id
int64 35
129k
| title
stringlengths 2
125
⌀ | content
stringlengths 1k
74.7k
| evaluation
int64 3
6
|
|---|---|---|---|
128,046 | The Curse | 'Entertain' was the last hit in the alternative charts for Sleater-Kinney, who announced a 'permanent hiatus' soon after in July 2006. It was a hard-driving indictment of the business with a difficult skip beat and a great power riff on the bridge. It ended with a chant, sung over scratchy and discordant guitars.
It was a personal favorite of Karen's, who'd used Janet Weiss's drumming as a practice piece. Mick thought The Curse's cover of the song had a number of things going for it.
It fitted their sound perfectly - Carrie Brownstein, Sleater-Kinney's singer and lead guitarist, was openly gay, and that inference might play into Anna's onstage sexual ambiguity. Most of all, though, it was fun to play. The original version hadn't had much airplay here, and Flyblown thought it would be a shrewd marketing ploy to release the single before the expected CD.
'Entertain' was recorded in two live takes at the University with an invited audience. The gig was shot on video with a couple of Handycams, enhancing the whole, downmarket, do-it-yourself atmosphere. Mick saw it as reconnecting with their fans - perhaps the last flick of the tail of The Curse's original sound.
It was a cozy and relaxed session. Anna was dressed in denim, although with her usual boots, and Mick wore a pair of beach shorts, a Chevrolet T-shirt, and a Wellington Lions cap. The lead singer shook and danced about, spurred by an excellent display of power drumming from Karen.
The audience danced along with Anna, and even Rangi, who had little to do among the well-behaved crowd, swung his vast bulk along with them. It was a party atmosphere, and the band mingled with the audience afterwards for beer and snacks.
Mick was shouting the loyal Rangi and his new Japanese girlfriend to Los Angeles with them for the Grammy Awards show. Costs had prevented them taking him along on their American tour, and the band felt a little guilty.
Afterwards, Mick went home alone as the girls said they were entertaining. Once the stage lights went out, Mick felt a strange kind of emptiness. Normally, he and Freddie would have a few drinks, but his friend was on the wagon, and it just wasn't the same. Freddie was morose these days, and Mick found his company tiring.
It was difficult for someone in his position to form normal relationships. Most people he met were aware he was a star and mostly in awe of meeting him. That might be fine for the ego, but not if he wanted to make that person a friend. Otherwise, most everyone he knew were connected to The Curse, and sometimes Mick wanted a night off.
The girls sometimes stayed the weekend, and they all slept together. Sometimes he'd make love to Michelle while Anna watched, but nothing more intimate had developed between him and the lead singer. He couldn't get out of his head that he was being gratified to ensure he wouldn't bail on The Curse, as he'd been instructed by Sabra to 'keep the girls happy.'
The emotional turmoil was wearing him down, and his consumption of marijuana was increasing. What seemed like a spotty schoolboy's wet dream was turning into a nightmare for him.
This was Michelle, and he loved her, but Anna was likely to always be part of the setup. He resented the time Michelle spent with her girlfriend, but, at the same time, he was worried about Anna's ability to cope for even one night alone. It was a classic Catch-22.
He felt his only 'out' of the situation was Sabra, but was slowly waking up to the fact she wasn't going to leave America. Going to live there himself would mean parting from his two daughters, Karen and Emily, and he wasn't yet prepared to make that sacrifice.
As far as The Curse was concerned, he'd taken a lot of the creative responsibility upon himself. Their record company had assumed he was the brains of the band and was treating him accordingly. They'd displayed for him graphs and charts outlining Flyblown/Sony's suggested marketing strategy, and it was all facts and figures, demographics, promotional opportunities, projected sales, blah - it was cynical, in his mind, and utter bullshit. He was a musician, an artist, not a fucking accountant.
They liked the song 'Sabra' but insisted it wasn't a band song and better left to a Mick Johnson solo CD someday. It wasn't a 'hit,' and the band would have to pay royalties to the songwriter. Flyblown could see little point in including it in The Curse's CD. Michelle's love song to Anna was 'filler' - they wanted more 'Entertain' songs, but, of course, 'it was Mick and the girls' decision.'
It may've seemed easy for Mick to dismiss record company 'suggestions,' but he felt more pressured - as if the success or failure of the CD was going to rest with him. If the album bombed, it would be Mick's 'intransigence' that ruined The Curse's career. He really needed to see Sabra face to face to bounce around ideas.
He didn't have even Freddie anymore to chew the fat over a beer. Freddie always had a shrewd sense of proportion and the balls to tell the fuckers to stuff it. Mick missed his advice terribly.
Mick needed company tonight, so he jumped in the Camaro and went cruising. To be recognized wherever he went was sometimes a curse, sometimes an advantage. He just needed someone to take his mind off things, and he told himself that didn't necessarily involve sex, although he knew it would. At this time of night, any talent downtown was likely drunk, and that didn't auger well for meaningful conversations.
He came upon a trolley bus that had had a fender bender with a boy racer. The bus driver was a woman - short and big-breasted with orange hair cut to a frizz. Likely she was heading off shift when this guy had run into her, and she was pissed as hell. Mick stopped and asked if he could help.
"Did you see that?" she yelled at him. "Did you see that fucker cut in front?" Mick insisted he had and offered his name and address as a witness. Of course, he hadn't seen a thing, having come along after the accident had happened.
The driver of the car was drunk and abusive but calmed down when he recognized Mick Johnson of The Curse. His car had some scrapes, and Mick quietly suggested he send the bill to him, and he'd take care of it - 'as a favor to a fan.' Happy, the guy smiled at Mick's business card and got back into his car.
There was even less damage to the bus - a scrape on the bumper that had clearly been scraped many times in the past - and the driver wasn't interested in spending the rest of the night filling in accident reports. Mick chatted to her a little as she got underway again and organized to pick her up from the depot after work.
The bus depot was all but deserted, and he waited outside for the woman to come out. Finally, she emerged and hurried over.
"Hi," she said, "flash car!"
Her name was Donna, 26, had taken a 'little' break from university to do something 'different' - liked the job and stayed three years. She'd been in a relationship with a woman, but had broken up two months ago. Yes, she was bi, and, no, she didn't have anyone, male or female, at present. All this Mick discovered while 'saving her the taxi fare home.'
She kind of liked The Curse, but wasn't a fan, and told him she thought the band was being 'overhyped.' This was refreshing to Mick. He'd finally hooked up with someone who had no agenda and could talk honestly and openly with him. He felt they could become good friends.
Donna was her own woman who hated 'possessiveness' and 'pretension.' She scorned the whole 'subservience bullshit' and if she was ever to get married, it had to be with someone who'd let her be her 'own person.'
"I just hate the dependent thing, y'know?"
'Y'know' was an affectation she used frequently, and Mick found it mildly irritating. But if that was all that annoyed him about her, he thought it a good bargain.
She was short with an impish face she claimed came from her Cockney heritage. Yes, she was born in England but arrived out here when she was 7. Her boobs exceeded Sabra's in size, he thought, and were a wee bit out of proportion to the rest of her.
Her signals were mixed, and, even as she invited Mick in for coffee, he still wasn't sure whether they'd sleep together.
The flat was a little run down, but Donna had decorated it with wall hangings and original prints. Both her mother and brother were artists, it turned out, and most of the work around the room was theirs.
"Hey, Mick, you want some wine instead?" she called from the tiny kitchen.
"Sure," he replied. "Say? You smoke dope?"
Her head appeared around the door. "You got some?" she smiled.
Mick rolled them a joint, and they smoked it, washing it down with some cheap cask wine.
"It's good," she said, leaning on his shoulder. "I'm really floating. It's so hard to get good shit these days."
"Not that hard if you know who to call," Mick told her.
"Yeah, well, you're a musician, aren't you?"
"True!"
"Y'want some music - I feel like something, y'know, bluesy and slow. Y'don't mind?""Sure, love the blues."
"Delta blues?"
"Oh, man!" Mick grinned, "just perfect!"
"Yeah!" she gushed.
"Y'got flatmates?"
"Nah! Last girl moved out a couple of weeks ago. Might have to get someone else in, but I kinda like being here by myself. Why?"
"Just curious."
"Y'want to stay the night?"
"Yeah - too stoned to drive."
"Too fucked to fuck?" she grinned.
"Not a chance, baby," Mick dropped his voice in imitation of some Hollywood smooth guy.
"Not that I'm offering," she teased back.
"Course not," he feigned shock.
"Anycase," she said, "you guys'll have all the teen bimbos chasing you down the street."
"Oh, sure," he laughed. "Road romances, groupies - fucking action all the time."
"True?"
"Wish! Too fucked to fuck, mostly. Y'gotta remember how tight those schedules are and how exhausting - eat, sleep, shit, play, eat again, talk to the fucking press..."
"Hard life," she said sarcastically.
"Not complaining," Mick added.
"Sure! And you can afford a flash car like that? Sounds tough to me."
"Ok!" He put up his hands. "We got a few good paydays but we worked our butts off for it and it could've gone either way. The public don't like what we do, we're fucked."
"I think it's all about marketing," she told him.
"Y'gotta have something to market?" Mick replied.
"Why don't you just play and be damned?"
"That's what I'm trying to do if the fuckers'll leave me the Hell alone."
"Hey, sorry Mick. I was being a bitch."
"Not at all," he smiled. "It's what most people think. That it's all about getting up on stage and playing. They don't know the other half - the main half - all the crap that goes with doing that."
Donna came and knelt on the floor in front of him, putting her hands on his legs. "Hey," she said, "I can see you're stressed. I can't imagine what it must be like to be that far out in the public eye, y'know? Actually, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."
"Yes, you would," he smiled. "Fitting revenge!"
"Haha - yah, I guess I would! Like the medieval stocks or something, y'know?" Mick lifted his hands and lightly stroked Donna's face. "Mick," she said, softly, "I never said you could do that."
"Sorry."
"No, actually, it's nice. I just like to be asked, y'know?"
"Ok. May I have a kiss?"
"Um, Mick, ah, can I ask something first?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I play with your balls? I can see them right down there through your jeans."
"Play with anything you like," he told her.
"Just your balls," she replied. She ran her hands up the length of Mick's legs and lightly palmed his crotch. "I really like the feel of them," she explained. "Best part of a guy."
"What else do you like?"
"Blowjobs!"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Something about giving head - hmm - really love it."
"Don't let me stop you."
"Hold on," she grinned. "My flat, my rules."
"That sounds suspicious," Mick said. "What ya want to do? Tie me up and beat me with whippy sticks?"
Donna roared out laughing. She told him she liked guys with a sense of humour. She then leaned forward and kissed his balls over his jeans, giving his cock a little rub for good measure.
"Whippy stick?" she laughed.
Mick was enjoying this. Donna was great fun to be with and they shared a sense of the absurd. There was another rub and a kiss before commencing to massage Mick's cock with the palm of her hand. "Just want to get one thing clear," she said. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend."
"Me neither!"
"Funny! But honestly, I don't want a relationship."
"And I've got too many."
"Alright then," she nodded.
"But, ah, a friend would be nice. Like, someone totally away from the business? Maybe one with privileges now and then?"
"A friend with occasional privileges?" she considered. "Hmm. How occasional?"
"Negotiable!"
"Like, 'when you're feeling horny' negotiable?"
"More like 'time out from this fucking hectic world' negotiable."
"Yeah? I can say no and you won't get shitty?"
"Sure. And if I don't call you for weeks you won't get shitty either?"
"Depends," she grinned, "on how horny I am."
"I'll bring some more dope."
"You will?" she grinned. "You're a tough negotiator! Look, Mick," she said, suddenly serious, "I don't know how this will go or what you want of me. You can sleep with me tonight and - well, maybe give me a call and see, y'know? If it gets too heavy..."
"It won't."
"Good, cos I can't stand needy people, y'know?"
"Donna? Just fucking hang, okay. I'm not going to be pounding on your door every night. Let's just roll another joint and jump into that bed of yours. You promised a blowjob, remember?"
"Hey, I didn't! I just said I liked giving them. I didn't promise," she said, grinning.
"Alright. But, I'll promise to give you some tongue."
"You will? Now that *does* sound interesting!"
Donna took Mick's hand and led him through into the bedroom.
In bed Donna's world-wise 'schtick' was revealed as a bit hollow. Her blowjob wasn't that great - a little clumsy and uncoordinated - but Mick appreciated effort and enthusiasm. He treated her in turn to a thorough licking but he had trouble finding the right spot and she alternately giggled and complained she was too sensitive. Such uncertainty was to be expected first time out and, in any case, it was a lot of fun.
Mick screwed her slowly with time out to suck on those pillows lying on her chest. Her breasts were huge in the flesh - full, with large nipples, which stood out prouder than he'd ever seen before - and he spent much of the happy night playing with them. But Donna, whether it was the mood she was in, or some physical issue, was difficult to push towards orgasm.
Mick formed the opinion she wasn't that experienced with men, or had male lovers that were impatient or inconsiderate. He persisted till he found her trigger. That turned out to be her clitoris, which was smaller and a little higher than normal. Once Mick worked it out, he moved his finger to the spot and carefully manipulated it.
Donna immediately began to pant loudly and looked into his face with a mixture of surprise and arousal. She grabbed his dick and squeezed - she seemed to like the feel of a man's appendage - then writhed, twisted, and pushed against his finger. Soon, she burst in a series of spasms accompanied by loud cries and her arm shot around Mick's back and held him down till she subsided.
"Mick!" she said, after a long time catching her breath. "That was wonderful! I - I - no-one's done that to me before..."
"Done what?"
"Made me come, just..."
"Huh?"
"I guess they don't find it," she breathed. "What makes you so special?" She smiled in a kind of admiration and contentment.
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Just had a little fiddle around. Had to be there somewhere."
"Oh, haha, you're so fucking modest," she laughed. "Hmm, this is such a good night. We going to do some more later?"
"Sure, I guess. When do you start work?"
"Two."
"I can give you till 12, then I need to be somewhere."
"Oh, thank you," she laughed, "most generous. You got an ordinary cigarette?"
"Yep."
"I want to share one with you - symbolic."
"Of course," he smiled. "Don't get all subservient on me?"
"Cheeky shit!" she giggled. "You're a lot of fun, Mick, I really like that."
"Yeah, so are you - drag?" He offered her a Lucky Strike and she had a series of shallow puffs.
"Don't really smoke," she admitted, "but, this is nice. You going to call soon?"
"I haven't left yet."
"Smartarse! You know what I mean."
"We'll see, Donna, we'll see."
Donna looked away and screwed up her eyes. They were starting to water and she didn't want Mick to see. She knew she was in for a rough ride with this guy and felt a pang of self-pity.
After lunch, Donna jumped into the shower and Mick grabbed himself a quick kiss before telling her he was going. She flashed him a look that was unmistakable as the rivulets ran down her big breasts. He walked quickly down to his car with that look fixed in his mind. He knew he was going to feel guilt over this and wasn't looking forward to it.
Five days later, Mick, Michelle, Anna and Emily, accompanied by Rangi and his girlfriend, met at the airport for their trip to the States. Everyone was downbeat and a little quiet. Mick was apprehensive about meeting Sabra - Michelle, about Mick - and Anna, about her costume for the big night.
Mick had not been himself the week and Michelle wondered at the cause. He continued to get stoned every night and that was worrying her. He looked drawn and she didn't think he was eating properly. A moody and depressed Mick was a hard act.
On the plane he dozed and read. When he did hold a conversation he was civil and kind but he lacked the sparkle she was used to. It was as if part of him had shut down.
When they arrived in Los Angeles they went straight to the hotel to rest and get rid of the jet lag. Sabra had decided she didn't have the room for Mick after all and he was staying at the hotel with the others.
Sabra had booked adjoining suites for them and one featured a king-size bed - evidently requested by their manager. No doubt, she was ensuring that 'Mick kept The Curse happy,' although he wished their manager wasn't so efficient sometimes.
The next day, Sabra had a tight schedule arranged consisting of meetings with company people, accountants, lawyers and the show's organisers. There'd be little time for Mick to have Sabra to himself and he was certain it was deliberate. She hadn't met them at the airport and took a whole day before finally showing up in the hotel lobby. She was tactful and civil and ensured Mick didn't engage her without the girls present, it seemed to him.Consequently, his mood darkened even more.
Blue Rembrandt were the likely winners in their category, thanks to the solid work they'd put in during The Curse's absence from America. Being 'foreign,' that was likely going to be the case unless they based themselves in the States. They'd also been nominated for the 'Best Song by a Foreign Group,' and Sabra reckoned they had a good chance of claiming that. Mick knew it was a consolation prize, but it was something to take back home.
The Grammys was a shmoozefest and the industry's equivalent of the trading floor at a merchant bank. Here was where deals were negotiated, artists courted and signed, and honchos sussed out their rivals' marketing strategies. Just how much intel was gathered at these shows was anyone's guess, but there were gatherings everywhere, anytime, in the week leading up to the big night.
The market was contracting, and the rivalry intense between the recording empires to shore up their market shares. There'd never been such a time for share brutality in the industry, and an artist that didn't make enough money faced being dropped from their label with indecent haste.
Fair dealing with the talent was a sore point at this time, and the talk at many an industry gathering. Many established artists were rightly fed up by the way they were being treated by their labels, and a few were going it alone, and quite successfully. Mick thought about doing that himself, but The Curse would need to be US-based if they were to stand any chance.
Mick reminded himself that these award shows had long been captured by the recording companies for no higher purpose than to promote their products and make a lot of money. But there were some fantastic parties, and, despite it all, there was plenty to enjoy, despite the bullshit.
There was a reception for the nominees in each category, for instance. Although, logically, it should be all about rivalry, the bands themselves got on remarkably well. Whether that mood persisted past the show was doubtful, but, before, there was a lot of hand-shaking and congratulations just for being nominated in the first place.
Dwight Cooney of Blue Rembrandt got a smooch and a hug from Anna Kuznetsova of The Curse, and the event was recorded for posterity by a dozen photographers. Mick found the tokers out back and shared a joint or two with a mixed group of band members and hangers-on. His absence was noticed, and Michelle and Sabra formed a united front to track him down. Mick got a stern lecture about responsibility from his manager and a blast from Michelle about telling someone where he was going. Mick felt chided like a child, but he was too stoned to care.
All in all, it was just another day at the office. | 4 |
128,141 | The Curse | 'Since when is it a crime to invite a woman down to my car?' Mal thought, 'she's over 16 and I never forced her?'
But this scene was looking bad for him, and he knew he needed to talk fast and convincingly. Already he could hear people coming down the driveway and a voice calling out for Anna.
"Hey!" he yelled, "down here! I need some help here!"
Someone came running. He saw it was Mick and not far behind, the cute little bass player from The Curse. Several more people were coming, including that huge Maori and Anna's friend, Dimitru.
"Where is she?" Mick panted.
"Here," Mal said desperately. "I don't know what happened, she flaked, and..."
"What's she doing here?" Michelle asked, suspiciously.
Mal explained they'd only come down here to fetch some vodka from his car. He added he never touched her.
"She's out cold," Mick declared. "Rangi, can you help me get her back to the house?"
Dimitru stood staring at Mal, his eyes narrowed. Mal knew that look - he'd seen it before - and no way was he going to remain with him while the others took Anna back up.
Rangi picked her up in his arms and transported her effortlessly up the drive. Mal remained close to Mick, keeping a watchful eye on the Rumanian.
"Nothing happened, Mick," Mal desperately told him.
"So you said," Mick replied.
"Hey, I've heard you get around a bit," Mal continued. "You know how it is."
"I'd thought once was enough, Mal," Mick said. "You're one for punishment, that's for sure."
"Y'blame me? I've heard you've been there."
"I have? Where?"
"You know. I figured you for someone with a good eye. I heard you knocked her up?"
"You did?" Mick raised his eyebrows. "What the fuck are you on about? She tell you she was pregnant?"
"C'mon, Mick? I know about the baby. Y'can't keep all the action to yourself."
"Mal?" Mick stopped. Dimitru hurried past as Mal moved a little closer to the tall guitarist. "How much have you drunk, tonight? Y'sure you're not on anything else? Anna is a dyke - no, she *really* is a lesbian. She's never slept with anyone except girls."
"What about the baby?"
"Well, the only baby I know about is Emily and she's mine and Michelle's daughter. Anna's never been pregnant to my knowledge. You've sure got your wires crossed."
"She told me she had a baby," Mal insisted. "Is she just a compulsive liar or is she whacko?"
"You do the math, pal. Let me have your opinion, cos, I sure as Hell haven't figured that one out."
"You saying you've never fucked her?"
"Never!"
"And your manager?"
"Ah, well, that's a private matter."
"Ok," Mal shook his head.
"Tell me?" Mick asked, "why do you do it? I mean, what are you trying to prove? You wife is up there bombed, and you're off trying to whore yourself around?"
"Hey, coming from you isn't that kinda hypocritical?"
"It might seem that way," Mick conceded, "but, when I took up with our manager in the States, I'd broken up with Michelle. Sabra and I go back a long way. Michelle, well, she's yet to make up her mind. I never purposefully cheated on any of them. That'd might not always have been so in the past, but, I spent long years alone regretting that. You need to think about that, Mal, before you're left with nothing - not even your pride."
"Renee and I haven't been getting on that well for years," he told Mick. "She's an alcoholic, I..."
"Get her some help, Mal, or get out of the situation. The way you're going you're just leaving chaos behind you. Sometime, it's going to all blow up in your face."
"You tell me what to do? My marriage is not a marriage. I get pressure from everywhere. Shit, if I spit on the footpath it gets reported all over the fucking place..."
"Hey, you telling me this? You get paid shitloads for the inconvenience. Obscurity is fine but it doesn't get you a Mercedes and a mansion in the hills. You groove on it - it gets you girls, attention and money. You don't like it, fine, get a job at the supermarket and stop whining."
"Hey?" Mal called after, "we're both the same, you and I - just a couple of inadequate jerks who're defined by public acclamation. Off the stage we're nothing - just empty vessels waiting for cues."
"Y'think?" Mick turned.
"Yeah! Fucking's what makes us feel real."
"Don't need the cheap psychoanalysis, Mouton. Why don't you fetch your missus and take her home, huh? Married to an arsehole like you I'm not surprised she drinks. I'd want to be drunk waking up next to you."
"Fuck you!"
Mick gave him the big finger before hurrying back up to the house.
When Mick arrived, Rangi had taken her through and put her on the bed. Michelle was sitting beside her trying to get a response.
"Do we need the doctor?" he asked.
"She's coming 'round," Michelle said. "Just had a blackout."
"She gets many of those?" he asked.
"Now and then," she shrugged. "It's a nervous thing, I think. She'll snap out of it and she'll be fine."
"Is she on anything?"
"Just the normal medication she takes every day. Unless Mouton slipped her something?"
"Possible, I suppose. After the last time, and for what he had in mind, I wouldn't have thought he'd risk it, though."
"Breathing's ok," Michelle said, "and pulse is fine. I see a little light back in her eyes."
"You wanna take her home, or should she stay where she is?"
"Leave her," she replied. "I'll check in now and again. I've got to go to Emily."
"Sure, go!"
Everyone had gone by nine except Michelle, Anna and, of course, Emily. Michelle brought her out for Mick to have a hold and smiled as he did the coochie thing. They hung out for a while in Mick's lounge, watched a bit of TV and talked.
Later, they insinuated themselves in the bed beside Anna to sleep. Michelle adopted the spoon position and Mick had his arms around her - just like days of old.
He couldn't sleep, though, and began turning over the things Mouton had said. Did 'fucking make him feel real?' Perhaps there was something in what he said, although he was loath to admit it. Allowing someone the likes of Mal 'The Man' Mouton to get the better of him was intolerable. But the guy wasn't a complete idiot, Mick thought, you don't rise to be a top show host by being stupid.
Take this woman pressed up against him, he wondered. She wasn't prepared to fully enter a relationship with him the way he wanted and had herself an emotional alternative. Sabra, too, was reluctant to commit herself and used the 'pressing business at home' argument. What were these women telling him in their separate ways? 'Mick, I don't trust you enough to completely give you my heart'? Was 'sex the most important thing to you' a true statement? He wouldn't have thought so, but, clearly, something was putting these wonderful women off.
Michelle's wonderful butt was stimulating him. Idly, he moved his hand down to cup her panty covered sex and began to rub. She soon stirred, turned towards him and smiled.
"What're you after?" she whispered softly.
"Can't," he whispered back. "Not with your friend here."
"She's asleep," she considered. "If we're careful..."
"Really?" he grinned back in delight.
"Sure! Just don't rock too much - nice and slow, huh?" Michelle's eyes were soft and doelike. Clearly, she'd been thinking similar thoughts to Mick. She turned on her back and maneuvered under him as Mick lifted his body up to accommodate. With the dexterity that only women seemed to possess, she slid off her panties while Mick lay on top of her kissing.
She guided him into her slowly then smoothed her hands over his arse. Cheek to cheek, they undulated together carefully, anxious not to wake Anna. They paused for a long, smoochy kiss and that was when Mick felt another hand on his arse. He looked over at Anna as the hand slid up his back. She had her eyes open and was watching him - her mouth stretched in a smile.
"It's ok," Anna grinned. "Is nice!"
"Sorry, Anna, we..." Michelle started to say.
"No, no, you continue!"
Mick sighed and looked down at Michelle. "Shall we?"
"You still want to?" she replied.
"She doesn't seem to mind?"
"Mmm," she stroked his arse with her fingertips, "not as if you've never done it before?"
"Not usually with a spectator," he kissed her before thrusting smoothly into her.
"Uh - you love it!"
Anna turned onto her side and caressed Mick's back as he moved up and down. "Nice muscles," she said. "Mich, I..."
"Huh? Uh, I - oh, I'm a little busy, Anna, oh."
"Mich?" Her were eyes soft. She parted her lips and moved towards Michelle's mouth. Gently, they kissed, and Mick watched their loving expressions. "Touch me?" Anna told Michelle in a small voice.
"Uh," she sighed, "I need Mick right now, Anna."
"Sure, sure, I..."
"Mick, can you - uh, touch her? Anna - oh, is that..."
"Fine!"Anna said.
"Eh? Where?" Mick asked.
"Don't you know?" Michelle chuckled.
"Ok, sure!"
"Good - now, keep going!" Michelle ordered.
As Mick resumed thrusting into his girlfriend, he reached out with his free hand and felt down Anna's body to her crotch. Anna captured it and pushed it into her panties. Michelle bounced back at him, gasping and moaning, as he shook his fingers over Anna's hot pussy.
Michelle came loudly, and Mick shot soon after, giving his girlfriend a deep kiss as he came. Anna then moved into the frame, panting, and he kissed her too until she gasped for air. For good measure, he pulled up Anna's top and feasted on her too-perfect boobs as she bumped and ground against his fingers.
"That was new," he smiled at the two women.
"Lucky you!" Michelle grinned.
"Is nice!" Anna panted.
He then rolled in between them and accepted their embraces. Anna and Michelle held hands across his chest, and it made him mildly uncomfortable. He couldn't dismiss the idea that he'd been manipulated somehow.
This was turning into a situation he thought might lead to The Curse's destruction. He couldn't see how this tripartite setup was going to work, but, right at this moment, he had to concede it was a lot of fun.
So typical rock and roll to live in the moment and not care about the future. The future was for regret, while the present for enjoyment. He somehow thought Mal had scored another point over him, and it made him furious.
The girls made him breakfast and brought it and Emily back to bed. Michelle fed her while she, Mick, and Anna did the two mums and a dad gig. Around noon, they emerged into the summer day to view the destruction from last night. Thankfully, there was little damage, only some rubbish to pick up.
The Oldsmobile Cutlass Mick had acquired from the States was a 1971 model, fully restored, from the golden age of the muscle car. It was a two-door convertible with a big block, Rocket 455, seven and a half litre V8, topping 400hp, under the 'hood'. Exxon Mobile may well be rubbing their hands in glee because it was a thirsty beast, but Mick could well afford the gas.
Like American cars of the period, the suspension was way too soft, and the brakes indifferent. Mick had Lockheed drilled disks installed all round, but it was still a heavy car to pull up in a hurry. The Cutlass had a heart-stopping understeer and was certainly not a car you'd like to throw around a mountain road. But it got attention and beat everyone in a stoplight grand prix. The engine torque was enough to get an ore train rolling, and Mick adored every highly polished piece of his red and cream beauty. It simply looked the business, and a car like that deserved to have two beautiful blonde babes as accessories on a summer day.
Top down, with the girls in summery halters ensconced in the front seat, was pure California, and Mick made the most of it. He felt like a King, like Elvis before he'd swallowed so many pills and hamburgers. Around the entire waterfront with the V8 grumbling contentedly to itself, Mick rarely felt better.
Every time they stopped, they'd attract a small crowd of admirers, with Mick fielding questions. The problem was, you couldn't leave it anywhere on the street, or some loser would likely key it. Optimists may well try and line their Nissan Silvias up against it at every traffic light, but Mick wasn't into acquiring speeding tickets. He passed on every invitation, and it must've made the boy racers furious. 'I know I can, so why bother?' he told a grinning Michelle as they watched another Japanese coupe speed away all alone.
They called around and picked up Junior and Karen before heading out into the country for a picnic. Emily was safely bundled in her baby seat in the back - a reminder to Karen of what she had to look forward to. Mick took them up to his plot - there was a river, a swimming hole, and an old barn that'd survived when the land was subdivided from a large farm. They found a nice spot, then spread out the blankets and laid out the food.
"Hey, Mick?" Michelle asked, "you decided about the Grammys?"
"Yeah, I'll go, I think. I always thought not showing up was a little ungracious."
"Yeah," agreed Michelle. "Anna and I were thinking of joining you," she said. "Karen?"
"I'll pass," said their drummer. "The baby's giving me Hell."
"Puking?"
"Practically every morning."
"It'll pass, you'll see."
This wasn't what Mick had in mind. He wanted to sort things out with Sabra, and the girls might seriously cramp his style. But, if he argued with them, it was bound to sound suspicious. Michelle knew of his plans to stay with Sabra for the week, and he couldn't help thinking that was part of their decision to go.
"You staying with Sabra?" Karen asked. He looked up at his daughter and wondered at her timing. Was it deliberate, and she was tossing a stone into the still pond? Mick decided to put his cards on the table. To lie at this point would likely rebound on him.
"Yeah," he said. "She has an apartment - I'll be staying there."
"What happens to us?" Michelle asked. "Where will we stay?"
Here it comes, thought Mick. "I suppose a hotel. I'm not sure whether Sabra has the room."
Michelle's expression hardened, and he saw the warning signals.
"The Hotel Intercontinental?" suggested Anna, typically one step behind the subtext of the discussion. "It's really nice there."
"Perhaps we can talk about it later?" Michelle said, deferring the argument till a more advantageous time.
"I'm going for a swim," declared Anna, and she whipped off her halter to reveal a bikini top that'd make every fan of The Curse scream. Certainly, it left little to the imagination, and, if his daughter hadn't been there, he might've made a little more of the situation now they were all 'friends.'
Michelle watched her go as she shed her wrap-around, eyeing her cute arse, which her bottoms barely covered but half.
"Careful you don't lose your swimsuit, Anna," Michelle laughed. Mick rolled away onto his front. It was barely more than he could stand.
Later, Mick dropped the girls off before going home. He was 100 bucks the poorer but thought the day well worth the gas. The Curse were getting on together well and into a working mood. The day had become an informal planning session with ideas thrown around for their third CD.
The CD following a hit was always problematic. Should the band stick to the same formula that worked in the past or change tack? A more sophisticated sound, perhaps, now they could chisel a good working budget? Or maybe they should stick to what they know and risk the public wouldn't tire of the same old shit? Logic suggests if the public liked their previous CD, why would they want a copy?
Mick was for more acoustic work. He liked simple arrangements of well-crafted songs. He opined that many a weak song was disguised by over-engineering and lavish layering. A corny lyric could be drowned out or rendered unimportant by the use of standard pop hooks. Anna had the pipes to carry the song - she didn't need the full orchestra.
But where were these wonderful songs going to come from? They'd been flat out working, and the songwriting team had little time for composition? An album could be fleshed out with outtakes from previous sessions, sure, but they needed a good 5 or 6 new numbers to build around.
Mick had a song he wanted to sing, but it wasn't original. It was by an Irish folk singer called Andy Irvine, and it was called 'Sabra'. Sabra is the name of a hardy cactus that grows in the Negev desert. It was a song of desire, of loss and of mourning. The song was both pretty and soulful, but Michelle didn't like it on principle.
She hit back with a song called 'My Fragile Rose' she determined to sing herself. It didn't take a great leap of the imagination who the rose was, and Mick was unimpressed. She talked him into accompanying her on guitar, providing Anna play keyboard for him on his song.
But The Curse wouldn't be The Curse without a little rage and thunder. Mick had a riff, and Karen another, with which to build a song. Four songs in total, but at least it was a start.
Mick was relaxed. Smash hits were sometimes constructed from even less, and Deep Purple, in particular, had the reputation of coming up with songs within five minutes of recording. He saw little reason why The Curse couldn't come up with stuff in the studio, now they had the luxury of a bit of time.
This was to be the swan song to their present recording contract. A good album was clearly going to impact on any future negotiations, and Mick insisted they put as much effort into it as possible.
By the state of today's industry, two years at the top was reckoned to be the life expectancy of a band. Mick wanted to break that expectation and push The Curse's career out another two years. But much depended on how well the band worked together and whether internal tensions would boil over.
Flyblown/Sony had made enough out of the band to give them the artistic freedom they requested. To make things difficult for The Curse may see them talking to a rival company, so they were sweet, very sweet.
Mick got his way, and the band recorded 'Sabra' the song. Mick and Anna doubled on keyboards, with Mick laying down the melody while Anna devised a descant. To this, Mick added some fingerpicking acoustic guitar, and Karen, later, some work with the brushes. On the original, Irvine used a tin whistle, but none of The Curse were competent on this difficult instrument. Similarly, the original uilleann pipes had to be discarded in favour of a Korg. There was no-one who could play the Irish bagpipes.
The recording session was relaxed, with Flyblown happy to allow The Curse to work around their other commitments.Mick suspected the boys at Sony had no great expectations, in any case, believing, perhaps, that the band had little more to give.
He wondered, too, what pressure was being exerted behind his back to persuade Anna to go solo and ditch the other members. He knew it was bound to come, but whether she'd want to leave Michelle for a career was anyone's guess.
These blackouts she has were a worry, and he wondered at the underlying cause. He'd checked the internet the night following the picnic and came up with a form of epilepsy. It all seemed to fit together and would explain a lot of things.
But Anna had gone through exhausting tours with The Curse and she'd been fine. The trouble seemed to occur when she was parted from Michelle for some reason. It had to be stress-related, he thought, coupled with alcohol or drugs. They would need to identify her triggers and make sure she didn't flip on them in the future - providing, of course, they had a future.
A good slice of The Curse's fans would ditch them overnight in preference to a new sensation - that was simply the business. Of the rest, perhaps half liked what they were doing, and the other half were concert junkies who'd turn up to any show. Mick reckoned they had a solid fan base who ought to provide them with a living regardless, but they shouldn't expect to be making the sort of money they were growing used to. Now was the time to consolidate and not get too used to the lavish lifestyle.
And each of them needed other options, just in case everything disintegrated.
He spoke to Sabra that night and discussed all their options. Yes, she was aware of interest in Anna as a solo performer, a future star in her own right, and it only made sense for her to seriously consider that. Frankly, she couldn't see The Curse going on without her - their music wasn't that exceptional, as far as the market was concerned, with a lot of bands doing the same thing.
Mick told her of his suspicions about epilepsy, and she agreed it fitted some of the known facts. She also asked him how he was getting along with the girls, and that moved the conversation into risky territory.
But if there was to be any future at all with Sabra, he needed to be honest. He explained about the BBQ and the picnic the next day. She was quiet, but surprisingly understanding.
"They want to come to the Grammys," he told her.
"Ah," she chuckled, "to keep an eye on you?"
"Yes and no. Anna wants to make the scene..."
"And Michelle wants to keep you in their bed?"
"Yep."
"Whereas you, on the other hand, fancied a little skinny dipping with your ex?"
"Something like that."
"I'm not fighting over you, Mick. You keep The Curse happy, it'll make things easier."
"But..."
"But nothing, Mick. I'm actually relaxed about this. Maybe I'm finally getting over you, huh? I figure there're lots of spunky toyboys around, so..."
"Hey?"
"Hey, what, Mick? When you slept with the girls, were you thinking of me?"
"Actually, I was, Sabra, I..."
"Damn, Mick, and here's me thinking you were finally becoming open and honest. Obviously, you've still a long way to go."
"I was..."
"See you in LA next month, Mick, bye."
Mick threw the phone across the room and went for his stash. Opening the tin, he found it was empty - he'd smoked all his dope. Retrieving the phone again, he began to call around people he knew would be able to sell him some more. | 3 |
153 | 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 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.
"Sure," 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.
Jerry was half-dressed, watching a movie when the girls came out of the bathroom. Both were clad only in terry cloth robes, and they sat on either side of him. Jerry felt something was up, and he was almost afraid of saying anything to spoil it. For a long time, he had fantasized about having Kristen's long legs wrapped around him, and it seemed like he would have his chance.
