure of the bra on her nipples, and she knew she was wet like Anne.Lucy could not see Anne's face, but the wet sounds and the small rocking motions of the man's hips etched an image into her mind. She started to get up, to walk closer, to see that shaft in her friend's mouth, but she caught herself and sat down. Lucy's eyes closed, and she let passion well up, listening to the nasty, dirty sounds that burned in her brain. A soft grunt focused Lucy's attention back on the naked couple. The man's hands were on each side of Anne's head as he pushed her back from his pelvis. With a push on one side and a pull on the other, he turned Anne to face Lucy. Without prompting, Anne dropped to her hands and knees, eyes fixed on Lucy, face red again. There was a shiny streak of moisture on one cheek. The man's eyes were on Lucy as well as he knelt behind Anne, and he had that same tiny smile. "He's going to fuck her now," thought Lucy, mildly surprised by her choice of words. It was not her normal vocabulary even when thinking of sex. Her eyes widened as the man drove his hips forward. She saw Anne's mouth open, soundlessly except for an explosive exhalation of breath. "He's fucking her. He's really fucking Anne. He's fucking Anne while I watch, and she's letting him." Lucy's attention to the scene before her was total. Lucy didn't notice the thumb on her nipple this time. She didn't notice that she was rocking her hips, pressing against the seat's cushion in time with the man's thrusts. The movement of Anne's head was hypnotic as it jerked forward each time the man's pelvis slammed into her rear. Lucy watched as Anne's stare lost focus, became glassy-eyed, and then disappeared under closed eyelids. A guttural moan escaped Anne's lips, and then Lucy again heard the breath catch, more little hiccups this time, as Anne's back and neck arched up stiffly for a small eternity, and then collapsed. The man stayed still in Anne until she had finished her shudders. Then he withdrew and allowed Anne to fall to her side, looking spent. As the man stood, Lucy's eyes were drawn compulsively to the man's penis, still standing erect, shiny now with Anne's juices. "His thing, his *cock*, is still hard! He must not have come," she thought. "Oh God, does he plan to do something to me?" She forced her eyes away and looked at his face. It was a mistake. His eyes captured hers again and wouldn't let her go. He began to walk toward her with a hard, thin smile. Lucy sat frozen in her seat. Lucy looked again at his erection. The window seat was low. She knew that if she leaned forward a little, her face would be level with his penis. "He's going to put it in my mouth," she thought, "covered with the taste of Anne." She shivered and wondered whether she would let him. Whether she could stop him. Instead, he stopped and offered his hand. Unthinkingly she placed hers on his palm. He pulled her up and turned her to face Anne in a motion that couldn't have been smoother if they had been dancing. Lucy felt those hands each grab a handful of cotton knit, and then her arms were forced up, over her head, as he pulled her shirt off. Almost before the shirt hit the floor, his hands made the return trip down to her waist, pushing her arms back down, with his thumbs hooked in her bra straps. Lucy stood shocked, breasts bare to her friend, bra inside out around her waist, still fastened. The abruptness filled her with excitement. He hadn't asked permission. It would be like rape if it were not for the fact that she had not fought it, had thrilled to it. She felt passive, helpless, although she was not actually restrained. The feeling filled her with both dread and arousal. So caught up in her need was she that she didn't even blush when she saw Anne, head propped up in her hand, watching his hands move up to play with her nipples. Lucy hadn't noticed when one hand had left her breast, when it had undone the top button on her loose fitting shorts. The other hand on her breast and the sight of Anne's hand moving to slide between parted thighs had captured Lucy's attention. But she did notice when the hand slid under the waistbands of both shorts and panties, down through her bush, and along her sensitive folds to the entrance to her vagina. Even as her hips surged forward to help impale herself on the finger slipping inside her, even as a moan escaped her mouth, reality hit her like a splash of cold water. Sanity exploded in her brain with blinding suddenness, and she knew she couldn't do this. The husband and family that she had quite literally lost in his eyes flashed into her brain, and the thought of consequences overruled desire. She turned to the side, jerking his arm out of her shorts with both hands. She raised her arms to bring her bra into place and snatched up her shirt. Her shorts had fallen to her hips; she pulled them to her waist and held them with one hand. She heard Anne call out as she ran to the door, but the words didn't register. In seconds she was driving away in her bra, the crumpled shirt pressed tightly to her chest over it. A block from her home, she stopped and pulled on the shirt, thankful that there was no one to see her. She sat there trying to think, trying to decide what to do. Anne would call tomorrow, and Lucy still had the chafing dish in her car. She would have to talk to her, to see her, sometime, but she had no idea what she would say. She decided not to think about that now. More pressing was the question of whether, and what, to tell her husband. And when. Her mind whirled, tumbling turbulently from one thought to another. She finally decided she'd have to figure out what to do about her husband later as well. She drove the short distance home and went in the door. Steeling herself to face her husband, she opened the door and announced her arrival, only to be met by silence. Walking to the kitchen, she saw the note under the refrigerator magnet: "Took the kids to pick up Chinese. Back soon." Breathing a sigh of relief, she made for the shower, as if to wash off any evidence of events. In a white terrycloth robe very like Anne's, over a tee-shirt and panties, she was still towel drying her short, brown curls when the silence was shattered by the chatter of her children and her husband's hello. She went through the usual routines of greeting and serving the food without any of them noticing that she was mentally absent. When her husband and kids elected to plop themselves in front of the television to eat, she took her plate into the den, ostensibly to check her email. She was staring at the screen saver when the kids bounced in to kiss her good night. After trying to sort out her feelings, she had finally decided that she would wait until after she had talked to Anne before tackling Fergus. She rationalized this by worrying about what Fergus might tell Charles, his golfing buddy and Anne's husband. "After all," she thought, "I didn't really do anything wrong. I didn't cheat. I don't tell Fergus every time someone hits on me or tries to cop a little feel at a party. This isn't so different as long as I didn't do anything." Having made the decision to procrastinate, she leaned back in her chair and began think about what had happened. She closed her eyes and remembered, remembered how much more intense her arousal had been than anything she had felt in years. "Fergus is a fine lover," she chided herself, "he makes me come every time. He knows just what makes me feel good. He's very considerate and gentle. He loves me and he's faithful." Even as she tried to believe it was enough, she heard a second dialogue in the background, saying, "Yeah, but it's the *same* every time. The same foreplay, the same positions, the same conversation about getting ice water afterwards. He makes you come, but he doesn't make you *want* to come. He doesn't drive you out of your mind with desire, with wanting." "How can he? We've been married thirteen years. I've seen him grunt on the toilet seat. What chance does he have to create such excitement. We know each other too well. It's not fair to compare." "But *you* can still feel that consuming passion. You felt it today. Today was hot, today was lust. Don't you need some of that too?" And all the while, like a video loop, image after image flashed fleetingly through her mind. Anne's wet vagina as she sucked the man's penis "no, his cock," she corrected herself. The open-mouthed surprise on Anne's face when he drove that cock into Anne from behind. Her own hips thrusting forward against his hand, driving the finger inside her. She first noticed the smell. Herbal Essence. Shampooed hair. Even as she began to break out of her erotic fugue, her husband's hands encircled her from behind, cupping her breasts as he always did, "even around the kids when he thinks they aren't looking," the old peeve appearing like a Pavlovian response. Cupping her breasts was just routine now, after all the years. Kissing her neck, he said, "Good night, sweetheart. Don't stay up too late." Tonight, however, the hands on her breasts and kiss on the neck, so perversely like and unlike the scene at Anne's, pulled the trigger on her desire. Quickly she spun the desk chair around and jerked his open his robe. The boxers he used as pajamas were at his knees before he could react. She grabbed the flaccid penis and sucked it into her mouth. Fergus's face looked blank, uncomprehending, at this wanton act, but his penis knew how to react. She felt a sense of power and a surge of desire, both at how quickly the shaft hardened to its full length in her mouth, and at knowing it would be entering her body soon.Once it was hard, she backed all the way off and then let it part her lips as she moved her head forward. Like it was a first touch. She knew he would already be hard when he brought his cock to her. She wondered what his cock would taste like. She struggled to remove her robe while she held his erection in her mouth. Seeing her problem, Fergus grabbed the robe and shirt and pulled both up. As the shirt came through, she had to let his erection fall from her mouth. She raised her rear from the seat and pushed down her panties. Without ever fully standing up, she dropped to her hands and knees in front of Fergus. Wanting to feel wanton, lewd, to show her sex as Anne had, she let her head drop to the floor, presenting her rounded ass to her husband. "Fuck me, Fergus! Dear God, put it in me now. Please," she pleaded. In her head she heard, <What's come over me? I must look like an idiot. What will he think of me. What am I doing?> If Fergus didn't know why, he knew what to do. Lucy grunted as she felt him shove his cock into her pussy. She closed her eyes and it was him behind her. <He's fucking me, just like Anne. And I'm letting him! Letting him fuck me!> Then she remembered the eyes, the knowing, cynical smile. She came for the first time. As she felt the cock churn in and out of her channel, she thought she heard a groan, like Anne might make fingering herself as she watched. She came again. She was building up to another when her husband grabbed her hips and pulled himself as far into her as he could go. <Not now,> she groaned to herself, <just a little more and I'll be there again.> She tried to shake her hips back and forth on his cock to get that final friction, but he held her too tight as his convulsive jerks signaled his climax. Suddenly he let go, pushing himself abruptly back, apparently too sensitive to let it go soft in her the way he usually did. They lay panting on the floor. "Do you want some ice water," came the familiar refrain after a few minutes. "Yes, please." She retired to the bathroom, back in their comfortable routine again, to clean up before sleep. As she went through the motions, her mind was troubled. She knew she hadn't really been with her husband in any way that really mattered. She had been with him. It felt like cheating. The water was waiting when she emerged, and so was Fergus. "Jesus, that was great. What brought that on, Sweetheart?" "I don't know," she lied. "I was reading a hot romance on the web, maybe it worked me up without my realizing it. Or maybe you just caught me during that fifteen minute period once a month when a woman really wants a man, like those two comediennes talk about, the Mommies or whoever they are. All I know now is that I need to sleep." With a tender kiss and a whispered, "Thanks, Honey," Fergus turned over and was soon dead to the world. It took Lucy a lot longer. BRRRRINNNGGG. Lucy stirred groggily. BRRRRINNNGGG. She reached over to the bedside table and jerked the phone off its cradle before it could ring again. "Hello," she said, unenthusiastically. "Uh, Lucy... uh, it's me, Anne. Uh, oh shit, are you still speaking to me?" "Yes, Anne. You're my friend. But what the hell was that?" Lucy was wide awake now. "Oh Lucy, I'm so sorry. I didn't do it on purpose. We didn't have it planned or anything, it just kind of happened." "Quit sniveling, Anne. You're forgiven. But if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to come over there and strangle you!" "Well, you sort of walked in on me and my lover." "I guessed." "Charles is away for the week. In New York. Couldn't take me though, just had to concentrate on business." A hint of bitterness. "I invited Wade over to help console me." "You invited him? The way you were acting I thought he must be blackmailing you. Or threatening you somehow. I've never seen you that way. Are you OK?" "Yeah, ungh, I'm fine. It's just that he. Makes. Me. Want to let. Him. Take me." "What's wrong Anne," asked Lucy, suspecting she already knew. "NOTHING," squealed Anne, then lower, "Just thank you. For. Staying. Oh God..." "You're doing it, aren't you. Right now on the phone. Jesus, Anne..." "Yeeesss. Oh yes..." Lucy heard the phone thump. She heard Anne panting in the background. Then she heard his voice. "She wants you to watch again. Tonight. Be here at nine o'clock." Click. Lucy was preoccupied as she went about her errands. Picking up the clean shirts from the cleaners, doing the weekly grocery shopping, gassing up the car, picking up the kids from the mini-sports camp at the country club - all were accomplished on a kind of autopilot. The kids were a little puzzled when they received no reply or a distracted, "Huh, what did you say again?" to each anecdote of camp events or request for some privilege. But they happily settled into something as near to quiet as they ever got when Lucy let them start eating the french fries from the McDonald's drive in window in the car as they drove home. Once home, the kids took their burgers and shakes into the living room to watch TV. Lucy went through the motions of fixing a light dinner for Fergus and herself. Ripe tomatoes and fresh mozzarella sprinkled with basil and olive oil. Salade Nicoise. A bottle of blush wine. Closing arguments to the jury. <He's an arrogant asshole. He just told you what time to be there like there was no question that you would come. What are you going to do if he grabs you this time? He isn't worth cheating on Fergus. What kind of pervert wants to see her friend get screwed any way? What would Fergus say if he knew? Can you imagine the talk if anyone found out? You're a thirty-five year old mother - act like one.> <So you tell him no touching. It's not cheating if you don't do anything with him. So you like to watch, so what. Who will tell? Who will know? You don't want to be afraid to live, to have to follow every little rule of propriety for the rest of your life. You weren't like that when you were younger. You'll feel that old excitement, that thrill of doing something dangerous and new again, tonight, but maybe never again if you don't go now. How many chances will you ever get? You *want* to go.> She managed to hold up her end of the dinner conversation with Fergus despite her distraction. But her mind was focused on the invitation. Her third glass of wine, two more than usual, found her decision made. "Honey, Charles is off in New York all week, so I asked Anne over for later. Her sister found her a tape of The Moonspinners and you know how she loves Hayley Mills. I told her I'd fix popcorn and watch it with her. I hope you don't mind." "Tonight? Tonight is supposed to be the big grudge race in the go-cart game on the Nintendo," Fergus complained. "I promised the boys. They think they can beat me this time. I thought I mentioned it to you." <You did. I'm counting on it.> thought Lucy, as she said aloud, "If you did, I forgot. Well, I'll just call Anne and cancel. If you promised the boys, you've got to keep it." "We can just explain to them..." "No," said Lucy, "I'll call Anne and reschedule." Lucy walked into the den and mumbled into the phone while the dial tone hummed in her ear. Putting her hand over the mouthpiece, she yelled to the kitchen, "Fergus, Anne has invited me over there to watch it. I may be late if we sit and talk. Would you mind? The boys will need a shower before bed." "Go ahead, Honey," Fergus yelled back. "We can handle it. Don't be too late without calling, now." "Yes, Daddy, sir," Lucy mugged, "I'll be home by curfew. Love you." Lucy walked into the living room to the sounds of ersatz engines revving. "See you later, guys. I'm going over to see Miss Anne. You be good for your Dad. And don't beat him too badly, you know he pouts when he loses." "See ya' Mom," the boys said in unison. Then Teddy said, "Too bad Mom, but Daddy's gonna' be toast." "You too, nerdface, you'll never catch me." "Eat my dust, dirtball." "Watch this..." The boys didn't notice that their mother had left. It was exactly nine when Lucy pulled into Anne's driveway. It was ten minutes later when she finally decided that she wouldn't chicken out and walked to the door. A shouted "Come in" answered her knock. His voice. She went in. The room was shadowy. Only a small lamp on an end table provided any illumination. It was enough as her eyes adjusted. The man was sitting in a low upholstered arm chair that faced the entrance hall from the other side of the living room. His knees were spread and Anne knelt between them, her hands on his thighs, her head bobbing up and down in his lap. They were both naked. "You're late." Accusatory. "I, uh..." "It doesn't matter. Take off your clothes." "What?" "Take off your clothes. Or leave." "Good bye, asshole." Lucy turned to leave. "Wait, Lucy," said Anne. "Please stay. He won't touch you, I promise. But it's too weird if you just sit there and watch with all your clothes on." "That's right, Lucy," he said, with a hint of disdain, of sarcasm, "I promise not to touch you. But you look at us, we look at you. That's the deal." "Please, Lucy." Lucy stood at the entrance hall, looking uncertainly first at the door, then back to the two faces across the room. <This is too much.><It's not cheating if he doesn't touch you.><I can't just strip in front of Anne.><She's naked in front of you now.><I didn't shave my legs today."How many chances will you ever get?" She turned her back to them and pulled her shirt out of her waistband. Slowly, she crossed her arms in front of her and grasped the bottom of the shirt. Up and off it went. Her bra fastened in the front. It quickly joined the shirt on the floor. With her thumbs under both waistbands, panties and shorts slid together to the floor. Two small backward steps out of her sandals, and she was bare. Instinctively, one arm moved across her breasts while the other hand covered her mons. She heard the man snigger behind her. Standing to her full five feet six, Lucy put her arms at her sides and turned around. "Satisfied?" "Lovely." A hint of worldly wise amusement in his voice. Then commanding, "Go sit in the other chair." It was close to the one they occupied, separated from it only by a small lamp table. Summoning her will, Lucy walked proudly across the room, chin up and chest out. She stared directly into his eyes, and for the first few steps felt she could stare him down this time. The feeling didn't last. His eyes held hers the length of the room, but she had to look away. Flick to his cock, erect in his lap. Flick to Anne's face, looking back at Lucy over her shoulder, hands still on his thighs, her eyes checking out Lucy's body. Flick to his eyes again. Still right on hers. By the time Lucy reached the chair, she knew he planned on having her. She knew it with certainty. The knowledge made her nipples grow erect, and she began to lubricate. He wanted to make love to her. "No, to *fuck* her!" She didn't know if she could stop him. She was glad when she reached the chair, glad to have a reason to turn away. She sat. The man put his hand on the back of Anne's head and loosely gathered a handful of her hair as he pushed her down toward his lap. His eyes were on Lucy's. Lucy's eyes were on his erection. And the lips about to engulf it. Lucy's eyes widened as his hand kept pushing Anne down until Lucy was sure Anne would choke. But Anne's eyes were closed, and she showed no sign of discomfort. He pulled her head up until only the tip was in her lips, and then slowly down again. "She really likes you to watch, you know," he said conversationally, as if it were quite normal for him to have his penis in the mouth of a fortyish blonde suburban housewife. Down and up. "Look at her hands." Down and up. Lucy saw that the hands were no longer on his thighs. She fleetingly wondered why she hadn't noticed them leaving. One of Anne's hands now gently pinched her right nipple. The other was sliding between her legs. "Anne swallows it all when I come in her mouth." Down and up. "Do you swallow your husband's come, Lucy?" Down and up. Lucy shook her head a tiny bit. No. "Well, you'll swallow for me when the time comes." It was not a question. Down and up. "I like to watch too, Lucy," he said. Down and up. "Show me how you would like me to touch your breasts." Down and up. As if by a mind of their own, Lucy's hands moved to her breasts. Keeping her eyes on Anne's mouth moving up and down, Lucy's fingertips glided over the whole of her breasts, just barely touching, everywhere except the nipples. She started to trace a path around each breast, a path that slowly spiraled in toward her nipples. As the fingertips reached the edge of her small areolae, she looked up into his eyes. With a shudder of desire, she closed all five fingers of each hand around her nipples, still just barely touching, and pulled each nipple up ever so slightly. The sudden motion of his hand in Anne's hair, pulling her completely off his cock, pulled Lucy's eyes to the other chair. Lucy's hands froze on her breasts in mid-caress as he stood. "I think it's time to let Anne come. Don't you, Lucy?" the deep voice inquired. "How would you like to see her fucked tonight?" "Wwwhat do you mmmean?" Lucy stammered. "I mean it's your choice tonight, Lucy. Missionary, sidesaddle, whatever you want. I'll take her ass if you tell me, Lucy." Anne's eyes widened at that last, and her head jerked around to glare at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but Lucy's voice intervened. "God no! Doggy. Do her doggy style. But not in her ass. Please?" "You heard the lady, Anne. Kneel in front of Lucy. Hands and knees." Anne's face was inches from Lucy's knees, looking down at the rug. The hair on the top of her head almost touched Lucy. The man knelt behind Anne, and his hand again closed in that hair. He gently pulled her face up to look at Lucy. Anne's face was blushing red. The man suddenly thrust his hips forward. Anne's breath puffed out, blowing on Lucy's knees, and her eyes widened. He let go of Anne's hair, but her head stayed up, looking at Lucy. The man continued to thrust in and out, but slowly now. It was déjà vu. Again, in Lucy's mind the same litany as before: "He's fucking her. He's fucking her right in front of me. He's fucking her so close that I can almost touch it. He's fucking Anne right in front of me, and she's letting him!" Without conscious thought, her left hand moved to her left breast and pushed it from the side, then cupped it, the thumb moving to the nipple. Her right hand slid between her closed thighs to press gently on the closed lips of her sex. "Open your legs, Lucy." The man continued to thrust very slowly. Lucy shook her head no. "You watch us, we watch you. That's the deal. Open your legs, Lucy." "Please, Lucy," Anne whispered. With a flush of shame and a shudder of excitement, Lucy closed her eyes and opened her legs. "Put them over the arms of the chair, Lucy." Shaking again with shame and arousal, she did. She opened her eyes and looked down. Her hand was still at the top of her slit, but her lips, her slick protruding lips, were uncovered, flaunted, inches from Anne's face, close enough for HIM to touch if he reached out. Her hand began to move up and down. The man began to thrust harder. Lucy shook on the brink of orgasm, watching her hand move, watching as each hard thrust pushed Anne's face a little closer to that hand. His voice stopped her short of orgasm, drawing her eyes to his. His eyes seemed to increase in intensity as he spoke. "Take your fingers away, Lucy. Put them in your mouth." Still caught in his eyes, she slowly tasted herself on her fingers. She felt the tongue on her vagina then. She started to panic. "I'm not gay" her mind screamed. "Why am I pushing my sex into a woman's tongue. I AM NOT A LESBIAN!" Then, as her excitement continued to build, she knew. It might be Anne's tongue, but Lucy was reacting to HIM. Lucy closed her eyes and began the climb to release, but suddenly the tongue faltered and then it was not there at all. She didn't have to hear the little hiccups to know why when she saw Anne's face. Watching Anne orgasm increased her own need. Still thrusting in Anne to that slow rhythm, he reached out and took Lucy's hand in his. Her eyes widened with fear. He had promised not to touch her. But all he did was put Lucy's hand on the back of Anne's head and then he withdrew. With a little moan, Lucy closed her eyes, ashamed that she wanted Anne's tongue so badly. Ashamed, but close to release. She pulled Anne forward, directing her to her clitoris again. Lucy closed her eyes and put her head back. "Lucy, look at me." Stiffly, muscles tense under the influence of Anne's fluttering stimulation, Lucy turned to the sound and saw his erection close, very close, to her face. Jumping slightly with his pulse, slick with Anne's lubrication. Approaching the edge, the point of no return on her orgasm, Lucy stared. The deep, self-assured voice again. "Lean forward, Lucy. Take me in your mouth." And suddenly that was just what Lucy needed, to have HIS cock, to taste HIM. Her hand came up and encircled his base. She leaned forward. She was sticking her tongue out to barely touch the tip, moving her hand up the shaft at the same time, when the cock in her hand stiffened even more, and she felt the first pulse of his come hit her lips. She licked and swallowed reflexively, pushing his penis down as she threw her head back and moaned out her ecstasy in response to Anne's tongue forcing her over the edge to orgasm. Arching and bucking her hips into Anne's face, she didn't feel the semen that hit her neck and her breast. Finally, convulsively, she pushed Anne away and slumped in the chair. Dazed by the intensity of her orgasm, she sat motionless for a timeless interval. When she finally gathered herself, she was alone in the room. She walked like an automaton to the entrance hall and put on her clothes, trying not to think. As she sat motionless in the driver's seat, she couldn't keep her thoughts in check any longer. "Oh God, what have I done? I've cheated on Fergus. This time I did do something, I touched HIS cock. I swallowed his come. I've committed adultery. Will Fergus forgive me? What if he wants a divorce? What about the kids? What am I to do?" Sitting in the driver's seat, her mind in turmoil, she slumped forward and cried. Fergus was asleep when Lucy got home. She took a shower in the children's bathroom so as not to wake him. He groaned softly and turned toward her when she slipped into bed. His arm moved, and he rested his hand lightly on her hip. Then his breathing resumed slow regularity. She laid motionless on the bed, his hand burning her like a hot iron, until sleep finally overtook her chaotic thoughts. BRRRRRNNNNNG. Lucy opened her eyes blearily. She didn't have to look to know that Fergus was not in the bed. BRRRRRNNNNNG. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited, hoping someone else would answer. BRRRRRNNNNNG.Giving up, she lifted the handset to her ear. "Lucy?" said Anne. "I'm not coming back, Anne. I'll talk to you later," said Lucy, wearily. "Wait Lucy, he's gone for the day. I need to talk, just the two of us. Can I come over?" Lucy shuddered in revulsion. She didn't want Anne in her house right now. "Not now," she said. "I'll meet you for lunch at the Trellis. One o'clock." "Oh Lucy, thanks," said Anne with relief. "See you there." Stumbling to the bathroom, Lucy noticed it was already almost ten. Fergus must have taken care of the kids again this morning, letting her sleep in again. She thought to herself that she should be grateful to have the extra time to decide what to say to him, but she simply couldn't muster the energy to think. She felt like she had a hangover, although she hadn't had that much to drink the night before. She palmed a couple of aspirins into her mouth and washed them down with water from the sink. Then she ran her bath. Forty-five minutes later, she emerged, washed but not fresh. Despite the fact that she knew it would do no good, she felt as if she should return to the bath. Instead, she brushed her teeth again. At one o'clock, she was sitting on the terrace at the Trellis, waiting for Anne. She had no distinct memories of how she got there, having dressed and driven with little conscious thought. She pushed her glass of white wine back and forth, and nibbled out of habit rather than hunger on the Irish soda bread. Five minutes later, Anne arrived. Anne sat opposite Lucy at the table. As their eyes met, Anne's face turned red. Lucy felt her own face heat up. Anne spoke tentatively, "Hi, Lucy. Are we still friends?" "Of course we are, Anne, but I need to know what's going on." Just then, the waiter arrived, and the intensity of the moment was shattered by his query as to whether Anne wanted a drink. The two friends embraced the mundane task of ordering as a welcome delay before they returned to face their uncertainties and wariness of each other. When he had gone, Anne spoke. "You sort of got caught up with me and my lover," said Anne. "But you and Charles..." "I love Charles, Lucy. This was just something that got out of hand. I don't want to hurt Charles. I just couldn't stop myself." "Is he blackmailing you? Threatening you? I've never seen you like that." "It is kinda different from the 'Let's make Anne chairman of the fundraiser' image, isn't it," Anne smiled. "I think that's why it was so seductive. With Wade, he takes charge. He commands me, no discussion, nothing to think about. I can do things with him that I don't think I could do with Charles because I don't have to worry what he will think of me... Like with you." The last was delivered in a very small voice. "Oh God, Anne," said Lucy, distressed, "are we gay somehow?" Lucy's face got red again. "I came when you were... you know." An even smaller voice. "I don't think so, Lucy. It's him. It's Wade. He makes me want to give myself to him, makes me want what he wants. You felt it too, didn't you?" "God, yes! I felt him like a hand in my brain, pushing me. And I wanted to be pushed. I thought I was going crazy!" "I'm sorry I got you into this," said Anne, head down. "It was a mistake. He's going to break it off. I guess he's beginning to get bored with me. But I could hear that old fascination in his voice when he called out to you. I just wanted to make it last a little longer. I'm sorry." "I don't blame you, Anne. Nobody made me stay. I hate to admit it, but I wanted to stay. I wanted to see. I wanted you to see. I've never done anything wild in my life." Lucy turned her head from Anne, looked away, and spoke, "That's what makes me feel so bad. I chose to do it. I betrayed Fergus' trust. But I'm afraid I'd do worse, if I go back. I won't, you know? Watch again, I mean." "I didn't think you would, Lucy. That's not why I had to talk to you. I have to know if you are going to tell Fergus. He and Charles are too close. I don't want Charles to find out from Fergus. I'd rather tell him myself, if I have to." Lucy twisted the rings in circles around her left ring finger. "I have to tell him, Anne. I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't. I just hope he'll forgive me." "Can you wait until Saturday? Please? Wade will be gone forever Saturday afternoon, and I can tell Charles when he gets back that night. I don't want to have to tell him over the phone. Please?" "OK, Saturday." Lucy was surprised at how much relief she felt at having a reason to delay telling Fergus. She knew it was a mistake, but it was so much easier to delay. "Don't you worry about AIDS, Anne? And what if he tells people? Do you trust him?" "I do trust him, Lucy. I trust him to be just who he is. He's too careful to be a big AIDS risk. He's a health nut. Besides, I got myself tested a few months after he first took me. Negative. And I don't think he'll ever tell. He's an arrogant, infuriating, egotistical jerk, but he sees himself as honorable. It's always a risk, but I think this one is small." "Well, I think you are fooling yourself, but it's your life. You don't sound too sad that he's leaving you." "I'll miss the sex, the intensity, but I don't love him. He took me on some kind of roller coaster ride inside, but it wasn't the one I had when Charles and I first fell in love. This was dark, sort of dangerous feeling. But it's mostly worn off. It was exciting, but I'm not sad that it's almost over." "Would he really have tried to take you in your rear?" Lucy whispered, face red again. "We did that once," whispered Anne, blushing in return, "and I made him use a condom that time. But I told him never again." "What was it like? I've never done it?" asked Lucy, curious. "Well, he used lots of lubrication, so it didn't hurt too much, just when he was pushing in. After I got used to it, it just felt strange, like I had to go or something. Full, like." "Did you orgasm?" "Yes," said Anne, blushing even more deeply, "but not from that. He made me play with myself while he did it." The waiter arrived with food, occasioning a temporary end to conversation, and then departed. Both were relieved to have successfully dealt with their secret, and the talk reverted to their norm for the rest of the meal. In due course, Lucy was off to pick up her kids from day camp again, feeling much lighter in spirit than she had before. The lightness of spirit lasted until Fergus threw open the door shouted his hellos. As Lucy gave him a dutiful kiss, she knew she couldn't wait until Saturday to tell Fergus. The sick feeling of guilt inside wouldn't let her. Overshadowed by dread, she sleepwalked through her evening routines until it was time for bed. When she emerged from the bathroom, teeth brushed yet again, Fergus was sitting up against the headboard, half under the covers. He turned out the light as soon as she slid in. She felt his arm slip under her, pull her against his side. From the dark, his voice came, "Wanna tell me about it?" "What do you..." Lucy started in automatic denial, then paused, and sobbed, "Oh, Fergus, I'm so ashamed. Please don't hate me..." "Whoa, Lucy. I'll never hate you. Now tell me what's wrong." Slowly, haltingly, the events at Anne's house came out. All except the tongue touch to his erection and the semen on her lips that she had licked and swallowed. She just couldn't bear to tell Fergus that. She rarely took Fergus in her mouth, even less frequently let him finish there, and she never swallowed. She just couldn't tell him she'd started to do it with another man, had almost taken him into her mouth. That she had had HIS semen on her tongue, her neck, her breasts. "Please don't hate me, Fergus. I love you. I don't want to lose you. Please forgive me." "You are stuck with me, Lucy. I love you too. I'll never hate you." "But can you forgive what I've done?" "Hmmm, that would be watching Anne, getting pawed by surprise, letting Anne make you come, and putting your hand on his erection," said Fergus. "Just terrible. Shoot, woman, if that's the worst you do in your life, you'll be a saint. But I do want to know why." "I truly don't know," said Lucy. "I was taken by surprise at first. It was nasty, dirty. I couldn't imagine letting anyone watch. I had never done anything like that in my life." "That's the first time," said Fergus, "but you went back." "I wasn't going to. But I just got to thinking that I had never done anything wild, you know, really wild, in my life. My mind was telling me I'd never have another chance. I'm sorry, Fergus, I don't even know why it mattered. I'm happy with you. I don't know why I thought I needed to do it at all." "So that was the reason for that episode in the den?" "Yes," said Lucy in a small voice. "Did you enjoy being with Anne? Do you want to do it again?" "No," mumbled Lucy, blushing, "I'm not interested in women." "Then why?" "It was him. I don't know how to explain. His eyes, the way he looks at me. It's like my will drained away. Somehow he made me want it. He's scary... no, dangerous. Anne feels it too." "What does he look like?" "He reminds me an older Gabriel Byrne. Dissolute or something. Except the eyes. The eyes are the same... dark and deep." "How big is he. Is he bigger than me?" "No, you're taller, and he's not as powerful looking." "That's not what I meant. Is he bigger than me?" Lucy blushed again as she understood what Fergus was asking.She blushed because she was in a position to know the answer. Because Fergus knew she could answer. "No, Fergus, he's about the same. Maybe a little smaller." Instinctively, she knew this was the right answer, even though Wade had seemed thicker, somehow. "So Anne has a playmate," mused Fergus. "Does Charles know?" "Oh God, no," cried Lucy, "and please don't tell him. I promised Anne I'd wait until Saturday to tell you, so she could tell Charles herself when he gets back Saturday night. Wade will be gone for good by then." "Wade?" "That's what she called him." "Ah, Wade!" whispered Fergus as he rolled out of the bed and stood up. Suddenly, the bedside light flicked on. Fergus was nude, erect. "Take off your nightgown, Lucy." A command. Still shaken, unsure of what he thought of her, she complied. "So Anne took him in her mouth, eh. Show me, Lucy. Show me what you saw..." Fearfully, Lucy moved over to the edge of the bed. What was Fergus doing? Was he trying to punish her, somehow? She stopped close to him, her head down. "Take it, Lucy. Show me what Anne was doing." Slowly, Lucy raised her head, her eyes bright with moisture. She leaned forward and took him in, feeling the slippery pre-ejaculate against her tongue. Fergus moaned and pushed his hips toward her. "So you watched Anne on her knees, sucking him? Just like this?" He groaned. And suddenly, Lucy knew that Fergus wasn't punishing her; he wasn't even thinking of her. He was thinking of Anne! Thinking what it would be like to put his <cock> in Anne's mouth. For a second, she was washed with anger, and then realized how ludicrous that was. Then she thought of HIM, of taking Wade into her mouth, just like Anne. Just like this. Suddenly, the beginnings of excitement overtook her for the first time that night. It was like his fantasy freed her for hers, and she responded by taking him farther into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the underside. Fergus groaned again. Then her mouth was empty. "Turn around, Lucy. Put your ass up for me like Anne did." Lucy was only too happy to comply. On hands and knees, she let her head droop to the mattress, until the crown was touching the sheet. Behind her, she felt Fergus moving, lining up his penis, then thrusting forward. A vision of him plunging into Anne formed in her brain. She looked at her own her breasts, bouncing back and forth in time with Fergus' thrusts, but she saw Anne's breasts. The thought of her husband roughly taking Anne opened some final barrier to pleasure in her mind, and released her to think of HIM. For the next few moments, each of them used the other as a proxy, joined only at the loins, not in mind or spirit. Each coupled with someone who wasn't there. It was wild, wanton, mindless release. Lucy slammed her body back against Fergus' pelvis and keened a song of abandon. Without warning, she froze, moaned, and felt her vaginal muscles spasm rhythmically. Lucy began to relax and fall forward, but Fergus grabbed her hips and pulled her forcefully back, impaling her again. And again. Lucy came again. She was just finishing her contractions when Fergus began pumping in short quick strokes, finally holding her tightly to his body as his hips jerked spasmodically. "Oh Lucy, my love, oh God," he cried at his release. Lucy fell forward, turning on her side as she did. Fergus crawled beside her and made spoons, hugging her tightly to him from behind. Neither spoke as their breathing slowly subsided. Fergus got up, saying, "Back in a sec." Lucy knew he had gone for ice water, and tonight she needed it. A thin sheen of perspiration covered her, less from the temperature than from her excitement. She pondered Fergus' cry at climax. <Maybe he wasn't with Anne...