Kristen sat so that when she looked at the TV, she could not see either Janet or Jerry. When she watched part of the show, Jerry slipped his hand under Janet's robe and between her legs. The sudden stiffness was like a jerk, and Kristen turned her head, looking right at Jerry's half-hidden hand.
"Turn it on," Janet whispered softly.
Jerry saw that Kristen was looking, and he felt his cock rising into a tremendous erection. His fingers found the switch, and a light humming noise filled the air just as Janet's body shuddered. The "Y" shaped dildo inside her began vibrating her body, sending delicious waves of pleasure through her. Janet held his hand over her cunt, cupping her twat and pressing the vibrator deeper.
Kristen took Jerry's other hand gently, spreading her legs slightly and placing his hand under her robe. Jerry's hand explored her crotch, finding the other dildo already in place. Jerry's fingers found the switch and turned it on. Kristen's body jerked, and she gasped several times as the dildo began squirming in her cunt.
"Ah-h-h-h-h...Ohhhhhhhh!" Kristen sighed, cupping Jerry's hand over her cunt. Her hips rocked against the twisting, thrusting vibrator, and her eyes closed, jaw slack in rapture.
"Let me suck you," Janet said softly, sliding down off the sofa. She quickly unfastened his pants and removed his rigid cock. Without a word, she sucked on him, moving up and down the shaft with quick movements. Her mouth watered, and saliva coated his cock, making it glisten wetly. Janet shucked her robe to the floor, curling her feet under her so that as she rocked her body back and forth, it pressed the humming vibrator deeper into her holes.
Kristen leaned over and kissed Jerry, sending her tongue halfway into his throat. He kissed back, taking command and forcing her tongue to retreat. They mouth-fucked each other with their tongues, bodies blazing with fiery passions. Jerry's hips rocked up to cram his cock into Janet's mouth, and she made loud slurping noises.
Jerry kneaded Kristen's tits, and she began panting, coming closer to her orgasm from the vibrator and all the sensations. Jerry couldn't hold on, and he felt the thick jism rising from his balls. Janet's wet mouth slobbered down his cock, making sloppy, wet noises as his cock began swelling. She moaned twice, urgently trying to call Kristen. Just as Kristen moved, Jerry's hips arched.
Kristen saw Janet's brow furrow in concentration and the thick pulsing of Jerry's cock in her mouth. Janet's mouth and jaw worked, and then Kristen heard a swishing, squirting noise. Janet moaned as his jism flowed, filling her mouth with his creamy cum. She greedily sucked his sperm into her mouth, coaxing every drop by licking just under the tip of the head. Finally spent, she let his softening cock slip from between her lips, trailing a dribble of sperm over her lower lip. Kristen leaned down and licked the semen from Janet's lips.
Janet grabbed her head and pulled her closer. Kristen opened her mouth, expecting to taste Jerry's cum. Janet opened her mouth and used her tongue to push the warm, thick mass of sperm into Kristen's mouth. It was erotic to Kristen, and she sucked the sperm from Janet's mouth, then they tongued each other fiercely, swishing the cum around back and forth. Parting their kiss, strands of jism connected their lips. Tongues flashed and collected it, and both girls swallowed, tasting his jizz like a cream sauce. The vibrators had brought them both close to orgasm, yet their bodies refused to yield. Kristen's passions were beyond what she'd known, and she wanted to come so badly she would do anything Janet asked.
"Go get my bag," Janet said to Jerry. She smiled and asked Kristen if she ever fantasized about being watched. Kristen, in a very carnal mood, ran her hands over her tits, licking her lips.
"No," she breathed.
"Let's let him watch us," Janet said, cupping Kristen's cunt and shoving the dildo into her.
Kristen was being fucked by the little machine, and the twisting head kept her so close to orgasm that Janet's hand nearly sent her over the edge. The hand withdrew too soon, leaving Kristen almost in tears, until she watched Janet lick her cream off her fingers. Jerry returned carrying Janet's duffle bag, his cock returning to full size.
Janet unzipped the bag and reached in. "You'll love this toy," she said, pulling out a two-foot double-headed dildo. Kristen's cunt spasmed, and she reached down to finger herself.
"NO!" Janet said sharply, pulling the blonde's hand from her bush. Then, softly, "Cum WITH me." And she kissed Kristen softly. Kristen followed along, floating on her erotic, lust-filled cloud.
Janet positioned her on her hands and knees, adjusting the dildo to a slower rhythm. She pulled it out of Kristen's twat, watching her gaping cunt hole spasm and close slowly. She pressed the humming, twisting head to Kristen's asshole, pressing the slick, rubbery head firmly.
"Oh, no, don't...." Kristen started, but suddenly her asshole was filled with sensations that made her cream flow like water. She trembled, and her stomach jerked. Kristen's ass shot up in the air, and Janet pushed the toy down into the girl's tight hole. "Ohhhh Goddddddd!" Kristen wailed.
Janet rubbed her hand all over Kristen's glistening vulva, massaging her cunt juice all over her crotch, coating her thighs and belly with the creamy fluid that dripped from her. Kristen tried to catch her breath, feeling as though she were being split open and fucked inside-out. Janet picked up the large dildo and coated it with her hand, smearing Kristen's juices on the bulbous head. She held Kristen's hips, pressing the thick rubber cock into her cunt.
"Ah-h-h-h...Ohh! Make me cummm! Please! Makemecum!"
Janet slowly pushed ten inches of the cock up the blonde's snatch, watching her holes spasm as it eased into her. Each outstroke brought her pouty cuntlips out, as though they were holding on and trying to suck it deeper. Once she had the dildo seated, Janet stood up and walked around in front of Kristen.
Kristen looked up at her naked friend, at the "Y" shaped vibrator still humming in her asshole and cunt. Kristen felt filled with cock, as though she would explode. Janet moved close, standing with her crotch almost in Kristen's face.
"Pull it out of me," she hissed. "Jerk it out hard, do it fast."
Kristen reached up a trembling hand and grasped the end of the vibrator. It was slick with Janet's cream, but Kristen jerked hard, yanking it out of her cunt and butt.
"Ohhhhhh CUMM!" Janet yelled, then grabbed Kristen's head, shoving her hips forward and rocking them against Kristen's face. "Drink me!" Janet's cream poured from her, soaking Kristen's face and Janet's crotch. Janet shuddered and ground her pussy against the girl's face. Kristen felt her nose rubbing Janet's clit hard.
Janet moved away suddenly, going behind Kristen and kneeling down, facing away from her friend. Janet pushed the long dildo into her cunt and then pressed her ass against Kristen's.
"Fuck me, baby!" Janet pleaded. "Fuck me with that beautiful blonde pussy! Fuck me!"
Kristen and Janet began rocking their hips back and forth, fucking each other with the dildo. Jerry had been watching from the sofa, stroking his cock. Several times he'd had to grip tightly to keep from shooting his load too early. Now he knelt alongside the girls, reaching between their slapping asses to hold the dildo still so that it would slide in and out of their slick cunts.
Wailing moans filled the room from both women. Kristen felt a huge orgasm welling up deep inside her. Each warm slap of Janet's butt to hers brought her a half step closer. Both were near the edge, sweat shining on their backs, making their asses seem rounder and softer."Fuck me, Kristen! Fuck me, baby!" Janet moaned again. "Oh, Kristen! Kristen! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU, KRISTEN!!" she screamed.
Both of them cried out, slamming their asses tightly together, pinning Jerry's hand between them. They shook in orgasm, moaning and jerking around, cramming as much cock in them as they could. Each shudder from one sent the other into another shudder. It seemed to last forever as they climaxed, bodies roiling with waves and waves of spasming pleasure.
Kristen felt her muscles tightening, and then it was as if she were drowning in sensations. Cum sensations. The fullness in her ass and cunt made her eyes roll back, and her hips arched, pressing hard against Jerry's hand. She could actually feel the tickle of Janet's cunt hairs on her sensitive twat, and the cum-juices trickling down her thighs. Sparks and lights went off in her head, and she thought she might pass out from the intensity of it all, but she did not. She rode each delicious wave, surfing each one down into her cunt, flowing out between her cuntlips and down her cream-slick thighs.
Janet's cunt contracted and gripped the dildo hard. She could feel Jerry's hand trapped against her vulva, hot and hard. Her tits seemed to be swelling up, and her nipples were brushing the coarse fibers of the rug. Her ass arched high, and she could feel the heat of Kristen's spasming cunt near hers. The dildo pressed against her cervix, giving her a full feeling. Her stomach bulged out, then contracted only to relax and bulge again with the feeling of being crammed full of thick cock. Her cream was flowing, and she could feel her crotch was slick with juices. Each of Kristen's shudders was like an electric pulse to her clit, making her shudder in response.
Jerry pulled his hand out, and Janet felt Kristen's sopped cunt splat against hers. She arched back, trying to grind her pussy against the wet blonde's. They both tried, bouncing back and forth until they felt another wave wash over them. The second orgasm was unlike the first. This was more sensual, sexy, and warm. The first had been full of fire, passion, and need. This was icing on the cake.
The two sweaty women sank to the floor, the dildo still in their cunts, although almost out of each one. Jerry gently removed it from their pussies, and also gently removed the vibrator from Kristen's ass. They shuddered and jerked as he removed the toys, then lay still in a limp tangle of glistening legs, asses, and cunts. Jerry lovingly caressed their sweaty behinds, running his hands down the backs of their thighs.
"Janet," Kristen said hoarsely.
"Hmmm?"
"I love you too," Kristen said.
"Mmmmmmmmm!"
Jerry's cock pressed against Janet's waist, and she smiled. "I think we forgot someone," she said softly.
Slowly they both sat up and smiled at Jerry. "You liked our little show?" Janet asked.
"Yes!" Jerry said. "I'm so horny I could cum right now!"
Kristen looked up at him. "Then do it," she said, thrusting her tits forward. "Cum all over us."
Jerry's cock ached, standing straight out like a metal rod. Pre-cum oozed down from the hole, forming a droplet under the head. Kristen leaned forward and extended her lower lip to remove it, letting it form a string as she moved back, licking it off her lip. Jerry groaned.
"I know what he wants," Janet cooed.
Moments later, Janet lay on the floor with Kristen's ass over her chest, arched up for Jerry's entry. Kristen's tits pressed between Janet's thighs, and Kristen's hands gripped Janet's calves. Jerry sank deep into Kristen's sopping wet pussy.
"Ohhh Jeeezzus!" Jerry moaned.
Kristen gasped, then sighed as his cock began sliding in and out of her slippery hole. Janet caressed her friend's legs, her ass, and belly. "She's so beautiful, isn't she?" Janet said to Jerry. "And so hot and wet. Fuck her. Go ahead, I know you want to fuck her and cum in her. Do it!" Jerry moved faster, trying to restrain himself in Kristen's beautiful cunt. Her body glistened with sweat, and with her ass high, offered to him, Jerry was straining not to shoot too soon. He wanted it to last, for her as well as for him.
Janet wasn't helping matters. "Shove that cock up her cunt and fuck her!" Janet teased. "Make her cum all over that beautiful cock of yours. She wants you to fill her with cum. Cum in her cunt!"
Jerry pumped faster, his cock throbbing and straining. It felt like his cock was a steel ramrod, plunging in and out of Kristen's soft flesh. Her cunt made squishing, slippery noises, and the way she moved her butt against him made Jerry grimace to keep his resolve.
"Ohh yes! Cum in me, Jerry!" Kristen moaned. "Fill me with cum! Fuck me! Fuck me, baby! Fuck me!"
Jerry felt his balls tighten from her moans.
"Yes!" Janet added. "I want to eat your cum out of her. Let me lick your cum off her cunt. Soak her. Soak her with cum!"
Jerry's cock exploded, gushing thick sperm into Kristen's cunt. He thrust deep into her, pressing her mons down onto Janet's chest. She could see his cock swell between her cuntlips with each pulse, and feel the tension in his legs as well as all through Kristen's sweat-slicked body. Jerry spurt and spurt into Kristen, feeling like his body was draining itself dry in her, trying to fill her sucking cunt to capacity with his sperm. At last, he stopped, feeling the thick warmth surrounding his cock inside her. Kristen was moaning softly and grinning broadly.
Janet pulled Jerry back, and as his cock plopped out of her, he dripped sperm onto her neck, the soft, wet cock hitting her mouth and chin with a wet splat. Janet licked the head, then pulled Kristen's cunt to her mouth. Opening her mouth wide, Janet began sucking the length of the blonde's slit, lapping up the sperm and cunt-juice that flowed out of her beautiful friend's snatch. Janet shoved her tongue inside Kristen's hole, withdrawing it covered with their rich, creamy mixture. Janet lapped and sucked at Kristen's pussy, making the blonde climax twice. When she finally finished, her face and neck were slick with their juices.
Kristen rolled off, sat up, and kissed Janet deeply, licking her own cum mixed with Jerry's semen from Janet's lips and face. The two girls hugged and kissed a last time, then looked at Jerry.
"Hard again!?" Janet teased.
"Nobody could stay limp watching you two," Jerry smiled.
"Can you cum again?" Kristen asked.
He shook his head. "Not for a while," he said. "I need a shower and maybe a quick nap before I'll be 'recharged'. You girls have drained me!"
They laughed, and Jerry went to shower. The two girls sat on the sofa, gently touching and kissing each other.
"You know," Kristen began, "I never thought it would be so good with another woman."
Janet smiled. "Oh, you're so sweet and sexy I could just hold you close to me forever!"
Kristen smiled at her. "I-I'm glad it was you. For my first time."
Janet kissed her softly. "First and always."
"Janet," Kristen said between soft kisses. "I love you."
They embraced and kissed, caressing each other tenderly.
"I knew I was falling in love with you the other night," Janet confessed.
"What? When?" Kristen asked.
"When Jerry was fucking my ass and you were masturbating in the bathroom."
"But...how did you see me?" Kristen asked.
"The night light in there. Remember? I could see right through your nightie. The mirrors in the bedroom showed you clearly," Janet said, smiling.
Kristen blushed.
"I knew then that I wanted you, and that my feelings for you were deep. That's why I came so hard. I knew you were watching," Janet added.
"I-I felt perverted doing that. Like a peeping Tom," Kristen said, looking at the floor.
Janet lifted her face and smiled. "No, next time I want your tongue in me while he fucks my ass."
"You mean that?" Kristen asked, her eyes wide.
Janet nodded. "Yes. Just so I can have my tongue in you too!"
Again they kissed.
This trip may have started out all wrong, Kristen thought, but it's sure turned out wonderful! | 4 |
278 | Dream | "...She was wearing something pink, or off-white. All that I remember was the jacket I was wearing was a tweed sport coat. We walked into the house and headed for the bedroom. It was at the top of a small staircase and overlooked the living room. The bed was to the right and must have been 20' x 20'. It was covered with loose white cotton sheets and almost a dozen overstuffed pillows..."
"...I woke up in her arms. We were intertwined like pasta. I kissed her, and she murmured. I slipped out of bed, put on my coat, and walked down the stairs and out the door."
"...Upon my return, I headed directly for the elevated bedroom. For some reason, I was looking straight down on the bed, from the ceiling. She was completely nude and lying in the middle of the bed. The bed was white, her hair was blonde, and her skin was slightly tan. There are no pillows or blankets around her. She is a monolith of beauty amidst a sea of pale. The next thing I know, I have lost my vantage point of the ceiling, and I am next to her, unclothed. My lips upon hers awaken her. I passionately kiss her and move from her mouth to her ears and throat. My lips trail down her chest, and I caress each breast and nipple with my tongue. Slowly, I tire of this and gently start snaking further south. My hands are on her thighs. My mouth feels the slight peach fuzz below her navel, and I follow it. Down." | 3 |
332 | Incident at the Zoo | "Look, Mommy, a gorilla!" the little girl screamed. Kate thought, for the hundredth time, that this seemed a very stupid thing to say. She had been working at the zoo for over 5 years, and all children seemed to say the same thing. She stopped looking out the window from the cage and went to the back. The intercom was located back there, and she picked it up. "Attention please. The zoo is closing now for the day. Please exit as soon as possible, as the animals want to get some sleep." She heard a small burst of laughter from outside, as she always did. As she put the mike down, Steve came in.
"Hey, are you going out with everyone else tonight?" He asked.
"Oh, I don't think so. Mr. Myers said there were some problems in Sarki's room, and he wanted me to check it out."
"Shit. I wouldn't go in there. That's one big ape!" He said.
"Well, he seems to like me. But anyway, I guess the lights are acting up, and he wanted me to take a look at them."
He grinned. "Well, don't let me keep you. Maybe sometime next week?" He asked.
"Sure, next week it is." She smiled back at him. He waved goodbye, and Kate got back to her work.
After taking her normal hour or two to get everything back in order, she went to her locker in the ladies' room to get out of her zoo uniform. After she got it all off, she remembered she had to fix those lights, but since the zoo was closed, she didn't think anyone would mind if she did it in shorts and a t-shirt. She left her things in the bathroom and headed for the gorilla house. After arriving there, she entered Sarki's room, wondering why Mr. Myers seemed to think she was a mechanic or an electrician. Sarki was a huge mountain gorilla, and usually not very amicable. But he had seemed to take to Kate immediately, usually hanging over her shoulder or something whenever she was in his cage. Today was no exception, as she climbed up toward the ceiling to get at the lights. There was a large platform near the ceiling, and she got on that in order to inspect the lights better.
Sarki pulled his bulk right up next to her, but there was plenty of room up there. She stood up and craned her neck, trying to look straight up while keeping her balance. Suddenly, she felt a large hand on her ass, slowly stroking it. She turned around quickly and found Sarki staring at her as his hand caressed her. She stood frozen, afraid that he might push her off the ledge or something. But what he actually did was bring his other hand up and began to feel her breasts through her shirt. Now, Kate never thought of herself as overly kinky, but this monkey was really turning her on! She slowly removed her shirt and bra, letting the huge gorilla feel her bare chest. He began squeezing her boobs, massaging them, while his other hand still wandered in her waist region. After a few minutes of this treatment, she couldn't stand it anymore. She removed her shoes, then her jeans, and finally her panties. Sarki sat down and pulled her over to him.
His hands still were exploring her body, and suddenly she felt one of his fingers stab up into her now-exposed hole. His finger, though not as long as a man's penis, was just as wide, and she began to squirm on it. His other hand fell from her breasts and curled around her, pulling her closer. He brought his face close to hers and stared at her with great interest. His hand was still working her over, but she wanted more. She knew gorillas would imitate a lot of things if they were done by a human, so she decided to test exactly what he would do. She moved down him until her face was right next to his chest. Her tongue tentatively darted out and began to kiss his leather-like chest.
She moved downward, further, until his now-erect huge cock was staring right at her. All thoughts of anything else quickly flew away with the sight of it, and she immediately took it in her mouth, taking great pleasure from his obvious excitement. But she pulled away, spread her legs, with the finger still in her, and hoped. He withdrew his finger and pressed his face against her chest, his tongue coming out and licking her nipples. He, too, moved downward and slurped at her wet hole. She groaned louder and louder, and just as she was about to orgasm, he roughly pushed her away. She landed on her stomach, and as she began to pick herself up, confused, she felt a huge cock fill her box. Sarki's breath came in rough gasps as he shoved his tool deeper and deeper into her. She began to groan even louder, and his pace quickened. After a few minutes of this, Kate couldn't hold back any longer. Her cunt exploded in a series of orgasms around his spike.
She bucked her hips upwards against his huge body, and with her contractions came a jerking from deep within him, and after a second or two she could feel his seed filling her. He slowly stopped his rammings and allowed her to climb out from under him. She realized that he had supported himself on his knuckles the entire time to avoid crushing her. She got dressed, but before she left, she taught him one more thing. Reaching forward, she opened his mouth a bit and brought her lips to his. She slipped her tongue into his surprised mouth, but he soon realized what she was doing and also put his tongue in her mouth. After a small amount of fumbling, she felt as if she was kissing a real man, as he got the movements down right. She slipped her hand down to his limp dick and gave it a small squeeze, a promise that she would work late again soon. And it looked like she wasn't going out with Steve and her co-workers next week after all! | 3 |
357 | Kateri.Diana | "These woods are lovely, dark and deep..." The line kept running through Michael's head as he trudged further up into the Berkshires on that morning, late in September. He shook his head, partly to clear away the mosquitoes that had returned with this brief spate of warm weather, partly in frustration at only being able to remember one line of the poem. He had overdressed, a city boy out in what passed for the wilderness of New England. The sweat dripped down the crease in the center of his forehead to slip under the rim of his wire-frame glasses and collect in small pools on his nose.
This second day of hiking was easier, somehow. Muscles which had been well-toned by college basketball two years ago had finally started remembering how to move under pressure. Michael hadn't added any flab to his thin frame since leaving college; hours and days spent hunched over a computer had, if anything, only emaciated his long body. A diet of coffee and donuts from the all-night Dunkin' Donuts had kept him going through long nights of programming and debugging. But now - now he had escaped.
Escaped from a city he was growing to hate; New Haven had been bad enough as a student, but it was unbearable outside the guarded precincts of Yale. Escaped from a live-in girlfriend who was becoming more shrewish by the day. Did he even love her anymore? She was still lovely, at least at night. Escaped from her four cats, two dogs, and multitude of small rats in gleaming cages. Michael had escaped for two all-too-brief days of Indian summer sunlight spotting its way through stained glass leaves against a wide and empty sky. And he was determined to make the most of it.
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood"...was that even the same poem? Same poet? He couldn't remember. And this wood wasn't yellow. There were still a few green leaves hanging determinedly on the darkening branches, but the overwhelming color was a joyous shouting red across the line of hills. He paused for breath on the trail at a 'lookout point', marked by a small camera signpost. It was stunning, of course. The hill fell away beneath his feet to a deep valley, cleft by a river winding far below. Leaves across the horizon were a patchwork of sunset colors, blazing fiercely in the sunlight. Michael almost felt like breaking out into a Gloria in praise of a God he'd never believed in. He laughed softly to himself as he turned back to the trail.
But there was singing. Somewhere not far ahead, just to the left of the trail, he could hear a woman's voice, high and clear above the murmur of water leading down to the river below. Michael couldn't quite make out the words, so far away, and he began to push his way through the underbrush towards that silver voice.
Sharp thorns scored light tracks along his hands as he pushed them away from his face, and the light dimmed as he went deeper and deeper into the trees. Michael was surprised, and a little disturbed, to know that there was someone else here on this desolate mountain. While he'd known that there were other hikers about, he'd deliberately taken a disused trail, paint faded almost to nothing, to avoid other people. He'd seen nobody for almost two days, and had liked it that way. He'd almost started to miss his girlfriend again.
The brush had been getting harder and harder to push through, but as he persevered he began to hear more voices. He still couldn't make out their words, but low, throaty laughter danced across the still autumn air, pulling him forward through the thick growth. Suddenly, he broke through, almost falling flat onto his face as the trees gave way to a small clearing, a deep pool...and women.
So many women, it seemed at first, a horde of slim legs, shining teeth, tangled hair and soft breasts. For they were naked, all of them, clothes no doubt discarded nearby for the call of that pool, bright with glittering sparkles, deep as dying. It was a glorious pool, and they matched it. Michael had pulled back instinctively, and he crouched now in the shadow of an old oak, watching avidly. His lips glistened as he licked them over and over. He began counting the women, finding it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the slide of water of smooth, dark skin. None of the seven women were pale; no, tanned golden by weeks of playing in summer sunlight. Their hair was uniformly blond except for one, and she, she was red. Red as the leaves across the hills, red as sunset.
That one was tall, perhaps even taller than Michael. She sat on a rock for a moment listening to the singer standing by the pool, then leaned over to break the song, still unintelligible to Michael, with a kiss deep and long as the pool itself. Then, laughing wildly, she dived down into the water. When she came up, it clung to her body, caressing the line of imperious neck to impossibly high breasts to slender waist and hips and muscled legs, finally dripping off red-painted toes.
Michael didn't know how long he watched before his legs began to cramp. He was sure these women wouldn't appreciate his presence, and so, slowly, regretfully, began to ease his way back from the clearing, into the woods. And then she called him, a low, accented voice sensuous as silk.
"Come out."
CHAPTER: Part II
CORRECTED_TEXT:
Michael stumbled from his hiding place in the shadow of the ancient oak, falling to one knee, hands braced to catch himself. His face and groin were burning as he looked up, though burning for different reasons. She only laughed at him, a rumble of laughter like muted thunder as one of the blond women stepped forward and reached out a hand to help him up. The blond's hand was steady and dry in his damp one, her nails long and sharp and red as blood. She led him over to where the redhead sat on the flat rock, damp with the water dripping down.
She cocked her head, studying him carefully, from the thatch of windswept stringy hair, down the length of his sweat-stained clothing, pausing briefly at the all-too-evident bulge in his pants. She didn't look particularly impressed.
"You don't look like a hunter," she said. Michael shook his head, while trying to place her accent. It seemed familiar, somehow, like something he'd heard before, but he couldn't name exactly where.
"I'm just a hiker," he explained, trying his best scapegrace smile, wondering if he'd wandered accidentally onto private property. The paint signs had gotten very faint towards the end of his trail. "I'm just here to admire the....beauty..." and his voice trailed off as his blush deepened. Michael tried desperately to keep his eyes on her face and off her naked body.
Then she smiled at him, a smile so stunning he was dizzy with the force of it. Her teeth flashed like a model's, bright and sharp in the sunlight. "We like admirers," she said, and with that beckoned to the six blond women, calling them over from their perches on rocks, their games in the water, their rolling in the drying autumn grass and fallen leaves. They came with fragments of red leaf caught in their tangled hair, with clear water drying on golden skin. He had never, never in his life seen women so beautiful.
And then they were touching him. Michael tensed, unsure what to do or say in this totally impossible situation. They murmured gently among themselves, laughing in some foreign language as they eased off his backpack, untied the sweater wrapped around his waist, pulled off his Vikings cap. They began kissing his neck, his chest, his hard nipples as they unbuttoned his cotton shirt and slid it off his shoulders. The blondes ran their uniformly long fingernails down his chest and back as one knelt in front of him, undoing his pants and removing them, dropping sharp kisses on his trembling thighs. Michael lifted his legs, one at a time, blindly. They took off boots and socks and pants, his gaze still focused on the blurring face of the redhead and her brightly shining eyes. Then, with their hands and mouths moving over him, she leaned over...and kissed him, sliding her tongue deep into his mouth. It was then that he collapsed.
CHAPTER: Part III
CORRECTED_TEXT:
Michael came back to consciousness to find himself erect against the aging oak, the rough bark pressed into the tender skin of back and buttocks. His arms had been drawn carefully back and tied with some sort of cord, maybe vines. She was standing in front of him, smiling that bright smile again. He was still dizzy.
"I have a question for you," she said.
"Well, I have a lot of questions for you!" Michael began to bluster. He was suddenly terrifyingly, exhilaratingly sure that he would not be seeing his girlfriend, his job, their apartment or her rats again. Now that he had been stripped of his clothing, he felt oddly free to gaze his fill, and his eyes drank in the curves and planes of her body, broken only by a patch of flaming hair.
She seemed to enjoy his gaze, continuing to smile as she watched his eyes watching her.Then she spoke again.
"What do you want?"
Suddenly time seemed to still and thicken so that Michael had all the time he needed to remember: the days of college when he and his friends, self-proclaimed geniuses, would stay up till dawn promising to see the world and taste its women in wide open fields and hot dark rooms; the clarity of nights without sleep as he talked and fucked and laughed with a girl with wide dark eyes who'd left him when once he slept too late; dancing naked in the rain, all alone. But closer was job, cats, safety, overpowering fear, and the love of a woman probably still asleep back home. And now he knew how much he loved her after all, so much more than either of them had ever thought. So that he almost said, 'to go home'. But he'd gotten too much sleep lately, it seemed.
"You," he answered, suddenly certain, suddenly sure.
And then she was laughing above him as she reached out and sliced apart the bonds with impossibly sharp fingernails. The women surrounded them, touching them everywhere it seemed as her skin slid against his ready body and she bent to kiss his neck. That was the first and only pain, a sudden sharp tearing though he did not scream as he worshipped her with strong limbs and violent burning thrusts.
Somehow she managed to say just then, "Only that, beloved, for the right answer" before rising to meet him, her red hair falling around him in streams of blood and fire, their long red nails raking down his back. And so Michael rose to ecstasy, fully conscious, fully clear that nothing, nothing could be beyond this.
Hours later, they had long since bathed the last traces away, and they were once again beautiful in the moonlight. The wildness had faded for a while, sated by that long orgy in the sunset splendor of fallen leaves. The blond women were dancing slowly and languorously in the outpouring of the full moon. On Diana's face was something that on another might be mistaken for regret; but he had been lost from that first moment, after all. And then she joined them in their dance, and it grew wild once again. | 6 |
363 | A History of an Aberrent Sexual Contest | "Fnorking" is a colloquial term for contests involving females inserting small dead animals into their vaginas. All known instances involving "fnorking" have occurred on college campuses. The contests dealt with several females competing to insert as many animals as possible into their vaginas, the winner being the one able to insert more than any of the other contestants. The winner of the contest was sometimes crowned the "fnork" queen.
The earliest known incidences of "fnorking" occurred in the late 1920's. The phenomenon seems to have been an outgrowth of the goldfish eating fad prevalent at that time. Most goldfish eating contests involved college age males consuming as many live goldfish as possible. The female collegians of that time were less inhibited than preceding generations of females and developed their own version of this fad. They held contests involving the insertion of as many goldfish as possible. The goldfish were most often inserted while live. Contest were held late at night in college dormitories, although there is a report of one contest being held in broad daylight beside a well stocked pond. This contest is said to have involved at least twenty-five females and the winner was able to "consume" twenty-seven goldfish.
All known "fnorking" contests seem to have been held at exculsively female colleges and universities, although, considering the segregation of males and females at schools in this time period, this is not unusual. "Fnorking" seems to have been an outgrowth of the general loosening of morals in the 20's era and the woman's sufferage movements of the early part of that decade. The less inhibited females of the era were more inclined to enter such bizarre contests.
As the fad progressed, the contests were not limited to just goldfish but were expanded to include other specie of small animals. It is known that contests were held involving the "fnorking" of hamsters, gerbils, lizards, salamanders, frogs, small birds and even one contest involving chipmunks. All of the above contests involved dead animals. The preferred method of killing the animals was suffocation. The contests were held immediately after the animals were killed because they were "still warm and still very pliable."
The phenomenon seems to have disappeared after the turn of the decade. This is possibly because of the depression era when less females were attending colleges and also morales experienced a general regression. No known incidences of "fnorking" have been reported until very recent times.
Recent reports have eminated from the Florida area and from Europe, specifically at the 1991 "spring break" in Florida and one incidence in 1989 in Denmark involving sixty college age females inserting frogs in a day long contest. There were reports of three contests in the Miami area in 1991, two involving insertion of goldfish and one the insertion of small toy stuffed animals. The winner of one of the goldfish contests was able to insert twelve fish and is reported to have recieved a cash prize in the amount of five hundred dollars.
Interview's of 1920's era females involved in "fnorking" contests indicate that no prizes were awarded in the contests, of that period. The females stated that most entered the contests due to peer pressure. They also indicated that the contests were held in conjunction with college fraternity initiations.
The origin of the word "fnork" is very hard to discern. All of the females interviewed stated that "it was always called that." One woman did offer as an explanation that "fnork" is formed from the first letters of greek words describing the activity. At this time I have not been able to discover the words used, if there are any. No written descriptions of the activity have been brought to light, although, considering the type of activity, this is not unusual. All of the females interviewed were very reluctant to admit to being in the contests.
Considering the recent resurgance of the "fnorking" phenomenon, it is possible that the general lessening of sexual inhibitions in females in recent times has allowed the fad to resurface. In this day of personal video, how soon will some enterprising person make a record of one of these interesting contests? | 3 |
364 | An End to Loneliness | "I had a wonderful time, Warren," she said as they walked up the front steps and approached the mansion's door arm in arm. She smiled radiantly and her violet eyes sparkled in the moonlight.
"Me too, Betsy. What's not to love about an enchanting evening of dining and dancing on the rooftops of New York City with the most beautiful British/Asian ninja telepath in the world?" he smirked.
"No mean feat, considering I'm the only one we know of, Mr. Charmer," she slapped him on the shoulder. "Surely you can do better than that!"
"Okay, okay, the most beautiful *woman* in the world," he amended. She looked skeptical for a moment, then smiled again.
"Would you object if I were to probe your mind to verify the truth of that statement?" she challenged, grinning wryly.
"Not at all..." Warren answered without hesitation.
"Then I don't _have_ to. That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she crooned and planted an electric kiss on his lips. He pulled her closer, returning the kiss passionately, their bodies ground together and his loins tingled with a hot, maddening sensation. He felt a pang of regret as they broke apart. He reached into his pocket and fished out his key. He opened the door and invited Betsy to enter with a bow of the head and a sweeping gesture with his arm. She nodded acquiescence and stepped in to the foyer ahead of him.
They ascended the stairs to the second floor. At the top, Warren stood and looked at her awkwardly. He blushed a little, which created an interesting effect on his light blue skin. He didn't know how to proceed, and felt like such an adolescent for it. He felt that he was getting all kinds of signals from Betsy all night, but hadn't been with a woman in two years; since his last long-time girlfriend Candy Southern was murdered as he watched helplessly, and they'd been serious for nearly six years. He didn't have sex with Charolette Jones during their short relationship, the right time never presented itself. So it had been almost eight years since he'd been in the position of first sexual encounter with a new lover!
If Betsy was picking up any of this, she showed no sign. She just kissed him on the cheek and turned on her heel towards the left and the women's dormitories, sparing him a backwards glance and a wink. She sauntered off, as Warren was left to gape stupidly, watching her ass as it shifted beneath her slinky red evening gown before she disappeared around the corner, and wonder what the hell happened.
"Damn!" he whispered through clenched teeth. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head slightly in disappointment. Then he proceeded to follow Betsy halfway down the hall, taking a right just beyond the stairway to Ororo's attic, through the galley and into the bath and dressing rooms.
He flicked on the light and began to undress, neatly folding his tuxedo and setting it aside. Warren took slight notice of the hard-on he was sporting. His nine-inch blue penis stood proudly up and out from his short bush of groomed, sharply contrasting blond pubic hair. He chastised himself inwardly, he hadn't been with a woman in two years, but still styled his pubic hair out of the force of habit that he'd made as a millionaire playboy. He was a compulsive groomer. He turned on the water in the shower and stepped inside. Warren sighed heavily and tried to relax and let the tension be washed away by the water rushing over his smoothly muscled body, and be carried down the drain.
It wasn't working.
Betsy had him so worked up that he could have just grabbed her and fucked them both senseless right there on the front steps. He chuckled a little, the Professor wouldn't be likely to appreciate that. Plus, Bobby could be back from Long Island with Rogue any time, a visit with his parents never lasted very long. Warren tried to imagine Bobby and Rogue profusely excusing themselves and stepping over and around he and Betsy's twisting, grunting, sweating bodies.
Imagining this little scene wasn't helping him cool down any. Warren was lathering his hair and looked back down at his unebbing erection, he considered a moment and then closed his soapy fist around the massive organ and began to masturbate. He slid his slick fist furiously up and down his shaft and fantasized about Betsy until, standing on his toes with his arched back to the steaming water, he came, spilling out copious amounts of jizz from his aching, purple head.
*That* was working. No substitute for Betsy's flesh, but it got rid of that maddening hard-on and loosened him up a bit. Besides Warren was no stranger to jacking off during this two year, *and counting*, he thought with melancholy, dry spell.
He finished his shower and dried himself off. He proceeded to the adjoining dressing rooms and found his bathrobe among the rest of the team's robes and a stockpile of standard blue and gold training uniforms. He put it on, picked up his tuxedo, and proceeded back through the galley, down the hall, past the staircase to the first floor and the foyer, and to the men's dormitory wing. As he approached the door to his room, he noticed that it was slightly ajar. Battle-honed suspicion kicked into high gear, he dropped the tux and squinted his eagle-sharp eyes. Fully tensed and ready to unfurl his deadly wings, he twisted into a stance from which he could slam the door wide open with a powerful side kick.
<Warren,> the gentle telepathic voice reached him and calm flowed through his mind and body, stopping him in mid-kick. But the adrenaline didn't stop pumping into his system as he recognized the voice and realized what it must mean. He opened the door and turned the dimmer knob above the light switch, illuminating the room in a soft glow.
Betsy sat stark naked at the edge of his four-poster bed, her left leg dangling over the side and the other tucked up under her. Her hands rested on her left knee, which caused her arms to press her enormous breasts together, creating an amazingly sensual effect.
*Warren, my boy,* he thought to himself, *you're gonna get laid after all,* and unconsciously closed the door behind him.