> she mused, pleased at the thought but guilty as well, because she had been with Wade in her mind. She sat up when Fergus returned through the door, dropping her calves over the side of the bed. He handed her a glass, but not the usual tumbler of ice water. "After all that, I thought you needed something more than water," he said. "It's Stoly from the freezer. Cock the wrist and one motion, just like they showed us at the Serbian Crown." Remembering the waiter that had put his arms around her from behind to show her the proper motion to throw down the shots of iced vodka that flowed freely that night, and who incidentally managed to cop a feel of her breast as he pulled away, Lucy smiled and downed the vodka in her glass. It burned in her throat, but it felt good, different from the cloying routine they had developed. She hoped it was a harbinger of other changes. "Now I really do need some water," she said. Fergus grinned as his other hand proffered the glass. "After something like that, you can have anything you want from me. I've never seen you so passionate. It was great." But his face was serious as he sat on the bed beside her. "You can go back tomorrow, if you want. Lucy, I listened to what you told me and it sounded to me like you will always regret it if you don't let yourself go at least once in your life. I can live with it, if it's just this once." "I can't go back, Fergus," said Lucy, eyes downcast. "You don't understand." "Then explain," said Fergus. "Fergus, if I go back, I am going to be fucked. Is that what you want?" Her voice was flat. Fergus looked surprised. Lucy normally didn't talk like that. "You managed to avoid it so far. What would be different? You're not falling in love with him, are you?" "Oh Lord, no, Fergus. I am not in love with him. But the feeling around him is like that except dangerous and dirty. It's the same feeling of a rush, except it's not like love. It made me feel... I came close, Fergus. I wanted to let him have me, just like he had Anne. You just don't understand. There's something about him. It took all my strength to pull away. If I go back..." Fergus was silent. Finally, he spoke, "You can go back if you need to, Lucy. Even if you can't resist him. I took you off the market before you had a chance to experiment, and now you're regretting it. Have a fling if you need it. It's okay. It's better than knowing that you are living with regret at not taking your chance. Maybe coming to resent me for it. Just come back to me." "Don't say it," whispered Lucy. "I'm not going back." "I love you, sweet wife," said Fergus, pulling her into his embracing arms. "Oh I love you so much," answered Lucy. They sat together for quite a while, then rose to slide into the bed. Eventually, they slept. Friday night found Lucy alone in the house when she arrived home from her job as an occasional fill-in at an exclusive women's shop. She didn't really need the work, but she loved the employee discount. Fergus had left with the kids before she had arrived, taking them first to race real go-carts at a track an hour away, and then another hour on to visit the cousins at Jane and Bob's. They would return late the next afternoon. Breezing into the kitchen, she found a note on the refrigerator door telling her she would find a chef's salad within. She spread the evening paper in front of her on the breakfast table and read through it randomly while she ate. She felt much more relaxed now that she had decided not to go back. Maybe Fergus had meant what he said the night before, and maybe her nipples hardened even now as she thought of spreading her legs for HIM, of letting HIM enter her, but it was so much easier just to say no. No to the worry. No to complications.She took her long, hot bath, unconsciously diligent to wash and shave with unusual care and thoroughness, using the body lotions until she felt soft and smelled sweet in every nook and cranny of her body. She was still naked, blowing her hair dry in the bathroom, when the phone rang. Thinking it might be Fergus, she rushed to pick it up. It was Wade. "Anne told me you are alone tonight. She wants you with us. We'll pick you up in twenty minutes." Click. Numbly, she replaced the phone on the hook. She turned her head slightly to the left to see her reflection in the big mirror doors of the closet. She saw a woman with uncertainty etched into her face, and, as glaring as a neon sign behind her, the white patchwork on the dark bedspread. Suddenly, she knew why her ablutions had been so thorough, why her bikini line was freshly shaved. She put on the white panties. Twenty minutes later, she was being driven away in the back seat of Anne's car, listening to Mozart from the speaker. He had arrived in a huge red Cadillac convertible, something from the sixties with fins on the back. Seeing his eyes when he opened the door of his car for her, she knew he planned to take her that night. If there had ever been any doubt, it had been dispelled once and for all when he spoke over the soft rumble of the car engine, "Tonight, I am going to fuck you, Lucy. Even as your wedding ring sparkles on your finger, you will spread your legs for me and guide my cock into your pussy. With your left hand, Lucy, the hand that wears that ring. And you will come, Lucy. As you will come again in the morning when I fuck you in your own bed, after I drive you home. That is what will happen if you walk through the door at Anne's. Make up your mind before we get there." His arrogance was both infuriating and exciting. She thought about the image he described, her legs apart, guiding his cock into her, and felt demeaned. And aroused. She knew that if she rubbed her finger over the crotch of her panties, she would find it slick with lubrication. A new litany began in her mind, so close to the previous one, but with one ever so important difference: <HE's going to fuck me. HE's going to fuck me right in front of Anne. HE's going to put his cock in me and fuck ME. And I'm going to let him.> An icy finger of fear caressed her spine about five minutes from her house. "This isn't the way to Anne's. Where are you taking me?" "Why, tonight is Friday night, Lucy. Date night. I am taking you dancing." After the Mozart in the car, the raucous rock band was almost a physical assault when he opened the door to the club. Taking one woman on each arm, he steered them to the bar. Anne and Lucy sat on stools, while he stood between them. "You ladies look as though you could do with a cocktail. Allow me. Stingers all around," he ordered, doing a passable Cary Grant imitation. Lucy was irritated that he had ordered for her without asking, but smiled at the Cary Grant accent. It never occurred to her that Wade might be charming. She had never tried a Stinger. She was surprised when it turned out to be good. The first one went down easily, and he ordered a second round. For the next hour, the three of them bantered, laughing and joking at each others' witticisms. Lucy found that she was really enjoying herself, and marveling at a wonderfully engaging side of Wade that she never would have guessed existed. She began to see how Anne could have been attracted to him in the first place. Then, in the middle of a pleasant and quite ordinary exchange, in a normal conversational tone, he said, "Are you wearing panties, Lucy?" Her head jerked around to see if anyone had heard. No one appeared to be looking at them. "I asked if you were wearing panties, Lucy." "Since you ask, yes," she said defiantly, matching the conversational tone. "You don't need them. Take them off and give them to me, Lucy." "I'll do no such thing," said Lucy. "I want you to be acutely aware that you are here with me to be fucked tonight, Lucy, just as Anne is. Are you wearing panties, Anne?" "No," Anne replied in a small voice. "Show Lucy that you are not wearing panties, Anne." Anne looked around the bar area uncertainly, and then pulled up her skirt, giving Lucy a quick glimpse of her pubic hair before smoothing the skirt back down over her thighs. "Your choice, Lucy. The panties or I will take you straight home." Lucy grew annoyed again at his arrogance, at this public display, but she was excited by the prospect as well. Up to this point, she had given no overt sign that she might actually accede to his will, other than simply by coming along. If she did as he asked, she would have to admit to herself that she was here because she *wanted* him to take her. And he would know it too. But it was so sordid. She left for the ladies room without a word. Anne started to follow, but the man put his hand on her arm. In fact, she needed to use the facilities. She pulled up her skirt and pushed her panties to her knees before sitting on the toilet. She sat, staring at the panties, well after her need had been relieved. When the door banged as another patron entered, she was jarred back into focus. She wiped herself and then stood. Then, bending down to her knees, she pushed the panties the rest of the way to her ankles and stepped out of them. She balled them in her hand and looked at the whiteness showing in her palm. The realization was slow and deliberate: <I'm going to let him have me.> Anne's bag on the vanity told her who had just entered, and she hurried to rinse her hands and to return to the bar. At least she could get this over with without having to do it in front of Anne. Arriving at her stool, she held out her balled fist, bracing herself for the embarrassment she expected. She expected him to shake them out in front of him, letting anyone who looked figure out what she had done. Instead, he looked her in the eyes as he took them from her in his own balled fist and put them directly into his coat pocket. The tiniest hint of a nod of his head ended the moment. Lucy found that she was acutely cognizant of the missing underwear, just as he had wanted. The short pleated skirt covered her to a few inches above her knees, plenty to maintain modesty, but she had to consciously resist the urge to tug it down. She became very precise in her movements, taking great care to keep her knees together. She couldn't remember ever being out in public without panties, and it amazed her how different it felt. She amazed herself that something that was no more than barely naughty could make her so aware of her sexuality. When Anne returned, Wade turned the women away from the bar. With one hand on Lucy's elbow and one on Anne's, he steered them through the Friday night crowd to a more sparsely populated alcove filled with tables. Without hesitation, he guided them to a table where four twenty-something businessmen, ties loosened and coats off, sat with their beers. Looking at one of them, he spoke, "Excuse me, uh? . . ." "John." "Excuse me, John, but I need your help. I am going to dance with Anne," nodding toward her, "but that will leave Lucy without a partner." Lucy's mouth opened at this new presumption, but before she could speak, John had risen and smilingly offered his hand. "I would love to dance with you, Lucy." "Uh, thank you," her voice said. <What the hell> her inner voice said. <You like to dance and it's been a long time.> When she and John had returned from the floor, she was introduced to Justin, Bob, and Paul. Justin claimed her to dance again. To her surprise, she found herself exhilarated as all four vied for her attention. She was acutely conscious of her breasts, unbound in public for the first time in years, and of her bare bottom. She had to exercise considerable care not to let her partners spin her too fast. The second time John took her to the floor, he was much more bold. She was deeply conscious of his eyes straying to the jiggling bumps her nipples raised on the silk as her breasts moved underneath. And though she had pulled it back quickly, playfully scolding him, one straying hand had made it to her ass cheek, and she was sure he knew she wore no panties. The thought made her feel deliciously naughty. She hadn't felt this sexy in years. Between the attention and the couple of additional Stingers she had sipped between dances, she had almost forgotten how she had gotten here, and certainly had no thought for her conjugal status, although the men had noticed the rings. As she danced again with the others, they too began to see what liberties she would allow. It was like being single again, and the wandering hands and whispered invitations left her no doubt as to what they would like to do to her. The third time she danced with John, the music was slow. He pulled her tightly to him, forcing his thigh between hers, leaning down to kiss her neck. He danced her to a dark corner just off the floor and roughly kissed her mouth. One hand slipped across her bare back and into the side of the backless dress. It was no longer fun. Lucy became frightened. As Lucy struggled, trying to move away, she started to turn away from him, which brought his hand to her bare breast under the dress. She quickly tried to turn the other way, but he was too strong. She felt other hand as he began to draw up the hem of her skirt by little fistfuls, still maintaining the pressure that trapped her there. For a moment, she couldn't decide whether to give in, to be wild, but then the thought of being seen by the crowd around them was just too much.Summoning all her strength, she pushed him off and turned to flee, only to find herself enclosed in another set of arms. After first stiffening with fear, she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was Wade. He eased her behind him and spoke, "Thank you for dancing with Lucy, John. We're leaving now." John started forward, beers and youth firing his aggression, "Who says, asshole? Maybe the lady wants to stay..." In a tiny flurry of movement too fast for Lucy to see clearly, John ended up on his knees with one hand twisted awkwardly between Wade's, and a grimace of pain on his face. Wade spoke again, "Don't try my patience, John. Lucy is mine. We're leaving now, but I suggest you stay for a while." John rubbed his wrist and glared, but didn't follow, when Wade and Lucy walked away. The other men at the table called out their good-natured protests as Wade and the women passed their table, but they were ignored as Wade held Lucy's arm and ushered her out the door. Anne followed behind them. Soon Lucy found herself in the front seat of the car, with Anne in the middle. Lucy sat subdued, the exhilaration of the flirting having disappeared in that instant of muted force, unable to reconcile the conflicting facets of Wade's character she had seen in the club. They were well under way when Wade finally broke the silence. "Anne, I think we should remind Lucy why she is here. Why don't you turn and face her... that's good, lean back on me a little... Since I will probably be too busy with Lucy at first to pay much attention to you, go ahead and make yourself come now." Anne faced Lucy with a helpless look on her face, but she didn't move. His arm came over her chest and pulled up her skirt, exposing her naked mons. Lucy stared, not quite believing Anne would let him do this to her. Then slowly she saw Anne's hand move to the juncture of her thighs and begin to slide between them. His voice came again, from above Lucy's line of vision. "She needs to spread her legs, Lucy. Please put her leg over your lap, dear." Anne lifted her right leg and swung it toward Lucy. Lucy found herself sliding toward Anne to put herself under Anne's bent knee while Anne's foot came down on the seat beyond Lucy. As Anne spread her legs, Lucy ended up holding Anne's knee against her chest with her right hand; the only place for her left was on the inside of Anne's thigh. She heard Anne sigh as she unconsciously began to caress the leg under her hand. Meanwhile Anne's own hand had not been idle. Slowly at first, and then picking up speed, she ran her fingers from the top to the bottom of her slit, spreading her lubrication from end to end. Occasionally one of her fingers would disappear into her, but more and more the strokes centered around her clitoris. More and more her back stiffened against Wade, her knee pressed harder into Lucy's chest, and her breath came in ragged gasps. Lucy continued to rub the inside of Anne's thigh, fascinated again to see her friend lose control, slide into orgasm in front of her. Then his arm was back, pulling Anne's hand away. "Stop, Anne." "NO! I need to finish!" He spoke, "Finish her, Lucy. It's the only way I'll let her come." Suddenly conscious of the hand caressing Anne's inner thigh, Lucy jerked it away and said, "No! I can't do that. She's a woman!" "Oh please, Lucy," said Anne, "I'm close. I need to finish. Please help me, Lucy." Then Anne's hand grabbed Lucy's and pulled it to her sex. She held it there as she bucked her hips against it. Looking at her hand like it belonged to someone else, Lucy saw it begin to move of its own accord. Anne let go and leaned back stiffly, still bucking her hips. Up and down her friend's sex, sliding across her clitoris, finally down to her vagina. Marveling at the subtle differences in feel from her own genitals, Lucy pushed a finger into Anne. Again. And then she added another. In and out, the heel of her hand sliding across the clitoris while her fingers went deeper. Anne was moaning now, hips shaking in involuntary syncopation with Lucy's hand, until once again Lucy heard through the open mouth, from the straining face, the funny little hiccups of breath that marked Anne's climaxes. Lucy slowed her strokes and gradually withdrew her hand, amazed at what she had done. Anne did not excite her sexual response like a man, but she felt powerful to have caused those orgasms, and the whole nasty, naughty outrageousness, the wildness, left her with a wet vagina and hard nipples. Before Lucy was over her sense of wonder at what she had done, they were turning on to Anne's street and HE was speaking, "We're here, Lucy. Come in and be fucked, or go home. The keys will be in the ignition." At the door, Anne turned her key and stepped through, then turned back to face Lucy, who was behind her on the stoop. She offered Lucy her hand. Lucy turned and looked over her shoulder at his eyes, burning into hers, and then took Anne's proffered hand and stepped into the dimly lit house. Lucy felt, rather than saw, his body behind her as Anne led her to the master bedroom. The bed swam in a pool of soft light which faded to shadows at the walls. Lucy wondered how it had been done until she realized that the muted track lights that usually illuminated the paintings on the wall had been turned to focus on the bed. It was like a stage for her performance. Or an altar for a pagan ritual. When Anne dropped her hand, Lucy was bathed in that glow at the foot of the bed. "Remove her clothes, Anne." Anne stood behind Lucy, with the backs of her knees against the bed. Anne's hands pulled the short zipper in the back and slipped the dress over Lucy's shoulders. It made a small puddle of silk around her ankles. Anne made no further move for a moment, as Lucy exchanged stares with the man. As he looked, Lucy's nipples tightened even more, causing little crinkles in the areolae. His lips formed the infuriating smile again. She sensed Anne sitting down on the bed behind her. Lucy next felt Anne's hands on either side of her lower right thigh, then sliding ever so teasingly down to lift her ankle and slide her shoe off her foot. The caress was repeated on the left side. Anne's hands reached up from below, high on her thigh at her stocking tops, when he spoke again, "No. Leave them on." All the while Lucy stared into his eyes. As Lucy stood naked, no, more than naked with only her stockings, in that pool of light, he began to move at the edge of the shadows. His hands moved to his neck and removed his tie, discarded without thought on the floor. Button by button, he undid his shirt, and it joined the tie, tossed on the rug without a glance. Lucy looked at his crotch. She saw no bulge, no tenting. She didn't understand. She was naked before him, ready to be fucked, and he had no erection. Disappointed, worried whether she was attractive enough for him, she watched his hands unfasten and unzip his pants. Then a flash of pride skittered fleetingly through her thoughts: the tip of his erection peeked out of the waistband of the very tight black jockey shorts he was even then pushing down. Lucy knew she had caused that erection, and it excited her to know that soon it would push its way into her vagina. "Bend forward, Lucy. Keep your knees straight." Bending forward at the hips, Lucy knew she was giving Anne the same view of her sex that Anne had given her that first day. Except that Anne was less than a foot away from her nether lips, instead of across the room. Lucy felt even more exposed than when Anne had licked her two nights before. "Is she going to lick me again? My God, I want her to! Oh Lord, am I gay?" Lucy shivered in anticipation. As her back reached near horizontal, he stepped forward and cradled Lucy's head in his hands. Slowly he guided her mouth to the tip of his cock. He stopped there and spoke to Anne, "You make Lucy ready for me, Anne. Use your tongue. Make her wet and ready." Lucy jumped a little as a long swipe of that tongue traveled the length of her slit. Then he pushed forward between her lips and said, "You make me ready to fuck you, Lucy. Make it swell. Cover it with your saliva, the easier to slip into your pussy. Suck it, Lucy." Lucy's cheeks hollowed as she literally sucked on his cock, as her tongue circled top and bottom of his glans. The precursors of his come, viscous streamers of salty seminal fluid, were gathered in the hollow of her cupped tongue and swallowed as he rocked gently in and out in a barely perceptible motion. Behind her, Lucy felt Anne's thumb enter her vagina, and her fingers spread out to caress her mound. Lucy felt the thumb pulled out slightly, and then back in. With each retreat, Lucy felt Anne's middle finger slid wetly over her clitoris. Rapidly Lucy began to build to a climax. But before she could come, she was jolted by a feeling that dissipated the building erotic charge even as it gave her a sinful thrill: Anne's tongue licked Lucy's anus. Lucy's mouth opened to cry "Stop," but he pressed his cock in deeper, stifling her outcry as she shifted to keep from choking. For several excruciatingly dirty exciting seconds, Anne's tongue worked the sensitive bud while her thumb penetrated Lucy's vagina. Lucy was washed with a fear that HE meant to do her there, but also with a feeling of wantonness the like of which she had never had, even when she was younger. The climb to orgasm began again, from a higher plateau, while Anne pressed at her rear, softer than any finger, but insistent nonetheless. Then it quit.The man had pulled Lucy an awkward step away from Anne, severing contact with her tongue, and Anne dropped her hand from Lucy's sex. At the same time, he had pulled his cock from her mouth and raised her head until she continued on her own to stand upright. "It's time to fuck you, Lucy," he calmly stated, as he pushed her back toward the bed. "Sit." Lucy felt Anne's hands on her hips guiding her as she sat. She ended up between Anne's widespread legs, leaning back against the dress that still covered Anne's chest, with the crease where her buttocks met thighs at the edge of the bed. The man knelt down in front of her, his erect penis level with her knees. Gently he took a white nylon-clad calf and raised it, moving it outward, placing the calf outside Anne's leg. The process was repeated on the other side. Lucy looked down to see that she was once again spread open to his view, just as she had been when it had been the arms of the chair under her legs instead of Anne's knees. The opaque white tops of the stockings seemed to emphasize the bareness of her sex, more even than if she had nothing at all on. It was obscene. It excited her. She felt Anne's chin on her shoulder and knew that Anne was looking down at her too. It excited her more. Lucy saw him slide forward on his knees, bringing his erection ever closer to her sex. Finally, she felt it brush against her lips. Her eyes were glued to his penis as she waited for the inevitable. "Guide me in, Lucy." Her right hand started forward, but he caught it in his left. "No, Lucy, use your left hand. I want you to watch as you guide me into your pussy with your wedding ring." Almost like a spectator, like an out-of-body experience, Lucy watched her left hand take his cock between her thumb and her fingers and line it up with her vagina. As her fingers curled under, she couldn't actually see her ring, but his words had sensitized her to it, and she felt its presence. The thought of her ring, of Fergus, made her flush with shame, even as it heightened her arousal with the wanton, nasty badness of it. And he did. She watched, fascinated, as the head of his penis disappeared into her. She felt the entrance, the slow friction as more and more of the shaft disappeared. He kept pushing deep into her vagina until he could go no further. Lucy was so slick with wanting that there was no discomfort with this invasion, and she watched fascinated again as the shaft reemerged. The next thrust was quick, and then another, and the state of constant excitement that had waxed and waned in her all night finally could be denied no longer. She came. He kept plunging in and out of her as she fell back from orgasm to a plateau of arousal, slowly starting to build back again to that sweet release. She felt him plowing in and out and her litany began. She didn't realize she was speaking aloud, this time, "Oh God, oh God, he's fucking me. He's fucking me right now. He's fucking me right here in front of Anne. He's fucking me in my pussy." Suddenly she was there again, moaning out her pleasure, her release. She felt him continue as once again she fell back to the plateau, but his thrusts were coming quicker now. Her excitement started to climb once again as she realized he was about to come, to shoot his semen deep into her. She felt him freeze, then a series of jerky thrusts, irregular, not rhythmic like before, signaled his orgasm. She hardly remembered the aftermath. She woke up during the night, groggily wondering why she was naked. Then the sounds, the moans and the pants, the gentle shaking of the bed that had awakened her came into focus, and she remembered what had happened. She remembered she had been fucked, just like HE was fucking Anne now, and her hand wandered to her clitoris. But exhaustion and alcohol consumed won out, and she slept again before her passion could be roused. The sun's glare hurt her eyes when she awoke, and a tiny headache that kept time with her pulse testified to the drinks she had savored the night before. The clock-radio said that it was 11:30. She had slept late, but she must not have slept well. She was still very tired. Still, she had to get up. Fergus and the boys were due in that afternoon. She had to get home. Stepping to the foot of the bed, she looked at her clothes. One look at the stockings and they went into the trash can. She didn't see her panties. HIS pocket she remembered. She pulled on her dress and looked unsuccessfully for his jacket. Finally, giving up on panties, she slipped on her shoes and walked to the kitchen. "Good morning, Sleepyhead," said Anne, cheerfully. "I'm making some brunch, and there's coffee in the pot." "I can't stay Anne. Fergus and the boys will be back soon. Please take me home." Lucy was depressed. It didn't seem so exciting in the sunlight. A toilet flushed in the background, and then he stepped around the corner. "I'll take you home." He walked to the door without a backward look, and went out to the car and started it. "Are you OK, Lucy?" "I'll be fine, Anne. Got to get home is all." Lucy turned and walked quickly toward the car. Nothing was said during the short ride. They both got out in Lucy's driveway. He followed her into the living room. "Thanks for the ride," said Lucy flatly. A dismissal. "We're not finished, Lucy," he said. "I told you I was going fuck you again this morning, on your own bed." The memory of those words last night rushed back. She had forgotten. A little thrill tweaked her body. But this was daylight, in her own house. Not some fantasy. "I don't think so. Last night was enough." She walked back to her bedroom. She needed a shower. He followed. "You want to, Lucy. You want to have me fuck you right here on your own bed." He stepped close to her. With a sinking feeling, she knew he was right. She did want this one last act of wildness, of wanton indulgence outside the bounds. But she said, "I don't want to. Please go." His eyes caught hers, held hers. "Prove it to me, Lucy. Let me feel you. If you are dry, I'll go." His hand moved down her thigh to her hem. "But if you're wet, we'll both know what that means." Staring into his eyes, she couldn't force herself to object as his hand found her slit under her skirt. She knew what he would find. She'd been wet thirty seconds after he said he was going to fuck her again out in the living room. She closed her eyes and moaned as he began to run his fingers back and forth in her slick folds, sliding gently over her clitoris. "How do you like to be fucked, Lucy?" he asked. "How do you like Fergus to fuck you in your bed, Lucy?" His fingers kept moving. "From behind." It was a whisper. Gently he pushed her onto the bed, onto her hands and knees. Lucy heard his zipper, then felt the tremors in the mattress as he knelt behind her. He's going to fuck me again. On my own bed. He's going to fuck me on the bed where I sleep with Fergus. Oh God, and I'm going to let him. The litany changed as he flipped up her skirt and pushed his cock into her. He's fucking me. Oh God, He's fucking me again. Flushed with excitement, ashamed to be here on this bed, fucking a stranger, she let her head drop to the bedspread. He's fucking me just like Fergus did. On my own bed. The litany trailed off into incoherency as she came, still blushing with shame. Behind she felt him pull her hips tightly to him, and then again the shuddery, irregular thrusts that meant he was ejaculating in her. She fell forward on the bed. She felt the bed shake and heard his footsteps as he left without another word. When she heard the door slam shut, she let herself sleep. Lucy came out of a half-sleep dream to feel a warm body next to hers. As she moved, she heard her husband whisper, "Hello, sweetheart. I missed you." She came to full attention when she felt his hand slide between her legs. In a panic she grabbed his arm with both hands, but he had already found the soggy evidence of her infidelity. "You really did it, didn't you? I still love you, you know. How was it?" His hand rubbing up and down now, too strong for her small hands to stop. "Oh Fergus, forgive me. I wasn't going to do it, but when I saw the clothes... Please don't hate me." Still his hand moved. "Feel me." He moved her hand to the front of his shorts. He was hard. "Does that feel like I hate you? I want you, Lucy. I want you more than ever. I want you with another man's come in you. I love you and I want you now, Lucy, my wife." During his speech he had moved between her legs, pushing them up and open with his. "The kids," she started. "Still at Jane and Bob's," he answered. His erection was pressing in the crease of her thigh, then against her mons, then sliding to the left. She started to reach down as always to guide him, then stopped. Then she moved her left hand down and put him in her. Lucy watched as Fergus' face got red and strained. He was pounding in and out of her now very fast now, and she knew he would come soon. Her own doubts and guilt wouldn't let her take pleasure for herself, while the traces of the other man were still on her, in her, but she needed to give herself to him, to her husband. She bucked her hips against his and tightened her vaginal muscles. She whispered in his ear, "I need feel you in me, Fergus, deeper." And she felt him come, deep inside her, putting his seed on top of HIS.She felt her love for her husband fill her, and she held him tightly to her. She wanted to hold him like this forever, but she knew she couldn't. She knew that soon he would have to think about what she had done. That soon she would have to think about what she had done. Even as she pulled him tighter, she knew their relationship had irrevocably changed in ways that she did not yet know. She stared at the ceiling and pondered the future, afraid and excited at the same time. Then she smiled when she heard him say, "Ready for some Stoly?"

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/16496.txt

deirdre

Closet

"Sheila?" She didn't answer. I'd knocked on their back storm door, but there hadn't been any answer. The door was wide open, so I'd opened the storm door and called her. I knew she had to be around. I stepped into the kitchen and peeked into the living room. "Sheila?" Still no answer. The house seemed deserted. "Yes." It was her voice, but for some reason, I felt a little confused. Maybe because she waited so long to answer. It came from their bedroom. I had a twinge of doubt about walking into their bedroom, but she had called. The door was almost shut, and I pushed it open. I froze in horror! Randy, who was standing in the middle of the bedroom, looked at me in surprise. Sheila was in the closet! She was facing into the closet with her wrists tied to the clothes bar, and she was completely naked! She had a blindfold on and was wearing earphones. Randy, who was fully dressed, held a whip in his hand! Randy put his finger across his lips, signaling me to keep quiet. Suddenly, I felt more than horror--I was afraid! What was going on here? "Don't talk too loudly," Randy said quietly. "Randy!" I hissed. I was afraid. I knew Randy pretty well, or thought I did, but this? She never told me he ever hit her. Had he gone off his rocker? "Cindy, don't panic!" he said. He seemed about to panic himself. I think he was sensing what I was thinking. "Watch this," he went on. He walked over to Sheila and indicated to me again to keep quiet. I don't know why, but for some reason, I stood there like a statue. He took off Sheila's earphones. "OK, ready to get down?" he asked her. "Honey, what's the matter?" asked Sheila. "Nothing," he answered. "Aren't... you going to do it? Whip me?" "Let's stop now." "No! You can't get ready and then just stop! Please?" I couldn't believe what she was saying. Obviously, this was something they did together. I'd never *heard* of such a thing! Well, I'd heard of it, but never knew anyone who'd do it! Sheila and Randy! My own best friend; my next door neighbors! I guess what I never knew was anyone who ever admitted to doing it. "Please honey? Don't stop," Sheila went on. "What do you want me to do?" asked Randy. "Whip me!" "Are you sure?" "Yes, honey! Please! Now!" "OK, I'm going to whip you. Two times." He shook out the whip. It was small--actually a riding crop. Then he swung it at her, and it smacked her right on the rear. She let out a groan. Then he repeated it, and she groaned again. "Did you like that?" he asked. "Yes!" "Now what do you want?" "Whip me again! Please!" "Are you sure?" he asked. "Yes! Yes, honey, I'm sure. Again!" He stood there for a second. "Please honey!" she said. "Would you like someone to... *see* you get whipped?" "Oh my god!" she answered. "How would you like me to get Cindy in here to watch? Would it turn you on to have Cindy in here, watching me whip your rear like that?" She didn't answer. "Would it make you wet? To have Cindy see you like this?" She didn't answer. "Yes." Her voice was small. "Aha! You just think of Cindy right here, and I'm going to whip you two more times! She's going to watch you groan and beg just like you always do." "Yes!" He didn't answer but swung the whip around again and whipped her rear again. And again. She groaned some more. "Did you like that?" "Yes!" "What would Cindy think of you, begging to be whipped like that and getting off on it?" She didn't answer, but she was breathing louder and louder. After a little while, he looked at me and spoke again: "How would you like Cindy to take the whip and whip you herself? You'd get off on that, wouldn't you?" "Yes!" came her breathy answer. He smiled and then reached out and took my wrist. He drew me to where he was behind Sheila. He put the whip in my hand. "OK, this time think of Cindy holding the whip." "Oh yes!" "She sees you like this and is thinking about whipping you herself." "Oh yes, honey! Yes!" "You'd better ask her to whip you. Ask Cindy." "Yes! Please whip me!" "Ask her again. Beg her." Randy went on. "Please whip me, Cindy. Please?" Randy took my hand and guided me into hitting her rear with it. It didn't come out nearly as hard as he had done. He nodded to me to get me to do it again myself. I did it. "Did you like having Cindy whip you?" asked Randy. "Yes! Harder! Please honey!" "Cindy's just learning to use the whip. Thank her and ask her again." "OK. Thank you Cindy! Please whip me again, harder." Randy nodded to me again. I did it again twice. I got better at it and did it harder. "Was that better?" asked Randy. "Yes! More, please, more! Harder!" "Say please to Cindy." "Please Cindy!" "You know, I could kiss Cindy while she's whipping you." "Oh my god!" she answered. He moved closer to me. I stood there--I should have stopped this. I looked up at him. He lowered his face and touched his lips to mine. Then he smiled and nodded. I whipped her again. "She kisses nice," he said. "Would you like to kiss her?" "Oh yes!" "But now she's just going to whip you. You like Cindy whipping you?" "Yes! Yes!" I whipped her again. "I think she's beginning to enjoy whipping you. I think I'll unbutton her blouse." What was I getting myself into? "Yes!" he answered. His fingers started down the buttons of my blouse. "She must be excited from whipping you. She's letting me do it. Should I strip her naked?" "Yes!" "You want Cindy naked?" "Yes!" He had my blouse off and was taking off my bra. "Why? Do you like Cindy's body?" He was quietly unbuttoning my jeans! "Yes!" "You want to see it?" "Yes!" "Well, you won't see it now." I had just panties on, and he slipped them down to my knees! "But she'll be naked while she whips you!" He nodded to me to whip her again. I was getting better, and sometimes she'd groan when I did it. "How do you like being whipped by Cindy with her naked?" "Yes! I *love* it!" "Right here in this room. Naked. Whipping you." "Yes!" "Do you want her to whip you some more?" "Yes!" "She's naked. What should I do to her now?" He was fingering my nipple. I was going crazy. "Fuck her!" I almost choked.I couldn't believe she was saying this. "What?" Randy asked, obviously playing dumb. His hands were roaming down my body. My clitoris. It was hard to remain standing. "Fuck her! Fuck her good!" "You want me to fuck Cindy while she whips you?" He'd grabbed a chair and was sitting right next to me! He was unzipping his pants! "Yes!" "Why?" His cock was sticking straight up! "She *needs* it! She *needs* a hard fucking!" "Your best friend? You want me to fuck your best friend hard?" "Yes! Yes!" He drew me down onto his lap. I was completely ready. He used his hand to guide his cock right into me. "You'll have to tell me why. Why does she need it?" "She... she's such a little sexy thing. She thinks she has it made!" "You think she's sexy?" "Yes!" "Do you look at her body?" "Yes!" "Do you want to see her naked?" "Yes!" My mind was whirling. "Do you want to lick her cunt?" "Yes! Yes!" "Do you want to whip her?" "Oh god! Yes!" "I'll have her whip you while my cock is inside her." "Yes! Fuck her hard! Hard!" He lifted my body up and down, his cock sliding in and out. I was so distracted. But I lifted the whip again and smacked her rear with it. I was much better. Her groans were definitely louder. It seemed to me that she'd come a bunch of times. I couldn't believe it. "Do you like it when she whips you while I'm fucking her?" "Yes! Yes!" "I think she likes my cock inside her." "Oh my god!" "You like her whipping you while she has your husband? What do you think of her?" "Oh god! Fuck her *hard*!" "She and your husband fucking? You like that?" "The bitch! Fuck her ass!" He had K.Y. jelly in his hand! He was still inside me! "You want my cock in her ass?" He had K.Y. jelly on his finger and was probing for my rear! "Yes! Fuck her in the ass! Hard! Get her good!" His finger had found it and was pushing in! I was still riding his cock and his finger was in my rear! I couldn't believe how excited I was but I'd never had anything there! "You want my cock in her rear?" "Yes! Do it good!" His finger pushed further! It was too much! I managed to keep quiet as I came and came. "You made her come." "Yes!" "Would you like her to touch you?" "Oh god, yes!" Randy lifted me to standing and stood behind me. He guided me close to her. We knelt next to each other right behind her. "Would you like her to make you come?" He leaned his head next to mine as he talked. "Yes!" He guided my hand between her legs. My fingers were right on her vagina. "OK, she's touching you. You like that, don't you? "Oh god!" She was coming again. I hadn't done much more than just touch her a little. I was in a daze and just did what Randy had me do. Sheila calmed down again and Randy drew me away again. "Cindy has to go now," he said. "Oh god!" "You'd better thank her." He had my clothes and pushed them into my hands. I started getting dressed. "Thank you!" "Say 'Thank you Cindy'." "Thank you Cindy!" I was almost dressed. "OK, she's going to leave now, then I'm going to put you in bed and fuck you!" "Yes! Oh god yes!" And he guided me out of the room. The door shut behind me. I slipped out the back door and went back home. I must have sat for an hour in a complete daze. The next day when I saw Cindy I had trouble keeping from staring at her. The things she said! She was just the same as always but I stammered several times while we talked. Right before she left, she motioned me to come close and whispered in my ear: "Thank you for yesterday." She smiled at me and left.