Betsy jiggled a little with laughter like the tinkling of bells, and said, "How perceptive you are Mister Worthington," as she slid off the bed's satin comforter, making a small swishing noise. She stood tall and Warren marveled at her voluptuous, yet athletic body. Smooth, flawless bronze skin, shapely limbs, a flat belly slightly rippled with the faint suggestion of feminine abs, large breasts with plum nipples that complemented her darkish skin beautifully, elegant Asian face that managed to carry and suggest her British-born aristocracy in a unique effect, and flowing lustrous deep purple hair. Warren noticed that her little triangle of pubic hair was purple as well, meaning that while Betsy Braddock was blond by birth, Kwannon's exotic hair color must have been natural. Unless she dyed that too, but that seemed unlikely.
Warren gulped and licked his lips in a nervous gesture, a sticky sweat popped up on his brow and he trembled slightly as Betsy strode toward him confidently, heaving her chest with deep breaths... a no doubt intentional effect. She reached out to him, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on the base of his neck and pulled herself to him, mashing herself against his body and fiercely kissing him. She finessed the folds of his robe open with her knees, and, positioning her left leg between his legs and her right leg alongside the outside of his left leg, she began to grind her crotch against his left hip. Lifting her left leg to his crotch, she began to rub his balls with it.
Warren's eyes bulged and his heartbeat became erratic, thumping in his chest and temples so hard he thought he might pass out. She had sucked his tongue into her mouth and was rolling her's around it, *she was <chewing> on his tongue!*, alternating between little nips at the tip with her incisors and grinding it lightly between her molars. Warren gasped deeply, forgetting to breathe through his nose, and almost choked. Betsy sent a telepathic cascade of laughter, like a babbling brook, across his mind. She continued to suck his face, tickling the roof of his mouth and licking his teeth for a while before she began to close her mouth, forcing his to close with it by sucking the air out of him. A loud, astoundingly dry, smacking sound was produced when both their lips came together and the seal was broken.
Warren let out a nervous laugh, little "huh" sounds between gasps for breath. "Wow," he whispered sincerely with glazed eyes. Betsy untied his robe and pushed it over his shoulders so that it dropped off his body. She put her hands on his hips and lowered to her knees. *Good Lord!* he thought, his head spinning, *The <kiss> almost got me off!*
Betsy cradled his genitals in her hands, cupping his sack in her palms and holding his stiff member between her thumbs. She massaged his nuts and gently kissed the head of his cock, wetting it with saliva. She tilted it upward and flattened her tongue onto his balls, slowly running it up the underside of his shaft and upon reaching the end, swiftly gulped down his entire penis, tightened her lips snugly around the base of his dick and slowly retreated to the head, which she began to polish with her tongue. Then she licked the side of his cock in a back and forth motion before taking it back into her mouth and continued to give him the best head of his life. Sucking, licking and nibbling him into new heights of ecstasy.
"Wait," he panted, heavily setting his hand on her head when he was teetering on the edge of an orgasm. She disengaged and stood, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. He was beginning to get over his initial shock and befuddlement and was ready to take a more confident and active role. He took her by the waist and guided her to the bed. He lifted her into his arms and slid onto the bed, setting her down with her head on the pillows. He opened her legs and sat between them with his legs folded under him.
She was so beautiful, lying naked on red satin, one arm lay slightly crooked at her side, the other bent in a right angle, lying palm upward. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted. Her head was tilted to one side, stretching her elegant long neck. Warren was drawn to that neck, he bent down and kissed it gently. She smelled of tropical flowers, light and sweet. He trailed kisses down her body, lingering on her breasts and belly. He was forced to untuck his legs and lie flat as he moved downward.
Now he was propped on his elbows between her silky thighs, his face only inches in front of her pussy. He reached out and placed two fingers on the soft folds of her labia, which were the same plum color of her nipples, and spread them open to reveal the glistening pink within.He touched the tip of his tongue to that pink flesh, capturing the salty tang of her juices. Betsy moaned slightly. Warren clamped his mouth onto her mound and forced his tongue inside of her, slithering it along her petal-like folds and grinding her clitoris. Betsy writhed and twisted. As Warren continued his oral ministrations she reached her first climax and began to thrash around so hard he could hardly keep his lips affixed, so he slid his arms under her legs and locked them around her thighs. He rose to his knees, lifting her hips and leaving only her head and shoulders still in contact with the bed, he pressed on with determination, relentlessly licking and sucking and pulling at her folds with his lips. She came noisily again and he was spurred on by her reaction and the musky smell of her fluids. Less than a minute later she came a third time and he stopped eating her out and set her down.
Betsy lie there catching her breath, covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, her chest and abdomen heaving. Warren leaned over and kissed her on the mouth once before inserting his dick between her wet and swollen pussy lips and into her tight channel with a low grunt. He rammed it in to the hilt, until he felt his sack come to rest between her buttocks. He was instantly enraptured by the hot sensation and saw double for a moment. He didn't really realize how much he missed this and was struck all at once by overwhelming passion, love for Betsy and joy at their sharing this, and bittersweet memories of Candy.
Taken by a brilliant spontaneous and exciting whim, he lifted Betsy's shoulders up, crossing his arms behind her back. He pressed her to his chest and rolled the two of them over. He sat up, scooched over to the edge of the bed and stood, holding Betsy off the ground by pressing one arm across her back and supporting her under the ass with the other, all the while managing to keep himself deep inside of her. Betsy squealed a little with surprise by this sudden and swift movement, reflexively grabbing his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his hips to keep from falling.
"What are you..?" she stammered, staring at him with a look of confusion. He just smiled broadly at her and didn't answer. He disabled the security on his windows by entering his code on the remote control that lay on the nightstand. He proceeded to the window, bracing her against the sill for a moment while he threw it open.
"Don't scream, please," he asked her quietly, "We've already made too much racket," he grinned and pushed forward, sending them tumbling them into the night.
"Warren!" she yelped, her eyes widening impossibly as she clutched him crushingly tight. "Are you crayzeeeeeeee?!" she hissed; to her credit, very quietly as they plunged from the second story window. Warren spread his wings wide and arched upward at the last second, Betsy's hair brushed the lawn as their momentum was redirected. They shot upward at a nauseating velocity, Warren giggled to himself at Betsy's expression. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes were shut tightly, a tear escaped from the corner of an eye and swiftly ran down her cheek, dragged by the "G" forces.
Warren stopped climbing and began to hover. Betsy shivered against him, looking ill, and cautiously opened her eyes. He began to laugh heartily.
"*You* _bastard!_" she exclaimed. He stopped laughing and looked her dead in the eyes solemnly.
"Oh, come on, Betsy! Look around you and try to tell me you don't want to be here," as he spoke, his eyes swept the sky and came to rest looking down at the mansion. Her eyes followed his. She looked at the mansion, seeming small below them, then over to the horizon and the forested Appalachian mountains, bathed in the soft moonlight. She gasped slightly and smiled, her face softening and her stifling grip loosening. The starry fall nights of urban Westchester in the New York highlands were always gorgeous, but infinitely more so from this altitude.
"Oh, Warren! I haven't flown since I was Captain Britain! It's been so long... two lifetimes ago, it seems... since I've experienced the freedom and wonder of the skies!"
"You're forgiven," she breathed and kissed him deeply.
Warren, having kept still inside her for so long began to pump his hips slowly, sliding his organ in and out in long, sensuous strokes. He held her tightly to him, burying his face in her neck and hair as she twined her legs around his and stroked and kneaded his buttocks. They screwed in a vertical position, bobbing up and down slightly against a backdrop of stars as he flapped his wings sporadically. The heat of their bodies quickly rose to protect them against the chilly autumn night.
After a few minutes Warren reoriented them, turning so that they were horizontal, with Betsy hanging underneath. He held her legs to his sides and she hooked her arms under his armpits and gripped his shoulders from behind. Confident that she wouldn't fall, he began to fly, soaring over the estate's grounds. He proceeded toward the mountains and the jet hangar, pistoning furiously and grunting while they kissed and licked all over each other's faces, throats and ears.
Soon Betsy came, spasming violently. Warren had never seen a woman react to an orgasm like she did! He was worried about one of them losing their grip, so he rolled them over so that he was facing the sky and turned back towards the estate. Betsy regained her composure and sat up, balancing across his hips and bracing her hands against his shoulders as he closed his on her waist.
She began to ride him, moving in sync with his thrusts as though they were choreographed, as if one was an extension of the other. Warren noticed that they were passing Scott and Jean's place and soon were over Breakstone lake, when Betsy suddenly straightened bolt upright. She swayed back and forth, stroking her breasts and trailing her hands up her neck into her hair, pulling it up above her head and licking her lips. She looked so ethereally beautiful to Warren, her face, breasts, and belly bathed in luminescent moonlight. She was positively aglow! Warren gazed at her long and hard, his eyes caressing her soft form, over the contours her body. He looked past his sweaty pecs and abs to their joined regions.
He watched his cock as it plunged in and out of her and felt the inevitable climax building, he moaned and growled as Betsy panted and squealed, she was going to come too. He drew her back down to him and steeled himself for it. Suddenly he felt Betsy in his mind and became disoriented by strange, alien sensations that were coming to him. He struggled to understand and realized that she was linking them, allowing him to experience what she was feeling! He felt like he was going to burst as she synchronized and shared their orgasms, literally doubling the staggering sensation. All reality seemed to explode and fall apart around him, his groin burned with the white-hot ecstasy of the senses-shattering super orgasm. Warren's muscles locked and his eyes bulged, he howled out loud and lost control of his wings. They dropped from the sky like a stone and landed in the lake's cove with a splash.
Warren was shocked by how cold the water felt against his hot skin and swallowed a lot of water before surfacing. He was barely able to tread water, his muscles felt like jelly. He scanned the water, searching for Betsy. There she was, sputtering and coughing. He doggy-paddled over to her.
"Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded with one last cough and smiled mischievously, flicking her eyebrows upward twice rapidly, as if to say "you like?" "That was un-*fucking*-be*lieve*able!" he answered to her silent query, "Pardon the pun."
"Of course," she nodded her head toward the shore and began to swim away. Warren stared, wondering where she got the energy to move that fast. Then he began to follow and was surprised that his strength was rapidly recovering.
She reached the beach, halfway between Scott and Jean's cottage and the cove's peninsula, before him. She crawled a little way inland and rolled over onto her back, propped herself up on her hands and lifted her knees. She began to slowly open and close them. Warren rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, she was absolutely relentless!
He crawled up to her and, since he wouldn't be able to get hard again for about fifteen minutes, he took one of her tits into both of his hands and leaned over to close his mouth around the nipple. He began to suck forcefully and nip at it as he ran his right hand down her abdomen and laid his palm against her bush, stroking her labia and clitoris gently with his middle finger. He worked open the folds with his index and ring fingers, and inserted his middle, followed by his index, into her vagina. Betsy shuddered and groaned as he stroked up and down, by approaching the pussy from above and arching the fingers into the channel, the clitoris was constantly stimulated, when coming at it from ahead would completely miss it. By her reaction, Betsy obviously appreciated the technique.
She ground her pelvis into the sand, thrashing her head back and forth as he noisily sucked her tits and furiously frigged her. She reached down and took Warren's limp penis into her hands, brushing it between her fingers and thumb until it was erect. She closed her fist around it just as she came, squeezing it painfully. Warren gritted his teeth until it was over and she began to slowly stroke it as if she were milking a cow; pinching the base between thumb and forefinger and pulling down. Shortly she came again, her pussy was becoming quite slick and Warren was wearing his arm out by fingerfucking her so quickly. When she climaxed a third time, he felt his drawing close.
"Spray my tits," he received the telepathic order. He frowned slightly. Being the cultured gentleman he was, he found splattering a woman slightly distasteful and disrespectful. Making her swallow was absolutely unforgiveable, that's why he told her to stop when she was blowing him. But, she was requesting it, so he was willing to do as she said. He rose to his knees and she propped herself on one elbow, taking his cock in her hand and giving a final few jerks. He breathed harshly through his teeth, squirting on her gigantic bosom. She held onto his spasming dick, and laughing with delight and aiming it like a firehose, she coated her tits. She aimed it just below the base of her throat most of the time, allowing the jizz to run down her cleavage, some of it oozed down her belly and collected in her navel. Warren gaped at the incredible amount of glistening semen that was glazing her mountainous breasts. She laid back down on the sand.
"Fuck them," she ordered, pressing the heels of her hands on the sides of her boobs and rubbing them together.
"But I just..." he protested. She cut him off by shaking her head and gesturing at his still-erect member. He was astounded, his cock was showing no signs of becoming flaccid, it was still as hard as ever. He wondered how the hell that could be, then figured it must be Betsy's doing. Mastery of the brain is mastery of the central nervous system. She was preventing the inevitable "crash" that was part of coming down from an orgasm, a fair comparison being how a drug user's system crashes when coming down from a high. *This* was a pleasant utilization of telepathic abilities he'd never thought of before!
He straddled her stomach and inserted his penis between her slippery tits. He began to pump and she squeezed his tool tight between her breasts, alternating between grinding them in a circular motion and sliding them to mirror his thrusts. The sensations were very pleasant, the softness of her plump breasts, the sticky tackiness of his come, and the warmth the friction created. He removed his hands from his hips and began to tweak her nipples, circling the bumply areolas with the pads of his fingertips and pinching and pulling the nipples gently. He continued to piston for only a couple more minutes when he felt his climax approaching, much sooner than usual. He guessed that if given the chance, men's orgasms happened closer together as they continued to have them, just as women do. Women are capable of having multiple orgasms after prolonged stimulation, orgasms so close together that you can hardly tell them apart. With Betsy, Warren could have multiple orgasms! He would have to try that sometime, and shelved the thought away. He threw his head back in the air, moaning and grunting as he came, the ejaculate spraying out from between her tits and drenching her lips, chin, and neck. Betsy was laughing again, she just loved to be coated in a man's juices. Warren guessed that one of his old habits was about to change while he was partnered with her.
Warren stood and Betsy reached for his hand. He took it and helped to pull her up. She stepped back a couple paces from him, that disturbing little grin was back. Warren was wondering what the hell she was up to when she scooped some of the jizz off of her body and smooshed her palm into his face playfully. Before he had the chance to yell and freak out, wipe his face and spit, she smashed her body against his. Holding him in a tight bear hug she licked his face and kissed him, forcing her messy tongue into his mouth. Though it was surprisingly tasteless, he was still pretty grossed out. *She really loves this stuff,* he thought to himself. Suddenly she released his mouth and tackled him into the water, making him forget all about her little trick as they wrestled and played around in the lake. They horsed around like teenagers, splashing and dunking each other, laughing and making idle threats.
After about fifteen minutes, Betsy made for the shore and Warren gave chase. He reached the beach only a few steps behind her and sprinted, knocking her to the sand. They necked for a little while and Betsy ended up lying halfway on top of him, her head on his chest as he stroked and ran his fingers through her drying hair.
"I love you, Betsy," he whispered and kissed the top of her head.Warren felt her cheek pull upward into a smile and she snuggled closer against him.
"I love you too," he heard her say as he drifted off to sleep.
A little more than three hours later, Warren awoke. He squinted against the light of the sunrise and stretched, yawning. Then his eyes snapped open as he realized that they'd fallen asleep on the beach. "*Shit!* Betsy!" he shouted, shaking her.
"What?" she moaned groggily, annoyed. Then her eyes flew open and she sat up, her eyes flicking back and forth to confirm their location. "*Shit!*" she hissed.
"I already said that," Warren quipped, standing up and brushing the sand off his naked body and shaking out his hair. Betsy did the same. "C'mon," he said, holding out his arms. She went to him and he picked her up. He covered the distance between the lake and the mansion flying low, at an altitude about equal to his height. They reached the wing that held the men's dormatory and Warren's window was directly above and still open. They were standing in front of the window to Professor Xavier's office. Warren happened to glance inside and noticed a gathering. He quickly shot upard to the second floor, hoping that they weren't spotted. He set Betsy on the window sill and she climbed in, he followed. "What's going on down there?" he asked.
"The Professor has summoned Hank, Scott, Ororo, Jean, Bishop, and Bobby. They must be briefing for a mission," she answered. He picked his robe up off of the floor and handed it to her.
"Here, get back to your room with this. I hope Charles didn't want either of us for the assignment, so that no one's looking for us," he paused. "I noticed, none of your clothes are in here. You came here like that?"
"Yes, I scanned everyone but you as being asleep and I expected you to be in here, I thought that coming to your door naked would be fun," she smiled, putting on the robe. "I was inspired by your comment last night that we should 'cut to the chase'," she quoted.
There was a knock at the door, "Hey, buddy," it was Bobby's voice. Warren and Betsy froze. The door swung open as Bobby continued, "Are you gettin' up or wha... ohboy," he whispered, staring at Betsy. Warren, though he was the one who was still naked, stepped in front of her.
"I..." Bobby stammered, averting his eyes, "The Prof sent me to..." Betsy moved around Warren and brushed past Bobby.
"Drake, *get the hell out of here!*" Warren snarled, turning him by the shoulders and pushing him out the door. Warren took a step into the hall and heard Rogue's voice.
"There you are, Betsy," she was saying, "me an' Remy were just looking for you in your room," sure enough, Remy was right behind her as usual. It was sickening, the way he tailed her every move. He made eye contact with Warren and covered his mouth, snickering. Then Rogue saw him too. She blushed and turned her back, swiftly proceeding toward the stairs. Remy opened his mouth to say something rude, and Rogue barked "Gambit!". He dropped it and followed her, stealing a backward glance to Warren, he winked and gave him a "thumbs up."
Warren covered his face with his hand and retreated into his room, slamming the door. *Even without Jubilee around, this will spread,* he thought, plopping onto his bed. He smiled, *But given the chance, I wouldn't have changed a thing.*
<Me neither, luv,> Betsy sent. This was the beginning of a beautiful realationship. No more brooding in solitary for Warren, Apocalypse was months dead and Warren had met a woman to pull him out of the darkness he'd allowed himself to grow comfortable in. It was no longer enough and he was ready to rejoin the land of the living. Pushed into action by Jubilee's biting words, he'd allowed himself to love again.
And he'd never felt so good in his life. | 3 |
365 | The Game | "Oww, it hurts... It hurts but I like it... Continue..."
"But we are not guinea pigs, we're account managers."
"Well, now to the showers, my boys. The van will leave in an hour. Have a good weekend, and see you on Monday."
The voices merged into a loud buzz, without losing their coherence. The small room was lighted only by the flickering glow of the twelve TV screens on the wall, in a 3 tall by 4 wide array. The room's occupant was masturbating slowly, watching the screens intently.
He checked Monitor 5: Brad and Fraser had just crashed in a corner, tired from their futile exploration. He pressed a button on the console in front of him, and checked Monitor 8. A wall closed behind Scott and Jonathan, separating them from Mark and Chris. Both pairs of teenagers banged on the wall, but they could not hear each other. The noise attracted Brad and Fraser, who walked towards Scott and Jonathan.
"Stop that," said Fraser, as soon as they reached the desperate teens. "You're wasting your time and energy. Are you trapped here like us?"
"What's it look like, bozo?" asked Jonathan. "And what are you supposed to be? The Canadian police? Where the hell's your horse? Get us out of here."
"Shut up, you little asshole," said Brad. "We're stuck here too."
"Yeah, Jon, shut up!" approved Scott. "It's no time to play tough guy. These guys can help us get out of here..."
"As if," said Jonathan, with a conceited smirk. "They're probably some friends of Finley." He jumped towards the wall, striking it with both feet, and yelled: "Open that!" He then paced the area nervously, making sudden impatient jerks with his arms, blowing off steam.
"Don't listen to him," said Scott to Fraser. "We were brought here by a teacher of ours, and we don't really know where he is now. I think he took advantage of us, you know... sexually." He paused for a moment, then whispered: "I think Jonathan is not taking it too well. It was humiliating, and Jon is used to be the leader, always in control."
He was looking at the floor, visibly embarrassed. Jonathan had stopped his frantic moves, and was now staring at the wall, silent.
"I think it is this place that's taking advantage of us," offered Brad. "It happened to us too... we won't get in the details. I feel like someone is playing a game with us."
"It looks like a lab, or a control room," said Scott, as he entered with the other two.
"Don't touch anything kids," said Fraser. "It can be dangerous."
"We're not kids," spouted Jonathan arrogantly. "We'll do as we want to do."
Jonathan wandered away from the others, and studied the controls attentively. He checked the others, and when he was certain they were not looking, he pressed a few buttons. Nothing happened. He checked again, then turned a large dial. Nothing happened, or so he thought until he heard Scott ask in panic:
"What did you do? Turn it back."
Jon turned around and saw that Fraser and Brad, who were standing on the white-paneled section of the room, had frozen in place. The panels themselves glowed - they were translucent, and light came from under them.
"Wait, I'm trying something here," said Jonathan, trying to appear calm and in control, slowly turning a smaller dial next to the large one.
Something was happening to the two immobile men. An aura of greenish light surrounded them, or part of them. Jonathan stopped turning the dial midway, and the glow faded; but the appearance of the men had changed. Fraser's uniform and boots were gone, and he stood in white boxers and T-shirt, and black socks; Brad had lost his jeans, T-shirt and sneakers, and he stood also in white boxers, but his torso was bare.
"Wow, this is fun," said Jonathan, excited.
"Jon, I mean it," warned Scott. "Put them back like they were."
"Scott," argued Jon, "these two may be responsible for what happened to us. Don't you want to get some revenge."
"We don't know that, Jon." Scott's tone was becoming firmer. "Turn it back."
"All right," said Jonathan. He turned the large dial back, dimming the floor panels. The two men moved, and looked confused. "Go check if they're OK..."
Scott approached the semi-clad men, but as soon as his feet were on the panels, Jonathan turned the large dial back, freezing Scott with the others. Scott first layer of clothing also vanished in a green glow, leaving him with only a T-shirt and dark patterned boxers.
Jonathan looked at his three victims in underwear. They looked so pathetic. Now, he was back in control, like it was meant to be. He noticed briefly that he had a hard-on, but focused on the many dials and buttons before wondering at the reason for his arousal.
There was an array of small dials just below the ones he had played with, and he tried playing with these. The first one he turned brought a reaction in Brad - he moved his hand towards his crotch, and started feeling his genitals through his boxers. Jon tried a second dial, which made Scott's cock grow hard and push against the fabric of his underwear. Another dial had Fraser kneel, then put his hands on the floor, waving his ass back and forth as if waiting to be fucked.
Jonathan watched Brad fucking Fraser for a while, then turned the fourth dial on Fraser's row, which resulted in him crawling towards Scott's crotch - Brad crawling behind him not missing a beat - grabbing Scott's boxers, pulling them down, and starting to suck on the rock hard stick, as if it was a lollipop.
Suddenly, an idea popped in Jonathan's head. He turned back the large dial on top almost to its original position. He watched his victims carefully as they regained consciousness, but stayed under the machine's control.
"Hard to give commands when your mouth is full?" Jonathan shouted to Fraser. "You enjoy my good friend's teenage cock, don't you Mountie? It tastes great. And you," he switched to Brad, "do you still think I'm a little asshole? Well, you seem to like assholes, don't you?"
"What are you doing to us?" yelled Brad back. "Stop this nonsense! Let us go."
"Jon," pleaded Scott. "I'm your friend, remember. Let me go."
Jonathan ignored them, curious of the other dials. He turned one on Scott's row, which seemed to have no effect...He placed one hand on the large Freeze Dial, and the other close to the top of the button column.
"That's it, Mountie Man," said Scott, "Suck on my young dick! I love it. Faster... Deeper...."
"Oooo, this is great, fucking that rough ass," said Brad.
Jonathan suddenly pressed all three buttons, and watched Brad and Scott jerk out their dicks out of their respective holes, and explode in a steady jet of hot white cum all over Fraser's face and back, while Fraser himself was spraying his belly with spurts of his own sperm. At that exact moment, Jon turned the large dial completely, freezing the scene, cum still in mid-air, in a very lifelike erotic sculpture.
Officer Kenny Mandylor stared at the large steel door in the white concrete wall, waiting for it to open. He was flanked on either side by Officer Antonio Minelli and Officer Matt White, who shared his silence. It was an anxious silence, as the three men had heard frequent rumors about the building facing them, the "Tests Inc." complex at the edge of the town of Harriston.
No one in Harriston knew what tests were performed at "Tests Inc."; no one in Harriston had ever seen the owner of the building or the company - the land had been bought by lawyers, and the construction itself was done by foreign contractors; and no one in Harriston knew what the inside of the complex looked like, because only vehicles came in and out of the site, and they never stopped in the town.
The door slid open with a grind, revealing a wide corridor with white concrete floor and shiny metal walls. As the three men slowly walked past the threshold, they felt a vague queasiness, a disorientation which made the walls appear to close in on them. Trying to look confident, they strolled down the corridor, looking for a human being. A few hundred feet later, they heard the main steel door close behind them.
"Hello?" shouted Matt. "Is anybody here? This is the police."
There was no answer.
"This place gives me the creeps," said Kenny. "Do you think this will lead to a receptionist or something? "
"The voice at the gate did say to enter from this door," answered Tony.
"Can I help you?" a female voice said from behind them.
The three policemen jumped around and saw a petite dark-haired woman in a beige business suit who stood impatiently, waiting for their answer.
"How did you get here?" asked Matt. "There's no..."
"I believe that your reason for coming here has nothing to do with my comings and goings," the woman said sharply. "We are busy, and have no time for small talk. Get to the point."
A frown appeared on Kenny's face. His hand went instinctively to his gun, as if he felt threatened.
"First things first, what is your name?" he asked.
"Dreyfuss. Julia Dreyfuss."
"Well, Ms. Dreyfuss, four high school kids were kidnapped yesterday, and we have reason to believe that they were brought here."
Ms. Dreyfuss laughed. "And what makes you think that? "
"Someone spotted one of your company vans just outside the school yesterday."
"We were collecting some data in the area," explained Ms. Dreyfuss. She scratched her head, looking annoyed. "I don't see what interest we could have in kidnapping teenagers."
"What kind of tests do you perform here?" asked Tony, a question which was burning his lips.
"I don't think that is relevant," she snapped.
"Well, I happen to think it can be pretty relevant," said Matt.
"Look, we don't use teenagers in twisted weird science experiments, if that's what you mean." Julia's voice was even sharper. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do."
"Can we take a look around, Ms. Dreyfuss?" asked Kenny. His tone made certain he would not accept a negative answer.
"All right," said Ms. Dreyfuss, "but do not touch anything. When you are finished, just come back here and I'll see you out. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
She left without further ado, through a door which they had not seen before. They continued along the corridor, trying to get a feel of the layout of the place. Of course, they did not expect the kids to pop out of a closet, or to cover the entire grounds (the place was huge!), but it gave them an occasion to snoop, and they were curious men.
It took them four hours to accept that they were lost. They had not met a single human being during their exploration, and they had seen only corridors after corridors of doors after doors of dark laboratories. They yelled in vain for another half-hour, and tried to radio out, but the abundance of metal and concrete interfered with their walkie-talkies. Kenny looked at his watch: 10:13 PM.
"I don't believe this. We're stuck in here. We've been walking in circles."
"I'm suppose to meet a girl tonight after my shift," said Matt. "I need to get out."
"It's HOT in here," said Tony, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
"That's true," said Matt.
The three men had been perspiring heavily; their black hair was completely wet; pearls of sweat rolled over their skin; and their police uniforms had large dark patches under their arms and on their backs.
They walked around for another while, until they found a room they had never seen before. It led into a small corridor with three doors and smelled strongly of chlorine. The doors on each side of them led to locker rooms, male and female, both empty, while the third one led to a large swimming pool.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" said Tony to the others.
"We can't," said Kenny, "we did not get permission. And we don't have anything to wear."
"Come on, there doesn't seem to be anybody here," said Matt. "We'll just swim in our boxers. If someone finds out, they'll tell us how to get out!"
"I don't know."
"Well, I'm going," said Tony.
They watched him as he stripped his uniform off down to his white boxers. He had the better looking body of the three, and they were a bit jealous to see it so obviously in display: the chiseled chest just hairy enough, the tall stature, the firm butt, well-outlined in his tight boxers. He dove in the pool, made a few laps, and came out. His boxers clung to his body, and had become almost transparent, leaving not much to the imagination. They could not help but look at his magnificent long cock, almost 8 inches.
"It's good," he said, "and quite relaxing. You should give it a try."
"Well, why not," said Kenny.
Both Matt and Kenny stripped down to their boxers. Kenny was wearing loose light-blue boxers, and Matt had black CK button fly boxers briefs. They both jumped in the water, and enjoyed its coolness. Tony joined them, and soon they were splashing each other, playing like kids.
"I think I lost my boxers," said Matt. He dove in, trying to look for them at the bottom of the pool, but couldn't.
On the way up, he saw that both his colleagues had lost their underwear too. Their soft cocks were floating loose in the water. When he surfaced, Tony told him:
"Our uniforms are gone too, as well as our guns."
Matt looked at the spot where they had left their clothes just a short while ago. They *had* disappeared.
"That's impossible," Kenny said. "They were right next to the pool. No one came in."
"We'll look for them later," said Matt, strangely.
For some reason, he was happy that the uniforms were gone. They were an encumbrance. In the water, he felt so free! It was just the right temperature, and it was soft, almost airy. He also enjoyed swimming in the nude, his dick and balls free to move around without any constraints.
"Yeah, later," said Kenny. Something was wrong. He should care about the clothes, the gun, their being trapped in here, but he didn't. All he could think about was the water, the airy water, the way it was gliding on his skin. He felt all his muscles loosen, especially his anus.
Tony did not add anything. He just floated away on his back, his soft cock lying on his thighs, lost in his pubic hair.
Matt dove in, and circled around Kenny. He waved the water around Kenny's legs, watching Kenny's cock follow the flow back and forth. It was also getting hard.
Matt came out of the water, and saw that Kenny's eyes were closed. "That felt good," said Kenny without opening them, "real good. Come closer," he whispered.
Matt swam to him, bringing his body so very close to him, but avoided any contact. He somehow felt the heat of Kenny's body through the water. He felt also the electricity, the life, in Kenny's body, and it tickled his own.
"What's happening?" he whispered to Kenny. "What are we doing? Oh God! This feels like heaven. Do you feel me?"
"Yes I do," answered Kenny. He moved his hands behind Matt's ass, without touching it. He moved them in little circles, and Matt felt his ass open up. He was also getting quite aroused, and his penis, growing erect, touched Kenny's, sending an intense wave of joy through both.
"Don't mind me," said Tony, smiling, floating around and jerking off as he watched his colleagues have some fun.
Matt moved his hands around both penises, and found the perfect way to stimulate them without touching. It was a degree over jerking off, as if they had reached the point of no return but stayed there, enjoying an orgasm which didn't come yet. Finally, exhausted, both men finally embraced, their bodies rubbing against each other, and they released their orgasm, their cocks spurting hot cum in the water.
"Well, well, well..." said a female voice that all three knew.
The three naked officers looked in the direction of the door, too ashamed to let more than their heads stick out of the water. Ms. Dreyfuss walked to the edge of the pool.
"If it isn't the three macho officers fooling around in our pool..." she said, rubbing it in. "I told you not to touch anything...You should have listened. This is not really water, you see. It is a new chemical compound, which enters the body through physical contact and has some interesting effects on the brains. Right now, you are drugged, and since you will not remember anything in a few hours, I might as well enjoy myself.
"What do you mean?" asked Tony. He and the others were feeling groggy, but they still were conscious of the events.
"This pool is one of our many experiments on artifacts controlling and orienting sexual desire. At the top intensities, sexual desire becomes sexless, which is why you were enjoying yourselves even though none of you is gay. I guess, anyway, judging your attitude. It also lowers mental defenses, making all of you extremely sensitive to suggestion. For example, I can tell you the following: Come out of this pool right now, and stand up. I am now your superior officer, and you must obey my orders..."
In an instant, the three policemen perceived Julia as their boss, and hurried out of the pool to stand before her. Yet, they were still aware of their nakedness, and they tried to hide their genitals with their hands.
Julia rather enjoyed having these three at her command. They were all handsome, and quite hung. These were men, not teenagers like the three mechanics she enjoyed a few hours ago.
"I have to make my inspection," she said. She started with Matt, whose innocent eyes were pleading her not to abuse of her power over him. She rubbed the hair on his chest, then spread his hands open to get a closer look at his equipment. His cock was uncut, a full seven inches coming out of thick pubic hair. She grabbed it and looked Matt in the eyes, intimidating him. She then moved over to Tony, the tallest and most hung, and kissed him, rubbing his ass. Finally, she moved to Kenny, whom she manacled with handcuffs taken out of her blouse. His hands securely behind his back, she was free to go down on him and use her tongue on his cock, until it grew hard and shiny with pre-cum.
She moved back and said to Kenny: "I want those thick lips of yours locked around the tall one's cock. As for you," she said to Matt, "come here and..." She removed her skirt (she wasn't wearing anything under) "... satisfy me."
"Yes, sir," said both men, almost in unison. Matt kneeled in front of her and used his tongue in ways she had never felt before, while she rinsed her eyes by watching Kenny, on his knees, his handcuffed hands just above his firm round ass, give head to a delighted Tony.
After a while, she sat down on the floor, and asked Tony: "Fuck me!" She then turned to the others and commanded: "You two come to each side of me. I want to have my hands full."
Matt and Kenny placed themselves on each side of her, and she grabbed their cocks, jerking them off to the same beat as the one Tony used to fuck her. The beat increased exponentially, until the three of them reached orgasm simultaneously, Matt and Kenny creaming her face, while Tony filled her up with his manly fluid.
***
When the three policemen woke up, fully dressed in their uniforms, a few hundred yards from the compound, they remembered nothing of their experiences within. The only thing they knew was that they did not want to go back in again. | 3 |
367 | The Goody Goody Girls | "What are you so upset about?" Karen asked as she rushed to catch up with Maggie who was storming down the corridor toward the front entrance of the high school.
"That little rat bastard came in my mouth!" Maggie hissed, wiping her lips with the back of her hand for the tenth time. It didn't do any good. The ripe flavor of fresh semen still lingered on her tongue, as if Norman's thick cream had permanently saturated her flesh.
"We went there to get laid," Karen reminded her friend.
"I don't care what we went there for, I never had any intentions of letting that pimply little runt shoot off in my mouth. I feel like nothing more than a human condom."
"I doubt that you're the first girl who's ever swallowed a load of cum without being warned in advance."
"I don't care if I'm the first or the last. I don't like the idea of a boy thinking he can stick his dick in my mouth and let loose with all that nasty ball juice."
"I don't know what you're so upset about," Karen mused. "By the way you were sucking his cock, I got the impression you were enjoying it. I kind of wished it had been me."
"So do I," Maggie said with a scowl, then suddenly heard herself talking and broke into a laugh. "I guess it is silly, isn't it? I just didn't expect him to squirt down my throat."
"Well, we know something Julie doesn't know."
"What's that?"
"That Norman Green is anything but queer. Did you see the way he went after eating your pussy? He really got a charge out of that."
"He got a charge?" Maggie said with a grin. "I was the one on the other end of his tongue, remember? Now that was a charge, believe me!"
"What did it feel like?"
"Like heaven," the brunette purred, pressing her legs firmly together to soak up some of her overflow still streaming from her snatch.
"And what was it like when you sucked him off?"
"Like wrapping my lips around a big fat sausage," Maggie said in a whisper, "and I could smell and taste that delightful male flavor of his. You know something?" Her eyes grew suddenly very sober. "If he hadn't cum in my mouth, I would have let him stick his cock up my pussy. I really wanted him to fuck me. I think that's the reason I was so pissed when he cut loose."
Karen made a face. "I was hoping he would fuck both of us. And you know what else?"
"What?"
"When he started cumming in your mouth, I was wishing it were me swallowing that hot cream. My monkey got all gooey and warm inside."
Maggie knew that even if Karen didn't mean it, she was trying to make them both feel better about Norman's surprise conquest in the locker room. "That's nice Karen." Her eyes suddenly bolted to the front door. "Oh terrific!" she cried as she spotted Mrs. Peters.
"What's wrong?"
"I forgot Mom was picking me up after school to do some shopping." She broke away from her friend in a brisk walk. "Would you get my Lit. book out of my locker and take it home with you?"
"Sure."
"I'll see you at seven."
"You're place or mine?"
"Call me."
Maggie and her mother were already outside by the time Karen started down the hall to collect her and her friend's text books. As she walked along, she felt the autumn breeze from an open window ply at the folds of her skirt and rush up between her legs.
The tingling softness of the fresh air currents had just kissed the outer recesses of her snatch when she stopped abruptly, suddenly aware that she was missing one of her garments. "My panties!" she gasped out loud, then flashed her eyes about the empty hall to make sure no one had heard her.
She knew only too well she had left them in the equipment locker. Maggie hadn't bothered to hand them to her with her skirt. Because of summer camp, all of her underwear had her name stamped inside. The only thing to do was to go back and retrieve them before someone else found the tiny bikinis.
Sullenly, she marched back to the dressing room and carefully pushed the door open. The place was as silent and still as the first time she'd entered it. Norman Green had obviously left, and no one else appeared to be around.
The attractive blonde tiptoed down the row of lockers and leaned over the bench. Just as her hand connected with the metal handle, she heard a voice sing out over her shoulder and her heart skipped a beat.
"Can I help you with something?"
Karen turned to find herself staring into the deep green eyes of Jerry Marshall, the new assistant coach. Jerry, twenty-two years old and fresh out of college, was a husky redhead with a powerful physique. His thick shag of curls was cut short around his handsome features. His square jaw and sturdy mouth were locked in a small grim smile as his leer raked over the pretty blonde teenager. She tried to keep her timid gaze on his face, afraid to look anywhere else. Out of her peripheral vision all she could see was male flesh, rippling contours of naked, bulging muscles. "I, ah, forgot something," she stammered.
"You forgot something in here?" he asked, finding her explanation anything but plausible.
"Well, I didn't exactly forget it. I had something stolen by some- one and it's in here."
"What was stolen?" Jerry asked, taking a step closer to the girl.
When Karen braced herself against the locker, the bench bumped into the back of her knees and that was her undoing. The moment she felt the edge of the bench against her calves, her legs went weak and flew out from under her. She sat down with a thud, finding herself staring into the redhead's swollen jockstrap.
Mr. Marshall wasn't wearing anything other than his thin athletic supporter. The tiny garment rode low on his strong waist and barely covered his spongy jewels. A fringe of wiry hairs curled along the sides of his jock and feathered the pair of freckled pillars which were his legs. Another fringe of red pubes crawled up his flat abdomen in a slender triangle terminating at his navel.
His well defined limbs and torso were covered with a thin coat of gleaming sweat. He smelled much the way Norman had smelled when the skinny team manager was bucking his hips into Maggie's face, manly and hot and anointed all over with the unmistakable aroma of cock odor.
"I'd rather not say," Karen answered in a small timid voice.
Jerry's brow furrowed. "Well, was it your wallet, your purse, a letter?"
"No," she answered, scooting her feet up to the bench. When she did, her full cotton skirt, which had fluttered up to her thighs when she sat down so abruptly, crawled further up her bare legs.
Jerry's eyes darted to the shiny, naked cunt between the girl's spread feet. She was sitting with her knees together, her skirt halfway up her thighs and her quim on view for no more than the looking. "How about your panties?" he said with a broad grin.
Karen blushed and nodded, caught so off guard by his naked magnetism that she didn't think to question how he had guessed correctly.
"Where are they?"
She turned slightly and rapped the locker behind her. "In here."
"Let's take a look and see."
Karen slid out of the way while Jerry opened the locker door. On the floor of the compartment was the tiny pair of bikinis. He raised them up with his forefinger and thumb and held them out in front of him. "Are these what you were looking for?"
She nodded and blushed again, embarrassed to see the grown man openly displaying her undergarment.
"How do I know they're yours?"
"My name's inside."
He stretched the band and peered into the brief pair of undies. "Karen Sheen. Is that you?"
"Yes," she answered.
"How can I be sure that's really your name?"
It was Karen's turn to frown. "Because I am."
"Maybe you are and maybe you aren't. Maybe you just want to steal these," Jerry said, amused at the teenager's dilemma.
"But I am Karen Sheen," Karen insisted, panic cloaking her expression. The assistant coach was right; she had nothing on her to prove her identity.
"I would presume if you're the rightful owner of these panties, it would mean you don't have any on."
The blonde dropped her eyes for a moment. "I don't."
"I think you're going to have to prove that," the redhead said in a deep, suggestive voice.
Karen shot Mr. Marshall a dubious glance. "You mean, you want me to show you that I'm naked under my skirt?"
The man nodded with his gaze fixed on her hem.
Reluctantly, the girl lowered her legs and slowly hiked her skirt up to her waist.
As the blonde's small cunt came into view, Jerry caught his breath and his cock snaked up to the waistband of his jockstrap. Being a stranger who knew no one in the small town, it had been weeks since he had gotten his rocks off, and he was hornier than hell. That coupled with the pretty girl's hot pussy was more than enough to make him throw a sizeable rod.
"See?" Karen said, raising her eyes again as she continued to hold her skirt up. "I don't have any panties on." Her words were coming in abrupt halts because she had spotted the huge boner behind the assistant coach's jockstrap. She had meant to demonstrate that the garment was hers then lower her skirt, but the redhead's hardon -- after the young lady had watch her friend suck off Norman -- was too damn appealing to pass up.
"I see," Jerry said, bringing the skimpy undies to his face. "But there's only one way to be really sure." He rubbed his nose in the crotch of the undies, inhaling the faint sweet smell of pussy without taking his eyes off Karen, then dropped to a squat in front of the girl. "Let me see if the smell in the panties is the same as yours." His voice was a harsh whisper.
Karen widened the spread of her knees as the redhead's face drew nearer. She could feel his warm breath on the insides of her thighs and was overcome by the potent odor of his maleness.
Jerry's face leaned in between the girl's legs until his nose was grazing against her sparse pubic bush. His nostrils flared as he sniffed up and down the pretty little cunt, his eyes fixed on the soft pink interior and the swollen clit at the top.
"Is the smell the same?"
"Yes," he answered heavily, panting like a man who had just run the hundred yard dash. "Would you mind if I ..." His tongue shot out and stabbed gently into her almost hairless snatch.
"Oh, Mr. Marshall!" Karen moaned as she felt his tongue squirm between the lips of her juicy quim.
"Jerry," he corrected before he sucked her tiny box into his mouth, eating every hidden, tasty recess his tongue could reach.
"Jerry," she purred, splaying her legs farther and wiggling around on the bench.
He raised up and hunched over her as he undid her blouse and unhooked the clasp of her bra between the lacy little cups. Her large, creamy white breasts bounced into view, her tiny nipples as hard as pointed pebbles. "Your tits are lovely, Karen," he said. licking the flat of his tongue across each one and leaving a trail of saliva. He stood between her legs with his knees pressing into her thighs. "Take my jockstrap off."
The blonde didn't have to be told twice. Her hands raced to the knit waistband and shoved the supporter down to the assistant coach's ankles. His hard meaty cock snapped out and vibrated against her tits. Mr. Marshall may not have been as large as Norman, but his erect peter certainly rivalled the size of Mike's pecker. The knob was a deep purple, the shaft, thick and etched with veins that webbed down into a dense orange bush and a pair of large cum swollen balls.
"Kiss my cock, Karen."
She pressed her lips against the fleshy glans already wet with his pre-cum, then took the head into her mouth. She had suctioned the ring of her lips halfway down the wide shaft and was toying with his huge balls when he suddenly pulled his pelvis back, cheating her of any further oral homage.
"I can't take much more of your hot cock sucking or I'll shoot off in your lovely throat."
Karen thrust her face against Jerry's throbbing dick, pressing the hard pecker against his belly while she showered the dorsal side with kisses. "I love your cock," she purred, knowing she didn't dare tongue it too much or he would cum.
"Karen," he said, stepping out of the jockstrap roping his ankles and laying her back on the bench, "I want to fuck you."
"Oh, yes!" she moaned, parting her legs for him and pulling his trim waist into the spread of her thighs. "Fuck me, Jerry. Shove your hard cock up my hot pussy, please!She could hear the pleading whine of her voice echo in the boys' dressing room as he positioned her legs around his muscular thighs so her ankles locked on the firm pillow of his naked ass.
Jerry stabbed the bloated head of his rod into the tight, juicy quim, then froze, his eyes puzzling as he looked into Karen's heated face. "Are you a virgin?" He had felt the thin membrane start to tear with his initial thrust.
"Yes," she said warmly, "but it doesn't matter. I want you to take my cherry. Fuck me, Jerry! Please, fuck me!"
He withdrew until just the tip of his dick was kissing her cunt, then stabbed as hard as he could. Her membrane shattered in an instant. His shaft sailed up her snatch until his heavy balls were snugged against her asshole. Both of them were panting hard and sweating. "Are you okay?"
"Oh, yes!" she answered, so hot from finally getting a man's hardon in her pussy that she barely noticed the destruction of her cherry. Assured that the blonde girl was in no discomfort, Jerry began pistoning his fat ram in and out of the freshly deflowered quim, bucking his ass high on the out strokes and dropping his hips down to plunge even deeper with each additional thrust. In no time at all, Karen was hunching her hips up to meet his onslaught as they both got closer and closer to their climaxes.
"I'm cumming!" she finally cried, feeling the heated spiral well up inside her.
"Feel that?" he asked, as he halted with his cock buried deep in her snatch. His dick spasmed wildly as his balls shrunk into his groin.
"Yes!"
"I'm filling your little cunt with my cum, Karen."
"It's fantastic," she purred.
After a few moments of his swollen knob spitting out its hot load up inside of her, he pulled out. His peter had started to wilt by the time he reached for her panties. "Do you want to clean up before putting these on?"
"No," she said, slipping the undies on and snapping her bra. "I want to take you juices with me."
"I know what you mean," Jerry said, yanking his jockstrap up over his hips. "I'm going to beat off thinking about you later tonight and smelling your twat on my hand."
"I wish you'd fuck me again."
"I don't know, Karen. It's pretty dangerous for me, being my first year here and all. If anyone caught me balling one of the students, it'd be my job for sure."
"I won't tell anyone, I promise." She stood to her feet, smoothed out her skirt and brought her lips up to his mouth.
His tongue met hers outside their faces, then he sucked it inside as her hands slid down to the bare cheeks of his humpy ass.
"You kiss as good as you fuck," she laughed as he pulled away.
"You'd better get out of here before we get caught."
She nodded and took a last look at the sexy redhead dressed in only his skimpy jockstrap, the pouch wet with what she knew was partly her own juices. "When will I see you again?"
"We'll figure out something," he promised, steering her toward the door. | 4 |
391 | Chet's Girls | "for either you or Susan to get pregnant and deliver a live, healthy son before one of the chicks in Carl's coop pulls the trick. That's out of the question, of course, and we won't even discuss it."
"Well, I can certainly see why you waited for Thea to go to bed before breaking the news to us," Susan said, "and since you did wait, I can only assume that you do want to discuss it."
"No, I don't," Chet replied much too hastily. "I only waited for Thea to go to bed because I knew that we would be talking about Carl's family and the fact that they would be fucking like rabbits, and I don't think that Thea should be exposed to such talk yet. Since you were sixteen, Marsha and I have had no secrets from you. You know that we swing, we know that you have a quite active sex life, so we can say anything in your presence, but I want to keep Thea out of this. She's only fourteen."
"Tomorrow's Thea's birthday," Marsha reminded him. "She'll be fifteen."
"So what," Chet snapped almost in anger, "she's still just a child. I don't want her even thinking of sex before she is sixteen."
"Oh crap. Daddy, this is 1976, not 1880. I lost my cherry when I was fourteen and so did Mom-my. She told me."
"What the hell is this?" Chet cried, staring from his wife's face to his daughter's. "You two act like you want Thea in on this—like—like—you're both considering getting pregnant, and on top of that—like—like you actually want Thea in on it. I won't hear of it—case closed."
"Get serious, Chet," Marsha said flatly, "we have all been waiting for that money too long and too hard to try to pretend now that it doesn't mean that much to us now. I want another baby about as much as I want TB, but damnit. I'm game. You know I haven't been on the pill for about six months now, because the doctor told me to take a break. Just forget using rubbers for a while, and let's get started."
Chet's entire face lit up. "All right, all right," he said, running his hands through his long, dark hair, "uhh, how about you, Susy? I mean—uhh— you don't have to if you don't want to, but..."
"You know I will, Daddy. I'm going to have babies one of these days, anyhow, so why not now. Only problem is the dude I'm going with now is a great lay, but a loser just about every other way, and I don't want a baby by him."
"As pretty and as popular as you are, darling," Marsha said, "I'm sure you won't have any problem finding the man to do it. Just get started soon, I'm sure that Betty and all three of her girls are flat on their asses right now with men standing in line to fuck them.
"Get on the phone and call somebody right now. Thea sleeps like a log. You can fuck right out here in the living room, or take him to the family room in the basement." "Oh Mom, I don't want to be difficult, I swear it," Susan wailed, "but I can't think of a single boy. Give me some time to think—don't rush me."
"Take all the time you want," Marsha said, getting up from the couch, and reaching for Chet's hand, "just get a man over here tonight. I'm going into the bedroom now with Chet for my first injection. Let's me and you have a race—the last one pregnant is an old douche bag."
All Marsha had been wearing was a loose minidress, and as she preceded her husband into the master bedroom, she shucked the tiny garment over her head.
Chet never tired of looking at the sexy, compact little bodies of his wife and older daughter, and his massive cock sprang so hard as he gazed at her firm, bold, succulent-looking ass cheeks that he hastily unzipped his pants to give it breathing room.
As he hurried out of his clothes, he wondered who the lucky stud was who would soon be doing to Susan out on the couch the same thing that he was about to do to Marsha in bed. "I'll bet her little pussy is as hot and tight as all shit," he mused to himself as he pulled off his shorts and T-shirt and fell into bed between Marsha's spread thighs.
"This has really got me hot, honey," Marsha whispered as she reached down between them to guide Chet's long, thick, beloved cock into her moist, burning cunt. "I feel like I felt when we were trying for the girls. Remember how hot I stayed, couldn't get enough?"
"God yes," Chet groaned, marveling at Marsha's tightness, her slickness as he shoved his cock deep into her steamy love channel, "me, too. Your pussy seems to get better when you're in heat like this—Jeezz, I love to fuck you anytime, but shooting for a baby is pure heaven."
"How is this going to affect our swinging?" Marsha asked, swiveling her ass up to meet his thrusts, loving the impact of his cockhead bouncing off her womb. "I mean, what if I get pregnant by somebody else?"
"Don't sweat it," Chet grunted, really slugging cock into her receptive body now for all he was worth, "we need all the help we can get. In fact, we should increase the swinging action, invite more men, accept more invitations. We've got to make it, baby."
"Well, I hope Susy will get off of her ass and get into the act," Marsha said. "These kids today pretend to be so sexually free and sophisticated, but put them to the test, and they're just as square and hung-up as we were."
"Don't worry about her," Chet grinned. "I left the bedroom door open on purpose. If seeing us in action doesn't get her ready to fuck anything with a cock, her case is hopeless anyway."
"You sneaky bastard," Marsha giggled, peeking over Chet's shoulder into the lighted living room. "Oh my gosh, your strategy is backfiring."
"What do you mean?"
"She's sitting on the couch, staring right in here at us, and frigging her clit as though there were no tomorrow."
"Oh shit, this I've got to see," Chet whispered hoarsely, ducking his head as though he were about to begin sucking her nipple.
Looking back under his own armpit, Chet's breath caught sharply as his bugged eyes fell on the most exciting scene that he could remember ever having witnessed.
Susan was sitting with one of her legs draped over the arm of the couch and the other lying flat out on the couch cushion. Her red bikini panties hung in a wrinkled ring around her left ankle, and she held the hem of her mini up to her breasts with her left hand as she frantically fanned her turgid clit with three stiffened fingers of her right.
"Oh God, darling, fuck me—fuck me harder— I'm coming!" Marsha shrieked suddenly, triggering Chet's orgasm, which had begun to rise as soon as he saw what his daughter was doing.
"Arrgghhhh!" Chet groaned wrenchingly, humping like a rabbit before stiffening and allowing his thick, hot come to spurt achingly into Marsha's womb.
Susan leaped to her feet and, with her panties still dangling from her ankle, dashed hurriedly into her and Thea's bedroom. As she closed the door softly behind her, her eyes sprang wide and her breath caught sharply.
Thea was naked on her bed, lying—or almost lying, since only her head, shoulders, and feet were visible—on her back, with her legs spread wide and her fingers busily working in and out of her glistening, hairless pussy. | 4 |
414 | Tease | "Hi."
I look up to see a girl standing in the doorway of my office. She is a first-year student who is taking my set theory class. I think her name is Melissa. She is smiling, and I smile back.
"Hello, how can I help you?" I'm in a particularly good mood. I've just heard that I've had a paper accepted in a reasonably prestigious journal, so smiling is coming naturally at present. Of course, it is hard not to smile when a pretty girl smiles at you. It seems that their smiles release happy-particles into a male's bloodstream. When you are younger, it can leave you grinning like an idiot; of course, as a mature lecturer of twenty-eight, I am thankfully past that stage.
"Can I come in, Dr. Edwards?" she asks tentatively, her expression revealing nothing of her reasons.
"Sure."
As she enters, I idly note her clothes: she is dressed in figure-hugging blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. The t-shirt is a little bit too taut. That is, too taut for my peace of mind, for it is stretched tightly over her breasts, making them beacons for my eyes. I can certainly testify that there is nothing strange about these attractors. Normally, whatever the provocation, I'm very careful about ensuring that my appreciation of female students isn't detectable; there are enough pitfalls for a male lecturer as it is, but I could tell that this time was going to be extra taxing on my nerves.
"It's Melissa, isn't it?"
"Yes." And I'm rewarded with another smile. Smiles like that could become addictive.
Melissa takes a seat and launches into her problem, "I'm having trouble with your last couple of lectures. I don't really understand this `ZFC' set theory."
There's nothing like a chance to lead another soul to see the light of axiomatic set theory to take this mathematician's mind off more earthly matters. Thus engaged, my enthusiasm quickly leads me into explaining the necessity of putting naive set theory on a sound footing, and I start to describe the role of formal axiomatization in this. I then proceed to enumerate the axioms of ZFC and explain where they come from. However, I'm not so blinded by my enthusiasm to fail to monitor the glassy-eyed-ness of my audience. I've bored far too many people to make that mistake.
After a while, I become aware that Melissa is licking her lips and looking at me strangely. It puts me off my stride, and I lose my concentration. Unaccountably, I find myself blushing. Melissa just looks up at me innocently. I suddenly notice that her nipples are visible now, little mole-hills which have sprung up on her otherwise smooth t-shirt. Why would they have done that? I master myself and bring my eyes back to my scribble on the whiteboard. Now, where was I?
Melissa supplied the answer, "You were just about to start explaining what the axiom of choice means," almost as though she could read my thoughts.
I look up, and nearly lose myself in her twinkling eyes. Is she laughing at me? No, but she seems aware of the spark which has passed between us.
"What I'm having trouble with is...," she breathed, as she rose from her chair to stand next to me and point at the board.
I confess, "I'm sorry, I missed that." Her delicate perfume assaulted my nostrils as she stood beside me, and suddenly parsing her sentence was the last thing on my mind. She repeats her sentence while stretching and pointing to a formula at the top of the board. I'm mesmerized by the resulting lifting and straining of her breasts. It is suddenly very hot and stuffy in my office. Now, what did she say again? Rather than reveal my inattention, I talk generally about the axiom in question.
"Yes, but how do you know that sets have that property? It's a little bit arbitrary, isn't it?" Melissa brushes against me as she points to part of the axiom, her breast squashing slightly against my arm.
I retreat behind the safety of my desk before replying. It was getting much too difficult to think with sweet Melissa so close. Unbidden, I'm suddenly reminded of the lyrics of a song by The Police,
"Young teacher, the subject, of school-girl fantasy,
She wants him, so badly, that's where she wants to be ...
Don't stand so,
Don't stand so,
Don't stand so close to me."
They suddenly seem all too relevant, and I develop a new sympathy for the hapless teacher of the song. Of course, the real situation is that Melissa has been behaving above reproach, and there is no evidence that I'm the subject of one of her fantasies; it is only me who is having trouble with my baser instincts. In particular, my desire to pull her into my arms, crush her ruby lips under mine, caress her tantalizing breasts, suck on her pert nipples, and fuck her. Another reason for my retreat was to hide a growing bulge.
Did I catch her looking at my crotch before she raised her big innocent eyes and fixed them on my face? I can't tell. And is that sensual, surreptitious licking of her lips with her tongue a come-on, or an unconscious action? Her eyes reveal nothing; they are simply questioning, awaiting my answer, but they sparkle.
At that moment, a colleague, Andy, barges in and reminds me that we have a faculty meeting this morning. Apologizing to Melissa, I suggest that she comes back another time. Andy and I both watch as she leaves my office. Was that hip swing deliberately provocative?
"She's a firecracker! What a cute ass!" Andy exclaims.
I give a non-committal grunt, inwardly deploring his outspoken lechering and crudeness, although honest enough to admit that similar thoughts had occurred to me.
We head off to the faculty meeting.
CHAPTER: 2. Confession
"How was your day, babe?" I ask Liz when she picks me up after work.
"Not too bad, but I did have a sad case of a fifteen-year-old with a probable ectopic."
Liz's work as a doctor is so much more dramatic than mine. My day consists of giving lectures, attending meetings, and, if I'm lucky, some time to think about my research.Her day consists of breaking the news to someone that they have cancer, or fighting to ensure a baby is born safely. There is no comparison. Not that I'd swap for any money.
"Will she be all right?"
"Probably. We should be able to save her ovary and tube. How was your day, love?"
"Fine. Pretty normal, only I did have a boring faculty meeting this morning." I consider briefly whether or not to mention Melissa. Knowing Lizzy, I decide to tell her. "One highlight was this cute student who came to my office this morning."
"Oh yes?" There is a playful hint of suspicion in Liz's voice.
"Yes. She was wearing the tightest t-shirt over her full breasts you've ever seen," I exaggerate slightly. "She kept on giving me these seductive smiles, and she made sure she brushed her breasts across my arm."
Liz is wearing a mock frown. "Were her breasts as nice as mine?", she asks, taking a hand from the wheel to cup one of her beautiful breasts through her blouse.
"Mmm, let me see... you know, I can't remember what yours look like. Perhaps I ought to remind myself." I lean over to start to undo her buttons, but Liz slaps my hand away.
"Not while I'm driving, you maniac!"
I laugh. We've done some mad things while driving, but not on the short drive home from work in broad daylight.
"So," Liz continues her cross-examination, "did she make you hard?"
"Yes. I had to hide it on the way to the Faculty Office."
"Ahh, poor baby," Liz laughs.
Our easy-going attitude is built, not on a promiscuous philosophy or lifestyle, but on trust. There is no way either of us would be unfaithful to the other.
This morning I gave my First Years another lecture on set theory. I was acutely conscious of Melissa's piercing blue eyes upon me the whole time. However, I succeeded in ignoring her and not letting it interfere with the usual theatrical entertainment which I provide for them in a vain attempt to keep their interest for an hour. I couldn't help noticing, however, how beautiful she looked, her face framed in her delightful blonde locks. Melissa came up to me afterwards and contrived to press against me again as she reached over to pick up a copy of the question sheet I'd prepared for them. She was the only one who was this clumsy. I felt my cock harden slightly, but I couldn't prevent a pang of guilt at such a response when she looked up innocently at me and apologized for her clumsiness. Did she know my eyes were on her as she crossed the room? Was that roll of her hips natural, or was it put on for my benefit? If she was still a few years younger, she'd definitely be what they call "jail-bait". As it was, she was still dangerous enough.
Liaisons between students and staff are so frowned upon that it is dangerous to even think about forming one. Certain feminists on campus seem to have ESP for such thoughts.
Not, of course, that I was seriously considering anything. Liz is more than enough woman for me. But Melissa provokes certain fantasies, however much they are obviously going to have to remain as fantasies.
I successfully dismissed Melissa from my thoughts for the rest of the day, until, that is, she turned up in my office at six o'clock. I was still there as Liz was working late tonight. The hours that junior doctors work is criminal, especially given that one day it will be my life that a dead-tired doctor is looking after. Melissa knocked and entered.
I immediately noticed that she was dressed differently; she had swapped her t-shirt for a blouse and her jeans for a skirt. The blouse was not as tight as her t-shirt had been, but it was more sheer, promising, but not delivering, glimpses of paradise. Perhaps more importantly, its first few buttons were undone. Melissa wasn't indecent, but my imagination quickly made her so.
Remembering my position, I quickly brought the subject of set theory up, hoping that it would detract me from her sensual lips, the sweetness of which called out to be tasted. It soon transpired that she had been doing some background reading, and that her questions were more sophisticated today. I mentally harangued myself for ever thinking her motives were other than professional. Surely this industry put the matter beyond question?
Delighting in the attention of an interested and intelligent student, I soon found myself going beyond my lecture material and touching upon the Borel Hierarchy. Or was it that I kept talking so that I could remain in the presence of those blue eyes?
After a while, I noticed that Melissa was idly fiddling with a gold necklace, and that her toying had caused another button to slide undone. Unconsciously, while I continued talking, I stared at the start of the gentle swell of flesh that could now be seen. When I noticed what I was doing, I searched her face for an indication that she was toying with me as well, but found only innocent concentration. Liz must be right, my mind must be one-track.
However, Melissa's next actions caused me to question her motives all over again. She tucked one of her legs under her, in the process giving me a glimpse of her white thighs. Fidgeting, she managed to repeat this torture. Now, once could be an accident, but three times? Again her eyes twinkle with her natural vivacity, making it impossible to be sure if her innocence is true or only assumed, a cruel facade. A facade I'd love to tear down and expose, along with her breasts, which I have come to believe are braless under her blouse.
Of course, uncertainty prevents me from doing or saying anything. A wrong move could have her running screaming from my office, my career in ruins. My lusts are indeed "sickled over with the pale cast of thought" to a degree which even rivals Hamlet's tragic dithering. The ambiguity in the nature of his father's ghost was as nothing compared to the ambiguity of the nymph in my office. Is she the purest of angels, or the wickedest tease this side of hell? Scholar or wanton?
Any action in such circumstances is, of course, perilous. Moreover, I never trust my reasoning when my erection is throbbing like this. Hence, I continue talking about sets, while sex is all I can think about. I manage to keep going for a few minutes, until Melissa decides to stretch. The shifting, thrusting, and straining of her gentle breasts within, makes her blouse a magnet for my eyes, and my thoughts dissolve like the mist.
"Sorry, I'm getting a little tired," Melissa apologizes into my pause. "I still have a few questions however. Do you mind if I come back and ask you some more questions another time?"
It would take a stronger man than me to turn down such a request. "Of course not," I say, managing to keep all signs of arousal out of my voice. I hope.
As Melissa walks out the door, the apt phrase "She's a seven-sector call-out" from a favorite childhood science-fiction book springs to my mind. A beauty she certainly is, but is she also a saint or a witch?
My answer comes as she turns in the doorway, revealing her completely unbuttoned blouse and magical breasts. For a second, we are both frozen, and then she is gone. I rush to the door in time to see her hurrying down the corridor.
The wicked tease! | 4 |
424 | null | "I take after Dracula," Howell muttered. "Sunlight is hazardous to my health."
"Get out there, or...."
"I'm going, I'm going..." Howell staggered out the door.
Mrs. Howell put a cork in the bottle, and stashed it back in Thurston's cabinet. She sat down at her dressing table, and looked at herself in the mirror.
"Now. If the Professor and Gilligan were fooling around with Ginger and Mary Ann, and Thurston was passed out like he always is, then the only person who could have been with me was... the Captain." She winked at herself in the mirror.
"I do remember how sore I was the next morning. The Captain must be hung like my halfback." She turned in her chair, thinking aloud. "I've got to get some of that fruit."
Mary Ann was coming.
"Nnnnnnngggggghh!" she gasped, "Oooooooooohhhh!"
She shook her head from side to side, her fingers pinching her nipples, her pelvis tilting forward and back against Ginger's fingers, tongue and jaw.
Ginger sat back, lifting her head from Mary Ann's crotch, leaving her fingers inside her pussy.
Mary Ann collapsed against the sand. Ginger crawled up beside her, and lay her head on Mary Ann's breast. She kept her hand where it was. Mary Ann squeezed her legs together, holding Ginger's hand in place.
"Gosh, that was good," Mary Ann whispered. "Who needs men?"
"Men are good for some things, though."
"Yeah, somebody's got to open the pickle jars."
Ginger giggled. "On the other hand, there's nothing feels as good as a hard cock..."
"Well, try this," Mary Ann said, pushing Ginger over onto her back. She reached down and pushed Ginger's legs apart and slipped down between them.
The Skipper was collecting shellfish for supper. He was up to his knees in the water, bending over, fumbling through the sandy bottom for them.
Mrs. Howell had just strolled to the lagoon, and spotted him. She stood, admiring the view of the Skipper's rear end, imagining that she could see his sex organs hanging down under it.
"Yoo hoo, Captain!" Mrs. Howell called.
The Skipper straightened up, his hands full of shells. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Howell."
"Do you need some help with that?"
The Skipper looked at her. "In all the years we've been here on this island, this is the first time you've offered help."
As he said it, a sliver of a memory of one other time... no... that must have been a dream.
Lovey smiled at him. "There's a first time for everything."
She rolled up her pant legs, and waded out into the lagoon toward the Skipper. He moved toward her. When they reached each other, the Skipper handed her the shells he had collected, and turned back to get more.
She watched him bend over again, wanting to reach out and caress his bottom. She turned, reluctantly taking her eyes from his ass, and took the shells to shore.
The Professor held the flask to the light, swirling the clear juice. "Very nice," he said, turning to Gilligan.
They had mashed the fruits, and strained the juice using an improvised centrifuge. The fruits had produced a little over 30 cubic centimeters of juice.
"Why didn't you use all the fruit?" Gilligan asked, holding up the three remaining yellow globes.
"Simple," the Professor smiled. "Seeds."
"Oh." Gilligan set the fruits back on the Professor's lab table. "Oh! I get it. We can plant these and grow more."
The Professor nodded and smiled. "We're all ready for tonight."
Ginger looked down her body at the dark-haired Mary Ann, who had her face buried in Ginger's pussy.
"Oh gosh.... mmmmmmm," she moaned.
Mary Ann raised her eyes, looking up at Ginger, her lips fastened around Ginger's clit, her fingers inside her pussy.
Ginger raised up on her elbows, and threw her head back. Her body was shaking, and she rolled her pelvis against Mary Ann's mouth.
"Oh! Oh!" she gasped, "Yes.... yes.... yesssss"
Her body seemed to explode, a rolling wave of orgasm sweeping over her.
She collapsed to the sand. Mary Ann crawled up her body, kissing her way up Ginger's torso, pausing a moment at her breasts, then proceeding on to kiss her lips.
They lay together, wordlessly, exhausted on the sand.
The Skipper and Mrs. Howell carried the baskets of shellfish to the compound, setting it on the table in their cooking area. They looked around for Ginger or Mary Ann.
Not finding them, the Captain gathered some firewood to start a pot boiling to steam the shellfish.
"I'll be back after a while," Mrs. Howell said, gently.
The Skipper nodded, absently.
Mrs. Howell walked past her own hut, listening to hear Thurston mumbling to himself. He was back inside the hut again, probably drinking.
She walked quietly to the Professor's hut. She tapped at the door.
"Professor?"
There was no answer. She pushed the door open and crept inside. She looked around, and spotted the bright yellow fruits on the lab table. She slipped one of the fruits into her bra, between her breasts.
She slipped back out the door, and closed it behind her.
Ginger and Mary Ann walked into the 'kitchen'.
"Let us take over now, Skipper," Mary Ann smiled.
"Okay," he nodded, and wandered back toward the lagoon.
After supper that evening, Ginger and Mary Ann got up to fetch desert. The Professor nodded at Gilligan. He then picked up the pitcher and refilled all of their drinking cups. Gilligan distracted the others, while the Professor slipped some of his juice into Ginger and Mary Ann's cups.
The girls returned with another banana creme pie. The Professor and Gilligan smiled as they watched Mary Ann and Ginger drain their cups.
The Professor volunteered to help Mary Ann with the dishes. She looked at him with a strange expression on her face.
They cleared the table, and carried them to the washtub.
Mr. Howell yawned, and said "I think I need a drink." He got up and headed toward his hut.
"Thurston," Mrs. Howell said, then she got up and followed him to their hut.
Gilligan looked across the table at Ginger. She batted her eyes at him.
"Did you want to say something, Gilligan?" she asked.
"W-W-Would you like to take a walk?" Gilligan stammered.
"Why would I want to walk with you?" Ginger pried.
"There's something down at the beach I want to show you."
"Oh," Ginger smiled. "Well, okay then..."
Gilligan scrambled to his feet. Ginger got up gracefully. The two of them walked off toward the lagoon, leaving the Skipper alone at the table.
The Skipper sat there for several minutes, picking his teeth. Soon he began to hear a sound something like a moose with a head cold. Mr. Howell must have fallen asleep.
The Skipper smiled and shook his head. How could his wife have stood that all these years?
He turned around and leaned back against the table, his toothpick stuck in the corner of his mouth. He looked up at the starry sky.
"All I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by," he muttered.
The door to the Howells' hut opened, and Lovey stepped out. She looked over to the table and spotted the Skipper. She strolled up and sat down beside him on the bench.
"He's unusually loud tonight," the Skipper commented.
"Yes."
They sat silently for a few minutes.
The Skipper looked up at the stars. While he was looking away, Lovey quietly slipped the yellow fruit out of her bra and put it into the fruit basket on the table.
The Professor and Mary Ann worked quietly, the Professor washing, Mary Ann drying the dishes. Every once in a while they would look at each other and smile.
The dishes finally done, the Professor dried his hands. He turned to Mary Ann.
"Would you like to take an after-dinner stroll?"
Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. "Sure."
They walked together slowly down the path toward the sweetwater pool.
About halfway there, Mary Ann reached out and took his hand, and they strolled hand-in-hand to the pool.
Lovey cleared her throat. The Skipper looked over at her. She took a banana from the fruit basket.
"You're not going to let me eat alone, are you?" she asked.
The Skipper shook his head. He reached for the fruit basket, but Lovey took the yellow fruit from the basket and handed it to him.
His face lit up. "I thought these were all gone!" He bit into it.
Lovey smiled. She took the entire peeling off the banana, slowly and deliberately.
The Skipper took another bite.
Lovey nibbled one end of the peeled banana.
Gilligan and Ginger reached the lagoon. He picked up a few shells on the beach and began to skip them into the surf.
Ginger watched for a few minutes, then said, "Is this what you brought me here to see?"
Nervously, Gilligan turned to face her. "No.... ummm..."
He stepped up closer to her. He stood, nervously shifting from foot to foot.
She batted her eyes at him. "Yes, Gilligan?"
Finally, he leaned forward quickly and kissed her, a quick peck on the lips.
He stepped back, half expecting her to slap him. She reached out and took his head between her hands, and pulled it toward her, planting a kiss on him that would melt steel.
Mary Ann and the Professor reached the sweetwater pool. The moon reflected off the pool and the shimmering waterfall.
They turned to face each other, and the Professor wrapped his arms around her. She melted in his arms, tilting her head back. He kissed her tenatively, then with more passion, and she returned the kiss.
Lovey wrapped her lips around the banana, drawing it into her mouth sensually.
The Skipper's jaw dropped, and he stared, watching her fellate the banana.
The Professor dropped to his knees in front of Mary Ann, and untied the knot in her blouse. It dropped open, revealing her lovely, firm breasts and dark brown nipples.
He took first one, then the other nipple between his lips, tickling the tip of each with his tongue and sucking gently.
She ran her fingers through his hair, her head tilted back, her eyes closed.
Ginger dropped her hands to Gilligan's waist, and untied his drawstring pants. They fell to the sand.
She wrapped her fingers around his erection, and whispered in his ear, "Is this what you brought me here to see?"
Gilligan gulped, and nodded.
Ginger dropped to her knees and sat back on her heels. She turned his dick to the left, to the right, then up and down, examining it from all angles.
She looked up and smiled. "Gilligan, I think it's a penis."
Lovey finished her banana, the Skipper still staring, his hands shaking.
She reached across the table and gripped his hand.
"Come on," she whispered.
"M-m-mrs. H-h-howell," he stammered.
"Lovey... please," she smiled.
"I-I-I don't think that..."
"Shhhh," she whispered. "Don't worry about Thurston. Listen. You can still hear him snore.She stood up and pulled the Skipper to his feet, and led him down the pathway into the jungle.
Ginger wrapped her lips around the end of Gilligan's cock, swirling her tongue around his cockhead.
Gilligan moaned, unconsciously bucking his hips, pushing his penis further into her mouth.
"Easy, now, Gilligan," she said, gripping him firmly. She applied her lips and tongue to his cock again, cupping his balls with one hand, a firm grip on his shaft with the other.
Mary Ann moaned softly as the Professor kissed his way down her belly, pushing his tongue into her navel. His hands worked gently at her shorts, unbuttoning them. They slid down her legs, and she stepped out of them. She dropped her open blouse off her shoulders and stood naked in the moonlight. The Professor sat back on his heels, looking at her.
She turned, slowly. "Like what you see?"
"Prettiest girl on the island."
"Hummph. That's not saying much."
"Prettiest girl I've ever seen."
"That's better." She leaned over and kissed his lips. "Now it's your turn. Stand up."
He scrambled to his feet. Mary Ann unbuttoned his shirt, and slipped it back over his shoulders. She ran her hands down his hairless chest and down his belly. She unfastened his trousers, and let them drop. Then she pulled his boxer shorts down over his ass, and they joined his other clothing on the ground. He stepped out of his shoes as he freed his feet from his pants, his penis erect and throbbing.
"Last one in's a rotten egg," she said, and dashed for the pool.
The Professor wasn't far behind her. They hit the water at the same time, splashing into the cold water. They dove down, kissing under water, then broke the surface in an embrace, their feet just touching bottom as their heads bobbed at the surface. They held each other tightly.