MF bd ds

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10598.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/Year98/13725.txt

fcp

Gifts

"Wheee! It's flying!" "Great, Matthew! Now, run into the wind and let the string out a little." "Daddy, it's going so high!" My wife, Donna, had shooed us out of the house so she could take a relaxing hot bath in peace. So, Matt and I were in the backyard, between the house and our now-bare cornfields, taking turns flying a kite. I enjoy watching Matthew; everything is new to him, and every new day gives him something to explore. He's a happy, self-confident kid. He'll be five next month; I just pray that he'll have a safer time growing up than I did. "Hi! Having fun, aren't you!" Donna had just come out of the house, holding a cup of Ovaltine and another of coffee. I kissed her and took the coffee cup from her, and she went out to Matt. "Mommy, Mommy, look!" "I see! May I try it while you have your snack?" "Here, Mommy!" He gulped down some of the drink. "Thank you." Donna has trained him well. I put my cup down and walked over to them. Donna was holding the stick and swaying in time to the motion of the kite. I stood next to her and curled my arm around her waist, and we turned to each other and kissed. Looking at Donna, I found it hard to believe that she had spent much of last night ravishing me, sucking me for the first time, letting me rest, and then fucking me from above. She had never been so wanton toward me before. I enjoyed it, but I had to change the way I thought of her. The night before last, I had told Donna of the my small part in the Second World War, of the fighting in France in the summer of 1944, and of the battles that still fill my nightmares. I also had told her of the one moment of peace I had during those dreadful months, when a sweet French girl welcomed me to her bed, held me, comforted me, and made gentle love to me with her mouth and her body. I told her how, after a terrible nightmare of war, gentle Marie would appear in my dreams to comfort me. I had worried that Donna would reject me for my faithlessness, both during the war, and in my dreams. Instead, she had acted delightfully wild, doing to me what Marie had done ten years before. I felt as though our marriage had become stronger, and I looked at her with wonder. "James, I just spoke with June Jordan. Their car is running again, and she's going to bring Chris over to play with Matt." "I can handle that. Chris is a good kid. Did you hear that, Matt? Chris Jordan's coming over." "Yay!" Matt took back the kite from Donna and started to maneuver it. While he was occupied, Donna turned back to me. "Hon, there's a dance at the Legion Hall tonight. The Jordans are willing to have Matt stay there overnight; I'll pack up good clothes for church tomorrow. Is that okay with you?" "When was the last time we went dancing, Donna?" "I don't remember. Five years ago, I think. Before we had Matt." "I think that you're right--we're overdue for a night on the town." "Do you think we'll remember how to dance?" "I don't think you ever forget. Besides, you don't have to do much in the slow ones."We stayed on the dance floor, and I noticed Phil and Mary Andersen step onto the floor. I hadn't realized they were here; Phil took a permanent limp home from Korea along with his Purple Heart, and I could not imagine his dancing much, but here they were. They saw us and waved. I waved back, and I was surprised to see my wife wave back too. "Donna, I thought you were angry at them. They interrupted our bridge game, and for what?" My voice dropped to a whisper: "So Mary could pay off a side bet by sucking Phil's cock." "Well, in a way I'm grateful to them. After all, if Mary hadn't done that to Phil, you never would have told me your war story. You would have kept your nightmares and your pains secret from me. How can I help you then?" "And do you mind my pleasant dreams? Can you forgive me for still thinking of Marie? Are you angry about what happened in France?" "I don't think there's anything to forgive. She helped you survive a nightmare; I'm glad. And I really can't be angry about what Mary did, not after last night." "Last night was wonderful. I think we have grown closer to each other, and what was the cause? Phil and Mary's rudeness." "Yes. However, if they ever do that again on bridge night, I shall be greatly annoyed. James, I'm a bit tired; do you mind if we go now?" "Of course, darling." We walked to the door, and then she ran ahead of me to the car and took the driver's seat. I caught up and she opened the passenger door. "Get in," she said. "Would you please tell me what you're doing?" "Ten minutes. Just relax, James." "I don't think I can." She drove out of town along a route I didn't recognize, and ten minutes later she stopped her car near a side road. "Do you recognize where we are?" The moon was three-quarter full, and I looked at the roads in the moonlight. "No. Wait. That's the road to Grayson's Quarry. Oh, damn." "That's right. Do you remember the last time you drove me there, to lovers' lane?" "I try not to remember that day. June 1942. That's when I asked you--" "You were joining the army the next week, and you wanted 'Something to Remember Me By.'" "I still remember your slap. Why are you bringing this up?" "After you took me home, I went up to my room and cried. I thought, 'How could you say that to me?' Mom tried to pry into what happened, but I wouldn't say anything." "You still married me, though." "I loved you, you dim-wit. But I was the 'good girl,' and good girls say no." "And the boys always ask anyway." "And the boys always ask. Dad worried that you had injured me; he probably thought that you had molested me. He dragged his shotgun out of the closet and was going to go after you, but I managed to stop him. I told Dad that you hadn't touched me, that we had only argued." "That wasn't quite true. We had kissed." "I was trying to keep you alive and Dad out of jail. He didn't need to know that." "They've been cordial to me, and they let you marry me." "Nobody let me do anything. And people do fight, even if they love each other. I wanted to marry you, and that was that. And they love Matt." "But, why did you still write me? I never knew why you didn't break the engagement. Many of us got 'Dear John' letters; I was expecting one." "That's something you never realized about me. I had thought about saying yes. Women get horny too. Especially engaged 19-year-olds." "Oh. You did say no, however." "That's how we were raised, dear. You left the next week, and soon all the men my age were gone to the war. I tried to talk to some of the other girls about it, but it wasn't easy." "Soldiers tell a lot of stories about their experiences with women. Most of them are tall tales, however. But no one ever told stories about his girl. No one ever said that his girl had said 'Yes.' And suggesting that about somebody else's girl would start a fight." "Well, do you remember Marge Dunbar?" "Ted's wife? The pharmacist's daughter? Quiet as a mouse?" "That's right. Well, she said 'Yes' to Ted before Ted joined the Army." "No. Really?" "I'm not kidding you. She told me while we sat at the Woolworth's counter waiting for a rainstorm to let up. Of course, she could lift some 'safes' from her dad's desk." "Oh. Well, I'm glad Ted made it back okay." "Zoe Carter said 'No' to Miles, and Miles died on Iwo Jima. I think Zoe still regrets that she had said 'No.'" "And you? Did you regret your decision?" "Sometimes I did. True, it was the only one I could make. But you were gone for three and a half years! There were many nights when I couldn't sleep because I pined for you so. I'd write you long letters and then tear them up since they wouldn't fit on Victory Mail. I kept every letter you sent me in a scrap book. And I had vague fantasies of what we'd do upon your return and our marriage. I didn't know what sex was all about then." "Well, do you know now? Is reality better than your fantasies?" "Frankly, dear, they haven't been for a while. We've coasted for the last few years. We haven't put enough effort into it." "Last night was great. It was the best ever. But, you're right. I've concentrated on the farm too much, and you concentrated on Matt. So, why are we here?" "I want to give us a second chance. I want a chance to say 'Yes.'" "Hearing that, I feel nineteen again." Donna started the car again and turned onto the Quarry Road. The quarry had gone bust back in the 1880s during a business downturn, and had been left abandoned. It was a place of mystery for all the children of the area, and somehow it also became the rendezvous for teenagers who wanted to get away from home. Since the area wasn't good farmland, there were a few clusters of trees nearby that had not been cleared. Donna drove to one of them and parked. We kissed and hugged, and I let my hand drift down her body to her breast. She slapped my hand away. "James, I'm not that type of girl." She had said that to me on that last trip here. "But Donna, we've been dating for three years, and when the war's over we're going to get married. Please?" That had been my reply. "James, we're not married yet. We shouldn't do this. It would be a sin." She had said exactly that too. "Donna, I'm joining the Army next week. I don't know when I'll ever see you again. I might even die in battle. Please, Donna. We love each other. How can it be sinful? You know that song--can I have something to remember you by?" I still kept to our script. This was when she had slapped me and had demanded I take her home. She raised her right hand and made a motion as if to slap me, but she stopped in mid-swing and slowly moved to caress my cheek. "Yes, James. Let me give you the most precious gift I can give you." I leaned over and kissed her softly. She returned it more passionately, and then we just kept kissing again and again--soft kisses, sloppy kisses, hard kisses, French kisses, and long kisses that left us breathless. Eventually, we ran out of air and fell away from each other. We looked at each other; Donna's hair had wilted, her makeup had ran, and her dress was all wrinkled, while I needed a shave, my tie was askew, my jacket crumpled, and I needed a new shirt. We couldn't be happier. We both started laughing, dispelling the tension of our memories of twelve years ago. "Let's get in back," Donna said. We both got out of the car. I went into the back seat right away, while Donna opened the trunk and pulled some things out. "Donna, what's that?" "It's a special occasion. I thought we might have some wine. I also thought we might need a blanket." "You're always so well prepared. Thank you." I took the bottle and corkscrew from her, opened the bottle, and poured it into the two glasses she held. We raised our glasses, and I toasted her: "To gift-givers!" "And worthy recipients!" We sat close to each other, held hands, and finished our glasses. Then, I turned to her and kissed her. She leaned into the kiss, and as she did, I reached behind her and started to lower the zipper of her dress. She hummed her approval. When I lowered the zipper to its bottom, she leaned away from me and said, "Take off that jacket." I shrugged out of it and threw it to the front seat, and she reached for my collar. She made short work of my tie and quickly undid my buttons. She did the same with my cuffs. I slipped my shirt off and tossed it onto my jacket. She lifted her arms out of her sleeves, and the front of her dress fell down, revealing her brassiere. "Donna, you're lovely." "James, you're not bad yourself. There's something I have to ask you, though." Suddenly, I saw a bright light from outside. "Donna, look." She opened her window a bit and looked out. "James, it's a police car. What will we do?" A man got out of the car and walked over to us. "All right, now. It's time for you teenagers to go home. I'm going to have a talk with your parents." "Deputy? George Stone, is that you? You really gave us a shock," said Donna. "Mrs. Bailey?" He shined his flashlight at me. "James Bailey? What are you doing here?" George was in high school with the two of us. He was a dull drone then, and he's a dull drone now. He was one of those damnable rear-area MPs during the war and came back to become a cop. "We're acting like teenagers. It's fun. You ought to try it sometime. You're welcome to talk to our parents, though," I said. "James. Donna. You're acting crazy. You can't stay here. And get some clothes on!" "We're not hurting anyone, George. Why don't you just leave us be. Are you going to report us?" said Donna. "Just go home. What's wrong with you?" "Absolutely nothing. Mind your own business," I said. George shined his flashlight at us again, and then Donna murmured, "I'll fix him." She started to undo her bra. George gawked, and then he turned around and ran, crying "Jesus!Donna lowered the window all the way, dropped the bra onto the seat, leaned out, and waved at him. "Bye, George! Don't forget to call my mommy!" We heard his tires squeal, and then Donna sat back down. "Donna, I'm impressed. I would never have envisioned you doing anything so wild, either today or yesterday." I was beginning to get uncomfortable; her breasts were right in front of me, and I started to harden. I wanted to reach for her, to hold her, to feel her, to kiss her, to rip off the remainder of her dress and to take her right away. I didn't, though. "I think I like being wild. It's more interesting. Do you think he'll ever tell anyone?" "No. I know the type. He's a coward, and he makes up for it by wearing a gun. He'll never mention us to anyone." "Well, there's one wild thing I'd like to do now. What do you think Phil's stake in their wager was?" "Well, if their stakes were comparable, then he would have--Oh!" "Well, will you? Now? I'd like to know what that feels like." "I don't know anyone who's done that. Except for Phil, I guess." "I doubt the Andersens are the only people to do it." "Well, you were willing last night; it would be ungracious of me if I were to refuse." "Besides, you might like for me to suck you again." I nodded. She reached for me and pulled me to her. I kissed her and started to stroke her body; I moved quickly to her breasts. "Lick them," she said. I kissed them and then started to lick and suck on her nipples. She purred. I reached around her and cradled her bottom; I couldn't feel much through her dress and girdle. She whispered, "Undress me." I was reluctant to let go of her breasts, but I pulled back and lifted her dress over her head; it joined the rest of her clothes in the front. She unsnapped her girdle, and then turned so she lay lengthwise on the seat. I pulled her shoes off and tickled her toes, and then I moved up to her thighs to pull down her nylons. Her scent was heavy in the air; I was a little dizzy. Was this how it would have been twelve years ago? Her nylons came off, and her girdle followed. Only her panties were left, and I stared. My eyes followed Donna's curves, followed the stretch marks that bearing Matt had given her, and reached her center. Wisps of pubic hair curled above the top of the fabric, while moisture had stained the front. I needed to see what was within. I had a problem, though. She lay across most of the seat, and I didn't really have room to move. "Donna, I need more room. Should we go home now?" "Now, James. I need it badly." "We could go outside." That was brazen of me. "Bring the blankets." I passed them to her and let her set them up; meanwhile, I pulled off the rest of my clothes. I heard her call for me to hurry, and I did. Of course, I checked first; all four doors were unlocked. And there she was, propped up on her elbows, looking at me in the moonlight, wearing only a thin wisp of pink material. I kneeled by her side and kissed her. "Hurry!" I moved atop her in our usual position for lovemaking. She sank to the ground, freed her arms, and began to push at my shoulders. I moved back a bit and nuzzled her breasts, and she let me stay just a moment before she pushed again. I left a trail of kisses down her belly, tongued her navel, and then I reached my destination. I started by kissing her through the fabric. I don't think she could feel my kiss, but she breathed out a "Yes!" just from the sight. I, on the other hand, could feel her and smell her scent. My cock got as hard as ever it did. I kissed her a few times through the panties, but she wanted more. I wanted more. I reached for the top of the panties and tried to pull them down, but I had some trouble getting them past her buttocks. I didn't want to move away, and finally I just brought my hands to her crotch, grabbed onto the two leg-holes, and tore the fabric apart. A cool breeze washed over us, and she moaned. I bent my head to her. I could have stayed there forever, just hovering over her and looking at her, but Donna grew impatient. She moved her hands to the back of my head and pushed me closer to her. It was time; I leaned into her and took a tentative lick. I heard a moan in response, so I did it again. She shuddered in response. Her lips began to part like a tulip in bloom. I licked again, this time pushing my tongue between her folds; I heard a "Yes!" in response. My followthrough brought me upward to a little button of flesh, and I swept it with my tongue; I heard a drawn-out "Ohhhh," the pitch rising and then falling. I guessed this was the place to aim. Not right away, however. Donna had taken the trouble to arrange this; I should make the occasion last. I started circling her cunt, covering the path with kisses. I tongued the outer lips, and she shook. I licked her inner lips, and she moaned. I dipped my tongue into her cunt and moved from side to side, and she closed up her legs, fixing my head in that position. Well, it was as good a place as any to lick. It tasted great; I had worried about that. I was nearly mad with lust, but I resisted the temptation to get up and plunge into her; I just followed her lead. I don't know how long we stayed like that; I was happy to make her wail with pleasure. She deserved it, after all. After a while, however, I heard her cries slow down and soften. I knew that she was getting stuck short of the peak, and I needed to work fast; I forced my head upward and licked that button I had found earlier. Donna's voice grew louder, and I tried swirling my tongue on her. Donna's voice rang out: "Oh yes! Lick me there! Finger me, finger my cunt! Oh, fuck!" I brought my right hand upward and pushed a finger into her; I heard her call, "Yes, do it hard!" I licked her harder and worked my finger in and out of her, and then I felt her body vibrate. Her voice turned into a wordless cry, she started to pulse around my finger, and then I felt a flood of moisture within her. She fell silent and limp in my arms. I disentangled myself from her and moved to her side. She lay there quietly, peacefully, but she didn't react when I touched her cheek. She had fainted. "Donna, Donna, wake up," I said softly. She blinked twice, nodded her head, and opened her eyes. I looked down at her with concern, and she called my name weakly. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine. I'm just so tired. That took a lot out of me." "I hope this doesn't happen every time I lick you." "I wouldn't mind if it did. Oh, I'm not being fair to you." "That's all right. There's always tomorrow." "Could you take me home now? I'm just so weak." I got her to sit up, and then I picked her up and carried her to the back seat. She lay down, and I retrieved the blanket and tucked it around her. She mumbled something I couldn't make out, and then she fell asleep. I put on my underclothes and my pants, checked that we had not left anything outside, and then I drove us home. I drove slowly because I didn't want to awaken her. I was happy to have pleased her so, but I was also aching for release. It was frustrating, but I would survive. While I was driving, I thought about what we had said and done. I've never heard her talk that way before. She had never been so forceful about sex, never so active. I knew that we would have some interesting times in the future. I think we were both overly inhibited before this weekend. I worried about repulsing her by requesting things she wasn't familiar with, and she had been trained in being a "good girl," following her husband's lead. Neither of us had brought much imagination to our lovemaking. Perhaps if she had given in twelve years ago, we would not have waited so long to break loose the way we had this weekend, but I doubt it, and it doesn't matter anyway. No one can change the past. But we could make up for lost time. We arrived home, and I parked outside so the car could air out. "Wake up, sleepyhead." "James? Oh, we're home. Thanks." "Do you need help?" "I'm okay." She got out from under the blanket and left the car, only to stand outside my door. I looked at her; she was still naked and still lovely. She opened the door, and I hugged her to me. "Let's go inside. I'm cold." We went inside, and she turned to me. "You dear sweet man. Please sit down." I did, and she knelt before me. "Thank you, James. Thank you for everything." She reached for my fly, and for the second night in a row she took me in her mouth.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11446.txt