Gilligan tugged off his shirt and cap, and stepped out of his pants.
Ginger stood up and turned around.
"Unzip me," she said.
Gilligan fumbled for the zipper pull, then worked it slowly down her back. The dress opened up, revealing her bare back -- no bra straps. The zipper ended just at the crack of her ass.
She shrugged out of the dress facing away from her, and let it drop slowly.
Gilligan stared at her ass, so round, so firm, so fully packed. He reached out and caressed it, gently, his hands shaking.
Mary Ann wrapped her legs around the Professor's hips, clinging to him in the water. As they kissed, she worked herself up him, until the tip of his penis was just at the entrance to her pussy. She lowered herself on him, taking his thick cock fully inside her.
The Professor stood in the water, marveling at how the differential in ambient temperature between the aqua pura and Mary Ann's internal vaginal temperature... What the hell... the cold water made her cunt feel even hotter.
He gripped her tighter.
Lovey and the Skipper found a small clearing in the jungle and sat down.
Lovey wrapped her arms around the Skipper's neck and kissed him gently on the lips.
He hesitated a moment, then returned the kiss. She opened her mouth, and his tongue danced inside.
She slid over into his lap, running one hand over his barrel chest, outside his shirt.
Ginger turned around, giving Gilligan a good look at her firm, pink-nippled breasts, and the red-haired patch below. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him again.
They sank to their knees on the sandy beach. She pushed Gilligan backwards, and he lay on his back. She moved quickly into a sixty-nine position on top of him, lowering her pussy over his face, as she drew his penis between her lips.
Gilligan dove in greedily, fastening his lips around her clit, stroking it with his tongue. He reached up, grabbing the white globes of her asscheeks, clinging to them as she moved sensually.
She took his full length into her mouth, deep-throating him. Gilligan moaned.
Mary Ann and the Professor worked their way back to the edge of the pool, and the Professor climbed out, Mary Ann still wrapped around him.
He staggered a few feet, his cock firmly held inside her pussy. He dropped to his knees, and gently lowered her to the ground.
She released her grip on his hips, and he began to take slow, deep strokes.
She met each stroke with a tilt of her pelvis, rubbing her clit against his shaft.
Lovey unbuttoned her blouse, letting it drop off her shoulders. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra, and shrugged out of it.
She grasped the Skipper's shaking hands, and placed them on her breasts. His fingers found her nipples, and as he twisted them between his fingers, she kissed his lips again.
She pushed him gently backwards, until he lay on the soft grass. She knelt between his legs, and unfastened his pants. She reached inside, and wrapped her fingers around his growing penis. Her fingers did not reach all the way around it.
He lifted his hips, and she slid his pants down, and maneuvering around, managed to get them down his legs and off, taking his shoes with them. She knelt again between his legs, and licked his penis, which was too big to take into her mouth. She cupped his balls in one hand, gently massaging them as she worked over his huge cockhead with her lips and tongue.
Ginger's body shook as she neared orgasm. Gilligan was nothing if not diligent in his efforts at her clit. She sat back a little, pressing her cunt against his jaw and tongue, keeping a firm grip on his penis.
She started to come, her orgasm beginning at her clit, radiating through her body in a warm rush.
As her contractions ended, she slid off his face, and turned to kiss his lips, tasting her own juices on his mouth.
The Professor rolled over onto his back, pulling Mary Ann over on top of him. She sat up, impaling herself on his cock. She sat there, making small circles, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone and base of his cock.
She could feel little contractions beginning in her pussy, and reached down to stroke her clit. He pushed her hands aside, and using his thumbs, made circular motions over her clit.
Mary Ann tilted her head back, her eyes closed, her breasts thrust forward, a lovely sight for the Professor.
Her cunt clamped down on him as she climaxed, her body quivering with the force of her orgasm.
Lovey stood up and unfastened her skirt, allowing it to drop to the ground. As the Skipper watched interestedly, she turned, and pulled her panties down over her ass, giving him a view not only of her asshole but a good look at her pussy.
Now naked, she turned again towards him, stepping over his legs, and squatting over his hips. His huge cock stood up in front of her dark pubic hair. She wrapped both hands around his cock, and stroked gently, as he reached up to tweak her nipples with his fingers.
She raised herself up and forward, guiding his penis to the entrance to her cunt. She lowered herself, breathing deeply as his cockhead forced her cuntlips aside, pushing slowly inside her.
Mary Ann began to move again, pushing herself up and down with her legs.
The Professor reached up and took hold of her breasts, rolling her erect nipples with his thumbs.
He neared orgasm. He moved his hands from her breasts to her shoulders, and pulled her on top of him. He kissed her lips, as his balls exploded, pumping spurt after spurt into her hot, waiting pussy.
Ginger lay back on the sand. Gilligan scrambled up between her legs, and kissed his way up her body, pausing briefly to suck on her pink nipples.
She pulled him to her, and kissed his mouth, her tongue slipping through their lips. She reached down and guided his cock into her dripping pussy.
He began slow, easy strokes, her legs wrapped around his, her feet just behind his knees.
Gilligan neared orgasm, and pushed himself deeply into Ginger's cunt.
Ginger slid her legs up around his hips, holding him inside her as he started to ejaculate.
He collapsed on top of her and they breathed heavily together.
The Skipper was breathing heavily, too, as Lovey continued to lower herself on his huge shaft.
Lovey moaned softly, allowing her body to adjust to the Skipper's size.
She was lubricating freely, which was making it easier for the Skipper's cock to slide inside her.
She reached the bottom of his shaft. She sat still a moment, savoring the sensation of being completely filled up. He _was_ the size of her fullback in college, and that brought back some lovely memories.
The Skipper was caressing her breasts, rolling his thumbs over her nipples. She tilted her head back, arching her back, pressing her tits into his hands. She reached down and stroked her clit, pressing it between her fingers and his penis. She shivered with pleasure.
She raised herself just a bit, allowing the Skipper's cock to slide out about two inches, then lowered herself again. The movement was getting easier. She did it again, and again, picking up a little speed, holding her clit against his penis.
"Nnnnngh," the Skipper moaned, and clasped at her.
He began to come; there was no room inside her, so it gushed around his cock and ran down into his pubic hair.
She continued to work herself up and down his shaft, nearing orgasm herself. As the Skipper's cock softened, and with the extra lubrication of his come, she picked up some speed.
The contractions came suddenly, squeezing against his cock, shaking her body. She collapsed forward, with him still inside her, and lay on his barrel chest.
The Professor and Mary Ann took another dip in the pool, rinsing each other off with giggles and tender touches. They got dressed, and headed back to the compound.
Ginger and Gilligan also arose, and dashed hand-in-hand into the surf in the lagoon to rinse off the sand, then they too dressed and headed 'home'.
The four of them arrived at the girls' hut at the same time. With knowing glances at each other, the two couples kissed again good-night. The two girls headed into their hut.
The Professor put his arm around Gilligan's shoulder. "So how did it go?"
"It didn't go," Giligan grinned. "It came."
The Professor chuckled. They headed back to their huts.
Lovey reluctantly removed herself from the Skipper's cock; even in its flaccid state it was a sizable organ.
She recovered her clothing, slipping into her blouse and skirt, tucking her bra and panties into her pocket. The Skipper arose, and tugged on his trousers and shoes.
They walked hand in hand almost to the compound, dropping this last physical contact when they approached the clearing, in case anyone was still up to see them.
They needn't have bothered; there was no one in the compound, and the only sound was the buzz-saw roar of Thurston Howell's snores.
The Skipper walked her to the door of her hut.
"Good-night, sweet Captain," she whispered.
She kissed him quickly, and slipped through the hut door.
The Skipper sauntered back to his hut. He noted that Gilligan was already in the top hammock, and he rolled into the lower one. As he pulled the blankets up under his chin, he felt suddenly dizzy; then he fell into a deep sleep.
Lovey changed into her nightgown, using a hand towel to wipe away most of the Skipper's semen.
She slipped into the bed, listened for a moment to the roar of the buzz saw, then reached over for the soft gum earplugs.
Thurston was cuddled up with his teddy bear.
"He couldn't care less if I was here or not," she muttered. She lay back against the pillow, thinking about the Captain's penis.
Morning.
The seven castaways headed for the outhouses and the sweetwater pool for their morning cleanup.
The Professor and Mary Ann passed each other on the path. "Good morning, Roy," Mary Ann said, smiling.
"'Morning," the Professor smiled back.
She took his hand and leaned forward to kiss him lightly. "Thanks for last night," she whispered. "It was great!" She continued toward the pool.
The Professor was staggered; the juice was supposed to work on her memory...
Gilligan was just coming out of the outhouse as Ginger approached. She slipped one hand under Gilligan's balls and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Hi, Stud Muffin!"
"H-h-hello!" Gilligan stammered and stumbled.
She moved past him into the outhouse and closed the door. Gilligan ran toward the other outhouse, where the Professor was just emerging.
"It didn't work," he gasped.
"What are you talking about?"
"Ginger remembered! The juice didn't work!"
"Of course it worked... You got laid, didn't you?" The Professor smiled.
"Maybe it's better this way, anyhow."
"Why's that?"
"This way we can make love with the girls any time we want. We don't have to rely on the fruit."
"Oh, yeah." Gilligan smiled. "Right."
They walked up the path to join the others at the pool.
Lovey watched the others as they played together in the water. It was obvious that the younger folks were getting to know each other as lovers.
Her eyes widened as she thought, "They remember! They weren't supposed to remember!"
The Skipper arrived at the pool. "Good morning, Mrs. Howell."
"Good morning, Captain," she smiled. "And how did you sleep last night?"
"I went to bed right after supper," he said, "and I slept like a baby all night."
Lovey heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't remember! She puzzled over it in her mind, until she came to a sudden realization. It's not the juice of the fruit that works, it's the pulp!
She would have to talk to the Professor about that... someday.Gilligan was crouching in the bushes, peering through the foliage, as Ginger waded into the sweetwater pool under the waterfall. Her back was toward him as she moved under the waterfall. He saw her drop her clothing and caught a glimpse of her bare ass before it was covered with the white water. "C'mon, Ginger, turn around," he whispered. "Turn around..." He reached down into his pants and gripped his penis, already erect. He pulled it out and stroked it, watching the shadowy image of Ginger's naked bottom through the flowing water. Ginger turned around under the waterfall, and stuck her head through the flow. "Gilligan!" she shouted. "Get your ass over here right now!" Gilligan stood up and ran down to the pool. He pulled off his clothes and waded to the waterfall. Ginger reached through the flow of water and grabbed his hand, pulling him under the falls to the little alcove underneath. Ginger wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a passionate kiss, rubbing her wet, naked body against him. She reached down and grabbed his penis, stroking its length. She lowered herself in the water, pulling him down on top of her. Gilligan kissed her breasts, as she guided his cock to the entrance to her pussy. He pressed it inside her, and she moaned with pleasure, taking his full length easily. He began slow, easy strokes, the resistance of the water making his movements easier and slower. Ginger's clit pressed against the base of his cock with each stroke, and she gasped every time he pressed against it. "Oh, gosh," she whispered, "I'm coming..." Her pussy grabbed at his cock as her body shook, with a warm glow flowing from her pussy though the rest of her body. Gilligan pumped twice more, and with the pressure from her orgasmic pussy, he began to ejaculate inside her. He kissed her lips, as they caught their breath. They stood up, finally. Ginger picked up her bar of coconut-butter soap, and they lathered each other up, giggling and laughing. Roy Hinkley, "The Professor", was making his bed. Literally making his bed. He had gathered some nice pieces of bamboo, and was busily making a double-sized bed. Whistling as he worked, he was also trying to decide just how to approach Mary Ann about moving in with him. Making love in the moonlight in the great outdoors was great, but the rainy season was approaching. The Skipper was whistling, too, as he cast his fishing line into the surf. He waited for a nibble, holding the fishing rod braced against his belly. A strange, yet familiar voice sounded behind him. "Welcome to Sherwood." He turned to see a man all in green perched on a fallen treetrunk. He was carrying a huge bow, and a quiver of arrows on his back. He blinked twice, almost dropping his fishing rod. "Robin Hood?" "None other," the man in green said, grinning. "You look very familiar. Are you not the son of one of my merry men?" "No," the Skipper shook his head. "Not that I know of." "Strange," Robin said. He looked at the Skipper's fishing rod. "Fishing? Is there no game in the forest?" "Not that we've been able to find," the Skipper said. "How did you get here? Are you our rescue?" "Rescue? From Sherwood?" "This is NOT Sherwood. It's an island in the South Pacific." The Skipper reeled in his line and set the fishing rod aside. "South... Pacific? It looks like Sherwood..." Robin turned and looked around. "But then again..." "Believe me," the Skipper said, "it's not England. Do you have a boat?" Robin shook his head. "A plane? A helicopter?" Robin shook his head. Suddenly, he stood still. "Hark!" "What is it..." Robin placed a hand over the Skipper's mouth, silencing him. "A deer!" he whispered, "A fine stag to make a man's dinner." He nocked an arrow into the bow, and climbed over the fallen tree and into the jungle. Moments later, Mr. Howell walked out of the jungle onto the beach. The Skipper was staring into the jungle. "Captain..." "Did you see him?" "See who?" Howell frowned. "Robin Hood." "Captain, have you been raiding my liquor cabinet?" Mary Ann looked around the hut at her few meager possessions. She sat down on the cot, considering how quickly she could pack them all away if the Professor asked her the question she wanted him to ask. Five minutes, maybe less. "But what about Ginger? Would she be all alone in this hut if I moved in with the Professor? Or would Gilligan move in here with her?" she thought. "And that would leave the Skipper alone... oh, my... how complicated." Ginger walked in, wrapped in her towel. She had been to the waterfall again. And from the glow in her face, it looked like she had been there with someone. "Talking to yourself again?" Ginger grinned. "Was I?" Mary Ann blushed. "I've been doing a lot of thinking." "About the Professor?" Ginger sat on the other cot, facing her. "Has he asked you yet?" Mary Ann shook her head. Ginger reached over and took her hand. "He will. Don't worry." Ginger looked into Mary Ann's eyes. "And if he does, do it. Don't worry about me." Mary Ann reached out and took Ginger into her arms. "Thanks." Ginger's towel fell away. "In the meantime,..." she cooed. Gilligan sat down on a log near a clearing in the jungle. He sat in a position like Rodin's "The Thinker", his chin resting on his fist, his elbow on his knee. He was considering his relationship with Ginger. He loved her, he really did. Or was it just lust? Did he want to live the rest of his life with her, or was it that she was available, and here, and ... His vision blurred, and he blinked. Next to him on the log was a golden-haired fellow, about his same age. He blinked again. The fellow was still there. "Hi, Maynard, old buddy." The golden-haired fellow grinned. Gilligan sat up. "Maynard?" "Hey, where's your goatee?" Gilligan rubbed his chin. "What's wrong, Maynard?" "My name is Gilligan. Who are you?" "You mean you don't recognize your oldest friend? It's Dobie" The fellow laughed. "And you're Maynard." "Gilligan," he said. "My name is Gilligan." "It's Maynard, and I'll prove it. Watch this... 'work'" A shiver ran up Gilligan's spine. He shook it off. "See there," Dobie said. "You're Maynard." Gilligan shook his head. "Well, whatever, old buddy," Dobie grinned. "What's on your mind?" "Ummm," Gilligan squirmed. "I guess I can tell you since you're imaginary." "Who's imaginary?" Dobie grinned. "Que pasa?" "It's a girl," Gilligan said. "I figured that," Dobie smiled. "Why else would I be here?" "I'm not sure what I feel for her. Is it love or is it lust?" "Does it matter?" Gilligan looked at him. "Of course it matters." "Okay. Do you want to be with her even when you've got your clothes on?" "Yeah." "Then it's probably love. Go for it." Gilligan glanced away. "Go for it?" There was silence. He looked back, and Dobie was gone. He sat there a moment longer. "Go for it...." Lovey Howell adjusted her makeup in the small mirror. She had managed to get Thurston out of the hut for a while, anyway. He needed to get some fresh air, and away from the liquor cabinet for a few hours. She adjusted her clothing; it was getting a bit tattered with the years of wear. Thank goodness she had brought all of the trunks she had; she pitied the poor younger girls who only had a few outfits. And the Captain and Gilligan had only one set of clothes, since they had expected to be home that night so long ago. When they wore out their clothes, I guess they'd have to go naked... Thinking of the Captain naked brought a sly grin to her face. That might not be so bad after all. She headed out the door toward the Professor's hut. She needed to talk with him about the fruits. The Professor tied the last knots, and slid the double-sized bed towards the wall. He had to adjust the position of his lab-table and trunk, but it all fit. At least he didn't have to rebuild the hut. He stood back and admired his work, thinking about the workout he wanted to give it. There was a tap at the door. "Professor?" It was Mrs. Howell. He invited her in. She sat in his 'relaxing' chair, and he perched on his lab stool. "What can I help you with?" "This is rather awkward, Professor," she said, almost blushing. "Go ahead. We're all friends here," the Professor smiled. "It's about those yellow fruits Gilligan found last week." The Professor paused. "Yes? What about them?" "I know what they do, Professor," she said, almost blushing. "And I want to grow some more." "Oh?" The Professor squirmed on his stool. "Are you and Mr. Howell having ...problems?" "Yes..." Lovey lied. "That's it exactly." The Professor reached over and picked up the two remaining fruits from his lab table. They had softened, and were giving off a sour fragrance. "That's funny," he said, "I thought there were three." Mrs. Howell grimaced. The Professor handed them to her. He opened his botany book, and read from the page describing the fruit. "Looks like it should be planted in sandy soil, near a tree where the vine can climb. That's all the information I have." He closed the book. "I can't guarantee they'll grow, and I have no idea when the vines will bear fruit." "I understand, Professor," she said, smiling. "Thank you." "You're very welcome. I hope the problems work out." Lovey went into the jungle, looking for likely spots to plant her seeds. She found two trees close to the pathway that looked hopeful. She dug a shallow hole next to each tree, and placed the rotting fruits in them, covering the hole. She kissed her fingers, then the soil. "Grow, please grow," she whispered. Thurston Howell walked along the beach. "Damn this island," he said aloud. "Damn this beach, damn this ocean, damn these waves, damn..." He was so distracted by his tirade that he nearly fell over the barrel. He kicked it. It didn't move, and he hurt his foot. He hopped around on his good foot, holding the hurt one. He sat on the barrel, which was lying on the sand. He massaged his toes, muttering, "and damn this barrel." As he worked on his sore toes, he looked down at the barrel. Stenciled on the side of the barrel was the name "Inverness." He looked up at the sky. "If there's a god in heaven, let this be full." He got up and pushed at the barrel. It was very heavy, it had SOMETHING inside. He pushed harder, and the barrel rolled over, exposing the bung. It was intact. "Praise the gods!" he shouted, then clamped his hands over his mouth. He looked around. "I've got to find Gilligan," he muttered. Mary Ann and Ginger were in a sixty-nine position, with Ginger on top. Ginger's lips were locked around Mary Ann's clit, her tongue dancing around the tip of the sensitive nubbin. Mary Ann had her hands around the cheeks of Ginger's ass, her fingertips brushing her asshole. Mary Ann's tongue was stroking over Ginger's clit, her concentration on her nearing orgasm. Her body began to quiver under Ginger's ministrations. Ginger's fingers slid into Mary Ann's cunnie, pressing upward against her g-spot. Mary Ann's body tried to levitate, as an explosive orgasm shook her body. As her contractions slowed, she again applied herself to Ginger's pussy, sucking hungrily on her clit. Her fingertips approached Ginger's asshole again, and slowly, Mary Ann slid her middle finger into Ginger's ass. "Mmmmmmmmm," Ginger moaned, "Oh, yes." With her other hand, Mary Ann slipped two fingers into Ginger's pussy. Ginger raised up, pushing back against Mary Ann's hands and mouth. "Yes... yes, that's it," she gasped, "Oh yes..." Her body began to quiver, and a gush of cunt honey ran down Mary Ann's face. Ginger's orgasm shook the bed, as Mary Ann slowed her tonguing of Ginger's clit. Ginger got up slowly and turned around, and lay beside Mary Ann in the narrow cot. Gilligan was sitting at the table in the compound, contemplating the basket of fruit. Which one was he least tired of? Mrs. Howell approached the compound. "Gilligan, there's something I want you to do for me." "What's that, Mrs. Howell?" "Do you think you could find any more of that yellow fruit?" Gilligan goggled at her for a moment, but remembered that she couldn't possibly know what it was good for. "I'll try, Mrs. Howell," he nodded. "Thank you." She headed for her hut. At that moment, Mr. Howell came running up the path from the beach. "Gilligan, dear boy. Just the man I was looking for..." "What do you want me to do?" sighed Gilligan. Howell looked back toward his hut. Lovey had gone inside. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I've made a wonderful find on the beach, and I need your help." "What did you find?" Gilligan asked, in a normal voice. "Shhhhh...." hissed Howell. "Keep your voice down." "Okay," whispered Gilligan, "what did you find?" "A whole barrel of Inverness Scotch." "A whole barrel?" Gilligan's voice rose to a normal level again. "Shhhhh!" Howell hissed again. "Sorry," whispered Gilligan. "Come with me. I need to roll it up away from the tide, and I'll need help to get it open." The Skipper landed his catch; a very nice, big fish. As he pulled it up the beach, he glanced at the jungle, half expecting Robin Hood, or Tarzan, or some other character to come popping out. But nobody did. He pulled out his knife, and started cleaning the fish. The Professor strolled over to the girls' hut, and tapped on the door. "Anybody home?" "Just a minute," Ginger's voice sounded from inside. The Professor heard some scrambling around. Ginger jumped up, and grabbed a dress, slipping it over her head and zipping it up. Mary Ann retrieved her shorts and slipped them on, and buttoned her blouse. Ginger went to the door. "Hi, Professor." She batted her eyes at him. "I was just coming... er, going." She walked out the door, winking at Mary Ann. "Come on in, Roy." Mary Ann sat on the edge of the bed. The Professor sat down next to her, and took her hand. "Mary Ann... I want to ask... " "Yes," she said, smiling. "You didn't know what I want to ask." "Yes I do, and I do." She kissed him."Give me five minutes to pack up."
She finished in four. The Professor picked up her little bag, and they
walked hand-in-hand to his hut.
...........................................................................
Gilligan and Mr. Howell rolled the barrel up the beach to the edge of the
jungle. They tipped it up on end to keep it from rolling back down to the
water.
"I don't think the tide gets this high," Gilligan observed.
"Good. Now, how to open it."
Gilligan smiled and picked up the tool box. "I know how to open barrels."
He took out the hammer, and took aim at the top.
"Wait! NO!" Howell shouted, and grabbed the hammer. "If you break the top,
we can't close it back up!" He leaned over and looked in the tool box. He
picked up a brace and bit.
"Now, this will make a small hole that we can plug up." He set the tip of
the bit on the top of the barrel-end, and Gilligan started to turn the
brace.
............................................................................
The Skipper wrapped his fish filets in a sailcloth towel, and headed to the
compound. Suspiciously, he looked all around him as he walked, half
expecting to be accosted by some imaginary character.
............................................................................
The hole was bored through. Gilligan pulled out the bit, and Howell leaned
over to sniff the contents.
"Heavenly," Howell sighed. "It's Scotch, all right." Then he frowned.
"But how do we get it out of the barrel?"
"I could still smash the top," suggested Gilligan.
Howell just frowned at him.
"The Professor uses a kind of vine for tubing in his lab. Maybe we could
find some."
"Good idea. Go look for some. I'll just sniff for a while."
Gilligan dashed into the jungle. He was looking for the vine that the
Professor used, but a flash of yellow caught his eye. He stopped and
looked closer. It was another vine-full of yellow fruits, just like the
ones he found before!
He marked the place in his mind, and went looking for the tubing-vine. He
found some, and pulled it down. Using his pocket knife, he cut off the
leaves from a length of it, and took it back to Howell.
Howell was standing over the barrel, his nose pressed against the hole.
"So near and yet so far," he sighed.
Gilligan handed him the vine, and Howell lowered one end into the barrel.
He placed the other end between his lips and sucked.
"Like drinking through a straw," Gilligan noted.
The fluid finally reached Howell's mouth. He filled his mouth, then
pinched the end of the vine. He swirled the liquid around his mouth, then
swallowed.
"Ambrosia," he said, "Nectar!" He raised his eyes to the sky. "Thank
you!"
"You're welcome," said Gilligan.
............................................................................
Ginger walked toward the compound table, just as the Skipper brought up his
load of fish.
"I'll take that, Skipper," she said, and he handed over his bundle.
"Thanks, Ginger." He stopped to wipe his brow, and said, "I'm going to go
up to the waterfall and wash up."
He started up the path to the sweetwater pool. Ginger took the fish over
by the fireplace, and added some wood to the coals still smouldering there.
Flames started to appear around the new wood.
............................................................................
"Gilligan, dear boy, go back to my hut and get a couple of empty bottles,"
Howell said, sipping from his straw.
"Sure, Mr. Howell."
"Oh... If Lovey is there, don't let her see you."
"Okay." Gilligan started back toward the compound, but remembered the
fruits. He doubled back into the jungle and located the vine. He picked
three of the yellow fruits, and rolled them up in his shirt. Then he
headed back toward the compound.
...........................................................................
The Professor and Mary Ann entered his hut... their hut. The Professor led
her over to show her the new bed.
"Oh, Roy," she said, "you expected me to say yes!"
The Professor nodded.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Let's break it in," she whispered,
huskily.
............................................................................
Gilligan ran into the compound and looked around for Mrs. Howell. Not
seeing her, he tapped on their door. "Mrs. Howell?"
"Yes, Gilligan dear?" She opened the door.
"I found some," he said, breathlessly. He unrolled his shirt, and handed
her the three fruits.
"Oh, thank you, dear boy!" She took one and sniffed it. "Smells
delicious!"
"Ummm," Gilligan shifted from foot to foot. "Mrs. Howell, Mr. Howell sent
me for a couple of his empty bottles. But I wasn't supposed to tell you."
Lovey frowned slightly, but she was delighted to have the fruits. "Of
course you can have his empties." She stepped away from the door and let
Gilligan inside. "They're over there in the cabinet."
Gilligan stepped over and opened the door. There were several bottles of
different-colored fermented fruit juices, and several empties. He picked
up two of the empty bottles.
"Thanks," Gilligan said, clutching the bottles.
"Thank YOU, Gilligan," she said, clasping the fruits to her chest.
............................................................................
The Professor unbuttoned Mary Ann's blouse, and peeled it back over her
shoulders. He caressed the smooth globes of her breasts, their dark brown
nipples popping up like rubber erasers under his fingers.
She moaned, and kissed his neck.
His hands moved farther down, and unfastened her shorts, dropping them to
her feet, where she stepped out of them, along with her shoes.
She reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers down his
hairless chest. She dropped her hands down to his pants, unfastening them,
and they joined Mary Ann's on the floor. He stepped out of his shoes.
Mary Ann sank down into the bed, and lay on her back. She lifted her
knees, extending her arms towards the Professor. He climbed into the bed,
slipping up between her thighs.
He ran his hands over her legs, and up her sides to her breasts, tweaking
her nipples again. Then back down, running his fingers through her dark
pubic hair to the warm wet place below.
His thumb found her clit, warm and erect under its tiny hood. She gasped
as his thumb brushed over it.
The fingers of his other hand parted her labia, and he could see the moist
pinkness within. He slipped a finger inside her, and she gripped it with
her vaginal muscles.
He bent down and touched her clit with his tongue. It felt hot, and he
rolled his tongue over it.
Mary Ann gasped and reached for his head, running her fingers into his
hair.
He moved his tongue down further, sliding down the slippery skin past her
pisshole, plunging his tongue as deeply as he could into her pussy.
She wiggled her hips, running her fingers over his head.
He moved back up to her clit, sliding his tongue, around and over her clit.
He fastened his lips around her clit, sucking gently, brushing her clit
with the tip of his tongue. She gripped his hair, holding him in place.
"OoooooOOOOOooooOOOOOOOoooooohhhhhh!" she moaned, thrashing her head from
side to side.
The Professor raised his head, and as Mary Ann released her grip on his
hair, he slid up her body, to kiss her waiting lips. His cock poised on
its own at the entrance to her cunt, the cockhead parting her labia, and
sliding to its full length inside her.
"Ummmmmmph" moaned Mary Ann into the Professor's mouth. Her clit pressed
against the base of his cock, as she tilted her pelvis back. Her vaginal
muscles clamped around his penis, holding him in place.
..........................................................................
Mrs. Howell walked around to the "kitchen", where Ginger was stirring the
hot coals, ready to place the fish filets on the grill.
"Do you know where the Captain is?" Mrs. Howell asked.
"He said he was going up to take a shower in the waterfall," Ginger said. | 4 |
478 | Freewheeling Barbara Toys With Boys | "What's going on! Mom - Steve?" Jerry cried in anguish, staring at the scene on the bed.
Steve stared at his friend with blank eyes. His cock slipped out of Barbara's relaxed asshole with a plop and lay along his leg. He looked dully at it. It was limp with a string of semen still hanging from the head. "Uh, Jer -"
"Get out of here. You fucked my mother!" Jerry screamed wildly, clenching his fists. He was aware of a wild surge of rage and jealousy. She hadn't pulled away from Steve leaving him with an aching erection like she had with him! "Go away!"
Steve slid off the bed hurriedly, keeping his eyes away from the recumbent figure of Mrs. Anderson. She was lying perfectly still, her head pressed into the pillows. He noticed something beside her. The salami! Guiltily he sidled out of the room, keeping away from Jerry.
"Well, Mom?" Jerry asked, a sneering note in his voice. "Turn over and look at me!"
Barbara turned over and crouched against the end of the bed, bringing her knees up before her breasts to hide them, then realized that the motion exposed her inflamed cunt to her son's eyes. Vainly, she tried to shield herself. She felt sunk.
"Can't I even look? Steve got to touch - touch, hell! He fucked you!" Jerry advanced on her, his fists balled up.
"Jerry ... I can explain. Let me tell you -" Barbara babbled.
Jerry waved his hand at her, indicating her disarranged state. "Explain what!? That you are a whore? Jesus ... look at you!" he said in disgust. "I saw you this afternoon with that kid, kissing him in the parking lot! What is it? You just fuck kids? Is that it? Well ... move your hands. I wanna look at what everybody else fucks!" He grabbed her hands and moved them away from her tits. He was furious at her for lowering herself from her pedestal - at himself for wanting her. He remembered when she had watched him jack off, when she had touched him in the pool and left him aching. She hadn't left anyone else in that state. Just him.
"Jerry," Barbara whispered. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've never been like this before. The last few days have been a nightmare. I can't control myself, I even touched you, my own son! And that's evil." She looked at him earnestly, willing him to understand. He had to understand. She felt like her heart was breaking. Her little boy - her son - looking at her with hate in his eyes. She moaned softly and she began to entice him in the only way she knew, with her body. She wanted to show him how it was, how it was to want sex so bad that it hurt. That you'd do anything to ease that pain. "I have to have it, Jerry."
"But with kids! Kids my age! Why not me? Why not? You've fucked every kid in town, probably, why can't I get it, too? Don't you like my cock? Isn't it big enough for you? It's bigger than Steve's! I saw you looking at it before, well, you can have it now!" Jerry squealed in a high voice. He held his dick like a weapon, pointing it at her. "Here, suck it like you did his! You're gonna do everything with me you did with him, and then I'm gonna leave you and never come back!" He advanced on her, pointing his cock at her mouth. "Open your mouth and suck my cock, whore!" he shouted grabbing her by the hair. "You love it so much ... go on, then! Suck your son's dick!"
"Oh, Jerry ... don't let it be like this. Don't hate me," Barbara mumbled. Her voice was choked off as Jerry rammed his prick into her mouth choking her. Her nose was buried in his sparse hair, her nostrils full of the scent of him. She gagged and coughed, then clamped on his cock. If he wanted it, she'd give it a good sucking! She wanted him to know how sex was, well, this was her chance! She sucked deeply on his cock, running her tongue around the head, drawing him into her mouth, yielding before him and taking him in.
Jerry gasped as his prick sank into his mother's mouth. It was a wonderful feeling. Her tongue hit all the most sensitive spots and made his blood race. He hadn't imagined it would be this good, looking at the pictures and hearing the other guys talk. He had heard quite a few stories about girls who gave head, but the reality far surpassed any story. Her lips were nibbling up and down the surface of his prick and she sucked it with an ecstatic expression on her face, as if it were the most delicious thing in the world! Her mouth felt like a hot wet cavern, just made for sucking his cock. He dipped into her and pulled out again, feeling the incredible suction as her cheeks caved in around it.
"Oh, suck it good," he murmured, looking at his mother's face. He wound his fingers in her red hair, the same color as his, and pumped into her mouth. Her teeth lightly scraped the ridges of his turgid cock, sending thrills of pleasure through him. He hunched forward, driving into her mouth. He couldn't stop. The whole world was a sucking mouth, pulling him into it! He twisted and turned his hips, slamming into her face, trying to hurt her, and she gave with every stroke, sucking him in, greedily licking his rod, wanting more.
Barbara sucked at her son's cock in delight. It seemed that everything else had just been leading up to this, this last perversity. She pulled on him avidly, remembering how tiny his peter had been when he was a baby, and contrasting it to its present length. It tasted wonderful, the salty tang of his pre-cum filled her mouth, tantalizing her, making her want to taste his hot semen on her tongue. She cupped her hand under his balls and rolled them in their wrinkled sac, feeling them churn like hard slick marbles in her palm.
"Oh, Mom, I'm gonna cum! I can't help it! I'm gonna cum!" Jerry grunted, pumping furiously into her open mouth. He twisted violently against her lips, feeling his sperm foam in his balls and rise in his cock to burst in her mouth. "I'M CUMMING! IN YOUR MOUTH!"
Barbara sucked vigorously at the hot flow of her son's sperm, drinking from the spurting fountain of his prick. It seemed like it would never quit. She gulped and swallowed a bucket of frothing jism. Finally she fell back on the pillows and Jerry's cock slid from her lips. He stared at her, a strange light in his eyes.
"That was great," he admitted, slightly ashamed of his lust.
"Do you see how it is now? Did you want me to stop sucking you?" Barbara asked. "Could you stop yourself ... once you were fucking my mouth?"
"No, no I couldn't," Jerry admitted. "No way ... It was unreal, it was like I was just a cock and I had to cum ..." his voice trailed off.
"Would you like to fuck me?" Barbara asked casually, watching his face. She wanted him desperately. She wanted his cock in her twat, and she also wanted him to experience the whole of sex. She had to show him how powerful sex was - how the more you got, the more you got, the more you wanted. She didn't want him to think of her as a whore. She wanted to show him how great sex was and how it got control of a person. She still felt it was wrong to fuck and suck her own son, but she was committed now. She promised herself that tomorrow she would take care of it all - tomorrow. Right now she wanted to fuck her son.
"God yes, Mom ... I guess I've wanted to for a long time," Jerry admitted, looking at her squarely. "I was so jealous of those other guys, I wanted to hurt you ... but now, I'd love to fuck you, if you want me to." He looked at her pleadingly, his eyes going over her lush body, her full breasts tipped with coral, her slender waist and flaring hips encircled by the black garter belt, her bright auburn pussy hair covering her mound of delight.
"Oh yes, Jerry, I want you to," Barbara breathed. "Come up here. You can suck my titties if you like ... suck the nipples good, son, and I'll love it! And touch my pussy. Just slide your hand down there." She guided his hand to her pubic area and opened her legs, letting him slip his fingers in.
"Gosh, our hair's the same color down there," Jerry said, laughing nervously. He felt his mother's cunt open invitingly under his fingers as he probed. He sank his middle finger in to the knuckle, feeling around her cunt, sliding it in and out of the canal. He was amazed at the pressure her twat exerted on his finger. He wondered how his cock would feel in that tight, sucking well and shivered in anticipation. His young pecker was erect again, standing straight out from his stomach in an arching curve, out of his soft nest of reddish curls.
"It's wet," he confided, diddling her with his fingers, smiling as she quivered. He knew he was turning her on, and he was proud. His mother was quivering and trembling under him, wanting him to stick his cock in her cunt. "It's all wet and squishy in there."
Thank God Steve didn't cum in my cunt, Barbara thought fervently. She wouldn't want her son's first fuck to be sloppy seconds! Out loud she murmured, "That's because I want you so, darling! I love your finger in my cunt, fucking me! Do it harder ... make me cum on your hand! That's it! Yes, oooohhhh yes ... fingerfuck me, baby, fuck your mama with your hand! Make me cum.She flopped around, impaled on his fingers like a fish on a hoop, her orgasm causing her to shimmer and shake. Her pussy gushed, wetting his hand.
"Did you pee on my hand, Mom?" Jerry asked as the warm, hot fluid gushed over his fingers. Barbara was silent as her orgasm subsided, then said hoarsely, "No, darling, that was my cum - that's how a girl cums. Now fuck me, for God's sake, get on me and fuck me! Put your cock in my hole and fuck your mama!"
Jerry scrambled on top of his mother. She raised her hips, presenting her pussy in a blatant invitation. He sank his prick between her legs, searching for the wet, warm hole he had imagined receiving him. And then he found it. With a cry of triumph, he sank into her, his cock plunging into the vagina that had given birth to him eighteen years ago. "I'm in, Mom, I'm in your cunt!" he cried.
"Yes, oh yes, you are! Your beautiful prick is in my twat - deep - so deep - and good - oh God! It's driving me wild!" Barbara cried, wrapping her legs around her son's back and rocking under him. She felt her insides melt into a mass of sex-crazed flesh, her twat opening under his forceful plunges. She could imagine no greater thrill than this, fucking her son, receiving his sperm in her cunt! The depravity and perverseness excited her even more. She drummed her heels against his legs as she lifted and churned beneath him, using her pussy like a vise to clamp him to her. She never wanted it to end. She wanted to go on and on in this lustful dream, floating on a cloud of desire, her body spasming and convulsing in a powerful orgasm.
"Fuck me, fuck me, Jerry!" she cried wildly. She was smashed into the bed with each lunge of his prick. She wished she could engulf him completely, take his whole body back into her womb. She felt his balls smashing against the distended lips of her cunt, and she crazily tried to open them, to pull him all inside.
"I am fucking you, Mom, oh, MAMA! I'M FUCKING YOUR CUNT! It's fantastic! I love to fuck you. OH MOM! I LOVE IT!" Jerry screamed. He thrust furiously into the sucking maw of his mother's twat, feeling his cock sink to the hilt in the swampy marsh. He was swimming in a sea of cunt. He felt like he was surrounded by it. He could smell the odor from their clashing sex orgasm mingle with the smell of their sweat and he loved it. He loved the way her cunt gripped his penis, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He could feel it to the tips of his toes. His leg muscles twitched with the sensation. He bent forward and grabbed her tits in both hands, wrapping his fingers around the creamy globe and squeezing roughly.
Barbara rolled with each thrust. His pecker was a hot rod of iron, stoking the fire in her twat. Sweat poured from her thrashing body, making her skin meet his with a sucking noise. The air was filled with the suckings and gurglings of sex. Her pussy plopped each time he thrust into her, emitting a squishing noise. The slap of their sweaty bodies and their mingled grunts and groans of pleasure filled the air. "Give it to me faster, faster, harder," she muttered. She pulled his head to hers and their open mouths met in a passionate kiss, tongues mingling and thrashing. She sucked in his breath eagerly. She felt like his tongue was a prick in her mouth, stabbing away at the soft insides in unison with his jabbing pecker. She drank his saliva avidly, swallowing, imagining it was jism from a spurting cock.
Jerry increased his tempo ... his balls were bursting and he knew he had to cum soon. He pounded lustily into his mother. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna shoot my wad in your pussy, Mom!" he warned. "I'm gonna cum all in your hot cunt!"
"Yes, darling, cum in your mother, let me have your sperm!" Barbara screeched. She was beside herself with lust. All she wanted to feel her son's hot semen bursting inside her aching cunt. She knew it would bring her off again. She wanted to feel it! "Cum in me, fuck me, cum, cum," she chanted in rhythm to her son's strokes.
His pecker zipped in and out of her cunt with increasing speed. His lithe young hips flailed tirelessly above her, driving the shaft of his penis into her waiting cunt. He could feel the texture of her canal change as she rode the crest of her orgasm. It tightened as she came, then felt loose and flabby, then tightened in an endless cycle of lust. "Here it comes! OH GOD! HOTSHIT! FEEL IT, MOM ... FEEL ME CUMMING IN YOU ... I'M CUMMING..." With a loud cry, Jerry fell onto Barbara's body, his knees buckling as his orgasm ripped through him. He felt like his head was blowing up. His guts twisted as his balls burst. "I'M BLOWING MY NUTS!" Rope after rope of semen gushed from the head of his prick, inundating Barbara's womb with her son's sperm.
"Ooooh-h, yessss. I FEEL YOUR CUM! IT'S SO HOT!" Barbara cried, bucking against son, swallowing his prick with her spasming cunt, gripping tightly with her legs, imprisoning him in her hot box. He didn't seem to want to escape. He lay against her, his cock jerking weakly as the last bits of semen oozed from the shrinking tube. He raised his head and grinned at her.
"Just lie still, honey," she said. "Let your cock soak in my twat. I'm going to bring it to a stand again inside me. Just don't move, or it'll slip out!" She bore down on his limp penis, holding it firmly inside her with her cuntlips.
"Okay, Mom," Jerry answered, lying against her, his head pillowed on the soft cushions of her breasts. He had never heard of such a thing. But she was his mom, and he'd do what she asked. She certainly seemed to know a lot about sex! He thrust down a pang of jealousy and lay quiescent on her breast, feeling her twat muscles caress his tired prick.
"Can you feel it, dear?" Barbara asked, concentrating. She tried to imagine his limp prick resting inside her and clenched her muscles about it, thinking of her cunt as a stroking hand, bringing him to erection.
"Yeah. You're squeezing me down there with your cunt," Jerry said excitedly. He could feel her cunt gently kneading his penis, and he thought he could feel a spark of life as it raised its head in the dark cavern.
"Don't move, son," Barbara cautioned. "I read about this ... how it's possible to fuck this way without even moving, just using your muscles. Hindus or somebody do it this way." She repressed a bump of excitement as she definitely felt Jerry's pecker move inside her. "I can feel you moving in me," she confided. "Your cock's swelling up ..." She worked her cunt on his prick, rippling the muscles up and down. She could almost see his prick in her mind - growing slowly inside her canal! Her cunt exuded moisture as the excitement of her success got to her, and as she grew aroused, her muscle action grew stronger, pulling silently at Jerry's hidden prick.
"Oh, boy, I can really feel it now!" Jerry cried in excitement. He hadn't thought it possible, but it was happening! His soft prick was hardening and lengthening inside his mother's cunt, gaining new strength with each stroke of her talented pussy. "It's getting hard. I can feel my balls filling up again! Wow!"
"Yes, yes, I can feel it, too," responded his mother. "It's filling me up - getting big again. Jerking around, oh, Jerry, it's wonderful!" She smiled mistily up at the face of her son. This was a new experience for her, this slow filling of her womb! She was suffused with love as her vagina filled with her son's growing prick. She had never felt so close to any of her lovers before. This was an incredibly fulfilling experience. She wondered if they could really fuck to orgasm this way - just using their muscles. She was determined to try. "Don't move your hips," she told her son as he started to move involuntarily.
He looked at her in amazement. He was hard again and ready to fuck now. That was the point, wasn't it?
"We'll just keep on like this - use our muscles and cum that way," his mother told him.
"Like the Hindus?" Jerry laughed, catching on. "Okay, if you want - it feels great right now, though I don't see how anything could be better than plain old fucking!" He forced his hips to remain still and pressed more deeply into his mother. Maybe, maybe I can make it jerk around in there, he thought. The idea of muscle control was a new one to him, but he could see how it would improve regular fucking if he could make his prick jerk at will. He carefully tightened his ass muscles and was gratified to find his penis jerked in accord. "Did you feel that, Mom?" he cried.
"Yes, dear, that's the way. Now let's just quietly lie here and do that to each other. Let's try to move in rhythm," she answered, giving a few quick jabs with her twat. They lay together, tightly clasped in each other's arms, letting their sex organs mesh together in harmony. As he jerked his prick inside her, she rippled her cunt along his shaft. She could feel him filling her whole cavity now, his dick pushing against the pulsing walls of her cunt. As her pussy juices flowed, she felt an unbearable urge to grind her hips beneath him, hastening her orgasm, but she restrained herself, merely increasing the pressure.
For an inexperienced man, Jerry was doing a great job. He used his ass and pelvic muscles, causing his prick to bounce inside his mother. He could feel his balls lifting in their sac and climbing up, hardening and tightening. He wanted desperately to rise up and fuck in and out as hard as he could. His hips quivered under the strain. "Oh, Mom, I can't stand it! I gotta move!" he groaned.
"Just a little more, son, try to relax," Barbara grated through clenched teeth, trying to follow her own advice. But it was too late. Jerry's hips suddenly shook and ground into her, pulling and shoving with age-old motions of intercourse.She sighed and moved with him, letting herself be carried off, her orgasm breaking over her in a whirl of feeling. "That's okay. Fuck me harder now, son, give it to your mother," she called encouragingly.
Jerry pounded into her. He had wanted to finish the other way, but he couldn't. He just couldn't stand it! The tide of lust swept over him, forcing his hips to plow into his mother's cunt desperately. "I'm gonna cum. I waited so long, I can't help it. Hold me, Mom. I'm fucking you..."
Barbara held her son tight, her body churning under his, ready to receive his second cum without withdrawing. He had made a valiant effort to do the muscle fuck, and she would reward him by giving him a good cum! She reached behind him, bypassing his sweaty balls, and probed for his asshole - finding it, she pressed through the opening and buried her finger in him. As she sank her digit into his buttery ass, she felt his prick spasm and burst inside her, splattering her cunt walls with hot thick sperm.
"AAAGGGHHH! FUCK! I'M CUMMING! HOLD ME, MOMMA!" Jerry screamed.
Mother and son convulsed in each other's arms, holding each other for dear life, cunt and cock cumming in perfect unison. Finally they fell apart, Jerry's cock slipping from Barbara's cunt.
"I tried, Mom," he said weakly, laughing a little. "I guess those Hindus practice a lot."
"I guess they do," Barbara answered fondly, stroking her son's head.
"We'll have to practice, too," he said boldly, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "Whenever I'm home from school..."
Barbara accepted the inevitable. "Yes, we'll practice," she whispered. She wasn't going to tell him again what a dreadful sin this was. She would bear the load of guilt herself. She had brought this incestuous affair on herself, and she alone would pay the consequences, she resolved. What was she going to do while Jerry was away at school, she had no idea. She didn't want to go on as she had, seducing every young man she could get her hands on. She sighed, putting it from her mind. Something would happen and solve her problem.
Jerry looked at his mother. She was lying back, relaxed, her breasts rising and falling with her deep breathing. He ran his hand over her tits lovingly. They were soft now, their turgid nipples slowly subsiding into the twin brown areolas. She smiled back at him as his hand caressed her sweat-slick flesh.
"It was great, Mom, I never knew how wonderful it could be," he admitted. "I think I understand it now. You just can't help yourself, can you? And I guess just one guy isn't enough for you." He looked at her longingly, wishing he alone could satisfy her hunger, but knowing he couldn't.
"No, I guess not," Barbara admitted. It was a big admission for her, and contrary to everything she had previously believed. Everyday morality dictated that one man should be sufficient for one woman, and, until the last few days, she had believed it. But now she wasn't too sure that society was right. Hadn't her actions proved that she needed almost constant sex? And what one man could satisfy that?
"I bet you could go again easy," Jerry continued. "If you want, well, would you like me to get Steve in here? Maybe the two of us could keep you happy, for a while at least." He frowned, wishing he didn't have to go back to school.
Barbara's heart leaped. She couldn't believe her son was suggesting this solution. "You wouldn't mind?" she breathed, her body already tingling at the thought of taking on the two men. Why, they can fuck me in the ass and cunt at the same time, she thought. She had wanted to try that since this afternoon, when Skip and Buddy had used the bottle on her empty orifice. Imagine what two cocks could do. She shuddered.
"Well, I do mind in a way," Jerry admitted. "But," he got a mental picture of he and his friend plowing simultaneously into his mother's trembling body, "anything for you. I wouldn't be jealous - I know you need it!" He grinned at her, not admitting even to himself that his prime motive was a selfish desire.
"Oh, Jerry darling, I love you! You're so understanding. Go get your friend," Barbara said excitedly. "I'd love to have you both. Of course you'll always be first," she added comfortingly as a shadow of doubt crossed her son's face.
"Okay, Mom," Jerry said, jumping off the bed, stark naked. "Just a second. I'll get him!" He walked out of the room.
Barbara lay back on the bed, scarcely about to breathe for excitement. Both of them at once, doing what I want. God! she mused, her mind full of lascivious pictures. She hugged herself in anticipation, rocking back and forth on the bed. | 4 |
484 | The Adventures of Rachel Roundheels, Teen Slutpuppy | "I wish we'd been born sisters." Jesse said, gently daubing 'Watermelon Pink' lipstick onto my pussylips. I was sitting on the edge of the bed in just an oversized T-shirt, legs spread wide, while she sat on the floor between them in just her panties, her face just inches away from my hole, decorating it. I could feel her humid breath on my cunt and it was making me really horny.
"How come?" I asked, although I thought I knew the answer. I know her pretty well, I think - besides, we think a lot alike.
"'Cause," She said, leaning forward and lightly licking my labia, letting her tongue just dance across them, teasing. "I just think it would be so cool to be doing this stuff with somebody I was like, related to -wouldn't that be incredibly kinky?"
"For a moment I couldn't answer, 'cause the feeling of her tongue on my cuntlips made me catch my breath and close my eyes. I opened them, sighing impatiently.
"God-damn, Jesse, if you're gonna lick me, lick me! I hate it when you get me all hot like that and don't let me cum."
"Alriiiight -godd, don't be such a bitch, Rachel...this stuff won't go on right, anyway -you're too wet." She leaned forward again, sucking my nether-lips into her mouth and lapping her tongue into my slit, then up along the clit. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, moaning.
"Don't you think that would be hot, She continued between licks, 'To like, fuck someone in your own family?'"
Actually, I thought it would be very specifically hot, but I wasn't ready to tell her about that particular fantasy -not just yet...it was too weird.
"Mmmm... maybe, " I said, wriggling my ass under her tongue, "What do you mean?"
"I don't know," She said, holding my pussylips apart with her thumb and forefinger. "I guess it's just exciting 'cause you're not supposed to do it, ever." Her tongue began rapidly flicking back and forth across my clit and I nearly screamed from the intensity of the sensation. I reached down to her head and lightly touched her hair, caressing her ears.
"Ooooh, godd." I groaned, my back arching up off the bed. I was wishing for a mouth at my nipples. One very particular mouth. I could almost see him, feel him.
"haven't you ever imagined making it with somebody that you're never supposed to think about that way -like an uncle, or a cousin...or your dad?"
Jesse reached across the floor, almost without looking up, and snagged the slim lipstick tube from the carpet. Still licking my rigid little clit, she started easing the small plastic cylinder into my tight, puckered sphincter. The intensity was too much -I thrashed and writhed in wild orgasm, biting on my fist to keep from screaming out loud.
"Yess!" I squealed, my teeth leaving deep marks in my first two fingers, "Oh godd, YEESSS!"
Jesse sighed, looking out across the backyard. Against the back fence, her brother Chris fought with a lawnmower that seemed tangled in something too far away for us to see.
"Mmm-mmm...hunky-dory, huh?" She said. "I gotta have it. I GOTTA HAVE IT!"
"Okaaaay," I said, "Go ahead -have it."
"Her shoulders fell, her face dropped into a pout. "I don't know HOW," She whined, "I'm scared, Rachel. What if he thinks I'm a gross ol' whore?"
"He's a guy, Jess," I told her, "It doesn't matter what he thinks -he'll do it anyway. You're a hot little hardbody. Sister or not, he's not gonna say no to a pretty piece of pussy."
Across the yard, the sound of the mower died. Chris began pushing it back toward the house and the back deck where we sat lounging in the Saturday morning sunshine. He left the mower in the grass next to the house and bounded up the wooden steps of the deck, headed for the backdoor, into the house.
"Good morning!" I quipped, peeking at him over the top of my heart-shaped sunglasses. He stared at me as he walked past. I smiled sweetly, knowing he could see my pretty pear- shaped tits through my thin T-shirt.
Jesse leaned forward in her lawn chair as the french doors closed behind him, to get a last look at his buns in his cutoffs.
"Gotta have it!" She growled through clenched teeth. "Hey, slut -what are you tryin' to do, steal my action?"
"Huh?" I said, a little bewildered, until I realized she was staring at my lap. I looked down to see that my long T-shirt had ridden up over my crossed legs, to expose my blonde bush and my pouting cuntlips, still glistening with my moisture, Jesse's saliva, and a sheen of 'Watermelon Pink' lipstick. "Oops!" I grinned sheepishly, and we both burst into a hail of demented giggles.I gave a quick glance around, to see that Chris, too, was silently ogling dad's beautiful cock.
"That's really cool, Dad." I said, trying to deflate some of the awkward tension in the room. I looked him in the eyes, sliding my hands into the back pockets of my shorts and thrusting my chest out a little, to be sure he caught a look at my nipples through my T-shirt.
"Well...it isn't exactly something I ever intended to do for an audience." He said, still smiling weakly. for a moment I was afraid he might ask us to leave and just pretend it had never happened. "I didn't think that was even possible for humans." Chris volunteered suddenly, "I tried it once or twice when I was a kid, but I couldn't even come close."
"Me either," dad grinned crookedly, relaxing a little. "I read about it in Penthouse Forum when I was about your age -some guy wrote in claiming he did it all the time. It sounded pretty hot to me, so I tried it. Lay down on my back, threw my legs back over my head and lay there wishing with my stiff dick dangling about six inches above my face."
"So how'd you figure out how to do it?" Chris asked, still stealing glances at my father's lovely erection. Dad didn't acknowledge the admiring looks, but I noticed his cock pulsing and quivering just a bit, a gleaming drop of cum welling up at the slit of it's head, just begging to be licked off.
"It's not so much a specific trick, as just teaching the body to learn the position," Dad said, "At first I noticed that when you're upside down, you can catch your feet under something like a drawer or a headboard ledge and use it to curl your body even more tightly. That's how I learned to get the tip past my lips. Later, I learned that if you loosen up the back and shoulder muscles enough, you can do it sitting down like this and get even more -sometimes about half the shaft."
"Wow." gushed Chris, still staring at Dad's dick with a faraway look in his eye, and I knew what he'd be doing when he got home.
"You mean you've been doing this a long time?" I asked him. Obviously my Pop was a lot more kinky than I'd ever thought. "Does Mom know?"
"Your mother was never interested in anything so unusual. I tried to turn her on to a few things, but she just didn't want to know. She thought things like this were perverse and disgusting."
Oh, you poor baby, I thought, Let me make you feel all better.
"Perverse, maybe," I said, walking over to kneel at his feet. "But no way disgusting! Show me that again, Daddy, that was really hot!"
I looked up at him from between his legs and he leaned forward, his eyes locked with mine. I thought he was going to kiss me, even started to raise my lips to his, but he reached under his thighs, locked his elbows around his legs and his mouth descended straight onto his still erect cock, the head pushing past his puckered lips, till he had the first half of it buried in his mouth. Then he came slowly up, and I watched from inches away, as the shaft eased wetly, a millimeter at a time out of his swollen cheeks, the crown of the purple head finally appearing just before it popped out, waggling stiffly in the air. He licked around the head, then dived onto the pole again, now bobbing up and down, sucking in earnest, his spittle drooling down the shaft and around his tight, wrinkled scrotum.
I couldn't believe I was actually seeing this! It was so amazing, I just stared, getting wetter and wetter. With one hand I reached up unconsciously and began to fondle my breasts. I was enraptured in the sight, fascinated by the idea of watching my own father actually orgasm a full load of his sperm into his own mouth. On the other hand, it just wasn't in me to sit by and be only a spectator.
"Mmm," I purred, leaning forward finally and whispering into his ear. "Let me help." I took his gorgeous penis tenderly from his mouth and devoured it with my own.
"Aaaah," Daddy groaned, sitting up in the chair and smiling down at me. He glanced over at Chris, still standing in the door, who had taken his own hard cock out and was watching the two of us, stroking it sensuously, the first bead of cum just appearing at the engorged tip.
Dad motioned Chris over to us. "C'mere."
Chris walked over to stand beside us, still massaging himself. Dad reached up, took Chris' hand, pulled it away from his stiff cock and leaning towards him, plowed his mouth onto Chris' rigid pink meat.
"Oh, man!" Chris moaned, putting his hands on dad's head, as my father grabbed him by the hips and plunged my friend's cock deeper into his sucking mouth. I could tell Dad was incredibly turned on by the ravenous way he was slurping Chris' dick, it was obvious he was relishing the delicious young cock -his own massive meat was swollen rock-hard between my plunging lips, pulsing like it might burst in a creamy explosion any second. I wondered if Dad was so hot because he'd never done anything like this before, or if he just really liked sucking dick...of course, it could have been the fact that his own cute'n'sexy teenage daughter was simultaneously giving a sloppy lip massage to his own rigid pole. Either which way you looked at it, Dad and I were clearly entering the beginning of a beautiful new father-daughter relationship and I was loving it! "Change-up!" I exclaimed, pulling Dad off the chair and onto the floor, leading him by his now slippery dick. Chris' cock popped out of Dad's mouth as we went and Chris followed us onto the carpet. I quickly pulled off my shorts and yanked my T-shirt over my head. Dad stared hungrily at my breasts, like he just couldn't wait to suck a whole one all the way into his mouth. The thought gave me excited little chill bumps.
"Somebody has gotta fuck me now!" I said, lying back on the floor and parting my legs, so Dad could get a good look at my fresh pink pouting lil' pussy. I was dying to feel that big fat whopper in my tight wet cunt.
Dad looked up at Chris, like he thought the boy might argue with him about who got to fuck me first. Maybe he thought Chris was my boyfriend or something. Chris just smiled, his saliva-wet hard-on still bobbing in front of him."Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt...go ahead, man." The little smartass!
Dad leaned over me, lowering his face to mine, in a real kiss this time. I raised my head to meet him, my right hand combing through his hair as I opened my mouth and we twirled our cum- sticky tongues together. I kissed and tongued him soulfully, tasting him, fucking his mouth gently with my tongue, probing and searching. I made love to him with my lips, ending the clench by biting tenderly on his lower lip and slowly releasing it.
He kissed his way down my neck, across my chest, nibbling my nipples with his lips, pinching them in tiny bites with his teeth. I moaned aloud when he slid his warm palms under the cheeks of my ass and lifted my bottom off the floor, burying his face in my pussy, sucking the lips between his and flicking at my clit with his expert tongue.
"Oh god, Daddy!" I squealed as he spread me with his fingers and sucked my stiff little nubbin into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. His thumb slipped into my soaking hole, fucking back and forth as he licked me and I squirmed uncontrollably, panting and bucking.
"Oooh, Jesus, Daddy -put your dick in me, please!" I whined, reaching between my legs and grabbing his cock. He moved his body over mine and I rubbed the blunt head of his dick against my nether-lips. He slid all the way into me in a single smooth, wet stroke and I began to orgasm instantly from the wonderful feel of his huge thickness stretching the hungry walls of my cunt, filling me up more completely than anything I'd ever experienced before. I thrashed my hips about wildly, grabbing his upper arms tightly as my entire body shuddered violently, deliciously.
"Daddy, oh god, Daddy!" I screamed, thrusting up to meet him, clambering for every inch of him. I wanted all of him inside me, even his tender balls, every bit of his sex, stuffed - buried up inside my warm pussy. I couldn't stop cumming, yet it still wasn't enough. I couldn't hold enough of him to feel that I'd thoroughly satisfied that perfect cock -and at that moment, I lived to please him, to make him cum in screaming ecstasy, to give him the same overwhelming pleasure that I was experiencing.
I felt a warm fleshy prodding at my lips and opened my eyes to see that Chris had knelt beside us and was feeding his own prick toward me., rubbing it back and forth across my lips. I lapped and tickled it with my tongue, while I continued to writhe my hips and buck on my father's cock. Dad put his lips down on mine, trapping Chris' rigid pink penis between us, sliding the head into his mouth, to suck the slippery cum that was drooling from the tip in a shiny strand. I licked Chris' wrinkly balls, gently sucking them each in turn. Above me, Chris moaned, his head rolling back loosely on his shoulders. The moaning turned to a light grunting and I could tell he was about to cum.
Inside my clenching cunt, Dad's cock swelled up suddenly, even larger than before and began to quiver and pulse. Pulling back, he reached down with one hand and yanked his spasming meat out of my pussy. I nearly screamed at him to put it back, but he was already up on one knee, his big dick aimed straight at my now slimy face. Before I could even open my mouth to catch it, his steaming sperm came blasting at me in pearly ropes, drenching my cheeks and splattering across Chris' dick and balls to drip off his steely erection in thick, creamy strands.
The hot sight of Dad's yummy jism electrified Chris, too, and his own excited prick began to jerk and throb, spurting even more sticky cum across my face and breasts, some even spattering onto my father's cock and thighs. We were all dripping with milky male love cream. I scooped it off my face in thick gobs and sucked it off my fingers, rubbing the rest into my breasts and cheeks. It smelled sooo sexy.
The guys sat back on the carpet, panting, while I lounged on my back, just feeling the sticky liquid cool and dry on my warm flesh. Dad seemed kind of lost in a daze, but he was smiling. Chris looked around for his jeans and stiffly rose from the floor.
"Whew!" He sighed, "It's been fun, gang, but I really gotta get goin'. Seeya tomorrow, Rache."
"Maybe," I smiled, waving goodbye from the floor. "I may just stay home and snuggle with my Daddy."Through the teeny periscope I saw Jesse, dancing impatiently from foot to foot and smacking a big wad of gum.
"Hi," I said, opening the door and stepping back to let her in. She froze for a moment when she saw me and her gum chewing slowed, but didn't stop. I was naked, except for a silver slave-chain about my waist and a leather collar around my neck. She stepped past me, smiling hesitantly, not knowing quite what to make of the look.
"Cool," She said, "Your Dad go away for the weekend and leave you the keys, or what?"
Then she saw Dad, lounging on the sofa, still in his big loose bathrobe. I could tell she was piecing the situation together in her head, but couldn't quite bring herself to vocalize it, lest she'd guessed wrong.
I padded back across the room, and sat on the floor at Daddy's feet, like he'd taught me to do. I wanted to be a good, obedient slave. Daddy's spankings hurt.
"Good morning," Jesse said, kind of nodding at Dad, her eyes darting nervously about the room.
"Morning, Jess," Dad smiled. He was browsing the Sunday paper, but I knew without even looking he was also stealing glances at Jesse's trim little raven-haired bod. Her jeans clung snugly to her slender, shapely thighs and though her tits were barely more than a swell of her chest, the dark chocolate color of her perfect quarter-size nipples showed clearly through her cream-colored blouse.
Jess sat down on the couch and looked at me, still smacking her gum. I could tell she had a million questions, but was too shy to ask them in front of Dad.
"So what happened to Chris?" She asked me. "I couldn't have dragged his lazy ass out of bed this morning with a towtruck, and he says it's all your fault."
Dad just grinned and looked at his paper. I smiled at Jesse and cocked my head. "Hmmm...can't imagine..."
Dad looked up at Jess quizzically. "Did he say anything about his dick being sore?"
"Well, he didn't say that," Jesse began to grin herself. "But I suspected that might be part of the problem when I offered to blow him and he just groaned and rolled over to go back to sleep."
"Oh, that's terrible!" Dad said, setting the paper aside. "You poor girl - you can't start your day without breakfast, it isn't healthy. Rachel, offer our guest some cock."
"Yes, father," I said, like a good little girl. I got up on my knees, opened the front of Daddy's robe and grasped his already stiffening dick in my fist. I slid my mouth over it and ran my tongue up and down it a few times, to make sure it was really rigid, then I offered the thick tubesteak to Jesse. "Mmmm - have some, please."
Jess had stopped chewing her gum and just sat there, staring in amazement at the hefty sumptuous dick glistening with my saliva, that bobbed in the air before her as it pulsed in my fist. I swear I could hear her tight little pussy lubricating as she stared. She took the gum out of her mouth and slid off the sofa to kneel beside me, her movements slow and trancelike. Her right hand reached out to gently take the fat pole from my fist. She squeezed it, stroked it, rested it's weight against her palm. Then she leaned forward, eyes closing in sensual ecstasy, to rub it against her face, inhaling it's scent.
"Mmmm..." She purred. "Gotta have it."
She took each of Dad's huge, satiny balls into her mouth, one at a time and tenderly made love to them with her tongue. Her mouth ran smoothly up his shaft and she engulfed the big purple mushroom of his cockhead, barely stretching her mouth enough to insert it. I watched in rapt adoration, my best friend giving my father a savory and affectionate blowjob, as he lay his head back on the sofa groaning in pleasure. My hand slipped to my crotch and I began to rub my soft pink slit, the viscous juices already flowing freely.
"You like that tasty cock?" Dad asked Jesse, smiling at her through slitted eyes. Jesse just moaned and smiled back. "Bet you'd have loved seeing it yesterday, when it squirted white hot cock-cream all over your big brother's pretty pink dick."
Jesse took dad's meat out of her mouth, still pumping it with her fist and gasped. "Oh, goddd, - wow!" She marveled. "That's so hot! You've gotta do that again, so I can see it."
"Only if you promise to lick us both clean, like Rachel did," Daddy said, reaching out to stroke Jesse's hair.
"No problem," said Jess, lapping dad's cockhead. "Love that cum -gotta have it!"
"You should've seen Dad slurping away with Chris' cock in his mouth," I said from behind her, still slowly massaging my clit, "While he deep-fucked me."
"You guys!" Jesse whined, whipping her head around to glare at me in mock-anger. "How dare you have all that fun while I'm not even here! I'm never going out of town again!"
"Well, I guess we do kinda owe you one," Dad grinned. "We'll have to plan a little party for next weekend to make up for it. Rache-" He motioned me over next to Jesse. "You wanna help your friend finish up here?"
I quickly scooted over to his knee, so I could lean in and take turns with Jesse, lapping and sucking at Dad's swollen erection. He sat there moaning quietly, watching our two ravenous teenage mouths coaxing the cum from his turgid rod. When he finally came, it wasn't a lot - between the mini-orgy with Chris and the night of passion with me, his balls were pretty drained, but Jesse and I tongue-warred over the small amount of his delicious cream that there was. We shared the sticky goo in a deep french kiss as Dad lay back on the couch with his eyes closed, smiling to himself.I stood up on my knees on the bed, in just my panties and white tank top, kissed her again, then pushed her back onto the mattress, nuzzling her breasts as I undid her bra. The instant they were free, I began sucking hard on her big brown nipples, going back and forth between them.
"It just seems so...perverted...but it feels...wonderful..."
"Shut up, Mother." I mumbled against the warm fleshy globes.
She broke into a grin, but she stopped talking. I felt her warm hands gliding up my thighs and caressing my bottom. Mom tugged on my panties, pulling them down to my knees, then slipped her fingertips between my legs, probing and exploring. I put my mouth against her ear.
"Mmmm, touch my pussy, Mom. Feel my slippery wet cunt."
She did. Her fingers danced around my nether-lips, slipping inside to tease, then back up my slit to tenderly polish my clitoris. I rotated my ass in the air, plunging back to engulf her coy fingers. Once in awhile, her middle finger would slip against my tiny pleated asshole making me gasp and grunt -at first I thought it was just by accident, then she pressed harder, popping inside, up to the first knuckle.
"Ooooh, godd, that's sooo incredibly hot, Mom!" I moaned, biting hard on her rigid nipples.
"You gotta do me, too, baby" She said, pulling her fingers out and reaching under me to undo her skirt and yank it and her panties down her legs. we both discarded the last of our clothes so we could seriously indulge in each other's flesh.
I crawled back over her, grabbing the giant double-dong from beside us, and began rubbing it slowly back and forth across her slit, bending to spread her cuntlips so I could lap her clit, too. My tongue forayed down her labia, ocassionally slipping between them, into my mother's moist and tasty vagina. When she was really dripping and slick, I started easing the huge rubber dick knob up inside her. She grunted and wriggled her hips, fucking back at the hefty nightstick.
"Mmm,' Mom purred. "You, too, Honey, come here." She shifted herself around on the bed, so we both had room to stretch out, and positioned me on my bottom at her crotch, our legs pretzled over each other. Our cunts were nearly mouth-to-mouth, just a few inches apart, and she took the big rubber dick's remaining head and pushed it against my own slippery opening. I rotated my hips, lubricating the manikin meat with my juices so that it slid in more easily. Still, it was huge -I felt it stretching my vaginal walls even wider than Daddy's thick cock had done. Once it was in, the sight was such an incredible rush, I couldn't stop thrusting my ass back toward Mom. The huge rubber cock was buried deep in both our stretched and hungry holes, only two or three inches could still be seen protruding from our swollen, puffy pink pussies. Every time one of us moved, it caused the dildo to plunge deeper into the other. We were fucking each other with every twitch of our hips. Both of us began to cum, our vaginas contracting over and over on that enormous firm penis that writhed and plunged as we bucked, just like a real cock. I lay there heaving and sweating, fucking Mom hard, leaning back on my elbows so I could watch her big tits bobble and shimmy as I thrust the cock into her dripping snatch. She was groaning and panting herself, reaching down once in awhile to rub my clit and massage my labia as they sucked at the pink rubbery telephone pole stuffed into my widespread cooze.
Finally, Mom eased her end from her slimy slit and moved up over me to kiss my breasts, neck and tummy. I felt her reach between my legs and continue to fuck me with the dildo. It was soo sweet. She kissed her way down my belly to my mons, and began lapping at my pussylips while she slid the imitation dick in and out slowly. I just closed my eyes and floated on the endless orgasm, moaning softly. Then I felt something nudge my crack and press up against my asshole. Mom was trying to push the other end of that giant dildo into my bottom.
"No-no-no!" I protested, laughing. "It's too big!"
"You wanted to know what I do with it," Mom grinned up at me wickedly. "This is my favorite trick."
She rubbed the huge head in my own cunt juices which were running in slippery rivers from my pussy, and pressed it against my asshole again, harder this time.
"Mom!" I squealed, in real pain. That rubber thing was fucking huge!
She kept pushing, slowly, gently, but it didn't help -the thing was just too big! "Mom" I cried again. "STOP IT!" The giant knob popped past my screaming sphincter and shoved it's way up into my hotly burning butthole. It felt like it was going to split me wide open, but good gods, was my pussy on fire! "Oh, Jesus, Mom!" I panted. "That's so good" It hurts, oh godd it hurts -I love it!" It was all true. My poor abused bum felt like it would tear from the overload, but my little ol' clit was hard as a pebble and my two full fuckholes wouldn't let me stop cumming! I shuddered and shook and trembled, and somewhere along the way, I passed out.
I came back to conciousland with Mom kneeling over me, lightly kissing my forehead. The dildo was nowhere in sight, but the tingling and aching in my butt and the warm, stretched and satisfied feeling in my pussy weren't going to let me forget it anytime soon. I reached up and took one of Mom's big breasts in my hand and nuzzled it, smooching the nipple.
"That was nice, Mom." I said dreamily.
"Are you okay, honey?" She asked me, smiling. "I know it was kind of uncomfortable going in, but I really thought you'd like it."
"I loved it, Mom." I sighed, "How about you?"
"It was the most exciting sexual experience I've ever had in my life, Rachel." She said. "Thank you for making it happen."
"I'm glad you had a good time, Mom, " I told her, "I love you."
Then a sly and wicked thought occurred to me and I smiled up at her tenderly. "What are you doing Saturday night?"I wanted Dad to cum on her ass, so I could massage my breasts against her torn cheeks, and mingle the two precious life-fluids into my own flesh.
Finally, the hail of lashes stopped. I was so relieved- I'd begun to wonder if he was going to kill her. Dad tossed the belt aside and knelt behind Mom's tortured bottom. Mom's breath was ragged and full of tears, but she must have been experiencing something close to my own excitement, because she raised her head and began kissing my breasts, sucking at my throbbing nipples.
She gasped harshly when Dad put his hands on her glowing hot asscheeks and pried them apart. She screamed loudly and incoherently when he plunged his stiff, thick erection into her tight puckered and unlubricated anus. Her scream vibrated against my chest and she clutched me desperately when he began fucking her steaming butthole deeply and rhythmically without even giving her a chance to adjust to the intrusion.
"Oh god, you BASTARD!" She wailed. "You vicious bastard son-of-a-bitch! FUCK ME! RIP MY HOT ASSHOLE! FUCK ME HARDER, MAKE ME SCREAM!"
Dad leaned forward, hunching over her back as his swollen cock slid roughly in and out of her snug sphincter. He reached up and pried the plugs from her ears, whispering against her temple.
"Make me CUM, you dirty fucking whore - milk my cock with your asshole and make me spurt your butt full of steaming, creamy jizz!"
Mom's jaw dropped, just for a second, as she recognized the voice.
"It's YOU! Goddamn you! GOD-DAMN YOU! You bastard!" She began to slam her tormented flanks back against him, ramming his big beautiful cock all the way up her asshole, impaling herself on his hard meat.
"FUCK ME, GODDAMN YOU! SHOOT YOUR FUCKING SPERM UP MY ASS! SHOOT IT! I WANT TO FEEL YOUR BOILING FUCKING CUM BURNING MY BUTTHOLE! FUCK ME YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH AND CUM INSIDE ME! FILL MY SCREAMING HOT ASS!"
Dad grabbed her thighs and shoved deep. If I couldn't tell by the look on his face, Mom's screaming and writhing let me know she was getting the asshole full of cum she'd been begging for. I reached across Mom's back and took the base of Dad's dick in my fingers, pumping the shaft, to milk every last drop of his cum into her anus. Both of them groaned and grunted, and for a long moment we all three just sat there, sweating, not saying anything.