Norm DePloom

Slave Boy

"Toy Trucks" As far as I'm concerned, there is nothing in this world sexier than a naked eight or nine-year-old boy dripping my cum from his chin and sporting a cute little erection just waiting for my attention. That's just what I hoped to be seeing before the day was through. The schedule was tight, but I had everything planned. The boy always went into the local variety store to squat down at the counter and stare at the miniature toy trucks. On this Friday afternoon, I was standing at the counter talking to the clerk, my attaché case was sitting on the floor by my feet, opened just enough for the boy to see the 'sample' trucks inside. On the outside of the case was the insignia of the manufacturer. I closed the case and walked out of the store, and sure enough, the boy followed me out, drawn like a magnet to my case full of the trucks he was lusting after. "Mr.?" I heard the tiny voice behind me on the sidewalk. I turned to find the boy shading his eyes from the sun and squinting up at me. "Do you collect those trucks?" he asked. "No, I sell them." I started walking, but slow enough that the boy could keep up. "Do you like these trucks?" I asked him, indicating my phony display case. "Yes, I collect them," he answered, hurrying to keep up. "How many do you have?" I turned slightly to look at him as we walked. "I only have five. My Mommy says we can't afford another one right now." "What one do you want to get next?" "The hook and ladder fire truck." He looked sad, "But it costs even more than the others." I had seen him staring at the fire truck and had made sure that one was in my display case. We had gotten to my car by this time. I stopped and looked down at the boy. "Sometimes the company gives away a truck, kind of a public relations thing." The boy grinned. "Could I get one?" he asked, almost vibrating with anticipation. "I'd have to ask my boss." The boy looked crushed. "Why don't you ride with me? Our office is just down the street." I opened the passenger door for him. The boy hesitated, I'm sure he had been instructed about getting into cars with strangers, then he saw a whole pile of truck boxes on the floor and climbed right in. I quickly made sure the 'kid' latch was in the on position, then shut the door and walked around to the driver's side. I could hardly contain my erection. I started the car and pulled into traffic, a block later I turned onto the onramp for the freeway. The boy was down on the floor looking at the truck boxes and didn't notice a thing. I had been driving on the freeway for almost twenty minutes before the boy finally climbed up on the seat and began to ask questions. I had put my display case on the seat between him and the door, forcing him to sit in the middle, closer to me. "Where are we going?" The boy asked, looking through the windows. I could detect concern in his voice but not real fear yet. "Sit down here beside me," I pulled him closer, "I want to talk to you about some things." I let my hand rest on his thigh, with my little finger up against his genitals. "I'm taking you home with me." I moved my finger up and down the length of his tiny cock. I could feel it reacting to my touch. "You're going to stay with me for a while." I could see the fear growing in his face. "I want to go home." He started crying and tried to push my hand away. "You're not supposed to do that." I moved my hand until I was cupping his genitals through his shorts, I could feel his hard little cock against the palm of my hand. "Why not?" My question caught him by surprise. He stopped his struggling to push my hand away. "It feels good, doesn't it? Who told you it was bad?" My many questions piled on top of each other confused him. "My Mommy," he said, deciding to answer the last of the questions. I rubbed my hand over his cock and small olive-sized balls. "Well, she's just a girl," I heaped all the scorn I could muster on the 'girl'. "She doesn't know about man stuff." I rubbed my hand over him again. "What does your daddy say about it?" "I don't have a daddy," the boy confessed, still holding onto my wrist but not trying to push my hand away. "Well, no wonder you don't know anything about guy stuff," I said, giving his cock a good firm rub through his shorts. "That's why you're coming home with me," I slipped my hand inside the elastic waistband of his shorts and got my first feel of his bare hard cock. I was happy to discover that he was uncut. "To learn more about guy stuff." I moved my hand around the base of his cock, encircling his balls and cock together in my firm grasp. "You want to learn about guy stuff, don't you?" "Yes," the boy said as he relaxed his legs, letting them slide apart and scooted down in the seat, making his crotch more available to me. "I'm going to take you home with me now," I rubbed my hand down over his tiny balls and slid my finger gently over his tender young asshole, "then tomorrow you will go to a special pool party where you will be initiated as a slave boy." I felt his body shiver and detected just a drop of sticky fluid at the tip of his cock. "Do you know what a slave boy is?" "No." I could feel his whole body relaxing after his little shiver of an orgasm. I continued gently fondling him. "As my slave boy, you will be required to learn everything I and all my friends can teach you about guy sex stuff." It was getting late in the afternoon, my new slave boy leaned up against me and began to drift off to sleep while I fondled him. I drove on through the sunset another two hours before reaching my home. I make it a rule never to hunt too close to where I live. During that time I called the host of the pool party. "I got him...Yea...How many?...Two others....Three all together....Well I'll have him ready." When I arrived at home, I carried the limp slave boy through the house and into the bedroom. I undressed him and left his naked body laying under the covers while I destroyed his clothes, then attended to dinner. Just as I was placing the food on the table, my naked, sleepy-eyed little slave boy, now awakened from his nap, wandered into the dining room. "Would you like some dinner?" I asked, displaying the plate full of spaghetti waiting for him. "I want to go home." He started to tear up, but drawn by the smell of the food, and compelled by his empty stomach, he walked across the room to the glass-topped table and climbed into the indicated chair. "You are home," I informed him as I sat at my own place. I loved my glass-topped dining table, it allowed me to feast my eyes on my guests' genitals while we ate. "I want to go back home to my Mommy." He sniffled. I twirled a forkful of spaghetti and then paused to look at him. "We need to get one thing clear right from the beginning," I spoke with studied severity, hoping to convey my seriousness. "You belong to me now. Your Mommy couldn't possibly teach you everything you needed to know to be a man. She gave you to me and asked me to do that for her. So, the first thing you have to do is accept this basic fact and eat your dinner." I placed my carefully twirled fork of spaghetti in my mouth. Overcome by hunger, my naked little slave boy picked up his fork, then paused. "My Mommy usually cuts up my spaghetti for me." I swallowed my first bite and looked at him across the table. "I'm sure there are lots of things your 'Mommy' used to do for you that you will have to learn to do yourself." I began to twirl another forkful. "Now watch what I am doing and learn to eat spaghetti properly." The boy watched me, then picked up his fork and spoon and clumsily tried to copy my practiced motions. "After dinner, we will start your slave boy training." I got great joy watching his naked little body bouncing around in the chair while he tried to emulate my spaghetti eating. After we were done with our food, he helped me clean off the table and wash the dishes.After I wiped the final moisture from the tile counter and hung the towel on its rack, I took the boy by the hand and led him into the front room. Sitting in my favorite chair, I pulled the boy over and had him stand between my legs. I ran my hands over his smooth, flawless skin, then reached down to cup his balls and his growing cock. As my hand touched his genitals, he tried to pull away. "Never pull away from anyone in the future," I spoke to him sternly as I held him tightly by his upper arm. "You are here for my pleasure and for the pleasure of my friends." I picked him up and sat him across my lap, almost like he was an overgrown baby. I felt and examined his uncut cock as it grew to its full erection, then, lifting him up and leaning over, I placed my mouth over his cock and balls. I heard him gasp as my warm mouth enveloped his genitals and my tongue swirled over the length of his small cock. I spread his legs apart, then, after dipping my finger into a bowl of lubricant waiting on the end table, worked the first joint of my forefinger into his tight, virgin asshole while I continued to lick and suck his genitals. My own cock was hard and pushing against his back through my trousers. I was careful to use only the first two joints of my forefinger in his ass, as I sucked and licked his cute little cock and balls until I could not stand it any longer. I lifted him off my lap and sat him back down on his feet in front of me. I desperately wanted to pick him back up and plunge my hard cock into his virgin asshole. I would have, if I hadn't already agreed to auction off that virgin asshole the next day at the pool party. I had too much integrity to sell someone's first fuck rights if they weren't really getting the first fuck. I consoled myself with the thought that I would have lots of time to fuck that cute little ass over the next few months while I was training him. He stood in front of me with what can only be described as a 'silly grin' while I continued fondling his hard little cock. "Have you ever seen a man's cock?" The boy shook his head 'no'. Temporarily abandoning his cock, I stood in front of him. "I want you to unbuckle my belt." With a look of undisguised disappointment at having his cock left alone, the boy unbuckled my belt, then, as I directed him, he unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers. I stepped out of them and instructed the boy on folding the legs along the creases and draping them over the arm of the couch. I had him unbutton my shirt and hold it as I took it off, then showed him how to fold it and lay it across the trousers. "Being a slave boy is so much more than just fucking and being fucked," I instructed him as he helped me undress. "You will be expected to help your master dress and undress, help prepare and serve meals, and help his friends undress when it's time to service their needs." Finally, I was standing in front of him nude. I reached out and tousled his hair as he stared open-mouthed at my nine inches of hard cock. "As big as it looks to you now, you'll see even bigger ones tomorrow," I assured him. I sat back down in my chair with my legs spread and my cock sticking straight up in the air. I pulled him over between my legs and began to caress his hard cock. After another shudder of delight coursed through his small body, I took his hands in mine. "Get down on your knees," I ordered. He sank to his knees, and I placed both his hands on the base of my hard cock. Using both hands, he could barely encircle my large cock. "This," I said, indicating my rod of hard flesh, "is your master, your god, your only reason for being alive." I took his head in my hands and gently pulled his mouth towards my red cockhead. "Kiss your master," I told him in a lust-drenched whisper. I pulled his head forward until his lips brushed the underside of my cockhead. My cock twitched at the contact. I held his lips only a fraction of an inch from my cock. "Lick your master, slave boy." A look of fear began to build on his face. I turned his head slightly so I could look into his eyes. "If you don't do what you are told, I'm going to have to hurt you." I gently rubbed my hand over the top of his head. "I don't want to, but if you disobey, I will. Now be a good little slave boy and lick my cock so I don't have to hurt you on your first night here." I moved his head back, and his pink tongue snaked out from between his lips and flicked over the underside of my cockhead. I moaned softly. I had been on edge for several hours, and I knew I would explode any second. The boy's tongue flicked over the underside of my cock head a second time. I knew I was lost. My cock twitched again, and the first spurt went almost over his head, coming down in his hair. The second spurt hit his forehead, nose, and outstretched tongue. The remaining spurts landed in and around his open mouth. I sat back in my chair and pulled my new slave boy into my lap. I gently rubbed my cum into his face like body cream. I hugged him tightly while I rubbed my hands over his body. The excitement of having a new slave boy kept my cock hard. I arranged him so my cock came up between his thighs and rested beside his much smaller but just as hard cock. I made a game of us playing with each other's cocks and soon had him laughing and giggling. As my excitement built, I calmed the game down and rubbed our cocks together while I brought his lips to mine and gently explored his mouth with my tongue. After breaking the deep tongue kiss, I moved him so he laid on my chest with his legs straddling mine, and our cocks caught between our stomachs. As I gently fucked our dicks against each other, I kneaded his buttocks, then gently massaged his balls before once again exploring his tight anus with the tip of my forefinger. I tipped his head back and leaned forward, bringing our lips together for another probing tongue kiss. I let my lips slide off his and down to his throat, where I nibbled and sucked, leaving a trail of bright red hickeys as I held him tight against me and fucked my cock against the smooth skin of his stomach. I lost all track of time as my need built, and I fucked harder and harder against his small body. Finally, I held him in almost a death grip as my body spasmed, and I shot a load of hot cum onto our trembling stomachs. When the orgasm passed, we laid still in each other's arms as I caressed the flawless skin on his back and felt the drying cum gluing our stomachs together. I could feel his body relaxing, and after a few minutes, his breathing turned into gentle little snores. I stood up and carried him, his head resting on my shoulder, his arms around my neck, and his legs around my waist, into the bedroom. I laid him in my bed and covered his naked body with a sheet. I brushed his hair back from his face and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, little slave boy." "The Pool Party" I awoke early with my naked slave boy cuddled in my arms. I desperately wanted to fuck him, but his virgin ass was going to be auctioned at the pool party later that same day. Besides, he still needed some training before the party, so I looked forward to having his beautiful little mouth sucking on my cock all morning. I woke up the boy by running my hands over his smooth skin, then fondling his genitals until he stretched and yawned. When he turned toward me, I lowered my lips onto his and explored his mouth with my tongue while I inhaled his intoxicating 'little boy' smell. I broke off the kiss and smiled down at him. "Time for our morning shower." I pulled him to his feet and led him from the bedroom into the master bath. My master bath has a huge 'party' shower with high and low shower heads on three walls and room for three or four grown men to grope each other with ease. I turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature. I pointed out where I liked the knobs set. "One of your jobs as my slave boy is to get my shower ready every morning." I opened the door and pushed him into the hot shower. "Your next job will be to wash me." I handed him a washcloth and a bar of soap and waited while he lathered the cloth. "Start with my feet and work your way up my legs." Kneeling down, my slave boy followed my directions, washing first one leg, then the other, stopping short of my crotch. "Now my arms." It was nice having a slave boy to tend to my body again. I relaxed and enjoyed the luxury of being washed. I sat down and allowed him to wash my back and chest. Finally, I had him kneel in front of me and wash my cock and balls. I leaned back against the shower wall and stretched my legs out on each side of his kneeling, naked body, as he repeatedly ran his soapy hands up and down the length of my hard cock. I leaned forward and stroked his hard cock while he continued to work mine with his soapy hands. As the moment neared, I rinsed the soap off and instructed him to finish with his mouth. I watched through slitted eyelids as my slave boy, water running off his head and over my crotch, lowered his mouth over the head of my cock. I helped him move his hands to my balls and demonstrated how firmly I liked them massaged during a blowjob. I wrapped my legs around him and placed a hand on each side of his head, urging him to take more and more of my large cock through his stretched lips. I paused and pulled his head off my cock, turning it so I could see his face. "When I cum, you have to swallow it." My slave boy stared back at me with large, solemn eyes, then nodded his head. I gently moved his mouth back over the head of my cock and stroked his wet hair as my cock began to twitch and flood his mouth with my hot cum. He tried, he really did try to swallow it all. When he looked up at me, his eyes betraying his anxiousness for my approval, a thin string of cum hung from the corner of his mouth to his chin and dripped in slow motion to the shower floor.I pulled him to me and hugged him to my chest while I again explored his mouth with my tongue, tasting the remnants of my own emissions. I released him from my embrace and stood up. "That was pretty good," I assured him as I handed him a towel to dry me. "But you'll need to get a little more practice before the party. Men are going to be paying good money to cum in your mouth, and we need to make sure they get their money's worth." After I had been toweled dry, I took the towel and rubbed the water off my slave boy. Then, throwing the towel into the laundry hamper, I took the boy's hand and led him from the bathroom. "Let's eat some breakfast, then I'll give you some lessons in cock sucking." When we arrived in the kitchen, I set my slave boy to work making and buttering toast while I brewed coffee and cooked eggs. I explained to him that he would, eventually, be expected to prepare breakfast and serve it to me. Having this naked little slave boy with me and not being able to properly fuck him had put me into a position where I was becoming obsessed with his body. I held him in my lap while we ate our eggs and toast. My left hand never stopped roaming over his smooth skin. Between bites, my right hand would fondle his hard little cock and his marble-sized balls. Having been starved for male attention, my little slave boy reveled in my affections. When my cock began to harden again, he reached down and began to caress it of his own accord. We finished eating, and I watched his naked body as he moved around the kitchen, putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wiping off the counters and the table. We moved into the front room where I sat in the same chair we had been in the night before, and with him in my lap, we watched videotapes of young boys sucking on huge grown-up cocks. As we watched each blowjob, I would fondle him, and after each video-taped blowjob, he would practice the techniques he had seen on my hard, upthrust cock. After two hours of stopping him just short of my orgasm, I couldn't wait any longer, and after warning him, I shot a massive, pent-up load of cum into his tiny, sucking mouth. He swallowed great gobs of spunk, but more drained back out of his mouth and down my shaft into my pubic hair. As my orgasmic spasms died away, I instructed him to lick my balls, pubic hair, and cock shaft clean. When he was done, I pulled him back up into my lap and held his naked body next to mine while I regained my strength. My breath returning to normal and my cock stirring from contact with the flawless, warm skin of my slave boy, I stood him between my legs and caressed his soft skin as I spoke to him with studied seriousness. "I'm going to show you a video of a slave boy your age getting fucked by a grown man. I'm going to show this to you so you will know what is going to happen to you today. I also want to make sure you know that when you are fucked for the first time today, it will hurt. It will hurt more than almost anything you've ever done before." He stared back at me with large, brown, solemn eyes that grew larger with apprehension as I spoke. "But you have to be brave. You have to do this, to have this done to you without showing fear, without crying out." I took him in my arms and held him; I could feel his beating heart against my chest. "I promise you that in a very short time, you will be able to enjoy fucking as much as the slave boy in the video does." I pulled the trembling, scared little slave boy back into my lap and held him protectively as I started the tape. On the screen, my previous slave, just days before he went to live with his new owner, enthusiastically fucked himself on my hard cock, all the while talking about how great it felt and occasionally leaning back and turning his head to receive a deep kiss. While we watched, I gently stroked my new slave boy's erect cock until his body shook and small drops of moisture appeared from the slit at the top of his cockhead. I collected the precious drops of fluid and licked them from my fingers. I turned off the video and escorted my slave boy into the bedroom to dress him for the party. After I put his skintight black spandex trunks on him, I reached through the almost invisible slit in the front and pulled his cock and balls through to hang exposed in front of him. I turned him around and made sure the oval opening in the back was properly centered over his inviting virgin asshole. I put a gold-studded collar around his neck, and a smaller version around his cock and balls. I got out his 'chastity belt' and buckled the belt around his waist. From the back of the belt hung a chain attached to a small silver oval plate. I adjusted the chain, then, feeding the chain attached to the other end of the oval between his legs, opened it where it split into two chains to run on each side of his genitals, and positioned it around his cock and balls. Above his cock, it joined back up to one chain and was attached to the front of the belt. The small oval plate was there to display and protect his anal chastity until the highest bidder publicly fucked him for the first time. The plate could be moved to the side far enough to allow inspection of his anal opening and penetration by exploratory fingers. Custom called for no more than the first two joints of the forefinger to be used in testing the tightness and muscle tone of the slave boy's waiting asshole. Finally, I put a blindfold on him, then knelt down and spoke to him. "From here on, you must remain blindfolded until after your first fuck. You will never know who fucked you first. Symbolically, he is fucking you for all of us." I held and caressed the scared slave boy. "You will never be able to look at a man and know for sure that he has not already fucked you, and for that reason, you will never have any reason to turn down any man when they desire to fuck you." I placed a hand on each side of his face and brought his lips to mine. I pushed my tongue into his mouth and caressed his hard little cock. Then I stood up and attached a leash to his collar. I gave the collar a gentle pull, "Come on, it's time to go." When we arrived at the pool party, I got my slave boy out of the car, then inspected him to make sure everything was ready for our entrance. Bending over, I gave him a quick kiss and massaged his cock to ensure it would be hard when we walked through the gate. The pool party was a money-making affair for the pool owner and for me and my fellow slave trainers who had either new slaves to show off or trained slaves ready to sell. Barely were we inside the gate when the paying guests began to push twenty-dollar bills into my hands for a blowjob from my new slave boy. Just as I had expected, his obvious inexperience and clumsiness at performing these acts of oral sex increased instead of decreased his popularity. Before or after each blowjob, my slave boy would be instructed to lean forward while the man moved the silver plate aside and probed his ass to evaluate its fuckability. After two hours of sucking cocks, having his cock played with, and having his ass inspected, my slave boy was showing obvious signs of fatigue. He had already earned a bundle of money for me, so I took him into the house and found a bedroom that was not already occupied. I laid down on the bed with him and held him gently while he slept. My own cock had been hard all morning. Oh, how desperately I wanted to fuck his tender little ass. While he slept, I pulled my cock out of my pants and gently rubbed it up and down his bare thigh until I shot my cum on his leg. Then I laid my head down next to his and dozed off with him. I awoke about ninety minutes later. It was time to start the auction. I stroked his warm, smooth skin and called to him quietly. When he woke up, I lifted him off the bed and straightened his trunks. I got him a coke and gave him a mild tranquilizer and muscle relaxant to help him stay calm during his coming ordeal. Holding onto his leash and with my hand on his shoulder, we walked back out to the pool. This pool party is a once-a-year event that draws rich old queens from all over the world, each one hoping to buy a slave boy - either their first or one to replace a current slave who had gotten a little too old for their tastes or just one to add to a growing harem. To buy a new slave, or to evaluate the young boys like mine who were just starting their training and would be available for sale in the future. First, the new slaves in training would have their first ass fucks auctioned, then the slaves who were up for sale would be auctioned. After the auction, the trainee slaves would be publicly deflowered on a stage set up over the deep end of the pool. Then, by custom, the new owners of the slaves that had been sold would have their first sex with their new slaves in public on the same platform. After the deflowering and first fucks, the slaves would retire, each to their own tent set up on the lawn, and entertain every man who came through the door of their tent. My slave was to be the first one to have his anal 'maidenhood' auctioned. I led him on a promenade around the pool, zigging and zagging between the cocktail tables while the potential bidders got one last look and perhaps a quick feel of the slave on his way up to the auction block. I was made proud by my little slave as he walked proudly to the auction block and set a new record. I received almost as much for his anal deflowering as some of the other trainers received for their slaves. I must admit that I felt growing jealousy while I watched the man who had outbid everyone else hold and caress my young slave boy while he waited for the time to fuck him. I so badly wanted to be the first with this cute little slave boy. I decided then and there that I would throw custom to the wind and, when he went to his tent, I would be the first to join him and be the second to fuck his tender little ass.Finally, the time came. The high bidder led my little boy to the altar and ceremoniously removed his chastity belt. I had to turn my head away for a moment and wipe a tear away. As I turned back, the man had bent my slave boy over the back of a chair and was down on his knees with his face buried between the boy's butt cheeks and his tongue pushing into the boy's anal opening. The crowd was going wild, a chant of "Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him" was slowly growing in volume and intensity. Everywhere I looked, men had pulled their cocks out and stroked them in time to the chanting. The man about to fuck my little boy stood and paused for a moment while an older slave slathered his large, hard cock with lubricant. Once his cock was lubricated, the man turned back to my waiting little boy and, placing the glistening head of his cock against the little boy's virgin sphincter, bent over and put his hands on the boy's hips. The chanting and cock stroking stopped as the entire crowd held its breath and watched the huge cock slip inch by inch into the stretched asshole of the little boy leaning over the back of the chair. I almost burst with pride, even though tears seeped from beneath the blindfold and ran down his cheeks. My little slave made not one sound as the cock sank into him. I took my own cock out and stroked it, as did everyone else, in time with the cock fucking in and out of my slave boy's ass. The chant of "Fuck him, fuck him" was taken up again in time to the cock fucking his tender rear hole. The man on the stage held his cock buried in the boy's ass as he turned his face towards the heavens, bellowed his enjoyment, and filled the no-longer-virgin hole with hot cum. Everyone in the audience showered their neighbors with cum as they ejaculated along with the lucky slave deflowerer on the stage. I immediately slipped away from the crowd and met the two older slaves who had retrieved my slave boy from the stage and were depositing him in his tent. As soon as they had left, I closed the tent flaps and tied them. That single bow tie holding the flaps guaranteed our privacy for as long as I cared to stay with my young slave boy. I knelt down beside the lounge they had laid him on and gently removed his blindfold. He opened his tear-streaked eyes and looked at me; I beamed my approval. He sat up and almost jumped into my arms. Throwing his arms around my neck and planting his lips on mine, he pushed his tongue into my mouth as I had done to him so often over the last twenty-four hours. Still on my knees, holding him so tightly he almost could not breathe, I showered his tear-streaked cheeks and eyes with kisses. Then I kissed down his neck and across his chest. I paused to suck gently on each of his nipples, feeling them harden in my lips. While I kissed down his smooth-skinned belly, I unbuckled the strap around his genitals and gently fondled his balls and cock. I cupped his buttocks with both hands and lifted him onto the edge of the lounge. Running my hands up and down his inner thighs, I lowered my head to his crotch and slowly engulfed his genitals in my hot, wet mouth. The boy leaned back against the pillows and moaned with pleasure as my tongue worked over his lovely, sweet-tasting cock and balls. I continued to lick and suck his genitals until he had gone through four body-shivering orgasms. Then I abandoned his crotch and, laying him down on the lounge, laid down beside him and held him close to me. I was obsessed with his small body. While I ran my right hand over his smooth, flawless skin, I retrieved the tube of lubricant from the table and began to smear it over my large, hard cock. "Did it hurt too much when that man fucked you?" I asked as I began to work the tip of my lubricated finger into his anal opening. "It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would," he replied as he turned his body so he could look at me while I lifted his leg and, placing my glistening cock head against his puckered opening, gently began to push inside him. He turned his upper body toward me, and we stared into each other's eyes. He wrapped his arms around my neck and, resting his head on my shoulder, whispered in my ear as my cock sank completely into his tight hole. "I'm really glad you're here to teach me all this guy stuff." I decided that instant that this slave boy would be mine, forever. I will never sell him; I will train him to be my assistant, and we will train other slave boys together. I will never give up those big, beautiful brown eyes that look at me so lovingly while my dick is slipping into him.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/12320.txt

Mary Westbourne

Nothing Much

"Hold still," he says. My breath stills. My heart hushed, my muscles quivering, I wait. In the dark I wait. Unmoving. Bound. Unsighted. Blindfolded. Clamped. Thrilling. Kneeling. A supplicant. I wait. A touch. Nothing. Another touch, this one long enough to feel... Nothing. Something. Whispering past my face, and intensely light across my breasts. Sensation focuses to that indistinct undertone - and it stops. "Don't move," he says. A slight moan, a tremble of limbs, I wait. Anticipating, I wait. Leaning. Searching. Silent asking. Tied, secured. I wait. A touch. Something. Something sharp. A point, a blade, a... gone. Nothing. The whisper, back again. The point, tracing my breasts. The whisper, brushing my nipples. I groan, the sensation flooding me. Each move, each tremble, changing the ropes' pressure. Each breath, each heartbeat, moving those low-placed knots. Sensation building. Thrilling, stimulating, electrifying, moving towards an edge. Point running down my belly. Whisper across my thighs. Teasing, tormenting, pain-and-pleasure of straining towards a spectre that laughs - then stops. "Not a muscle," he says. I cry out. In frustration. In sensuality. In distress. In need. A hand. Fingers. Light across my thighs, then following the ropes towards the willing center, the yearning void, the unfulfilled point of no return. I spasm. Thrill. Nerves joyous with near-ultimate release, I fall forwards to the pillows. I scream. He covers me, one hand to my mouth, the other to my gratification. A darkness of desire takes over as the act is completed. His neighbor asks the next day, "What were you doing to her?" "Nothing much," he replies.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/8189.txt

Lord Malinov

Roundabout

"Fuck me!" The echo, the plea in my wife's voice, the insistent growl of her eager submission, those words excited me hard, almost terrifying me as they cut my soul. I loosened my grip, letting Andrea's golden locks start to slip from the hard knot of my fingers. She moaned low, with a melted wanton glare in her pale blue eyes. I turned to look out the window. A dim reflection stared back at me. "Is he out there?" I asked softly. "Who?" Andrea asked, suddenly nervous. "You're mine," I said, tightening my grip on her hair, drawing her head back. Her mouth opened and her eyes closed. "Fuck me," she purred. Eight long years had passed and I had almost forgotten. Almost forgotten that hot summer night when I stepped onto the back porch at my parent's house, weary of the mini-drama that played on the big twenty-four inch television. The stars sparkled as I bathed myself in the serene darkness of the calm before the storm. A flood of yellow light poured forth in a flash, casting a long geometric shadow over the lawn through the chain link fence that divided my parent's back yard from the house beyond. I couldn't help but cast a glance at the view through the panoramic window. I couldn't help but stare as a young woman stepped boldly into the lamp light. I couldn't help but gasp, seeing she wore a black silk chemise. I held my breath as I realized the woman was the good wife Jane. I had met her a few times, even greeted her calmly when I had been cutting our lawn. Jane was still young, no more than twenty-five at the time, a shy girl with a pretty smile. I was only eighteen. Jane laughed happily, reacting to someone out of my view. "Do you think so?" she asked, teasing the hem along her thigh. Insects buzzed a steady beat in dark trees, but Jane's voice rang clear above the drone, through some open screen. I nodded my approval as I watched her, enraptured, and without thinking I pushed my jogging shorts down. Jane's husband, Ted, crossed the room and took a seat on the sofa, facing me. Suddenly anxious to stay out of sight, I ducked down behind the pine railing, peeking over the edge as Jane bent over to turn on some music. Her chemise lifted slightly as she fiddled the controls, offering me a quick glimpse of the final curve of her bottom. Ted smiled and drank from a tall glass of beer. I thought I had completely chased those memories away, but I can still recall the way Jane looked that night with photographic clarity. She started dancing as the music faintly hummed, stretching her long legs, tossing that silky gown with each bump of her hips, giving me short peeks at her round little backside. Jane's ass never looked so delicious under the loose blue jeans she wore when she was tending her garden. Teasing her husband, she let the thin straps fall from her shoulders. The supple wings of her shoulder blades fluttered gently as she showed Ted her breasts. The silk gathered at her waist and then slipped to the floor. I bit my lip, wanting her ass, tormented to madness by the first flash of the dark curls below. Jane turned with a smile. I will never forget that wicked grin as she rubbed her ass in Ted's face, squeezing her tits almost angrily. Her dark nipples pulsed toward me with each contraction of her hands, enticing me forward, making me ravenously hard. Jane licked her lips and ground her backside into Ted's face. She seemed to orgasm, smiling at me in my dark hiding place. I stroked my young cock furiously. I had never seen anything like this before. Ted stood up. He laced his fingers through Jane's dark mane and yanked her head back. "You're mine," he snarled. "Fuck me," she said. I watched as he did, and I soon watered the lawn with my lust brewed concoction. Time passed, an hour at most, but an eternity of images burned into my head. Ted extinguished the light. I pulled my shorts up over my still throbbing prick and went to indulge in gushing wet dreams of my neighbor, Jane. I saw her the next afternoon in those loose blue jeans, bent over to tease her dahlias. To my experienced eye, plain Neighbor Jane now faintly glowed with the simmering fever of the bawdy Slut Jane and I found myself staring nervously, smiling and coughing as I pretended to weed the lawn. My mother laughed when she saw me sitting on the grass, jerking a dandelion out of the ground. I ignored her amusement and continued sneaking peeks at sweet Jane. I had no plan, no scheme, no intent, but my glands assumed control of my being and I soon found ways to speak to Jane, to ask her questions, give her advice, chattering helplessly about anything that came to mind. I found myself in her path when she needed some help, when something heavy needed pushing, when some high branch needed pulling. Jane smiled prettily and said as little as politeness could modestly bear. I had watched this woman fuck ecstatically a few nights gone by, but in the light of the day, Jane still appeared a shy, beautiful girl. A fated afternoon led me into her house. I cannot remember what task had brought me into the marital sanctum but I quickly recognized the play room from my recurring dreams. Jane brought me a glass of lemonade. I thanked her. She smiled at me. I reached for a stool she need at the same moment she reached, bringing us for one instant too close. I could almost taste the tart heat of her breath as she lightly laughed. I kissed her. She moaned. I laced my fingers through her dark hair. "You're mine," I said. Her eyes opened wide, melted darkly. "Fuck me," she said. Two days later I sat on my parents back porch and watched the sun go down. Jane and Ted's house erupted with anger, cries, a harsh symphony of accusations and denials. I listened, painfully, scared as I waited, expecting to hear my name burst into their howls of complaint. A door slammed. Jane cried. I turned away, trying desperately to extinguish my tears. An hour went by, silent, brutal, lonely. Satisfied the episode had finally ended, I exiled myself to my room, burning with shame. Their house was soon sold. I tried to forget. I forgot. I spent a lazy hour after dinner lounging on our sofa, skimming through a short novel my brother had recommended, when Andrea joined me. I hardly even noticed her entrance at first, staying with the prose long enough to finish one more sentence and then looked up to acknowledge my wife. At my first glimpse of Andrea, my eyes opened wide. Then my heart skipped a beat and the breath fled my body. Andrea can look simply ravishing. She did. It was about half-past eight. The bright summer sun had only just set and the wide stretch of sky I could see through our picture window had been painted with a stroke of deep crimson. Andrea turned on one and then another of the lights in the room, transforming the glass panes into an array of translucent mirrors. Her silk dress tickled up the back of her thigh as she reached for the second switch, testing my imagination with a flurry of hungry naked dreams. Living with Andrea is a sensual feast and I have become a shameless glutton. "Hi, honey," I said as I closed my book and set it aside. Andrea smiled as she pulled some CDs from the rack and flicked on the stereo. "Don't let me disturb you," she said. "I just wanted to listen to some tunes." "That's great," I said with a smile. At her command, a slow, sultry rhythm filled the room. Andrea walked over to the window and cupping her hands around her eyes, she peeked out at the night sky. Leaning over, the lace tops of her stockings crept into view, stealing my attention. Andrea slowly swayed her silk-encased bottom from side to side. As I leered salaciously at my young wife, a glimmer in the yard caught my eye, a quick burst of motion outside, something like the shimmer of a white t-shirt before it ducked down behind the hedge. I shifted on the sofa, trying to find a better angle, wondering if I had really seen anything. An anxious reflection stared back at me. "What was that?" I said softly. Andrea moaned softly and a shiver seemed to caress her body. I tried to look past her, through the reflected shadow of her deep blue dress and into the night, but Andrea turned, obstructing my dim view with a wiggle of her hips and a flip of her hem. Black satin panties hugged her firm bottom in that quick instant before the dress dashed back down to swing lightly across her lean thighs. "Sure you don't mind?" Andrea said as she strolled past me, saucy and cool.I nodded, wondering if she would pull the drapes, curious if she had seen the fleeting apparition outside. I squinted slightly, still nervous as I studied the dark shadows of the night's descent once more, anxious to chase the specter from my thoughts. Distracted by the woman before me, I quickly decided there was nothing to be seen. "A squirrel or bird," I said to myself. "That it is and nothing more." Andrea smiled knowingly, and I suspected she had been playing with me, teasing my fear-torn love of exhibitionistic thrills. Her silk-clad thighs stole and held my attention as she followed the music's slow rhythms, Andrea dancing, enticing, conjuring lust-filled desires with each swing of her legs. I stared raptly, hypnotized by the shudders of flesh, her breasts wobbling as the drum beats grew faster, cascades of her girlish inhibitions falling like a sudden shower of rain. I leaned forward to catch her, to draw my angelic beauty into my arms. Turning, she pressed her bottom to my lips, and I kissed the rich crevice of flesh, teasing her with deep licks. Andrea laughed and shuddered, giggled and ground herself into my kiss. I stood and laced my fingers through her long golden tresses. "You're mine," I groaned. "Fuck me," she said. And I did.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/18179.txt

Jean-Marc Conier

"Good Neighbor"

"How's that, honey? Is it too tight?" "No, it's fine." I tugged at the soft ties restraining my arms. Of course, they weren't really ties. Well, one was. An ugly polyester number that was supposed to be Santa Claus but somehow resembled Elvis more than St. Nick. Restraining my left arm was the belt off my old bathrobe. Denise and I were novices when it came to this sort of thing. The first time I tied her up, her circulation got cut off to one arm. Just as I started pulling out the ice cubes for my Mickey Rourke impression, her whole arm went numb and she panicked. She thrashed around so much she pulled a muscle in her back and spent the next two days in bed. It took about three months before we tried again, and she decided it would be best if she was in control. I didn't have a problem with that, and I haven't since. But somehow we've never got up the nerve to go buy any 'real' equipment. Looping pantyhose around each ankle, my wife spread my legs apart and cinched them down to the corners of the bed. She looked up at me with a smug grin. "I've got a lot planned for you tonight, honey." "Oh, really? Like what?" I tugged lightly with each limb, testing my bonds. They were more secure than usual. "You'll see... I wonder what I might have for you in this bag..." She lifted a shopping bag onto the bed, pulled the handles apart and reached inside. Her hand disappeared deep into the bag, then came back out slowly. Her fingertips held the end of what appeared to be a shiny black dildo. She pulled it out of the bag inch by inch. I kept expecting to see the end, but it grew and grew. "You can't be serious," I said as she laid the monster dildo on the bed next to me. Her eyes met mine, and she picked up the plastic cock. Holding my gaze, she brought it to her lips. Her tongue reached out to wet the tip, and she opened her mouth to receive it. Suddenly, she started giggling and dropped the dildo. "If you could see the look on your face, honey!" She continued laughing as I squirmed on the bed. Her hand came to rest on my thigh as she tried to regain her composure. "That's not funny, dear." "Aw, what's the matter, sweetie?" She picked up the dildo and held it, the head resting against my stomach. She trailed it down over my crotch, the cool plastic sending shivers through me as the head passed over the length of my cock and across my balls. "Does this frighten you?" she asked, without looking up at me, her eyes watching the dildo slide under my balls, watching my legs tremble as a thought flashed through my mind that she might actually be serious. I closed my eyes tightly, knowing I should trust my wife but terrified at the same time. My breathing was shallow, and time seemed to stretch. Then I felt the plastic pull away for a moment. I started to open my eyes, but thought better of it when I felt Denise's fingers lifting my balls. A few seconds later, I felt cold goop between my cheeks, then light pressure at my rosebud. I squeezed my eyes tighter and turned my head away from her, as though hiding my face would hide my ass from the cock she intended to use on me. A dozen images went through my mind as the pressure grew on my asshole. I wanted to cry out. I wanted to beg her to stop. I wanted to run away. Then I felt her fingers gently grasp the head of my cock, and I realized I was hard. Rock hard. Her fingers lightly tapped up and down my shaft, dancing from the head to the root. Then, suddenly, the pressure stabilized on my ass, and I felt the friction of the monster cock burying itself inside me. I felt so full I thought I would burst. I was in agony. But it was strangely pleasurable at the same time. The pressure inside me forced my cock to grow larger, and my wife's fingers felt like needles on its head. The pleasure was excruciating. I felt the bed shift, and Denise began licking the head of my dick. Long, slow circles around the glans. She started working the dildo inside me back and forth, just an inch or so at a time. I felt woozy. My senses were in overload. I felt an orgasm approaching. I wanted to scream, to yell, anything to let my wife know how good I felt at that moment. Then, she stopped. My cock twitched in the empty air. Denise eased the monster dildo out of my ass. It hurt a little as the last of it came out of me. I clenched my ass a couple times, testing to see if it would ever close again. "Well, that's enough with the small one, I think," she said. I opened my eyes in disbelief. Small one? I turned to see her holding a pink dildo slathered with K-Y. The black one lay beside me on the bed, dry as a bone. "Are you ready for the big one now, stud?" I realized the dildo in her hand couldn't be more than five inches long, the same size as my own cock, now shrinking and leaking pre-cum onto my leg. What felt like a fist inside me was smaller than my own equipment. I shuddered, then saw the sly grin on my wife's face. "You really thought I was using the big one, didn't you?" She chuckled. "You thought you were getting it good." I didn't know what to say. 'I love you' didn't seem appropriate, though it definitely came to mind at that moment. "Hey, lighten up, sweetie. You're all tense!" Her hands reached up to mine, and she pried my fingers apart. They'd been clenched in fists, and I hadn't even noticed. "I think you need some time to cool off. I might leave you here and go run an errand or two..." "Dear! Don't leave me like this!" I tugged at my bonds, struggling on the bed, but they held tight. "Oh, don't worry, sweetie. I won't leave you alone. I'll leave you with some company." With that, she rummaged in her bag and pulled out a videotape. I watched her walk over to the TV and start up the VCR. The screen blurred as she fast-forwarded through the phone sex ads and FBI warning. Then the title came up: Pussyeaters 7. She turned back to me. "I think you'll like it, sweetie. An hour and a half of oral sex. Your favorite... Well, actually my favorite, but I doubt you'll complain." The action onscreen started up, and she turned the volume down a little. "Wouldn't want to wake the neighbors while I'm gone, would I?" "You're really leaving me like this?" I looked from arm to arm, struggling to get free. "C'mon, dear, you can't just leave!" "Watch me, honey," she said with a smile, then added "or watch the TV. You just might learn something. In fact, I hope you will." She walked out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her. I waited for her to come back, but the only sound was the quiet moans coming from the TV. Then I heard her car start, and she drove away. My erection returned as I watched the procession of gorgeous women faking orgasms onscreen. Blondes, brunettes, more blondes, the occasional redhead. Each taking her turn spread wide for the camera. After three or four scenes, they started to get really repetitive. And without the ability to jerk off, the tape was more frustrating than pleasurable. About a half-hour into my ordeal, the phone rang. I thought it might be Denise, testing to see if I had gotten free. The machine in the living room picked up on the fourth ring. I strained to hear who it was over the television, but all I could tell was that the voice was female. Whoever it was left a long message before hanging up. The tape grew more and more frustrating, and I tried to tune it out. Closing my eyes, I slowly drifted off, the moans and grunts sounding more like white noise after a while. I suppose I slept for fifteen or twenty minutes before the knock at the front door woke me up. I awoke to the sound of snow from the television and looked around somewhat bleary-eyed. I started to roll over until the hose looped around my ankles reasserted itself. It took the third or fourth knock before I realized someone was at the door. Jingling of metal reached my ears, telling me Denise had found her keys after all and was letting herself in. Perhaps she was testing to see if I had gotten loose.I flopped a little on the bed until I thought I looked dead to the world, closed my eyes, and waited for her to surprise me. "Denise? You're not gonna be... What did that prick do!" I couldn't make out all the words, but I recognized enough to know it was our next-door neighbor, Laura. Panic swept through me. Part of me wanted to call out to her that Denise wasn't here. Part of me wanted to stay quiet and hope she went away. "I spent two hours getting ready, and then he just... Oh, I could just kill him. Doesn't he know what a girl..." I heard her coming down the hall towards the bedroom, and I looked back at the TV. Surely she could hear it and assumed Denise had fallen asleep watching a movie. I scrambled to come up with something to yell to her, but my voice abandoned me. I watched the doorknob twist as though in slow motion. The door opened, and the whole world stopped. I know from the look in Laura's eyes I must have been quite a sight, naked and spread-eagled, tied to the bed with pantyhose and a bathrobe belt. Time seemed frozen as I saw her eyes go wide. In a split-second, my embarrassment went to confusion as I took in Laura's attire. From the neck down, she looked just as she always seemed to, a little frumpy, very girl-next-door. She wore white Keds and gray sweatpants, with an oversized T-shirt depicting three kittens staring down at a goldfish in its bowl. From the neck down, she was ready for laundry day, gardening, soccer practice, or spring cleaning. From the neck up, she was an entirely different person. Her skin looked flawless, the kind of skin models dream about, and without the telltale sheen from makeup. The curves of her lips were perfect, no smudge, no smear, full without seeming garish. Her cheekbones sat high and soft. Her eyes were positively vibrant, with full lashes and doe-like innocence. Her hair looked as if she had stepped out of a painting. Over her arm was a black evening dress, hanging lifeless like a dead fish waiting to be fried. The pieces fit together neatly in my mind, and I realized why she seemed angry. Part of me felt like I owed it to my gender to hide... Less than a second had passed. Long enough for her situation to be clear, but she was at a loss for mine. Her face was flushed as she stammered an apology, her eyes cast downward, but always keeping me in view. "I'm sorry, I thought Denise was..." She began. "It's alright. It's not your fault. You couldn't..." I interrupted. "No, I should have knocked. I shouldn't have just barged..." She continued. "It's alright. No problem. Denise should be..." I interrupted once more. "Look. I. Geez..." She turned her head, as though realizing for the first time that I was naked. "Denise will be back in a little while. I'll let her know you stopped by." I stared at the back of her head, expecting an answer, but instead, she just trembled softly. She sat down gently on the side of the bed, facing away from me. A couple of quiet breaths told me Laura was crying. "Laura? You okay?" "I'm sorry, I just..." she paused to sniff, "...it's so frustrating, you know? I finally decide to take the time... and make myself pretty... and he stands me up. He's asked me a dozen times... to dress up for a date... and the one time I do..." Laura continued sobbing quietly, and I felt about three inches tall. "I don't know what to say..." I tried. The words were as true as could be. I really didn't know what to say. Perhaps there's a chapter in Miss Manners for such a situation, but I never saw the 'Tied up naked talking to a neighbor who's just been treated like shit' section. "I'm sorry, Laura." Sometimes the simplest answer is the best. And my apology on behalf of men everywhere seemed to do the trick. Laura continued to cry for a while longer, but they were productive tears. The anger and frustration were being cleared from her system. After a couple of minutes, she stopped sobbing and shot a quick glance over her shoulder at me, as though to confirm that I was still there. Yeah, like I was really going to be going anywhere. A second or two later, she looked again and hesitated before turning away. I suddenly felt quite vulnerable. A small giggle escaped her, and she asked, "So what are you doing tied up like that anyway?" She looked down at my legs. "Did you tie yourself up?" Her gaze panned up my legs to my waist, froze for a moment, then returned to the door. "Um, Denise and I were... um..." The words refused to come out. I was feeling more and more like a schoolboy standing in front of the class talking about what I did all summer. "Were, um, what?" I could hear the smile in her voice, though of course, I couldn't see it. She was enjoying this! "We were... um... in the middle of something and," I started. "Yes, I can tell you were in the middle of something." She interrupted. "That's pretty obvious. But where is your better half? Were you a bad boy and she left you here to suffer?" The tone in her voice was bordering on wicked. I flexed my arms a little bit, hoping the ties might be looser now. But, they were as tight as ever. I really didn't know how to answer her. "Um... I guess so..." I feebly attempted. "Well, then I guess you're a captive audience for me." She stood up and started walking towards the master bathroom. "Since I didn't get to see what my outfit would do to Andy, I'll just see what it does to you. Be out in a few minutes." She closed the door behind her. The moment the door closed, I struggled with my bonds. The pantyhose around my left leg seemed loose, and after a minute or so, I twisted my foot out of one loop. But the knot was still fast, and my arms weren't coming free anytime soon. I began to pray that Denise would return, though I wasn't sure how she would react to Laura. Normally I would have killed for a chance with Laura, but this was so bizarre I couldn't relax. The television continued its background snow, masking the sounds from the bathroom. I heard the water run a couple of times, but nothing that would give me a clue as to Laura's plan. She probably didn't have a plan. The door finally opened, and a woman came out. Part of me knew it must be Laura. But most of my mind could not believe that the woman turning to walk towards me was my neighbor. If it were possible, she looked better from the neck down than from the neck up. The dress seemed painted on her, yet moved like liquid silk as she stepped. She seemed to walk in slow motion, her hair blowing in a breeze that wasn't there, her face lit by a sun that had set an hour before. In less than a second, my mind had compared the vision before me to every woman I had ever seen, and I could not recall such a beautiful woman. Perhaps my impression was colored by my situation. But the curves under that dress were the kind that corsets struggle to create. And she walked like she owned the world. She paused after three or four steps and turned towards the television. "Let's turn this off, shall we?" she asked no one in particular, and the television winked off, as my eyes traced a profile to rival the statues in Greece. She turned to me again, unabashed staring at my naked body as I stared at hers. She stood between my legs, inches from my bound feet, and looked down at my cock. Her lips parted a fraction, and her eyes half closed as she took in a deep breath. My semi-hard cock rose straight for the sky in response. A smirk came to her lips as she opened her eyes wide and met my gaze for the first time. "Now that's the reaction I expected this outfit to generate," she said smugly. The images racing through my mind paused long enough for me to utter one word. "Wow." A soft giggle escaped her lips as she rested her hands firmly on my thighs. I was staring down the front of her dress, marveling at my good fortune, thanking gods from several religions, praying that I could live just a few minutes more, when she spoke again. "You know, I never really thought of you as attractive," she said. My cock deflated in reply. "I always thought you were kind of a geek really. Not my type at all. I normally go for the dickhead type. The drunk jerk who thinks he runs the world and usually can't find my clit to save his life." I couldn't figure out where this was headed. Moments before, I thought I was in heaven. Now it seemed like a bad SNL skit. "Denise always said you were good in bed," she continued. Denise? What? We had always been fairly open about our lives, but I didn't think she was telling the neighbors. I felt a little hurt, then I realized Denise had been complimenting me, and I didn't know how to feel. "But I never considered sleeping with you, not even briefly," she said. Oh great, I thought. Any chance I had was gone. Now I'm just naked and being tormented by my gorgeous next-door neighbor. "Until now," she finished. The spinning gears in my head locked up, and my brain froze. I didn't even really process the words for a moment. Just when I started to, I felt Laura's tongue lapping gently at my balls. My whole body shook as my senses went into overload. Her hair spilled over my crotch as her hands came up to cup my balls. Her tongue traced a steady path up between my balls to the base of my shaft, then up the shaft itself. Higher. Higher. Then rushing over the tip in quick swirls around the head. My cock swelled in the warmth of her mouth, bouncing with each heartbeat between her teeth. Her lips felt like wet velvet sliding over my shaft as she fucked me with her mouth. Up and down, in long strokes. Her tongue flicked back and forth across the underside of my cock with each one. Then she paused with just the head in her mouth and gently sucked, pulling more blood from my brain to my groin. I felt woozy, out of control. My legs were so tense they began to quiver. Then Laura released my cock from her mouth, making a soft pop as empty air filled the space my manhood had left. The head twitched in front of her lips as my body spasmed with need. I wanted to come. I ached to come. I needed to come.And she knew it. But she was going to make me wait a bit longer. She removed her hands from my balls and hoisted herself onto the bed, kneeling between my legs. She looked down at the hem of her dress, then took it in her fingertips and slowly pulled it up until I could see almost to heaven. I looked up to find her staring into my eyes, watching me watch her. She leaned to one side and raised her knee over mine, then completed the straddle, letting her dress fall over my crotch. The soft fabric seemed like feathers tickling the head of my cock. Laura reached one hand under the fabric and took hold of my shaft. Her eyes locked with mine as she pumped me slowly up and down, just a few strokes, just enough to tease. She bent my cock down and I felt the rough wetness of her matted pussy hair against my head. She worked it gently side to side, letting it sink into the furrow of her cunt. Her eyes never left mine as she shifted her body forward a couple inches to line me up. The underside of my head settled into her wetness for a moment, then returned to its task, spreading her juices all over. I yearned to watch, wanted so bad to see. But all I could do was feel and imagine. Laura raised herself ever so slightly and gripped my shaft firmly, then settled her weight fully onto me, impaling herself on my cock. She grunted as my cock hit her cervix, the first time she seemed to lose her composure. She raised up again slowly, then back down, moaning softly with each stroke. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back as she built a rhythm. After a few seconds her eyes opened again and we locked our gaze. She seemed to read my mind as she rested one hand on my chest to balance herself. Her other hand went to the fabric pooled on my belly. She took it in her hand and raised it to her breast, exposing our coupling to my eyes. I tried not to look. I tried to keep up the stare. Tried to look as deep into her soul as she was looking into mine. But I couldn't resist. I had to watch. I had to see. I looked down and saw my cock. Swollen and coated in her juices. Sliding effortlessly in and out, between her lips. Plunging deep inside of her again and again. The watching made it harder. The watching made it faster. I raised my ass to meet her with each stroke, straining to get more leverage, more penetration. Seconds before I was going to come, she dropped the hem and her hand flew down to balance herself. Her whole body was trembling and shaking. She closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip, muffling a squeal. We abandoned all rhythm and she quivered atop my cock, lost in her orgasm. I was so close, but her tremors did not trigger my own. She rested in that position, balanced against my chest, my throbbing cock inside her, for a few seconds before dismounting. To my surprise she rolled onto her side and took my cock back into her mouth. She pumped hard and fast with her hand as her tongue swirled round and round the head. In seconds I was at the brink and warned her I was gonna come. She responded by taking my cock deep in her mouth, scratching my balls with her fingernails as she sucked and licked up and down. My eyes closed, my whole body tensed and I babbled incoherently as the come started to spurt. Laura held my shaft in her hand and sucked on the head of my cock, licking back and forth across the head. It was so intense it was almost painful. After a few spurts I begged her to stop. It was just too much. She continued for a few seconds more, torturing me, then released her grip, satisfied I was done. When I opened my eyes she was standing at the foot of the bed with a smug grin. Her makeup was a disaster and the dress would never look the same. I looked down at myself to find she hadn't spilled a drop, though I was covered in sweat. The next thing I knew she was at the door, wishing me good night, leaving me tied to the bed. "See you later. Hope Denise doesn't make you wait too long," she said as she walked out the door. I called out to her, "Laura! Um.... I...." I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing. The front door closed and I was alone again. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I heard was Denise's voice from the living room. "Honey? You awake in there?" Groggily I opened my eyes as she opened the door and turned on the light. I squinted in her direction trying to get my senses back. "Did you enjoy the video, sweetie?" She asked as she walked over to the television. "Guess it's time to turn this thing off, huh?" The sudden quiet startled me. I started to say something but she interrupted. "Oh, honey! I see you did have a good time while I was out!" My vision returned and I saw that my belly was covered in come. "So what did you dream about, sweetie?"