CHAPTER 11
After Dad had pulled his shrunken and satisfied dick from Mom's battered butthole, he lay on his back on the carpet beside her. She was curled in a fetal position,her head in my lap. The belt with the ping-pong balls still covered her eyes as her tears ran out from under them, rolling across her cheeks to dry in streaks along her jawline. I reached down as I stroked her hair and took the blinders off. Still sniffling a bit, she grasped my hands in hers and looked around her cautiously.
"So who's brilliant smart-ass idea was this, anyway?" she asked quietly, trembling against my chest.
"Mine, Mom...I'm sorry. He didn't even know who you were when we started."
She glanced toward Dad. "So do you treat every woman you fuck like this?"
Dad smiled slightly without looking toward her. "Only the ones I care about."
Mom's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," He answered, "If I hadn't cared so much then, I wouldn't enjoy punishing you so much now. Besides, it really pisses me off that you're such a hot fucking slut now, when you wouldn't do shit for me when we were married."
"I'm sorry." She said gently, and I could tell she meant it. "It wasn't that I didn't want to. I was just afraid you wouldn't like me anymore if you knew how horny and slutty I really was inside."
"You stupid bitch," Dad chuckled. "Horny and slutty was just what I always wanted. I came to resent you because I wanted horny and slutty and I wasn't getting it!"
"I'm sorry." Mom said again. This time there was a long moment of silence, while both of them just stared into space. I wasn't sure what either of them might be thinking, but I wasn't going to stick my nose in this one, it was way too heavy for me.
"So what if you were to get it now?" She said finally.
Dad's reply came slowly, thoughtfully. "Do you really think you can be submissive and obedient enough for me to put up with you?"
Mom rolled sideways and got up on her knees, her hands still handcuffed before her. She bowed her head to her chest, facing my Dad.
"Yes, Master." She said smiling.
A few feet away, Jesse was straddling her brother Chris, humping up and down on his stiff dick, while he lay on the floor beneath, caressing her small soft breasts. Daryl stood next to her, trying to aim the camcorder nearly straight down to capture the sight of Chris' cock as it appeared and disappeared beneath Jesse's furry crotch. All the while, he was feeding his own erection into Jess' mouth with his other hand.
"Nice grouping," Dad said as he crawled toward them. "But let's see if we can organize something a little more complex."
He took the camcorder from Daryl and set it on it's tripod across the room, where it could see us all at once. Then he returned to where we were all gathered, around Chris and Jesse.
"C'mere," He grunted to Daryl, grasping him by the waist and guiding him around behind Jess and Chris. He brought Daryl to his knees behind Jess and grasping Daryl's cock in his hand, stroked it firmly a couple of times, squeezing it to engorge the head, swelling the pretty lavender mushroom to full size. It looked delicious! Then Dad leaned over and drooled warm spittle all over Daryl's swollen cockhead.
Pressing a palm against Jesse's back to bend her over into a doggie-crouch, Dad spread her buttcheeks and rubbed the saliva from Daryl's fat tip against Jesse's pink carnation.
"Mmm, yeah, put it up my ass, baby," Jess growled. "Gotta have it!"
I saw Daryl's big round knob pop past Jesse's sphincter and she gave a guttural grunt.
"Uhmm!" She moaned, rotating her ass in little circles and pressing back against both the hard dicks fucking her tight holes.
"Wow." Daryl marveled to Chris. "I can feel your dick in her cunt!"
"Cool!" Chris agreed. "Mmm, your cock's rubbing right against mine!"
"Oh godd!" Jesse squealed. "Fuck me! Cum! Big loads of sperm! Squirt it! Cum in my cunt and ass- gotta have it!"
I didn't wait to see what else Dad had in mind- I swung a leg over Chris' head and lowered my sopping pussy onto his face. I rubbed my slippery slit back and forth across his chin and nose while he jabbed his tongue deep into my hole, lapping the walls of my vagina. I reached out and buried my face in Jess' hair, until she looked up and kissed me, gently sucking my tongue and purring into my mouth.
Over Jesse's back, I caught sight of Mom and Dad crouched behind her, and nuzzling her ear, I stretched to see what they were doing.
"Too fucking cool." I breathed in Jesse's ear.
Mom and Dad knelt on either side of Jesse's upturned ass, both leaning in close, to tongue the two adolescent cocks that slid in and out of Jesse's lower openings. While Mom ran her lips up and down the side of Chris' shaft, Dad was gently tongue-bathing Daryl's balls.
"Oh, Man!" Chris exclaimed suddenly, looking up at Daryl. "You're cumming! I can feel your dickhead swelling up!
"Wait!" Daryl exclaimed, "Wait! I wanna try something!" He yanked his cock out of Jesse's asshole and pushed her out of the way. Jess scuttled sideways, complaining loudly at the loss of both hot cocks as Chris' came slipping out of her cunt.
Daryl hobbled up on one knee, to straddle Chris' prone body and grabbing Chris' shimmering erection, still slimy and wet from Jesse's warm pussy, guided it to the opening of his tight brown butthole. He sank down on the stiff penis, impaling himself with a groan.
"Aaah, goddamn, that's SO HOT!" He sighed, grabbing his own hard cock and stroking it with his fist. Instantly, spurts of white-hot cream began streaming from it's length, arcing high into the air and falling in large sticky splotches onto Chris' belly and chest. A couple of the thickest gobs spattered across Chris' cheeks and lips, just as he opened his mouth to release a long low cry of his own.
"Oh, godd, YES!" He cried, humping his pelvis up, shoving his cock deeper into Daryl's ass. From the grimace on Chris' face, I knew Daryl was getting a hot sperm enema- a hunch confirmed seconds later, when the thick white fluid came oozing from Daryl's butthole, around the thick shaft of his friend's beautiful hard cock, to trickle past Chris' balls and down between his buns.
From behind the two guys, Mom and Dad looked at each other, smiling in amazement.
"Good gods, these kids are hot!" said Mom. "How long have you been teaching them this stuff?"
"I can't take credit for this," Dad laughed. "I think Rachel did it."
I crawled to them, kissing them both and pushing Dad onto his back. "You guys," I smirked,"I swear, you think you're the only people in the world who like to fuck."
I reached underneath me and gently pulled on Dad's cock. "Got one more load in there?" I begged. "I haven't been fucked at all tonight."
"Nope." He grinned, but he was already getting hard.
By the time Dad shot his last load of sperm into my cum-hungry cunt, everybody but Mom had adjourned to the kitchen for munchies. Finally removing her handcuffs, Dad ordered her to clean me up, and like a dutiful slave, she slurped every last drop of his cream from my lil' pink pussy.
Daryl went home after that, and Chris and Jess slept together curled up in blankets on the living room floor, while Mom and Dad and I all snuggled together in Dad's big bed. In the morning, Mom and I managed to milk another load out of Dad's poor tired cock with our mouths and vaginas, while we all watched the videotape of the party, from Dad's bed.
"Man," Jesse whined as she and Chris were dressing to leave, "I wish my family gave way cool parties like this." I just smiled and winked at her.
"So ask 'em." I said. I think she thought it was a joke, but the idea of seeing Chris done by his dad was really weighing on my horny lil' mind. 'If something doesn't happen pretty soon,' I decided, 'I'm gonna go over there and make it happen.'
All in all, I guess everything sort of turned out happily ever after. Mom and Dad didn't get remarried or anything, but they actually get along much better. Mom's really his number-one sex slave now- and married or not, she wouldn't fuck or suck anyone else- at least not unless he ordered her to (which he sometimes does). I'm still his slave-girl, too, although Dad's never asked me to be faithful, so I kind of do what I want, most of the time. He just calls the shots in bed. Daryl and Chris and Jesse and I kind of cum and go as we please- we all know where to go if we're horny. In fact sometimes I think Jesse's kind of developing a thing for my Dad. A romantic thing, I mean. In a way, that would be kind of fun. Just think, if she married him, I could do my Mom and my stepmom at the same time. Too fucking cool... | 4 |
515 | Beefstar | "Do you, like, ever let people into your meat-locker to, like, uh, you know, fuck around with the meat?" I asked.
The short-haired Greek man looked at me strangely from behind the counter. Several of the waitresses glared in my direction.
"What do you mean 'fuck around'?" the dumpy Greek asked.
"You know, like shoving your dick in and out of the openings in the meat. Then, like, getting a bunch of smelly, sticky cream of tubesteak all over the junk that you grind into foodburgers," I informed him.
"No, we don't do that. You don't do that. Nobody does that," the imbecile claimed.
"I do that," I began, "and as a matter of fact, most of my pals do that too. We like it."
Overhearing our conversation, one of the waitresses gave me a sour look. She seemed to be acting like she was getting sick. The cook and the other two waitresses completely ignored everything except the random orders for patty melts and double cheeseburgers.
"Look, I don't want to do anything weird or strange or anything. I just want to fuck a bunch of meat that you got in your huge ol' meat locker. Listen, don't any of you stupid fuckers understand what I'm saying?" I stated in an agitated manner.
"Mister, people gotta eat my food. If you stick your dick in the food, no one can eat. Frank will lose money. We can't do that," the Greek said.
"How much money would you lose, bright eyes?" I asked.
"A big thing of cow costs Frank $220 for a half," Greek-man said.
"Well, I want to fuck around with about 13 of them. Let's see...that's about $2860...and I'll give you...oh, let's see...$40 just for letting me do it, OK?"
"I don't know."
"OK. Look, I'll give you $3000 cash, RIGHT NOW, 'cause I like you an awful lot, and also 'cause I'm fucking sick and tired of trying to talk to you goddamn Greek half-wits."
The Greek seemed to ponder what I had said for a minute, or perhaps he was just wallowing in incomprehension. One waitress went into the back-room and loudly threw up.
"OK. But you give Frank the money NOW."
I handed the three bills over to the fool and lifted up a section of the counter and walked into the walk-in freezer.
"OK, you can fuck with 13 sides of cow, but leave the cheese and other stuff alone. OK?"
There was a wide variety of different kinds of food present in the walk-in freezer. Many, many eggs and other fine foods. I could see containers of pancake batter and butter. On the left was what I was after. Thirteen beautiful sides of beef!
I started to get a hard-on just looking at the beef!
"You got your cash. Get out of here!" I shouted at the geek.
I casually waltzed up to the nearest beef-side and began to sweet-talk it.
"Hi, new in town? Ever get into Satanism? Shit, you're cute."
The cool beef did not reply.
--Original story by Don Bolles | 3 |
635 | Wheelchair Sex | "Don't bother!" Melanie snapped when I offered to help her inside her apartment. "You've done your charity work for this evening!"
It had been that way ever since I had made that remark at eight, right after dinner. By nine o'clock, I was more than ready to take her home. She hadn't exactly been a ray of sunshine, but I could understand that it was a rough thing for a twenty-year-old girl to be confined to a wheelchair. But even cutting her some slack, I'd had enough of her bitching and acid remarks to last a lifetime.
"Just what the hell is your problem?" I glared at her, and wheelchair or no wheelchair, I was ready to smack her a good one.
"Problem?" she sneered. "Oh, it's no problem. I don't mind that my sister paid you to take poor, old, crippled me to dinner."
"Damnit," I bit, "I didn't say she paid me. I just said that I had to borrow some money. But it wasn't from your sister."
What I had tried to tell her over after-dinner coffee was that the whole date was turning out to be a lot of fun - for me anyway.
"Meaning just what?" she asked, her attitude softening slightly.
"Meaning I thought the date was worth having to borrow some money. I don't get my unemployment check 'til next Friday and I didn't want to postpone our date. Does that come clear to you now?"
"I suppose," she allowed, "but I know you wanted to dance and of course I can't."
"Naw," I shrugged, "I'm not that good of a dancer, really."
"And my sister didn't use any pressure on you to take me out?"
I had to draw a fine line at that point. Her sister, Jamie, had suggested that I take Melanie out, but the only persuasion she had used was to tell me that Melanie had a terrible crush on me.
When Jamie suggested I date her sister, I might not have gone for it, but at that time I really needed the ego shot of having a pretty girl - even one in a wheelchair - with a crush on me. My fiancee of two years had just up and bolted on me, making me look like a jerk by running off to Las Vegas with my boss and so I basically lost both job and girl. Besides, I thought that Melanie looked a lot like that old movie actress, Dorris Day, and that wasn't half bad in the looks department.
"She mentioned that you liked to date," I said cautiously. "I just broke up with my girl and I'm not attached or anything, so I was interested."
"Really interested?" she asked, looking at me with a skeptical expression. "Not many guys rush to date a girl in a wheelchair. So you're just killing time until you find a new girl?"
"Maybe not," I said firmly. "Did it ever cross your mind that you're a very pretty girl?"
She looked at me for a moment, then said, "I used to be, before the accident. But don't bullshit me about how you don't mind me being crippled and everything."
Whew, what an attitude. It wasn't my job description to repair her damaged ego, but I felt I had to try. Besides, I was fed up enough to give it to her straight about her crappy, self-pitying attitude.
"Oh, yeah? Crippled? Sure, I guess you are, but just how handicapped are you, huh? I mean, you look pretty good to me, and all the right parts seem to be there, so except for the fact you can't dance or maybe play a set of tennis, I'd guess you're a whole woman."
"How would you know?" she snapped. "Maybe I can't feel a damn thing down below. Maybe it's no fun for a guy to . . . lie on top of a dead piece of flesh."
So she had tried sex since the car wreck. I caught myself feeling sorry for her, but then I asked, "It that the only way, or the only time, you tried to have sex?"
My blunt question stunned her into momentary silence. She stared at me with her mouth slightly open.
"We do the best we can," I told her quickly, "and there is more than one way to skin a cat as they say."
She got her voice back to say, "Oh, yeah? Just how long do you think some normal guy is gonna settle for . . . half sex from a girl in a wheel chair?"
"What do you call 'half-sex'?"
"This conversation is getting out of hand," she said tiredly, turning away. "Please help me inside and then you can go." I thought I saw a tear forming at the corner of her blue eye.
I opened the door and pushed her inside, but once there, I didn't rush to get away. I had become darned curious as to just what a person in a wheelchair could actually do about sex. She wanted me to go, but I hung around for a while, just rapping with her, trying to get her to open up.
Finally, she looked up at me with a defiant expression. "You want to find out, don't you?"
"I'd be real curious," I said easily. "Hell, don't you think that I think you're darned cute. So if I can make out with you, I sure will."
She stared at me for a long time, examining my face to see if I was putting her on or not. I guess some guys might get a kinky thrill out of screwing - or whatever - a women in wheelchair, but it was just that for me. I had really found her nice to be with before the bitterness had set in.
Finally, Melanie nodded. "Okay, damnit, turn the lights down and make sure the door is locked."
I did as she asked, and by the time I got back to her, she had removed her blouse and brassiere, and I saw that her belt was undone and the first couple of buttons of her jeans were unfastened.
"We can't be all coy about it," she told me. "It takes some cooperation, so if you'll stop gaping at my boobs for a minute and take off your pants, we can get going here."
She was too darned matter of fact about it, but even so the sight of her surprisingly full and well-shaped breasts with their wide areolae got a very positive response from me. Still, her cut-and-dried manner reminded me of a ten-dollar streetwalker and I didn't like it a lot. I knelt down next to her chair and, trying to ignore her bare upper body, kissed her.
"I'm kinda shy," I grinned when we broke apart, "so you gotta go easy about getting me turned on. I have to be kissed and maybe fooled with a little before I go jumping into bed with a girl. Okay?"
That got a laugh out of her and she eased up. We kissed a few more times - she kissed pretty good too - and after a bit I was exploring those nice boobs, kneading them, lightly pinching the large nipples and then kissing on them. Melanie's breathing told me she was beginning to warm some so I ran my hand down her chest to her belly, and then to the zipper of her jeans. She stopped me.
"Wait," she whispered. "I'd like to do something before we get naked, okay."
She repeated her request for me to take off my trousers and this time I did. I felt just a little awkward standing there in front of her chair, stripped from the waist, with my half-hard arching out, but she touched my leg, indicating that I should move closer, and following her lead, I ended up straddling the arms of her wheelchair with my pecker hanging just above the upper swell of her tits. She smiled up at me and as I tried to settle down on the arms of her chair, she began to stroke my cock. Her hand was warm and soft, and nimble and pretty soon I was swollen to full hardness. Melanie licked her palm and took a firmer grip on my turgid organ. One, two, three long, slow strokes and my gut began to warm and tighten, and then she leaned forward slightly to open her soft, wet mouth over the ridged crown of my aroused penis. God, her mouth was heavenly! I don't know how much experience she'd had before the accident, but she sure knew what she was doing right then. As my belly began to do a drumbeat, heralding my approaching orgasm, and I could feel her tongue raking and tickling the underside of my cock, just at the sensitive area below the head.
"Ohh, Baby," I warned, "I'm getting pretty worked up."
Melanie stopped sucking long enough to give a sexy, throaty laugh. "Oh? Well now, that's good. Do you think you might want to come or something?" She gave the shaft of my cock a squeeze.
"Yeah, damnit! And unless you want a mouthful, you'd better watch out."
"Hm. Well it might be kinda fun but it would be messy if I let it go all over my chest, so maybe I should just swallow it. Is that okay with you?"
By way of an answer, I shoved my hips forward. She laughed again and pressed down on the tip of my cock, letting off and then watching it spring back up.
"Hm, yes, he is just about ready," she chuckled. Then sucked me with a renewed gusto, using her hand as well and bringing me to a hard boil in seconds. I let go, gushing into her busy mouth in squirt after squirt, and as good as her promise, Melanie gulped it down, her throat working quickly as she accepted the pulses of white, sticky male essence, rolling down her throat.She kept on gently sucking and licking until I was quivering with sweet agony, and she had drawn every last drop of semen virile from me.
My legs wouldn't hold me, so I sank to the carpet beside her chair, drawing hard for breath and trying to get my head back on straight.
"Jesus Christ!" I gasped. "That was fantastic."
"Now you know," Melanie said with only a trace of bitterness in her tone.
"Yeah, I guess so," I responded. "But that was the 'half' part, right? So now, just what would you like from me?"
She stared at me, surprised, then bemused. Finally, she said, "Can you get it hard again?"
"After a bit, probably," I told her honestly. "In the meantime, why don't we find a bed and get more comfortable?"
She seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded. As I pushed her toward the bedroom, she said, "I ought to warn you that I'm sort of, ah, limp from the waist down. You may have to do a lot for me until I'm actually in the bed."
"No problem," I said with more confidence than I really was feeling.
I had to be pretty cool about lifting her onto the bed, undressing her the rest of the way, and turning down the covers for her. Her lower body was limp and pale and soft, compared to her upper parts, but the important thing was to find out just how much she was able to feel down there.
For starters, once we were cuddled up in her queen-sized bed, I ran my hands over her body, gradually moving downward to touch her upper legs and then her pubic curls.
"Let me know what you feel," I asked.
"I can feel that," she advised me, "but I don't think I can get awfully wet right away."
"Uh, just where does the feeling end?"
"I got hit just above my knees," she told me, "so my lower legs don't work worth a damn. There was some damage higher up as well, so I have trouble with my back sometimes."
"Well, that's good," I said. "I mean that's good you could feel it if I were to go down there and kiss around."
"You don't have to do that," she protested.
"No, but I'd like to," I told her.
She went stiff, and her hands fluttered nervously around my head for a bit, and she tried to pull me up, but once I'd gotten into a good position, moved her thighs apart and spread her outer labiae with my thumbs, she gave up and went along with it. The trouble wasn't so much her injury, it seemed, but her attitude about being a cripple. I suspected that she had given a blow job to other guys, but I doubted that any had returned the favor, let alone stick a cock into her. I intended to do both before I was finished with her.
She was a little musky, but not bad, and my first, tentative lick along her outer lips tasted strong. But I got used to it quickly, so by the time she got puffy down there and began to get a little wet, I didn't have a problem with her female essence. I used my tongue and lips on her, and after a while, I was rewarded with soft moans from above and a moist, flowery opening down below.
"Can you feel that okay?"
"Yes," she sighed. "A little bit anyway." When I hesitated, she said, "No, please don't quit. Even if I can't feel everything, it still feels kind of nice."
I went back to her sopping crotch. Her upper body was lifting, and her hips were stirring a little when I quit eating her out and slipped upward to lie close to her.
"You about ready?" I asked, smiling at her.
"I don't know how good it will be, but, please, let's try!"
"I'm gonna go for it, but I need to know if you are using any birth control."
"Oh, God," she whispered, "I'm not. I didn't even think about it."
I leaned over and pulled a condom from my pocket, hoping she wouldn't resent the fact that I was so prepared. I always carried at least one, but girls seem to get upset when they discover I do. I knelt on the bed to roll the safety onto my blooming erection as Melanie watched me intently.
"Want to help?" I grinned.
She demurred, but at my urging, she finally did, giggling as she awkwardly rolled the latex down over my very ready organ. I began to wonder how much sexual experience she'd had prior to the accident.
I moved over on top of her, and she helped by guiding my reborn erection to her darkly fringed crotch. I had to push her legs apart again, and then pull her knee up, but once I got down on her and pressed the head of my cock into her slightly dry vagina, things got easier. The lubrication on the condom helped. I took several slow and gentle strokes, testing the waters, so to say, feeling her become looser and a little wetter, and then bracing on my elbows as she held her arms around my neck, I began to ride on her with a gentle rhythm.
The second fuck is always slower and less urgent, so it was no trouble to go easy on her. I stayed relaxed, taking the time to enjoy her growing response. She may have worried about it, but getting right down to it, she was every bit as good as many non-crippled girls. There's no such thing as a bad fuck, and some are even better.
Her breath was beginning to whistle in my ear, and I could feel the sweat beginning to pop out on her chest and sides, so I asked her, "Mel, Honey, are you getting close?"
"I don't know," she whimpered. "I'm not sure I can, so you just go ahead."
"Just relax," I told her. "You just tell me when you want it."
I took up a quicker pace, humping her with longer, faster strokes, and I was almost at the breaking point when she finally whispered for me to do it. I did, plunging into her without holding back, the bed bouncing and her legs flopping as I came, bursting into the condom to swell the tip with my eager sperm.
The downside of using a latex safety is that once you've come, it gets risky to keep on pumping on a woman, and you have to call a halt. I was still about half hard then as I grasped the base of the rubber and eased out of her. I couldn't really tell if she had climaxed, but she certainly had seemed to enjoy it when I came. As I came up to my knees, looking for a good place to dispose of the used condom, Melanie surprised me by taking the soggy thing from my hand and gazing at the stuff sloshing around in the end of it.
"Looks like a lot," she commented.
"Thanks," I replied.
"Did you ever get a girl pregnant?"
"Not that I know of, thank heavens. I guess I'm pretty careful."
"Hm. Have you ever tasted your own stuff?"
It was a hell of a question, and of course I replied that I hadn't.
Melanie did a strange thing then. She turned the condom upside down and let the semen dribble out all over her breasts and stomach. She smeared it around on her body and then looked up at me with a peculiar gleam in her wide eyes.
"We can wipe it off, or you can lick it off, either way."
She was handing me a very erotic challenge, and I accepted it. I began to lick up the semen from her boobs and then her belly, repressing my natural gag reflex and trying not to taste it, when I realized that Melanie was acting funny. She was breathing fast and groaning softly, her upper body arching into my moving tongue. She was orgasming, getting off from my licking my own virile slime from her body. She let out one long, low groan, went rigid, and then relaxed.
I had to ask: "Holy cow, woman! Is that how you really get off?"
Melanie shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "I don't know. I've never done anything like that before. It just seemed like, uh, something real sexy to do, so I asked you."
The sexy little bitch! Up to that point, it had been fun, and maybe something I wouldn't mind doing again, but after that, I knew that I had to be with her again and again.
"Do you think you could come any other way?"
"I don't know," she replied. "I'd like to go on the Pill though because I'd like to have your gooey old stuff go right up in me, even if I can't feel it."
So maybe the other guys wonder why I'm going steady with a girl who rides around in a wheelchair; but I don't give a damn, and they don't have to know why. Maybe Melanie can't dance, or can't move her bottom parts so well, or have a climax the usual way, but man, when we're in bed, that woman can suck the life out of me and beg for more. She loves my semen in her, on her, all over her, or anyway at all, and that brings her to a sizzling climax every time. | 3 |
689 | Crossed Wires | "Chris, you're positively leering!" Donna scolded.
I tried to hide my guilty blush by turning all my attention to checking the electrode contacts. But it was too late, I'd been caught.
"You're planning to grow yourself to 10 inches again! You are! I've told I won't suck that thing if it's an inch above 8. Aha! You're blushing. I'm on to you! You change the program right now, Chris, or I swear I won't do the sim with you."
"But you won't mind how big I am during the sim," I protested. "In fact you'll love it."
"Of course I'll love it 'cause it's sim. But I'll remember every detail when I come out and it's the principal of the thing!"
Heaving an exaggerated sigh, I slipped off my wrist electrodes and turned to the console. It had been worth a try, but I'd pushed my luck too far the last time when I programmed the simulation to enlarge my member to an unprecedented 12". I'd even taken the precaution of creating a doctored tape measure within the sim so that if she tried to call me on the length, I could conclusively demonstrate I was "only" 8. But Donna had seen through that ploy and now was showing me she meant business.
Putting on my most contrite expression, I quickly called up the body editor and reduced the cock length from 10" to 8 1/2". She won't notice that extra half inch, I reflected.
Despite this small setback, I had reason to be proud. Over the past few days, I'd programmed this sim down to the minutest details. When activated, the system would plunge Donna and myself into a virtual world indistinguishable from the real one in all but two important respects: we'd have the kind of bodies that one only sees in porn flicks, and we'd be able to make use of those bodies in all sorts of fun ways without tiring, getting sore, bruising each other, or worrying about "consequences".
"You're gonna love it, Donna. This is my best yet. You won't forget this one." I gave her a lascivious wink. "You'll need a PDA just to keep track of your orgasm count!"
She grinned. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's do it!"
One last check of the wrist electrodes. Green leads for Donna, red leads for myself. The programmer always gets the red leads because they carry the control lines. I couldn't suppress another little grin as I remembered the alternative names for the red and the green leads: "master" and "slave". I wondered whether Donna knew how appropriate those names really were. Did she appreciate exactly how much of my programming effort was spent specifying exactly what emotional and bodily sensations she'd feel during the course of the sim so that she'd perform according to the exact script of my erotic fantasies?
Nothing left to do but hit the activator switch. A slight buzzing at the wrists, a momentary feeling of pressure and then...
Here it was, exactly as I'd designed it. The sim had dropped us into the interior of a beach house whose floor plan I'd shamelessly copied from the October edition of the AIA journal. Outside, a clear, moonless night and the distant sound of breakers. Inside, a rather eccentric style of interior decoration. Couches, futons, beanbag chairs, hammocks, and pillows galore. Anything and everything that you ever might want to fuck in, on or under. Not a table or hard chair in sight. (We weren't there to eat, after all.) I glanced over to the ladder that led to the sleeping loft. Looked good. Unobtrusive cabinets set in the walls here and there would open to reveal a panoply of useful toys. Mirrors, of course. Not too many to be vulgar, but enough. I sniffed the faint salt breeze, ran my hands over the rough surface of pine paneling. I beamed in delight. Visual, aural, olfactory and somatosensory channels were all working perfectly.
I had programmed the simulation to delay initiating the body morph for a few minutes. Donna had materialized a few yards away from me and was checking the place out, approvingly running her fingers over the patterned silk upholstery of one of the sofas. Her outline had a slightly shimmery look as she moved around relative to the background, but this would soon disappear as the sim's compensation routines kicked in. "Better get a good look around now, Donna," I thought to myself, "because in a couple of minutes all your attention is going to be taken up by something else entirely!"
The morph was beginning. I could feel the vibration in my groin and chest. In some ways this was the part I enjoyed the most. In a moment my limbs would start to bulge with musculature. My abdomen would harden, my pecs would swell. My stature would increase by an inch, my complexion would become impeccable, my teeth would become whiter than white and, of course... Well, as you already know, the crotch of my pants would bulge with the aforementioned eight-and-a-half inches of man meat and a pair of balls that would do a bull proud. Goodbye Chris Welch, average guy. Hello super-stud!
Wait. This didn't feel quite right. Was something wrong? Instead of the expected tightening at the crotch of my pants, things felt looser somehow. In fact there was this really bizarre shrinking sensation. Not just in my groin, but like my whole body was getting smaller. And those twin swellings on my chest that were making my shirt bulge: those weren't pectorals, those were...! I swung around to stare at the nearest mirror just as I realized what was happening. I was changing, my features melting with the rapidity of a bar of butter caught in the microwave. My chin receded, became delicate. My cheekbones became higher and more prominent and the ridge of my eyebrows less so. My nose shrank and assumed a pert upward turn at the tip. My lips swelled and reddened. Long eyelashes swept upward from limpid blue eyes. Blonde tresses caressed my shoulders.
I was so caught up in the horror and fascination of what was happening to my face that I almost missed the transformation of my body. Recovering myself, I found that the changes below the neck were the match of those above. Firm, heavy breasts bobbed above a slender waist. Flaring hips and long sexy legs. My genitals? I started to reach downward for an inspection and then checked myself. I could guess what I would (wouldn't?) find.
The morph had finished with my body and was at work on my clothes. My flannel shirt took on a life of its own and squirmed snakelike across my chest, transforming itself into a translucent violet teddy with a neckline plunging to the navel and a hem that barely covered my ass.Starting at the ankles and working upwards, my pants began to evaporate, finally leaving a skimpy pair of filmy panties pulled tight across my ass crack and my snatch.
I stared at my image in the mirror, the truth slowly sinking in. The transformation was complete. I was the spitting image of Donna, or at least Donna as she might appear in the wet dreams of a sex-starved 15-year-old with a perpetual hard-on. A steamy sex kitten with pouty lips and languorous heavy-lidded eyes. A body that cried out to be fucked hard. In short, the body I had so carefully designed for my partner!
"What in hell trick are you pulling, Chris?" thundered a deep bass voice from behind me. A strong hand grasped my shoulder from behind.
"Donna!" I thought as I whirled around, my breasts bouncing around so much that I almost lost balance. Staring down at me with an expression of shocked amusement was... me. Me on steroids and a heavy exercise program. Donna had the body that I was supposed to be wearing. Everything from the athlete's musculature to the full chest of hair. She wore nothing but a black g-string, whose fabric was stretched to nearly the breaking point from the weight of its contents. With a height differential of nearly a foot, I had to crane my head upward to look into Donna's/my face. This was too disconcerting, so I settled for looking into the hollow at the base of her neck.
"This wasn't--" I broke off at hearing my new voice for the first time. Donna's voice, but pitched slightly higher and with an almost imperceptible lisp that gave it a cutesy girlish effect. I swallowed once and continued. "Donna, I didn't plan this. Something must have gone wrong with the sim. We'll have to abort."
"Computer, abort sim."
Nothing happened. I tried again in as authoritative a tone as my little girl voice would allow. "Computer, end sim immediately."
Still no response from the system. Not the slightest hiccup in continuity. Donna gently but firmly took my head in her hands and tilted my head so that I had to look her directly in the face. Distractedly I found myself wondering if I hadn't made the chin cleft too prominent. "What's the matter," she asked in her deep masculine voice, "can't you stop the sim?"
"The system doesn't seem to be responding to me. The identity recognition routines must have gotten scrambled somehow. If I don't have the control lines, you must. You'll have to do it Donna. Say 'computer, abort sim'."
She chuckled deep in her chest and slowly caressed my cheek. "But you promised me a sim that I wouldn't forget. I intend to take you up on your promise."
"Donna, you wouldn't," I whispered. "You don't know how."
Again a chuckle. "Then I'll just have to figure it out as we go along, won't I, my little lovebird?"
Outwardly I moaned as a sudden wave of erotic desire washed over me. Inwardly I cringed. By saying "little lovebird" Donna had inadvertently hit on one of the trigger phrases I had set up to activate certain behavior programs. Too late it occurred to me that it might be a mistake to use our pet names as triggers.
But this was no time for regret. I was in heat, my whole body aching to be touched, taken. I grasped Donna's hand and began to kiss and lick the fingers, savoring the salty taste of her (his?) skin. Putting a strong arm behind my back, she (he?) leaned down and kissed me roughly. Our lips met and parted, and her strong tongue explored my mouth. I felt like I was dissolving with pleasure. Every square inch of my skin tingled with delight. And this was just the first kiss. What would it be like to be mounted, I thought, to feel a penis push its way into the deep recesses of my cunt?
"Don't think such things," I shouted inwardly. "You're a man, not a woman!" But outwardly what I said was "Oh lover, you turn me on so much! Let's go find someplace comfortable."
"Whatever you want, kitten," my lover responded, triggering another set of preprogrammed responses. Donna picked me up, carrying my body effortlessly in her (his?) arms. She strode over to a double-size beanbag chair and tossed me on to it.
This most recent trigger had made me acutely aware of my breasts. Settling myself into the chair, I caressed the undersides of my breasts, pushing them up and together in order to emphasize my cleavage. With a long red fingernail, I rubbed a tense nipple through the delicate fabric of my teddy while making sidelong glances at Donna. "Do you like my titties?" I lisped.
"Very impressive." Donna lay down beside me and squeezed my left breast with her sinewy hand. I let out a gasp of pleasure as lightning radiated outward from my nipple. "Size DDD aren't they?"
I pouted. "No sir. Not more than a D. I promise. Oh, please keep touching me there. Don't stop."
Donna did stop, though, so that she could tug open the top of her g-string and inspect the contents. "I see. Not more than a D. And I suppose this big piece of sausage is only 8 inches?" She tore off the flimsy fabric, revealing a rock-hard erection.
In this woman's body, I had no control over my expressions. I blushed a deep crimson from the roots of my hair down to my chest. "Well, not exactly. But it's only a half inch..."
Donna smiled and chucked me under the chin. "Under the circumstances, I should be grateful. Besides, you're the one who's going to have to suck it," she fixed me with a sharp gaze and said deliberately "my little cocksucker."
I let out a sigh that was a funny admixture of relief and sexual frustration. She hadn't hit on the right trigger that time. My breasts were still at the center of my arousal. I would have given her a boob job in an instant, but the thought of oral sex didn't push my buttons just yet. I rubbed my nipples and imagined her thick cock slowly working its way in and out between my cleavage. I think I would have come that way in a few minutes, but Donna had others things in mind.
"Don't you want to suck on me, my lovebird?" she asked. Instantly my attention was again focused on the man's body next to mine. I rolled over onto her, and gave her such a long and passionate French kiss that it left me gasping. With a casual movement, Donna pushed the straps of my teddy off my shoulders so that my breasts came free, and I gratefully rubbed them against her chest hair, feeling delicious tingling sparks with every movement. I covered Donna's lips with numerous little kisses and bites, and then moved my mouth to the base of her neck. Moaning slightly, I ran my tongue back and forth in the hollow.
Donna put one hand on each shoulder and pushed. "I think it's time for fellatio," she insisted. I slid willingly about four inches, but when I saw her male nipples peeking out from underneath the curly chest hair, I had the overwhelming desire to suckle. I took her right nipple between my lips and sucked and bit slightly. I was immediately rewarded by a tautening of the little pink nipple and an ill-suppressed groan of pleasure. I giggled and continued suckling.
"Oh baby, that feels so good!" Donna cried out. But now new desires were surging through me. "Baby" was the trigger word for oral sex. I straightened up, propping my arms on my lover's shoulders so that I could look into her handsome face. "I want to suck you so bad," I said, licking my lips sluttishly. "I want to take your cock meat into my mouth and swallow it whole. I want to feel your great big balls bouncing against my chin and your great big cum fill up my mouth."
I felt so ashamed to hear these words come out of my mouth in that inane little girl's voice. There was nothing I could do. I had entered those words into the sim program several days before, and had not coded them as optional.
What had I coded as optional? Certainly not what happened next. My mind was filled with images of cock. Big cocks, little cocks, straight cocks, twisted cocks. And for each cock I had only one desire: suck on it deep and vigorously until it filled my mouth with semen. "Is this what it feels like to be gay?" I thought. "Am I going to be permanently changed by this?"
Moaning and giggling, I kissed Donna's nipple goodbye. I kissed her rock-hard rectus abdominus muscles, flirtingly stuck my tongue into her navel, and then planted butterfly kisses in a semicircle above and to either side of her straining member. I found the adductor muscles on either side of the balls (the muscles of horse-riding and doggy sex, came the distracting thought) and playfully bit them. Then I grabbed the cock by its base and examined it closely for the first time.
It's hard to describe my feelings. My real self is confirmedly heterosexual. I knew that being so close to a man's cock, so close that I could smell its special scent, so close that I could feel its radiating warmth on my face, should have filled me with shame and revulsion. But the sim programming was completely dominant. Instead of revulsion, I felt admiration. "Oh, it's sooooo big!" I exclaimed, and I meant it. I knew it was only 8 1/2 inches, but to my beglamoured eyes it could easy have been 12. And so thick around! I wasn't sure I'd even be able to get the thing past my lips, but I was sure as hell going to try.