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/9787.txt

Ann Douglas

Robin And The Catwoman

"Oh, my head," Robin whispered as he stirred awake. It took a few moments for him to fully regain consciousness. His last memory was of chasing someone across the Gotham rooftops; now he was in someone's apartment. "I've been captured!" He screamed in his mind as he suddenly realized he was under restraints. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to think calmly, just as Batman had taught him. Take stock of the situation, then form a plan of action. The room was in semi-darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the skylight. Bright blue eyes surveyed the loft. Not much to see. A studio apartment, very nondescript. Could be anywhere in Gotham City - or for that matter any city. A small bed, three dressers, small kitchenette. Then he noticed two suitcases in the corner. Someone was either just moving in or ready to move out. Next, he again tried his bonds. No good, they were strong leather straps. He was strapped to some sort of homemade wooden table, attached to some sort of wheel and pulley system that allowed the bed to be raised and lowered. He could be turned straight up to a standing position or laid flat. Currently, he was locked into a forty-five-degree angle. If anything, it reminded him of something out of those old Frankenstein movies. "Okay, I'm not strong enough to break out of this," he said to himself. "So let's consider rescue options." Across the room, he could see his bright yellow cape and green gloves draped across a chair. He couldn't see his utility belt anywhere. "Figures, that'd be the first thing they took," Robin said to himself. "The homing transmitter would make rescue all too easy." Then the sixteen-year-old adventurer made another futile attempt to loosen his bonds. In his mind, he reviewed the events leading up to his predicament. He'd been on the way back from making a personal appearance at the new Gotham Boy's Club over in West Douglaston when he spotted a dark figure exiting a tenth-floor window of the Diamond Exchange. He'd tried Batman on his cycle's radio, but got only static. It would be impossible to follow the figure on the streets, so he bat-roped to the roof and took off after the thief. Despite his years of circus acrobatic training, continued and improved on by the Batman, Robin was unable to do more than keep the dark figure in sight. Whoever they were - they were good. After about ten minutes, he was about to give up; he'd lost the burglar somewhere near the waterfront. Flipping on his portable radio, he was about to check in when he caught a sudden movement off to his right. The green and red clad boy whirled around and quickly took off across the roof. He was only a few seconds behind his adversary when he suddenly felt himself falling. Robin had only a split second to realize that the rotting roof of this long-abandoned building had given way beneath him. Then he was engulfed in darkness. "Well, Dickie boy, you really did it this time," the Boy Wonder said. "When Batman catches up to you, he's really going to read you the riot act about taking off on your own." He really didn't want to consider the possibility that Batman wouldn't catch up to him. Or that his captor might have planned a fatal conclusion to the night's adventure. Who was his captor? That was a good question. Was it the shadowy thief he'd chased across the rooftops? Or was it someone who'd just stumbled upon his unconscious body in that empty warehouse. One good thing in his favor, aside from a low-grade headache and a few minor bruises, he didn't seem to be hurt. Another thing in his favor was that he was still wearing his mask, meaning that whoever had brought him here didn't know his Dick Grayson identity. Not that he was famous or anything, but he'd been photographed with Bruce enough times for someone to have seen a picture. If Bruce Wayne's ward was moonlighting as Robin, could there be any question about who was Batman? Far off in the distance, Dick heard a clock chiming two. He'd been unconscious for almost three hours. Batman had to be out looking for him by now. But looking where? For the next twenty minutes, that thought dominated his thinking. Without that utility belt, it was going to be pure chance that he was found. Could his captor have already left, abandoning him here? If that was the case, he might never be found. That morbid concept was suddenly interrupted by the sound of padded footsteps on the roof. Followed by the appearance of a dark form at the edge of the skylight. "Batman?" Robin whispered under his breath. Half of the old-style skylight opened, and the shadowy figure dropped into the room. With a catlike grace, the silhouette landed on the hard wood floor. Still covered in shadows, it moved across the room to a light switch next to the door. "I can tell you're awake," said a soft, melodious voice as she hit the light switch, flooding the room with light. "No sense is trying to hide it." Illuminated by the twin rows of track lighting that covered the opposite walls, she stood revealed. Clad in a skintight dark purple jumpsuit, she wore a tight-fitting cowl with small cat ears. Although she had never been photographed, Robin had no doubt as to her identity. "You're the Catwoman!" He said in an excited voice. "Well, that's pretty obvious..." She responded as she walked across the room. "Any other revelations?" As she stood in front of him, Robin couldn't help but be impressed by her purple-clad body. He'd always thought Batgirl had a hard body, but next to the Catwoman, she might as well have been a boy. "I must've been out of my mind bringing you up here," she said as she tossed a small carry bag onto the bed. "If I was the hardened criminal they keep writing about in the papers, I'd have left you back in that warehouse. The way some of those rags write about me, I should've slit your throat, just to keep in practice." A slight shiver ran through Robin at that suggestion. Then he told himself that if she wanted him dead, she already had ample opportunity. "Why did you bring me up here?" Robin asked. "I was impressed by the way you tried to keep up with me back there at the Diamond Exchange," she began. "No one's ever even spotted me on a job, and here you were on my heels for over a mile. When I saw you fall through that roof, I doubled back to see how badly you were hurt." "To be honest, I only spotted you at the Exchange by accident," Robin interrupted, figuring better to keep on her good side. "And I was about to give up when you bolted out of that last cubby-hole." "Well, that makes me feel a little better," she said as she smiled. "I take great pride in my abilities." She paused as she pulled off her cowl, revealing short black hair. She looked to be about 27, with features more cute than beautiful. Running her fingers across her head, she combed it into an almost boyish style. "Where was I? Oh yes, I doubled back to see how badly you were hurt. At first glance, your injuries looked a lot worse than they really were. You landed in a pile of garbage bags, they broke your fall. Nothing was broken, I've had paramedic training. At first, I figured I'd just call an ambulance and get out of there while the getting was good. Then I spotted a group of waterfront dregs already watching from the broken windows. If I left you there, you might not be alive when the boys in white showed up." "Thank you, I'm grateful," Robin said emotionally. "I really mean that." "I believe you do," Catwoman replied. "I've never killed anyone, never wanted to be the cause of anyone else's death.Unlike most of those costume clowns running around this city, I'm only in this for the money. Let them play their power trip games while they try and outfox the Police and Batman. I'm content with having never been seen, only glimpsed. "Until now...." Robin said, suddenly feeling a little insecure. "Until now...." Catwoman repeated. A long silence hung in the air until the Catwoman finally spoke again. "I guess I have to make sure that you can't tell anyone about the Catwoman," she said. Robin's face went pale with her words, and he felt his body grow suddenly cold. "Since I already passed on my chance to do away with you..." Catwoman said. "I guess I'll have to kill the Catwoman instead." "What?" Robin asked, certain he had heard wrong. "Kill the Catwoman," she repeated. "If she doesn't exist, then your description doesn't matter, does it?" Robin let out a sigh of relief. "I've been planning to retire the tights after a few more jobs," Catwoman continued. "I guess I should take this as a sign that it's time. No sense tempting fate. After all, I already have enough money. All safe and sound in the best banks." "Catwoman...I...." Robin began. He was cut off as she placed an outstretched index finger against his lips, signifying silence. "I told you, from this moment on, there is no Catwoman," she said softly. "My name is Selina." "Selina..." He corrected himself. "I was wondering...." "You're wondering what I'm planning to do with you?" "Yes." "Well, seeing as you don't need immediate medical attention," Selina said. "I figure I'll just leave you where you are and call the police with your location when I leave here in the morning. It's not as if you're going anywhere before then," she added as she ran her gloved hand against the edge of Robin's table. "I see your point," Robin replied. "Interesting little toy, isn't it?" Selina noted as she adjusted the strap across Robin's chest. "The woman I subleased this loft from was heavily into Bondage and Discipline. When she went to Europe for the summer, she put most of her toys into storage, but she had to leave this one behind. Haven't had any use for it until now." "Lucky me," Robin answered. With Selina only a foot away from him, Dick found himself becoming increasingly aware of her as a woman. The soft natural redness of her lips, the bright green of her eyes, the enticing curve of her breasts. In his mind, he was having difficulty concentrating on being Robin. He felt himself slipping back into Dick Grayson, with a 16-year-old's hormones. He was relieved when Selina turned and started to walk away from him. Watching her as she moved, the Boy Wonder couldn't help but note - she had a beautiful ass. "Oh, by the way," the black-haired woman said as she stopped and turned. "If you've been looking for your utility belt, it's not here. I found the micro-transmitter and the homing device in it when I carried you up here. I turned it on and dumped it across town on the Oakridge section. Wouldn't want Batman showing up unexpectedly, would we?" Selina spent the next hour packing her belongings in the two suitcases Robin had spotted earlier. She had laid out a change of clothes, but except for the gloves she had removed earlier, she still wore the purple jumpsuit of the now "deceased" Catwoman. "There, ready to go," Selina announced. "It's still a few hours till sunrise. No sense in drawing too much attention by leaving while it's still dark." Robin was counting the minutes until he would be free. The sooner she was gone, the sooner he would be out of here. So intent was he on this idea that he didn't even notice at first that Selina was stripping out of the purple catsuit right in front of him. "I hope you don't embarrass easily," she said as she pulled the form-fitting outfit down her body. "But there's barely room in that bathroom to shower, much less change clothes." Embarrass wasn't the word for what Robin felt. The flush he felt in his reddening face was nothing to the warmness between his legs as he felt his dick growing hard. Stripped of her tight purple jumpsuit, Selina exhibited a lean, firm body that any professional athlete would envy. Her breasts, while not large, were perfectly formed, held in place by a black sports bra. Every muscle was toned to perfection, the result of endless hours in a gym. By the time she was down to just her bra and matching panties, Dick could feel his cock straining against his dark green briefs. It was at that moment that Selina pulled off her bra, letting her small breasts pop free. The sight of those firm mounds and the small pink nipples atop them was more than Dick could stand. "Wow!" He exclaimed softly. He hoped that she hadn't heard, but she had. She smiled at his comment and then walked over to him. Try as he could, it was impossible for Robin to hide his hard-on. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment," she said as she noted the large bulge in his shorts. Giving in to temptation, Selina reached down with her fingers and traced the outline of his cock through Robin's briefs. Surprised to find that erect, it measured almost seven inches, she laughed as it jumped at her touch. "I guess that's another reason they call you the Boy Wonder," she laughed. Robin didn't reply, but her fingers had felt nice against his cock, even through the material of his shorts. "You know, that also answers another question I always wondered about," she continued as she retraced her fingers in the opposite direction. "I always wondered if Batman and you were queer. I mean, why else would a grown man run around with a teenage boy unless he was buggering him. I can see that at least you like girls." "Batman's no queer!" Robin called out. "Well, I guess I'll have to take your word for it," Selina replied as she gave his cock a playful squeeze. Impressed by the hardness in her hand, Selina made a decision. "I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I have to take a peek." With that, she gripped both sides of his green briefs and pulled both them and his underwear down to his knees. Released from the tight confines of his costume, Robin's cock sprung upward, pointing to the ceiling in all its youthful splendor. "Wow!" Selina said. Now it was her turn to be impressed. Rather than be embarrassed, Robin was proud that she was impressed. "I bet you have girls lining up at your high school to have a turn at that," Selina said as she cupped his balls in one hand and ran her nails alongside the thick shaft. Dick tried to hide his response, but for a moment, his expression betrayed him. "I can't believe that," Selina said in surprise, "Not with a body like you have and equipment like that. No way you're a virgin." But Dick knew that he was. It wasn't that girls hadn't been interested. Many had, and more than a few had made their interest crystal clear. Yet if was impossible to let anyone get that close. He couldn't take the chance that anyone might find out he was Robin. Watching the expression change on the teen's face, Selina knew that indeed he was. Still stroking his erect cock, she was overcome with sudden desire. "You know, I've stolen just about everything of great value you can think of. Cash, jewels, stocks," she said. "But I've never stolen anything as precious as a boy's cherry." Robin looked right into her eyes and knew that she wanted him. To be totally honest with himself, he wanted her as well. "Until now..." Selina concluded. With that, she dropped down and took Robin's throbbing penis into her mouth and began to suck softly on it. Robin couldn't believe the incredible sensation he felt as he felt the wetness of Selina's mouth engulf his boyhood. Every nerve in his cock was alive, and as her tongue passed along the length of his dick, it sent sparks throughout his body. Beginning at the base of his balls, Selina began to lick and kiss her way to his crown. Licking the underside of his cockhead, she brought soft moans of delight from his lips. Then she wrapped her lips around it once again and deep-throated his length. Pushing against his restraints, Robin struggled to push more of his cock into her willing mouth. With what movement he had, he began to thrust his pelvis, face-fucking Selina. Reaching down with her free hand, Selina freed Robin's legs from their restraints. His legs now free, the Boy Wonder was able to double his gyrations, bringing a smile to her cock-filled mouth. Already she could taste the first drops of pre-cum on her tongue. Selina knew that Robin was close to exploding. Gripping his balls and pressing on his urethra, she tried to hold him back as long as possible. At the rate he was pumping, it would only be seconds more. As her mouth finished an upward motion and had just begun to recover the crown, Selina's mouth suddenly filled with an explosion of hot, sweet, boy-cum. She immediately swallowed as fast as she could, taking his cock deep into her mouth as a second volley followed the first. She swallowed this as well, making room for a third burst. This one she held in her mouth, moving it around with her tongue. Small drippings exited the corners of her mouth as a fourth and final salvo caught her by surprise. Boy Wonder indeed. Temporarily spent, Robin's cock began to grow semi-soft in her mouth. Selina let it slide free, then began to lick it clean with her tongue. Less than a minute later, not a drop remained. Standing up, she looked at Robin's no longer innocent face. She released the table locks and rotated him to a standing position. Moving closer, she kissed him. Softly at first, then a little harder as her tongue slid between his lips. As his own tongue made contact with hers, Robin got his first taste of his own cum. He was surprised that it didn't bother him, not since it had come as a gift from this wonderful woman before him."I'd unfasten you more, my Boy Wonder," Selina said as she stroked his cheek. "But I'm still not the trusting sort. Besides, the lesson is just beginning, and it's going to be a bumpy ride. Running her hands across Robin's muscular chest, Selina began to undo the yellow laces that held his red tunic together. Opening the last one, she pulled the tunic apart as far as it would go. Then she took a firm grip on the green shirt beneath it and ripped that open too. A wide smile filled her face as she ran her nails across his naked, hairless chest. "Nice..." Selina purred as she stroked his pectorals. "You must spend a lot of time in the gym." Up to that moment, Dick had never appreciated the endless hours he'd spent working out in the Batcave. Her fingers felt so good as they moved across his skin. As they touched his nipples, Selina gave each one of them a playful tug. "Like that, don't you?" She said as she continued to gently caress his nipples. "Most young men don't realize how sensitive their nipples can be." Moving closer, she kissed first one nipple, then the other. Then her tongue began to work its magic, bringing little sparkles of pleasure to his body. She continued to tongue his now erect nipples as her hand glided down to his semi-erect cock. Taking it in hand, she was pleased to note it was already beginning to harden. "Now it's my turn," Selina said as she again adjusted the side wheel on his tablebed and lowered him to a horizontal position. Maintaining a firm grip on his cock, Selina raised herself onto the bed and positioned herself so that her breasts were flush with his face. "Let's see how observant you were?" She said as she lowered one breast to his mouth. Reaching upward with his tongue as he had watched her do a few minutes before, Robin traced the light pink outline of her aureole. Then he rubbed the tip of his tongue against the top of Selina's eraser-sized nipple. Finally, he lifted his head just a little, taking the whole crown in his mouth. It wasn't the first time he'd sucked on a breast, but the two high school encounters before this couldn't compare. Selina's body scent was intoxicating as he covered it with his saliva. Pleased with his efforts, Selina shifted her other breast into his reach. As Robin continued to suckle, Selina had brought his youthful cock back to full hardness. She grazed the underside of his balls with her long red nails, tweaking the small black hairs that surrounded them. She knew he was ready to go again, but there was one more lesson he needed to learn before the final one. In her opinion, it was the most important one. Standing up on the bed, she moved forward and squatted over his face. With her legs spread, Selina lowered herself until her bushy mound hovered right over his waiting mouth. "OK, Boy Wonder," She said. "Let's see how good you can use that talent on this." Robin stared for a few seconds at the hairy pussy barely two inches above him. It was his first real look at a woman's sex. That was of course if he discounted the brief look he'd gotten at Barbara Gordon when he walked in on her coming out of the shower one night she had stayed at Wayne Manor. Mousy librarian that she was, Dick was amazed to discover that she had a body almost as good as Batgirl's. What a waste he had thought at the time. "Well?" Selina asked, snapping Robin's mind back from its wandering. Since Robin's hands were still restrained, Selina reached down with one hand and parted her cunt lips. Lifting his head as far as he could, Robin began to lick away as fast as he could. Selina could tell it was his first experience licking a woman. His tongue was all over the place, but occasionally he would hit the right spot. She gently took a hold of his head and began to guide him to her sensitive spots. "Easy..." She whispered as she lowered herself so that her open cunt now rested on top of his eager mouth. "Just take it nice and slow, let your tongue glide in and out." Finally, Robin began to follow her instructions and began to be rewarded with his first tastes of girlcum. It was very different from his own, which he'd tasted a little earlier. While his had been salty and a little tart, Selina's was sweet. Nevertheless, he found it to be a delicious flavor. Dick was sure that none of the girls at school could ever have tasted so good. "That's better..." Selina said as she arched back and enjoyed the feel of his tongue inside her. "Not so talkative now, huh. I guess the pussy's got your tongue!" Pinned beneath her, Dick wanted to groan at the bad pun. To think he used to like childish things like that. Rubbing her now well-lubricated cunt back and forth over Robin's face, Selina soon covered it with a thin layer of girljuice. As she lifted herself off him, she couldn't resist licking a little of it off. "Mmmm," She purred as her tongue licked the side of his face. "I think you're ready for the main event." Backtracking her earlier steps on the bed, Selina moved to a point where her wet pussy now hovered over Robin's rock-hard member. Taking it in hand, she held it straight and lowered herself onto it. With the cockhead at the entrance walls of her womanhood, 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 effortlessly, quickly covered by the heavy lubrication Robin had produced through his efforts. Then in a quick motion, she dropped all the way and took him totally within her. Robin gasped at the sudden envelopment of his boyhood. The wet pressure around it brought a smile of satisfaction to his face. If he thought having his boycock in her mouth was heaven, the words didn't exist to describe this incredible delight. As Selina began to move up and down on his pole, the sensations grew in intensity. Bracing her hands against the sides of the bed, Selina began to rise and drop with an ever-increasing frequency. Faster and faster, she pumped, creating a suction that was drawing the life out of his cock. "Oh God...Selina!" Robin called out as he tried to match her motions. At the rate she was moving, Selina knew that he would cum quickly. Few 16-year-olds 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, Selina 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. Finally, it was done, and her hot, sweat-covered body collapsed upon his. Too exhausted to even lift herself, she just laid there, his cock still within her. Eventually, it began to shrink to its pre-aroused state and slipped from within her. So drained were they both that after closing their eyes for a moment, they both drifted off to sleep. Bright golden sunlight flooded the skylight when Selina finally opened her eyes. Glancing upward, she saw that Robin was already awake but had made no move to awaken her. She was pleased that he still wore that broad, satisfied grin he had fallen asleep with. "I have to tell you, kid," She said as she climbed off him. "You're really something. A little practice and you're going to be irresistible." Glancing at the clock, Selina was shocked to find that it was already nine. She had to get out of here. Running into the bathroom, she took a hasty shower and quickly dressed. "Give me a few minutes to get myself together, and I'll get you cleaned up afterwards," Selina called over to Robin as she zippered up her dress. For the first time since awakening, Robin glanced down at himself and was surprised at how he looked. Ripped costume. Naked from the chest down. Dried cum caked on both his face and groin. Not exactly the image the correct young hero was supposed to project. Still, last night had been incredible. Selina had just finished setting her other earring when she glanced out the window over the kitchen area. Her pretty face suddenly turned a cold pale. "Oh shit!" She exclaimed. "What's the matter?" Robin called out as he tried to jump up protectively only to be pulled back by the straps he still wore. "No time for the luggage," Selina said to herself as she grabbed her carrybag, all she really needed was inside that anyway. "I have to get out of here now!" Quickly moving for the door, she paused for a second next to her young lover. Impulsively, she bent down and kissed him. "I meant what I said before, Richard, you were one hell of a fuck!" She said before disappearing out the door. "She knew!" Robin said as he strained to try and see what had spooked her at the window. "She must've had my mask off when she examined my cuts when I was unconscious." Richard Grayson didn't have long to ponder the thought as a tall, dark blue and gray figure appeared within view of the kitchen window. With a practiced ease, the Dark Knight threw a silk line across the alleyway and swung onto the rooftop. Appearing at the skylight, he quickly opened it and dropped inside. At first, he ignored the bound figure in front of him. He used the first few seconds of his entry to assess his surroundings. Finally satisfied they were alone, he produced a small, sharp-edged blade from the yellow utility belt around his waist. With quick motions of his gloved hands, he cut the leather straps which had held Robin captive. Robin sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists.Batman didn't say a word, he just took a long look at his ward and his somewhat unusual condition. "Bruce... I..." Robin began, but was cut off by a wave of the Batman's hand. "Later, right now let's get you dressed and out of here." As Robin pulled on what was left of his costume and recovered his bright yellow cape, Batman ran his hand along the length of the homemade operating table. "I'm not sure what exactly happened here," he said in a powerful authoritative tone. "But, chum, when we get back to the Batcave, you and I are going to have a long, long talk." Robin didn't reply. Instead, he palmed a small perfumed handkerchief from the dresser and slid it into the pouch of his cape. No matter the outcome of the promised talk, it had been worth it.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/10573.txt

deirdre

Four

"Come! I have to show you," said Peg, pulling on my arm as soon as Larry and I had walked in the front door. She wasn't indicating Larry--just me. I glanced at him, but gave in, following Peg. I didn't see any of the other husbands around, and briefly felt guilty about abandoning Larry to Shannon and Denise. He hadn't even really wanted to come: I could tell. Well, at least he'd enjoy *looking* at Shannon. Men generally do. "What is it?" I asked as Peg led me to the kitchen, then down the basement stairs. Dinner at Shannon's: we'd gotten this idea one Saturday when the four of us had gone out for lunch. A chance to drag...I mean *get* our husbands to a nice dinner, and Shannon could show off her cooking. I'd only been to Shannon's house once before, and was still taking it all in: she does have a way with decor. Once in the basement, we turned a corner. I gasped: in front of us were three naked men! They were standing, tied, blindfolded and gagged. It was the husbands. "What do you think?" whispered Peg into my ear. I stared. They just stood there and I realized they were tied by the neck to the ceiling so they couldn't sit down or even move around very much. "Peg, what's going on?" I whispered in her ear, confused. As well as shocked. "Isn't it great?" she whispered back. *Great?* Was *that* the word to describe this? What was I going to do? This was the last thing I expected to find at Shannon's: come to a dinner party; find *this*, whatever it was. What was Larry going to think of all this? "Peg," I whispered. "This is *strange*. Are they OK?" "Sure! They love it," came the returned whisper. I looked at them. They just stood there. "Come on," she said, leading me back upstairs. Somehow I was embarrassed at those men possibly hearing me. I kept my voice down: "Peg, this is too weird. We've got to go." "What!? You just got here: this is our dinner together." "Larry won't like this!" What *would* Larry think? I had no idea what he would think, but I had the uncomfortable feeling that it would be that my friends and their husbands were totally crazy. Which is about what I was thinking at the time. "Oh, I don't know about that: guys *love* this sort of thing." What did she mean by that? Larry would *like* visiting three couples with the three men bound, naked? Those guys *like* this? I supposed they must or how did they let themselves get *into* their situation. "Look!" she added, still quietly. She'd led me to the opening to the family room and I stopped, staring at the scene in front of me. Shannon and Larry were staring at each other. Shannon was sitting in the middle of a table, her legs spread apart, her heels on the table, her elbows resting on her knees. She wore rather tight-fitting pants that emphasized her long, slender limbs and her slender, athletic body. She was staring straight at Larry, looking very serious. And he was standing in the middle of the room, staring right back at her! Neither of them moved when we came into view. Denise just stood leaning against the wall opposite Peg and me, watching them. Peg was indicating that I should be quiet. No one said anything, but no one seemed inclined to either. The air was definitely very tense. Shannon moved just a little, and even though it looked like she was just adjusting, I realized that her body movements were *very* sexy. She smiled at Larry. "You like what you see, don't you?" She was obviously talking to Larry, but he didn't answer: he just stared. I could see why he was intrigued by her, but I was shocked. He seemed to be oblivious to everything but her! "Don't you?" she repeated. "Yes," he said in a low voice. She smiled in response, but I didn't quite like her smile. I looked away. I happened to see into the dining room, noticing that Shannon had gone all out: good china, the works. And I realized that there were only four places set! Peg touched me and indicated to me to watch again, silently. Shannon put her legs down over the edge of the table, then stood. She moved so gracefully, like a cat. "You want me." "Yes." "You don't care about *anything* but *me*, do you?" No answer. She went on: "Right now: you care *just* about me." "Yes." She paused. Then she said: "Take off your shirt: right here." After another short pause, she said: "For me." He still just stared at her. She smiled again. "You *said* you want me. Do it. Right now. Right in front of your wife. For me." She seemed almost gleeful as she mentioned me. He did it. He started unbuttoning his shirt! She giggled a little and said "So much for loyalty!" At the same time, she ran her hands up and down her own body. Her outfit was so tight. He had the shirt off. She moved slightly closer. "Strip," she said. I noticed that Denise was holding handcuffs and a gag and other such things. He did it. He stood there naked. "Good boy," she said, looking him up and down deliberately. She motioned with her head to Denise without actually looking at her. Denise came up behind Larry and cuffed his hands together. He still just stood there, staring at Shannon! "I told you he'd like it," whispered Peg in my ear. Then she pulled me back from the door while Shannon and Denise led Larry out and toward the basement. I watched them disappear down the stairs. Larry'd never looked at me. "It's just us girls, tonight," said Peg. Then she said "Come," was dragging me again. She led me upstairs and into a bedroom. She opened a jewelry box. "Shannon wants us to wear her jewelry." She pulled out a string of pearls. "Shannon's wearing this. Try it on." She put it around my neck and attached it. *Larry naked in the basement, I'm trying on a pearl necklace.* The necklace was beautiful. Shannon and Denise appeared at the door. "Here, try this," said Shannon, having picked out a necklace with a locket. It seemed old-fashioned, but it was seeming old-fashioned just to wear any sort of necklace. Peg was wearing a gold chain and the two of us went back downstairs. I thought about Larry in the basement. What did he think of all this?How could he stare at Shannon like that, right in front of me? The table was absolutely fabulous: everything set to perfection. Denise came down, wearing two fine gold chains around her neck. Then Shannon walked in. She was naked. Well, she had on the pearls and heels: absolutely nothing else. Not even rings. "Looks nice with the pearls," commented Denise, smiling. What a body Shannon had! She told us we could sit and went in the kitchen bringing out the entrée. Denise started taking off her blouse! She had no bra on and sat down wearing nothing above her skirt except for the two gold chains! Shannon had gone back into the kitchen. Walking around the house, naked in heels. "Want to?" asked Peg, looking at me, her fingers on the buttons of her blouse. She must have seen my answer in my face, because she immediately gave up on the idea and sat down, indicating that I should do the same. Well, I got used to it, sort of, and we were drinking wine, gossiping. Once in a while, my eyes would stray to Shannon's naked chest and I'd remember the guys downstairs, but it was amazing how I seemed to adjust to the whole thing. The meal was amazing: Shannon must have been planning it for a week--the dessert was heavenly. Afterwards they said it was time for the guys to have some fun and Shannon brought out a leather strap. I stared at the way the guys just stood there and took it, not seeming to want to escape or anything. We left the four of them lying face-down on the floor, having removed their handcuffs and told them to get dressed again. By the time they came up, Shannon and Denise were dressed too. Larry and I were silent, walking back to the car. What I'd watched him do! What *I'd* done! Once in the car, he grabbed me and kissed me! He was so passionate I couldn't believe it! We never said a word the whole way home, and we made love over and over that night, not a word between us. And that was our first such get-together. Now it's amazing to see Larry getting excited as we get ready to go to these things: he doesn't say anything, but I can tell. And afterwards he is *always* ready. As I am: I'm always ready for more, even after our post-dinner *upstairs* activities. I'm no longer so shy at dinner, and Shannon's let me wear the pearls. I don't have her body, but I *love* those pearls. Afterwards we always start by adjourning to Shannon's bedroom. Peg and I like to form our legs into a scissors around each other's sex and rub ourselves together. We can sit there on the bed while we do it, resting on our arms, and look at each other's faces. Shannon will tongue Denise's nipples: Denise just *loves* that, and will come from just from that. I think Shannon would like to be licked *down there*, but none of us has ventured into *that* yet. She just gets Denise to finger her.

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11721.txt

Chili Peeler

Sordid Conception - Part 2

"How do you want it tonight, Mom?" he asked up at her. "I'll let you decide, baby," she said, smoothing his hair off his forehead in a motherly instinct. She could almost bet money on the position he'd choose. "In that case, Mother dear," Brad began, a big smile on his face, "Assume the position...of doggy submission!" He pulled his fingers from her pussy and sat up on his haunches, his hard penis sticking up from his hairy pubic area like a Stonehenge monolith. Sharon's bet would have paid off. Her son just loved to take her from behind. She liked just about any position if the truth was known. "You're so predictable, Brad," she teased, sitting up and then twisting her body over so she was in the position he wanted, crouching on her hands and knees in front of him. She began stacking the two pillows just in front of her as Brad moved between her calves, his right hand coming up to stroke her puffy pouch of pussy nestled between the top of her thighs while his left hand lay on her buttocks. "I can't help it if I love seeing your ass like this...you got a great ass, Mom," Brad said complimentarily. His knees spread her legs wider and his fingers dipped back into her slippery slot. "I love to drive my hips into it while I fuck you." Sharon finished stacking the pillows, smiling at Brad's bawdy talk and the way he was massaging the inside of her cunt with his fingers. Her husband never would have been able to use such language and she never would have experienced it if she'd settled down with some older suitor from town. "You like to watch it shake while you screw me?" Sharon asked, giving him tit-for-tat. She looked back at him and could almost see his mind trying to think up a comeback. "You know it, Momma...it really shakes when I'm throwing Big Chubby to ya!" His left hand squeezed her buttock to punctuate his statement. Big Chubby was the affectionate nickname for his penis which he used with all too much regularity. "Oh Brad, you're such a rude thing!" Sharon said, moving her pussy back and forth suggestively around his digits, fucking herself on them. She was more than ready for Brad to put Big Chubby to use. "You love my rudeness, Mom. So prim and proper by day but when we get in this bed...man, you like it down and dirty, don't you?" He was almost laughing at her as he drew his fingers from her satin-slick slot and moved even closer behind her, his figure now seeming to loom over her upthrust ass. His eyes were on her face as he dipped his knees slightly and slapped his stiff prick up against her womanhood. It was apparent that he wanted an answer before he continued. "You know I'm no angel, baby. An angel doesn't sleep with her own son." Her words pleased Brad; he began to smile. She went further. "An angel doesn't get down on her hands and knees and let her son fuck her all night!" That got him. She turned her face away from him and held her breath as he directed the tip of his cock against the flower of her pussy and pushed strongly. After all the times he had done this, he knew just the right pressure to apply to sock the fat head of his penis past the resisting ring of her pussy portal. His hearty cry of "I'm going to fuck you all night!" completely covered her "AAAAHHHHHHH!" of pleasure and pain as he entered her. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip for the few seconds of discomfort but it went away quickly. "Oh yeaaahhh!" Brad gasped. "Get ready to get fucked, you dirty, dirty angel." Sharon's mouth fell open as her son began pushing the rest of his thick penis through her splayed cunt lips. It felt like a fire hydrant being stuffed up her pussy but she was used to it, welcomed it. "Shit, I love your pussy, Mom...you take it so easy," Brad grunted as his strong hands held her ass and he shoved his hefty shaft in inch by wide inch. "Uh...it's not that easy, baby," Sharon said through gritted teeth. He always compared her to girls his own age that he dated and fucked; those high school honeys with their thin hips sometimes hadn't reached to the point of maturity where they could accommodate her son or just didn't want to try. She'd been only too happy to cure his blue balls after those occasions. "Sure it is...Tell me this isn't easy!" With a big final push, he sank his last three inches into her begrudging cunt in a bull rush. "Oooooooohmigod!" Sharon squealed at his impolite charge up her. Normally if he'd tried something like that, she'd have torn into him about being crude and uncaring for her feelings. But she was so randy that she didn't want to make a point of it. "Sorry, Mom," Brad said lamely. "It's all right...just leave it in for a moment," she asked. She wanted her vaginal sheath to fully expand before her son started banging away. As they stayed still in the center of her bed, she dipped her head down to look back under her body. One thing about their taboo sex that she loved was to watch her pussy getting fucked by Brad. Watching his manhood pump into her welcoming womb was so erotic! Taking him on her hands and knees was her least favorite position for viewing the penetration but, through her dangling breasts, she could watch his testicles and that held some charm. 'They're going to give Brenda what she wants... a big load or two of potent baby cream,' Sharon thought. Brad just exuded virility and she was sure in her mind that he could knock up his sister-in-law if given the chance. She knew another thing that kept Brad coming back for more, besides his natural Oedipal yearning, was the opportunity to fuck her without a condom; she'd had her tubes tied after he was born. He swore her pussy was the first and the only one that he'd released his seed in. She steadied herself on her left hand as she reached back between her legs with the right. Her fingertips roamed over her exposed clitoris for a few delightful strums before she dipped her shoulder a little more and took Brad's balls in the palm of her hand. "You're ready," she heard Brad say from above and behind her. His heavy balls slid off her hand as he pulled his cock out of her cunt halfway and then pushed it back in strongly. Sharon made a grab for his swinging scrotum as it bumped up against her fingers but he was already into his second thrust, his balls escaped her as they swung away. She satisfied herself with feeling the underside of his moving shaft and her bulging, sparsely-haired labia as Brad slid his hands forward to grab her waist, his fingers digging into her skin. "MMmmmmHHmmm.....yesssss....uhhh....uuhhh," she trilled and puffed and grunted in front of her hung son as he fucked her like a stud in the middle of her bed, the same bed where his father had lain with her for years and years. God help her, Brad was better, so much better! Her bed began its familiar squeaking, the rhythmic squawking of the mattress coils heralding another hot coupling of mother and son. They fucked silently for several minutes, each content to just enjoy the act without expounding about the shameful sensations emanating from their sex organs. "You got hot pussy..." Brad finally grunted behind her in imperfect English, "...fucking awesome!" His erection plumbed her nice and hard, the only speed he seemed to know. Sharon steadied herself on both hands again, closing her eyes and tilting her head back toward her shoulders. Brad's hips smashed against her bottom again and again, sending her soft ass rippling and shaking just like he'd wanted as his rigid rod flashed in her oozing quim. "Yesssss....uhhh....uuhhh...get me off....baby, get Momma off!" she pleaded hotly, wiggling her ass pervertedly, goading her young lover to fuck her harder. Brad didn't rise to the bait - he kept fucking her hard but didn't shift into the higher gears she knew he had. He did however dip his hands under her hips, his body leaning over her slightly as his fingers tortured her unhooded clitoris.His fingers were clumsy, riding on her supersensitive knob of nerves, pulling and pushing her slick downy-soft cunt lips to and fro, but he knew the extra stimulation would put her into orbit. "Ah...fuck!" he hissed close to her ear. "Squeeze my dick....yeah, that's it, Mom! Ah, fuck yeah...make it tight....then let it cum...aahhh....aahhhh." Sharon used her deep cunt muscles on her son's pounding pud, squeezing the front half of his horse cock when it delved between them. His words and fingers were sweeping her toward a great orgasm where control of her cunt would be lost. "Fuck me.....do it harder!" she croaked as she let her face and shoulders fall into the stacked pillows before her, afraid her arms were going to give out any second. Her son's legs pushed her knees forward a few inches, making her arch her back and raise her ass higher. He quickly straightened up, grabbing her jiggling cheeks with his strong mitts as he shifted into overdrive. "AAAHHH.....yeaaaahh!" Brad groaned. "Hold that....pussy up! FUCKIN' YOUR TIGHT CUNT!" Sharon hugged the pillows as her fiery fuck-furrow exploded in a juice-squirting, topsy-turvy climax. She fought to even breathe as her sex jerked and shimmied around Brad's unrelenting barrage of cock thrusts. "UUUUUHHHGGHHHHAAAAHHHHH!" she moaned in release, just blown away by her son's powerful fucking. Things got confusing for a while, she lost track of time, but she came out of the fuck funk feeling Brad's hands under her armpits, pulling her upper body upward. "Get up..I want you up," she realized Brad was saying. "Yeah..I want you just like this!" No sooner had she gotten her arms under her, than Brad grabbed her by the shoulders and began lunging into her still-shivering sex. He was laying into her so hard and pulling back on her shoulders so powerfully that Sharon thought the back of her head would bump against her tailbone! "TAKE IT.....TAKE IT, MOM!.....AAAAAUUUUGGGGHHH!" Mercifully, Sharon felt the hot rush of her baby's cum in her stretched cunt as he shoved in deep. His twitching tool sent her into a follow-up mini-orgasm, the two of them panting in her bed while his cream mixed with her juices in the confines of her cunt. The world outside spun on unknowingly. "Brad, I want you to do something for me," Sharon said later as they lay on their backs beside each other. "God, Mom. Are you horny tonight or what?" Brad misunderstood what she'd meant, but neither had to get up early in the morning. Another go-round would probably occur if her pussy could take it. She rolled on her side toward him, raising up on her elbow and draping her arm across his chest. "I didn't say 'something to me', I said 'for me' but I think you'll enjoy it as much.....we've got a crisis in the family." "Yeah, what might that be?" he asked, rubbing her arm. "Brenda and Chris have been trying to have a baby for quite a while and Brenda's found out that Chris is the problem." "What? You mean he's got no pop-in-the-pistol?" "Well, he's got some 'pop'," Sharon said, mimicking him, "but the odds aren't good and Brenda wants a baby....even if it's not Chris's." Brad looked from the ceiling to her face. "Brenda has agreed to let you impregnate her....that is, if you want." "No shit!" "I'm not joking," Sharon assured her lucky son, "We were talking about it when you came in today. I've seen the way you look at Brenda... I hope you don't mind me volunteering you for the task." "And Chris is in the dark about this?" Brad asked, trying to hide his obvious interest. "Yes. It has to be that way too. He can't ever find out." "So, Brenda said it was O.K. for me to fuck her?" Brad's concern about Chris's feelings disappeared fast enough. "It's not going to be like you and me, honey. It's going to have to be done with, uh, some detachment. She's just looking to get pregnant...it would be a no-frills thing." "My cock's going to be shooting cum in her pussy and you call that no-frills?!" Brad said with a naughty gleam in his eyes. "I'd call that frills deluxe!" "I didn't say you weren't going to enjoy yourself," Sharon said, kissing him tenderly for a moment. "You've just have to act like you aren't." "That'll be hard, Mom. Brenda's such little sexpot....almost as hot as you," he added, his fingers moving up her arm and onto her right breast. "Brad, you say the nicest things," Sharon sighed, moving her hand down his stomach to touch his hardening prick. "Is this because of me or because of Brenda?" "Both of you," Brad said, rolling her on her back and moving over her. "But Brenda's not here, so you'll have to do." 'I should have my head examined for even thinking about this,' Brenda thought as she drove to her mother-in-law's house the next afternoon. But she had made up her mind to go through with Sharon's solution. It made sense in every way. And there was that illicit element that made it even exciting. She could use some excitement if the truth be known. Chris was a very predictable sort in bed. There wasn't a lot of variation in their lovemaking. He wanted to be sucked for a while and then he got on top and went as long as he could. That had been very exciting when they were dating, but after years of marriage, the luster was wearing off. Brenda thought again about Brad. He had a lot of growing up to do, but there was something that was very exciting about his untamed manners. It was like having Tarzan in the family. She squirmed in the car seat as she recalled the wild dream that she'd had about Brad the previous night. She knew enough about dreams to know that things seen or heard in a previous day often made their way into dreams. So she shouldn't have been surprised she'd have a sexual dream. But her part in the dream had shocked her. In the dream, she'd practically raped Brad! The scene had been his mother's bedroom, but she wasn't covered up, hiding her body. She'd been naked and pulling off a pair of shorts that Brad had on at the beginning of the portion of the dream that she could remember. The shorts had come off and Brad had had this super cock. Obviously, he couldn't have one like the one she dreamed up - it was maybe eighteen inches long! She'd pushed Brad on his back on the bed and climbed on top of him, steering his unbelievable organ right up into her ready pussy, sinking down on it until it was somehow all the way inside her. Then she'd bounced on it like a banshee until it unleashed a huge blast of sperm right where she needed it. But she hadn't stopped there! She'd dismounted from Brad's wilting surrealistic dick and scooted back until she was straddling his knees. Then she'd taken that big, slimy dick in her mouth and sucked and jacked on it like a porno star. She'd wanted it to get rock hard again so she could get more of his seed in her fertile womanhood. But the damn thing had gone off in her mouth, shooting blasts of wasted cum right down her throat. Whimpering in disappointment and disbelief at Brad's ability to produce so much sperm, she'd swallowed it down and kept right on sucking. Brad's monster staff of life had stayed hard and she'd pulled him on top of her, spreading her legs wide, letting Brad ram his long prong impossibly deep in her cummy cunt. She'd started having orgasm after orgasm as he pounded her. It had been so unbelievable but so real! Finally, Brad had hosed her innards with what felt like a quart of baby juice. Almost immediately, Brenda had felt that she was pregnant, that a new life was being born. Even before Brad had pulled out, her belly had started to grow, bulging to full-term shape in about ten seconds. Then all at once it had snapped back to its original flat state and Brad was presenting her with her baby. She'd taken it with tears in her eyes, pressing a nipple in its mouth, feeling it beginning to nurse..... That's when she had sat up in bed beside her sleeping husband, her breath coming in waves, her body tingling with excitement. 'Brenda, you've got some imagination!' she told herself, seeing her mother-in-law's house come into view. 'This is just about getting pregnant and that's all.' But deep down, she knew parts of the dream weren't about just having a baby. The doorbell rang and Sharon headed downstairs to answer it. It was most likely Brenda, come to discuss things with her and Brad. "Brad!" she called down the hallway as she stopped at the top of the stairs. "Yeah?!" he called back and then stuck his head out of his bedroom. "That's probably Brenda. Come down when I call you." "Gotcha." "And comb your hair!" she said before heading downstairs. Entering the front room, she saw it was Brenda through the sheer curtains on the inside door. "Hi, Brenda. Come on in," she said after opening both doors. Brenda came in and she said to come into the kitchen and have some iced tea that she had made. Brenda and she went into the kitchen. "You must be working today," Brenda said as she sat down at the kitchen table. Sharon was wearing her nurse's uniform. "Yes, I'm working the overnight shift. Here you go." Sharon sat a glass of tea in front of Brenda and sat down at the table. "Well, what did Brad say?" her daughter-in-law asked. "Brenda, I must tell you that I have never seen Brad so serious as when I told him about your problems," Sharon began. She had to lie to Brenda to keep things on track. Telling Brenda the truth, that Brad was only interested in slipping her his salami, would have blown everything. "He sees the reasoning behind it. He said he'd would help us and he'd keep our secret." "Do you trust him, Sharon?" Brenda asked. "I do, dear.Brad puts on an act sometimes, but he understands what could happen to our family if this gets out. Don't worry about that. "Then I guess, if Brad tests okay, we should plan for this coming Thursday. That's the next big day." "Let me call Brad down, and you can talk to him about it," she said. Sharon walked over to the stairs and called up, "Brad! Brenda's here!" She then walked back to the table. "He'll be right down, honey." Sharon thought Brenda would be a little nervous talking with Brad now that it looked like he was going to know her so intimately. But Brenda looked totally at ease, even eager to see Brad. 'Could it be that she's convinced herself so totally that this is the right thing to do?' Sharon wondered. Brad came down the stairs, looking much more presentable than usual. His hair was combed back in a ponytail, and he was wearing a tennis shirt and nice knee-length shorts. "Hi, Brenda," her son said with a smile. Then he slipped into his usual comedic self, putting on a serious voice, he said, "You all know why I've called you here today." "Brad!" she said exasperatedly. He was going to joke his way right out of his chance to lay with Brenda and deny her a grandchild. "Sharon, it's okay," Brenda said, waving her hand at her. "Some levity is what we need right now. Sit down, Brad." Sharon was impressed by the way Brenda was acting. She seemed to be in control of the situation. Brad sat down at the table and managed to control himself for the next half hour that they talked. Brenda impressed on Brad what a baby would mean to her and Chris. Brad laid it on a little thick, saying that he just wanted her and Chris to be happy, but Brenda seemed to buy it. So their pact was sealed. Brenda would stop by in the morning to pick up a sperm sample and take it to the out-of-town clinic for analysis. Sharon was a little surprised when Brenda kissed Brad on the cheek when she left. It went against the impersonal tone they had all put on the actual event. "How was I, Mom?" Brad asked his mother when she came back from walking Brenda out to her car. "You were fine, dear," his mother said as she cleaned the table. "Did you see that kiss she laid on me?" he said with a smile. "Honey, that was a very innocent kiss," his mother said with a small laugh. "Yeah, but you didn't see her grab my ass, too!" "Brad, I just don't know about you sometimes," she said, shaking her head but smiling. "I better head to work." Brad wished she didn't have to run off. His mother looked pretty hot in her nurse's uniform. He made a mental note to see if she might go for wearing it one night. "What are you going to do tonight?" she asked before she left. "Nothing planned. It's a Sunday, so there aren't any parties. Maybe I ought to study." "Study?" his mother said in surprise. Hitting the books was not what he did, and it was the summer anyway. "Yeah...for my sperm test!" he said, springing the old joke on her. "You are a comedian," his mother said sarcastically as he laughed at his own joke. Then she said, "I don't think you have to worry. From someone who's been on the receiving end, I'm betting you'll test just fine." "Oooh, Mom. You sure you have to go to work right away?" "Yes. So keep it in your pants." He managed to give her ass a quick feel when she kissed him goodbye. She told him where dinner was in the fridge, and then she was gone, leaving him to think about Brenda and what was to come. It was eight o'clock the next morning when Sharon pulled her car into her garage and went inside her house. She'd been on duty for fourteen hours at the hospital, although she'd been able to sleep for three hours during the night thanks to a rotation they had worked out among the nurses on duty. She was a little fatigued, but she would wait until after Brenda stopped by to pick up Brad's sperm sample. She entered the kitchen to find the empty cartons of two twelve-packs of Olympia near the sink. 'Looks like Brad had some company last night,' she thought. She looked in the living room and saw empty potato chip bags and beer cans on the coffee table. It looked like Brad and some of his friends had spent the night drinking and watching TV. She checked the rest of the downstairs for any of Brad's sleeping friends but found none. She then went into the kitchen and took a wine glass out of the cupboard. Twirling the thin stalk of the glass between her fingers, she made her way upstairs. She went into her bedroom, kicked off her rubber-soled nurse shoes, and went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Doing the overnight shift, she had drunk a lot of coffee, and it always left a taste in her mouth. Taking the wine glass, she then walked down the upstairs hallway. She looked in the guest bedroom and found it empty. Likewise, the small den where she did the family bookkeeping. That only left her son's room to check out. She knocked very lightly and then opened the door. Her son was sprawled on his bed, face down and naked. He was alone, which was something of a relief. There wouldn't be any girls to chase away. Sharon walked to the side of his bed, enjoying the sight of Brad's nude form yet again. He was 19, but he had a more mature body. She was a very lucky woman to share a bed with him frequently. She sat the wine glass on his bedside table as she sat on the side of the bed and shook his shoulder.

Part 2

Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year98/11127.txt