I cupped Donna's balls with my left hand while swiveling the cock closer to my mouth with my right. The balls were so gigantic that I couldn't hold them both comfortably in my petite hand. I sent out an experimental lick, just grazing the tip of the glans with the tip of my tongue. I looked up. Donna was watching with fascination. "Stop me. Stop the sim," I whispered hoarsely.
"But you love to do this, don't you?" she answered wickedly.
I couldn't reply. I had begun to lick the cock like a little girl tasting her first popsicle. From base to tip, over and over again, my moist tongue ran over the entire length of the organ.It had seemed rock hard when I started, but this treatment made it stiffen even further, gradually changing in color from pink to red to almost purple. Donna groaned out something incoherent. She seemed to like this. Parting my thick lips, I took the glans into my mouth, delighting in the sweet flavor of pre-cum. Then I took the cock deeper, and deeper, and yet deeper into my mouth, until my nose was flush with the pubic hair and the cock was halfway down my throat. I have heard conflicting rumors about the reality of deep-throating. Certainly no woman has actually done that to me in real life. In sim, though, almost anything is possible, and I deep-throated Donna with a vengeance, her cock pushing its way down like a sword-swallower's sword.
I don't know how long this went on. I was in ecstasy; sometimes deep-throating, sometimes licking and sucking on the shaft from the side, and sometimes bringing Donna right to the edge with a combined blow and hand job. When Donna began to buck and thrash around, I knew she was ready. I carefully inserted the long red-painted fingernail of my little pinky into her butthole. This is what works with me, and since I programmed the sim, it worked for Donna too. Instantly, she began to come, crying out and pumping great wads of thick semen into my mouth. I tried to swallow it all, but it was too much for me and some dripped onto my chin and chest. Obsessed with the desire to have it all, I wiped it up with my hand and licked my fingers hungrily.
"Mmmmmm, that was nice," said the man with my voice and Donna's mind. He (she?) drew me up and languidly kissed my forehead before settling deeper into the beanbag chair. I enjoy napping after oral sex, so I'd built in some time for it in the sim. Donna would now sleep for about 10 minutes.
I knew what was coming next. Combined, the taste of semen and the sound of a sleeping man's rhythmic breathing were the trigger for the next scene of my sim fantasy, a scene in which Donna was supposed to play a solo role. But our roles were reversed. It was now my performance.
Until now, my new cunt had not merited much thought. I couldn't help being aware of how hot and moist I had become during that first kiss and embrace, but until now the triggers that had been used had chiefly aroused the erogenous zones of my mouth and breasts. Now it was different. My cunt and clit became swollen and demanding of attention. Even the slightest movement of my legs created such sensations in my crotch that I had to struggle not to moan. Quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeper, I rose and tiptoed over to the other end of the room, reveling in every stride as cunt juices leaked out and moistened my inner thighs. I stopped at a velvet loveseat and turned it slightly to face a mirror. If I were going to do this, I thought, at least I'd do it right.
I stripped off my teddy and stood for an instant in front of the mirror in nothing but my damp panties. Quickly I stripped them off too and tossed them into a corner. Entranced, I gazed at myself. "Shamelessly hussy," I thought, as I looked at my pubes, shaved except for a little patch of blonde hair at the top. Still watching the mirror, I lay down in the love seat, throwing one leg over the armrest. "What does a clit feel like when it's yours?" I wondered, running my fingers gently over my vulva. I pushed just hard enough so that my cunt lips separated and a red fingernail brushed the clit. "Ooooooh!" I gasped, "that's what it feels like."
I masturbated eagerly, rubbing my clit first with one finger and then with two. I tried teasing it gently with flicking movements of my fingers. I tried rubbing it vigorously with the palm of my hand. I learned how to moisten it with my free-flowing cunt juices and rub it back and forth between my thumb and index finger. I pushed three fingers of one hand into my cunt while playing with my clit with the other, creating a most satisfying sensation.
And I came. Several times I think, each one more intense than the next. I must have screamed out, because when I came to, I was lying on the floor beside the love seat, Donna beaming down at me with a slightly condescending smile. "Having fun?" she asked.
How embarrassing. "I think I've had enough for today," I lisped. "Let's go now."
"But how can we go now? We haven't screwed yet. You wouldn't want to leave without getting laid, would you? My little bed bug... my lizard... my spring chicken... my pop tart..."
Donna was running down the list of my pet names for her, watching me intently for signs to indicate that she'd hit a trigger. Not only did she hit one, she hit several in succession. I reeled dizzily under the rapid fire of one erotic fantasy after the next. At last I shouted out "Oh god, fuck me now! Fuck me now!"
Donna got the hint. "Let's do it in the loft." She strode over to the ladder and climbed it two rungs at a time, the muscles of her (his?) athlete's body rippling. I followed more slowly, careful not to bang my breasts on the way up. On the way up, I tried to examine my internal state. It seems I lucked out. Although Donna had left me in a state of full arousal, it was one in which I had some discretion over what I'd do. I was going to get screwed all right -- probably several times -- but at least I wasn't going to humiliate myself by doing something kinky. I winced, thinking of some of the things I might have been forced into if Donna had stumbled onto the right trigger phrases.
The floor of the loft was entirely covered by an immense, deep featherbed. The only other thing up there was pillows of various sizes and shapes. Donna reclined nonchalantly in the center, fully erect, and examining her penis with an amused air. "I think it's time for me to find out what this thing can do."
I knelt on Donna's lap, resting my ass on her sinewy thighs so that her cock came up between my legs. "Take me now, lover," I whispered. I rubbed my hairless cunt against her member, lightly coating it with cunt juices.
Donna responded without hesitation. In a blink of an eye, I was on my back, legs dangling in the air over my partner's shoulders, and pussy filled with pumping cock. Did I like it? Of course I did. The sim programming didn't give me any choice. I loved being fucked in the pussy. I savored every moment of it. I cried out again and again, in my high little voice, "Oh god! Fuck me! Fill my pussy! You're screwing me in the cunt! Oh deeper! Oh harder!" Soon I wasn't saying anything, just gasping with pleasure as multiple orgasms swept over me.
We did it twice again after that, once with me on top, my heavy breasts bouncing up and down in rhythm with our pumping, and again with me on the bottom. At last, spent, we cuddled together in the depths of the feather bed. Donna stroked my cheek and kissed me again. "I guess it's time to end the sim, puppy dog. I'm ready to be a woman again. You can wear the pants from now on."
I froze. Did she say "puppy dog"? What a fool I was! This was the trigger to a subroutine that I had programmed idly one night, but never intended to put to use. Partly as a little joke and partly as a safety measure, I had deliberately chosen a "pet" name that Donna used for me, not vice versa.
I was going to have a lot of explaining to do if Donna saw this subroutine go into effect. My only hope was to hold out against the sim-manufactured urges until she stopped the run. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and clenched my fists. But it was no good. The urges were too strong. In a moment, I had risen to all fours and was frisking and bounding around the loft like an excited puppy, yipping excitedly.
"Chris, what are you doing?" Donna cried with alarm. "Chris?"
I bounded over to her, still on all fours, and panted with my mouth open. Suddenly I gave her face a big wet lick with my tongue. I spun around, pushing my butt upwards and wagging it back and forth like a happy dog. I barked encouragingly.
Donna had begun to catch on, and seemed none too happy about it. "You were going to do *that* to me?!" she boomed in her deep voice. "I get it. 'Puppy dog'! Make me act like a bitch in heat so that you could take me doggie style? You know I don't like doing it that way! You fucking asshole!"
Things were going from bad to worse. "Fucking asshole" was another trigger phrase; Donna wasn't going to like this a bit. But at least I wouldn't have to bark any longer.
I found my voice. In words thick with passion, I said, "Yes. Please fuck me in the asshole. Stick your cock deep into my butt. Fill me to the hilt. Oh please do it! Do it now!"
The expression in Donna's voice changed from outrage to amusement. I imagined her man's mouth leering at me. "You really want me to fuck you in the butt, Chrissie?"
"Oh yes, please! Do it in my ass! Come inside my ass!"
I felt a strong hand on my right ass cheek. "If you want it so badly, it would be a sin to disappoint you."
"Oh now! Now!"
A finger at my cunt, wiping up my abundant pussy juices. The same finger, coating my little pink asshole with those same juices. The tip of a huge, hot cock, pressing down on the entrance way to my bowels. Pressure slowly increasing... increasing.
"It'll never fit," I cried, "You're too big!"
Suddenly my sphincter yielded, the pressure disappearing as the cock slid slowly, slowly into my sigmoid. Now the pressure was replaced by a tightness, a feeling of fullness, and incredible pleasure.
Cock buried in my rectum, Donna leaned over me and grabbed a tit in each hand. I moaned in delight. "You're being corn-holed, you know," she (he?) remarked. "How do you like it?"
"I love it!" I gasped. "Fuck me harder!"
Donna obliged, pumping her (his?) meat into me in long, leisurely strokes.She would pull herself nearly out, making me cry out to have her in me again, and then, when I thought I'd go insane with longing, slide it back in to its full extent. Her large hands squeezed and caressed my breasts. In minutes, I had an anal orgasm, shaking and crying out as my sphincter went into spasm. It must have felt good at the other end too, because Donna cried out at the same time and shot her load into the depths of my bowels.
I collapsed, Donna's cock still buried deep inside me. We lay that way for a long time, listening to each other's breath, saying nothing. My partner finally spoke. "I think that's enough for now. Computer, end sim."
The beach house, the loft, the featherbed dissolved, and I found myself back in my living room, leads still attached to the cooling sim generator. I looked over at Donna, who seemed cool and collected as ever in her modest blouse and skirt. In contrast, I felt like I'd been kicked by a camel and then left out to die in the Sahara.
"Donna, I'm so sorry." It was good to have my normal voice again.
She smiled at me with unexpected sweetness. "You do have a little explaining to do. But I'll take some of the blame. I mean, I put us in that situation, you know."
I looked at her with widening eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Haven't you figured it out, you dodo? I switched the cables in the back of the generator; while you were fiddling with the console! Remember?"
I couldn't think of anything to say, so I threw a couch pillow at her. And missed. | 5 |
702 | The Game | "Oww, it hurts... It hurts, but I like it... Continue..."
"But we are not guinea pigs, we're account managers."
"Well, now to the showers, my boys. The van will leave in an hour. Have a good weekend, and see you on Monday."
The voices merged into a loud buzz, without losing their coherence. The small room was lit only by the flickering glow of the twelve TV screens on the wall, in a 3 by 4 array. The room's occupant was masturbating slowly, watching the screens intently.
He checked Monitor 5: Brad and Fraser had just crashed in a corner, tired from their futile exploration. He pressed a button on the console in front of him and checked Monitor 8. A wall closed behind Scott and Jonathan, separating them from Mark and Chris. Both pairs of teenagers banged on the wall, but they could not hear each other. The noise attracted Brad and Fraser, who walked towards Scott and Jonathan.
"Stop that," said Fraser, as soon as they reached the desperate teens. "You're wasting your time and energy. Are you trapped here like us?"
"What's it look like, bozo?" asked Jonathan. "And what are you supposed to be? The Canadian police? Where the hell's your horse? Get us out of here."
"Shut up, you little asshole," said Brad. "We're stuck here too."
"Yeah, Jon, shut up!" approved Scott. "It's no time to play tough guy. These guys can help us get out of here..."
"As if," said Jonathan, with a conceited smirk. "They're probably some friends of Finley." He jumped towards the wall, striking it with both feet, and yelled: "Open that!" He then paced the area nervously, making sudden impatient jerks with his arms, blowing off steam.
"Don't listen to him," said Scott to Fraser. "We were brought here by a teacher of ours, and we don't really know where he is now. I think he took advantage of us, you know... sexually." He paused for a moment, then whispered: "I think Jonathan is not taking it too well. It was humiliating, and Jon is used to being the leader, always in control."
He was looking at the floor, visibly embarrassed. Jonathan had stopped his frantic moves and was now staring at the wall, silent.
"I think it is this place that's taking advantage of us," offered Brad. "It happened to us too... we won't get into the details. I feel like someone is playing a game with us."
"That's all very nice, but..." said Jonathan, turning to face the others. He instantly stopped, walked towards them, pushed Fraser away as he went past them. They turned around to look at where he was going. A door had appeared once again, this time leading into a small room where the walls were covered with controls, monitors and lights. Jonathan entered it, looking frenetically around.
"It looks like a lab, or a control room," said Scott, as he entered with the other two.
"Don't touch anything, kids," said Fraser. "It can be dangerous."
"We're not kids," spouted Jonathan arrogantly. "We'll do as we want to do."
They wandered around, trying to understand the purpose of the knobs, buttons and dials. There was not a word written anywhere, not even pictures or icons which could give a clue as to what anything in the room was for. Lights were flickering all over, and a loud electrical drone could be heard from everywhere. A section of the floor was covered with white plastic panels instead of concrete, like it was in the corridors and the other rooms.
Jonathan wandered away from the others and studied the controls attentively. He checked the others, and when he was certain they were not looking, he pressed a few buttons. Nothing happened. He checked again, then turned a large dial. Nothing happened, or so he thought until he heard Scott ask in panic:
"What did you do? Turn it back."
Jon turned around and saw that Fraser and Brad, who were standing on the white-paneled section of the room, had frozen in place. The panels themselves glowed - they were translucent, and light came from under them.
"Wait, I'm trying something here," said Jonathan, trying to appear calm and in control, slowly turning a smaller dial next to the large one.
Something was happening to the two immobile men. An aura of greenish light surrounded them, or part of them. Jonathan stopped turning the dial midway, and the glow faded; but the appearance of the men had changed. Fraser's uniform and boots were gone, and he stood in white boxers and a T-shirt, and black socks; Brad had lost his jeans, T-shirt and sneakers, and he stood also in white boxers, but his torso was bare.
"Wow, this is fun," said Jonathan, excited.
"Jon, I mean it," warned Scott. "Put them back like they were."
"Scott," argued Jon, "these two may be responsible for what happened to us. Don't you want to get some revenge."
"We don't know that, Jon." Scott's tone was becoming firmer. "Turn it back."
"All right," said Jonathan. He turned the large dial back, dimming the floor panels. The two men moved and looked confused. "Go check if they're OK..."
Scott approached the semi-clad men, but as soon as his feet were on the panels, Jonathan turned the large dial back, freezing Scott with the others. Scott's outer layer of clothing also vanished in a green glow, leaving him with only a T-shirt and dark patterned boxers.
Jonathan looked at his three victims in underwear. They looked so pathetic. Now, he was back in control, like it was meant to be. He noticed briefly that he had a hard-on, but focused on the many dials and buttons before wondering at the reason for his arousal.
There was an array of small dials just below the ones he had played with, and he tried playing with these. The first one he turned brought a reaction in Brad - he moved his hand towards his crotch and started feeling his genitals through his boxers. Jon tried a second dial, which made Scott's cock grow hard and push against the fabric of his underwear. Another dial had Fraser kneel, then put his hands on the floor, waving his ass back and forth as if waiting to be fucked.
To reduce these three men to mere puppets satisfied Jonathan's ego, who had been so severely wounded a few hours ago. He wanted to humiliate them as he had been humiliated.
Studying the dials again, he concluded that each row controlled a different person, while each column had a different effect. He tried the fourth dial on Brad's row, and watched Brad approach Scott, kneel before him, and start licking Scott's boxers where the fabric was stretched by Scott's erection. He turned it back and tried the fifth one. Brad stood up, moved behind Fraser, knelt again, then started to lick Fraser's boxers in the crack.
He turned that dial a bit more, and Brad pulled down Fraser's boxers and inserted his finger in Fraser's ass, untightening it. A bit more, and Brad was pulling down his own boxers, placing his soft dick on Fraser's ass. The second dial made Brad's dick harden, and he gently inserted it in Fraser's ass, pumping slowly.
Jonathan watched Brad fucking Fraser for a while, then turned the fourth dial on Fraser's row, which resulted in him crawling towards Scott's crotch - Brad crawling behind him not missing a beat - grabbing Scott's boxers, pulling them down, and starting to suck on the rock hard stick, as if it was a lollipop.
Suddenly, an idea popped in Jonathan's head. He turned back the large dial on top almost to its original position. He watched his victims carefully as they regained consciousness, but stayed under the machine's control.
"Hard to give commands when your mouth is full?" Jonathan shouted to Fraser. "You enjoy my good friend's teenage cock, don't you Mountie? It tastes great. And you," he switched to Brad, "do you still think I'm a little asshole? Well, you seem to like assholes, don't you?"
"What are you doing to us?" yelled Brad back. "Stop this nonsense! Let us go."
"Jon," pleaded Scott. "I'm your friend, remember. Let me go."
Fraser turned angry eyes at Jon, grumbled indecipherable obscenities, but continued sucking on Scott's dick.
Jonathan ignored them, curious of the other dials. He turned one on Scott's row, which seemed to have no effect...
"Jon, let me go, please," Scott repeated, "I... I want you to suck my hard dick, Mountie. Suck it real hard. Yeah, this is good. Stick it down your throat."
Jonathan was startled, but he liked that dial. "So, you were saying?" he said to Brad.
"You little asshole, I'm gonna kill you when this is over," raged Brad. Meanwhile, Jonathan was turning the same dial on his row. "I'm gonna make you... I'm gonna fuck you little asshole... I'm gonna fuck your asshole real hard, like I'm doing to this guy. Yeah, it's gonna be great, so great."
"That's better, much better."
He turned the Undressing Dial, removing all trace of clothing on the three guys, and adjusted Fraser's dick, which was still soft. He felt like an artist, tuning the finer details of his work. The first dial on Fraser's row made him start to stroke his dick wildly. It was then that he noticed a column of buttons at the end of the rows of dials."I think I know what these do... If I'm right, we're going to have a masterpiece here!"
He placed one hand on the large Freeze Dial, and the other close to the top of the button column.
"That's it, Mountie Man," said Scott, "Suck on my young dick! I love it. Faster... Deeper...."
"Oooo, this is great, fucking that rough ass," said Brad.
Jonathan suddenly pressed all three buttons, and watched Brad and Scott jerk their dicks out of their respective holes, and explode in a steady jet of hot white cum all over Fraser's face and back, while Fraser himself was spraying his belly with spurts of his own sperm. At that exact moment, Jon turned the large dial completely, freezing the scene, cum still in mid-air, in a very lifelike erotic sculpture.
CHAPTER EIGHT
[Possible Casting: Costas Mandylor as Kenny, Antonio Sabato Jr. as Tony and Matt Leblanc as Matt]
Officer Kenny Mandylor stared at the large steel door in the white concrete wall, waiting for it to open. He was flanked on either side by Officer Antonio Minelli and Officer Matt White, who shared his silence. It was an anxious silence, as the three men had heard frequent rumors about the building facing them, the "Tests Inc." complex at the edge of the town of Harriston.
No one in Harriston knew what tests were performed at "Tests Inc."; no one in Harriston had ever seen the owner of the building or the company - the land had been bought by lawyers, and the construction itself was done by foreign contractors; and no one in Harriston knew what the inside of the complex looked like, because only vehicles came in and out of the site, and they never stopped in the town.
The door slid open with a grind, revealing a wide corridor with a white concrete floor and shiny metal walls. As the three men slowly walked past the threshold, they felt a vague queasiness, a disorientation which made the walls appear to close in on them. Trying to look confident, they strolled down the corridor, looking for a human being. A few hundred feet later, they heard the main steel door close behind them.
"Hello?" shouted Matt. "Is anybody here? This is the police."
There was no answer.
"This place gives me the creeps," said Kenny. "Do you think this will lead to a receptionist or something?"
"The voice at the gate did say to enter from this door," answered Tony.
"Can I help you?" a female voice said from behind them.
The three policemen jumped around and saw a petite dark-haired woman in a beige business suit who stood impatiently, waiting for their answer.
"How did you get here?" asked Matt. "There's no..."
"I believe that your reason for coming here has nothing to do with my comings and goings," the woman said sharply. "We are busy, and have no time for small talk. Get to the point."
A frown appeared on Kenny's face. His hand went instinctively to his gun, as if he felt threatened.
"First things first, what is your name?" he asked.
"Dreyfuss. Julia Dreyfuss."
"Well, Ms. Dreyfuss, four high school kids were kidnapped yesterday, and we have reason to believe that they were brought here."
Ms. Dreyfuss laughed. "And what makes you think that?"
"Someone spotted one of your company vans just outside the school yesterday."
"We were collecting some data in the area," explained Ms. Dreyfuss. She scratched her head, looking annoyed. "I don't see what interest we could have in kidnapping teenagers."
"What kind of tests do you perform here?" asked Tony, a question which was burning his lips.
"I don't think that is relevant," she snapped.
"Well, I happen to think it can be pretty relevant," said Matt.
"Look, we don't use teenagers in twisted weird science experiments, if that's what you mean." Julia's voice was even sharper. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do."
"Can we take a look around, Ms. Dreyfuss?" asked Kenny. His tone made certain he would not accept a negative answer.
"All right," said Ms. Dreyfuss, "but do not touch anything. When you are finished, just come back here and I'll see you out. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
She left without further ado, through a door which they had not seen before. They continued along the corridor, trying to get a feel of the layout of the place. Of course, they did not expect the kids to pop out of a closet, or to cover the entire grounds (the place was huge!), but it gave them an occasion to snoop, and they were curious men.
It took them four hours to accept that they were lost. They had not met a single human being during their exploration, and they had seen only corridors after corridors of doors after doors of dark laboratories. They yelled in vain for another half-hour, and tried to radio out, but the abundance of metal and concrete interfered with their walkie-talkies. Kenny looked at his watch: 10:13 PM.
"I don't believe this. We're stuck in here. We've been walking in circles."
"I'm supposed to meet a girl tonight after my shift," said Matt. "I need to get out."
"It's HOT in here," said Tony, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
"That's true," said Matt.
The three men had been perspiring heavily; their black hair was completely wet; pearls of sweat rolled over their skin; and their police uniforms had large dark patches under their arms and on their backs.
They walked around for another while, until they found a room they had never seen before. It led into a small corridor with three doors and smelled strongly of chlorine. The doors on each side of them led to locker rooms, male and female, both empty, while the third one led to a large swimming pool.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" said Tony to the others.
"We can't," said Kenny, "we did not get permission. And we don't have anything to wear."
"Come on, there doesn't seem to be anybody here," said Matt. "We'll just swim in our boxers. If someone finds out, they'll tell us how to get out!"
"I don't know."
"Well, I'm going," said Tony.
They watched him as he stripped his uniform off down to his white boxers. He had the better looking body of the three, and they were a bit jealous to see it so obviously on display: the chiseled chest just hairy enough, the tall stature, the firm butt, well-outlined in his tight boxers. He dove in the pool, made a few laps, and came out. His boxers clung to his body, and had become almost transparent, leaving not much to the imagination. They could not help but look at his magnificent long cock, almost 8 inches.
"It's good," he said, "and quite relaxing. You should give it a try."
"Well, why not," said Kenny.
Both Matt and Kenny stripped down to their boxers. Kenny was wearing loose light-blue boxers, and Matt had black CK button fly boxers briefs. They both jumped in the water, and enjoyed its coolness. Tony joined them, and soon they were splashing each other, playing like kids.
"I think I lost my boxers," said Matt. He dove in, trying to look for them at the bottom of the pool, but couldn't.
On the way up, he saw that both his colleagues had lost their underwear too. Their soft cocks were floating loose in the water. When he surfaced, Tony told him:
"Our uniforms are gone too, as well as our guns."
Matt looked at the spot where they had left their clothes just a short while ago. They *had* disappeared.
"That's impossible," Kenny said. "They were right next to the pool. No one came in."
"We'll look for them later," said Matt, strangely.
For some reason, he was happy that the uniforms were gone. They were an encumbrance. In the water, he felt so free! It was just the right temperature, and it was soft, almost airy. He also enjoyed swimming in the nude, his dick and balls free to move around without any constraints.
"Yeah, later," said Kenny. Something was wrong. He should care about the clothes, the gun, their being trapped in here, but he didn't. All he could think about was the water, the airy water, the way it was gliding on his skin. He felt all his muscles loosen, especially his anus.
Tony did not add anything. He just floated away on his back, his soft cock lying on his thighs, lost in his pubic hair.
Matt dove in, and circled around Kenny. He waved the water around Kenny's legs, watching Kenny's cock follow the flow back and forth. It was also getting hard.
Matt came out of the water, and saw that Kenny's eyes were closed.
"That felt good," said Kenny without opening them, "real good. Come closer," he whispered.
Matt swam to him, bringing his body so very close to him, but avoided any contact. He somehow felt the heat of Kenny's body through the water. He felt also the electricity, the life, in Kenny's body, and it tickled his own.
"What's happening?" he whispered to Kenny. "What are we doing? Oh God! This feels like heaven. Do you feel me?"
"Yes I do," answered Kenny. He moved his hands behind Matt's ass, without touching it. He moved them in little circles, and Matt felt his ass open up. He was also getting quite aroused, and his penis, growing erect, touched Kenny's, sending an intense wave of joy through both.
"Don't mind me," said Tony, smiling, floating around and jerking off as he watched his colleagues have some fun.
Matt moved his hands around both penises, and found the perfect way to stimulate them without touching. It was a degree over jerking off, as if they had reached the point of no return but stayed there, enjoying an orgasm which didn't come yet. Finally, exhausted, both men finally embraced, their bodies rubbing against each other, and they released their orgasm, their cocks spurting hot cum in the water.
"Well, well, well..." said a female voice that all three knew.
The three naked officers looked in the direction of the door, too ashamed to let more than their heads stick out of the water. Ms. Dreyfuss walked to the edge of the pool.
"If it isn't the three macho officers fooling around in our pool..." she said, rubbing it in. "I told you not to touch anything...You should have listened. This is not really water, you see. It is a new chemical compound, which enters the body through physical contact and has some interesting effects on the brain. Right now, you are drugged, and since you will not remember anything in a few hours, I might as well enjoy myself.
"What do you mean?" asked Tony. He and the others were feeling groggy, but they were still conscious of the events.
"This pool is one of our many experiments on artifacts controlling and orienting sexual desire. At the highest intensities, sexual desire becomes sexless, which is why you were enjoying yourselves even though none of you is gay. I guess, anyway, judging by your attitude. It also lowers mental defenses, making all of you extremely sensitive to suggestion. For example, I can tell you the following: Come out of this pool right now, and stand up. I am now your superior officer, and you must obey my orders..."
In an instant, the three policemen perceived Julia as their boss, and hurried out of the pool to stand before her. Yet, they were still aware of their nakedness, and they tried to hide their genitals with their hands.
Julia rather enjoyed having these three at her command. They were all handsome, and quite well-endowed. These were men, not teenagers like the three mechanics she had enjoyed a few hours ago.
"I have to make my inspection," she said. She started with Matt, whose innocent eyes were pleading her not to abuse her power over him. She rubbed the hair on his chest, then spread his hands open to get a closer look at his equipment. His cock was uncut, a full seven inches coming out of thick pubic hair. She grabbed it and looked Matt in the eyes, intimidating him. She then moved over to Tony, the tallest and most well-endowed, and kissed him, rubbing his ass. Finally, she moved to Kenny, whom she manacled with handcuffs taken out of her blouse. With his hands securely behind his back, she was free to go down on him and use her tongue on his cock, until it grew hard and shiny with pre-cum.
She moved back and said to Kenny: "I want those thick lips of yours locked around the tall one's cock. As for you," she said to Matt, "come here and..." She removed her skirt (she wasn't wearing anything under) "... satisfy me."
"Yes, sir," said both men, almost in unison. Matt kneeled in front of her and used his tongue in ways she had never felt before, while she watched Kenny, on his knees, his handcuffed hands just above his firm round ass, give head to a delighted Tony.
After a while, she sat down on the floor, and asked Tony: "Fuck me!" She then turned to the others and commanded: "You two come to each side of me. I want to have my hands full."
Matt and Kenny placed themselves on each side of her, and she grabbed their cocks, jerking them off to the same beat as the one Tony used to fuck her. The beat increased exponentially, until the three of them reached orgasm simultaneously, Matt and Kenny creaming her face, while Tony filled her up with his manly fluid.
When the three policemen woke up, fully dressed in their uniforms, a few hundred yards from the compound, they remembered nothing of their experiences within. The only thing they knew was that they did not want to go back in again. | 4 |
704 | The Goody Goody Girls | "What are you so upset about?" Karen asked as she rushed to catch up with Maggie, who was storming down the corridor toward the front entrance of the high school.
"That little rat bastard came in my mouth!" Maggie hissed, wiping her lips with the back of her hand for the tenth time. It didn't do any good. The ripe flavor of fresh semen still lingered on her tongue, as if Norman's thick cream had permanently saturated her flesh.
"We went there to get laid," Karen reminded her friend.
"I don't care what we went there for, I never had any intentions of letting that pimply little runt shoot off in my mouth. I feel like nothing more than a human condom."
"I doubt that you're the first girl who's ever swallowed a load of cum without being warned in advance."
"I don't care if I'm the first or the last. I don't like the idea of a boy thinking he can stick his dick in my mouth and let loose with all that nasty ball juice."
"I don't know what you're so upset about," Karen mused. "By the way you were sucking his cock, I got the impression you were enjoying it. I kind of wished it had been me."
"So do I," Maggie said with a scowl, then suddenly heard herself talking and broke into a laugh. "I guess it is silly, isn't it? I just didn't expect him to squirt down my throat."
"Well, we know something Julie doesn't know."
"What's that?"
"That Norman Green is anything but queer. Did you see the way he went after eating your pussy? He really got a charge out of that."
"He got a charge?" Maggie said with a grin. "I was the one on the other end of his tongue, remember? Now that was a charge, believe me!"
"What did it feel like?"
"Like heaven," the brunette purred, pressing her legs firmly together to soak up some of her overflow still streaming from her snatch.
"And what was it like when you sucked him off?"
"Like wrapping my lips around a big fat sausage," Maggie said in a whisper, "and I could smell and taste that delightful male flavor of his. You know something?" Her eyes grew suddenly very sober. "If he hadn't cum in my mouth, I would have let him stick his cock up my pussy. I really wanted him to fuck me. I think that's the reason I was so pissed when he cut loose."
Karen made a face. "I was hoping he would fuck both of us. And you know what else?"
"What?"
"When he started cumming in your mouth, I was wishing it were me swallowing that hot cream. My monkey got all gooey and warm inside."
Maggie knew that even if Karen didn't mean it, she was trying to make them both feel better about Norman's surprise conquest in the locker room. "That's nice Karen." Her eyes suddenly bolted to the front door. "Oh terrific!" she cried as she spotted Mrs. Peters.
"What's wrong?"
"I forgot Mom was picking me up after school to do some shopping." She broke away from her friend in a brisk walk. "Would you get my Lit. book out of my locker and take it home with you?"
"Sure."
"I'll see you at seven."
"Your place or mine?"
"Call me."
Maggie and her mother were already outside by the time Karen started down the hall to collect her and her friend's textbooks. As she walked along, she felt the autumn breeze from an open window ply at the folds of her skirt and rush up between her legs.
The tingling softness of the fresh air currents had just kissed the outer recesses of her snatch when she stopped abruptly, suddenly aware that she was missing one of her garments. "My panties!" she gasped out loud, then flashed her eyes about the empty hall to make sure no one had heard her.
She knew only too well she had left them in the equipment locker. Maggie hadn't bothered to hand them to her with her skirt. Because of summer camp, all of her underwear had her name stamped inside. The only thing to do was to go back and retrieve them before someone else found the tiny bikinis.
Sullenly, she marched back to the dressing room and carefully pushed the door open. The place was as silent and still as the first time she'd entered it. Norman Green had obviously left, and no one else appeared to be around.
The attractive blonde tiptoed down the row of lockers and leaned over the bench. Just as her hand connected with the metal handle, she heard a voice sing out over her shoulder and her heart skipped a beat.
"Can I help you with something?"
Karen turned to find herself staring into the deep green eyes of Jerry Marshall, the new assistant coach. Jerry, twenty-two years old and fresh out of college, was a husky redhead with a powerful physique. His thick shag of curls was cut short around his handsome features. His square jaw and sturdy mouth were locked in a small grim smile as his leer raked over the pretty blonde teenager. She tried to keep her timid gaze on his face, afraid to look anywhere else. Out of her peripheral vision all she could see was male flesh, rippling contours of naked, bulging muscles. "I, ah, forgot something," she stammered.
"You forgot something in here?" he asked, finding her explanation anything but plausible.
"Well, I didn't exactly forget it. I had something stolen by someone and it's in here."
"What was stolen?" Jerry asked, taking a step closer to the girl.
When Karen braced herself against the locker, the bench bumped into the back of her knees and that was her undoing. The moment she felt the edge of the bench against her calves, her legs went weak and flew out from under her. She sat down with a thud, finding herself staring into the redhead's swollen jockstrap.
Mr. Marshall wasn't wearing anything other than his thin athletic supporter. The tiny garment rode low on his strong waist and barely covered his spongy jewels. A fringe of wiry hairs curled along the sides of his jock and feathered the pair of freckled pillars which were his legs. Another fringe of red pubes crawled up his flat abdomen in a slender triangle terminating at his navel.
His well-defined limbs and torso were covered with a thin coat of gleaming sweat. He smelled much the way Norman had smelled when the skinny team manager was bucking his hips into Maggie's face, manly and hot and anointed all over with the unmistakable aroma of cock odor.
"I'd rather not say," Karen answered in a small timid voice.
Jerry's brow furrowed. "Well, was it your wallet, your purse, a letter?"
"No," she answered, scooting her feet up to the bench. When she did, her full cotton skirt, which had fluttered up to her thighs when she sat down so abruptly, crawled further up her bare legs.
Jerry's eyes darted to the shiny, naked cunt between the girl's spread feet. She was sitting with her knees together, her skirt halfway up her thighs and her quim on view for no more than the looking. "How about your panties?" he said with a broad grin.
Karen blushed and nodded, caught so off guard by his naked magnetism that she didn't think to question how he had guessed correctly.
"Where are they?"
She turned slightly and rapped the locker behind her. "In here."
"Let's take a look and see."
Karen slid out of the way while Jerry opened the locker door. On the floor of the compartment was the tiny pair of bikinis. He raised them up with his forefinger and thumb and held them out in front of him. "Are these what you were looking for?"
She nodded and blushed again, embarrassed to see the grown man openly displaying her undergarment.
"How do I know they're yours?"
"My name's inside."
He stretched the band and peered into the brief pair of undies. "Karen Sheen. Is that you?"
"Yes," she answered.
"How can I be sure that's really your name?"
It was Karen's turn to frown. "Because I am."
"Maybe you are and maybe you aren't. Maybe you just want to steal these," Jerry said, amused at the teenager's dilemma.
"But I am Karen Sheen," Karen insisted, panic cloaking her expression. The assistant coach was right; she had nothing on her to prove her identity.
"I would presume if you're the rightful owner of these panties, it would mean you don't have any on."The blonde dropped her eyes for a moment. "I don't."
"I think you're going to have to prove that," the redhead said in a deep, suggestive voice.
Karen shot Mr. Marshall a dubious glance. "You mean, you want me to show you that I'm naked under my skirt?"
The man nodded with his gaze fixed on her hem.
Reluctantly, the girl lowered her legs and slowly hiked her skirt up to her waist.
As the blonde's small cunt came into view, Jerry caught his breath and his cock snaked up to the waistband of his jockstrap. Being a stranger who knew no one in the small town, it had been weeks since he had gotten his rocks off, and he was hornier than hell. That coupled with the pretty girl's hot pussy was more than enough to make him throw a sizeable rod.
"See?" Karen said, raising her eyes again as she continued to hold her skirt up. "I don't have any panties on." Her words were coming in abrupt halts because she had spotted the huge boner behind the assistant coach's jockstrap. She had meant to demonstrate that the garment was hers then lower her skirt, but the redhead's hardon -- after the young lady had watched her friend suck off Norman -- was too damn appealing to pass up.
"I see," Jerry said, bringing the skimpy undies to his face. "But there's only one way to be really sure." He rubbed his nose in the crotch of the undies, inhaling the faint sweet smell of pussy without taking his eyes off Karen, then dropped to a squat in front of the girl. "Let me see if the smell in the panties is the same as yours." His voice was a harsh whisper.
Karen widened the spread of her knees as the redhead's face drew nearer. She could feel his warm breath on the insides of her thighs and was overcome by the potent odor of his maleness.
Jerry's face leaned in between the girl's legs until his nose was grazing against her sparse pubic bush. His nostrils flared as he sniffed up and down the pretty little cunt, his eyes fixed on the soft pink interior and the swollen clit at the top.
"Is the smell the same?"
"Yes," he answered heavily, panting like a man who had just run the hundred yard dash. "Would you mind if I ..." His tongue shot out and stabbed gently into her almost hairless snatch.
"Oh, Mr. Marshall!" Karen moaned as she felt his tongue squirm between the lips of her juicy quim.
"Jerry," he corrected before he sucked her tiny box into his mouth, eating every hidden, tasty recess his tongue could reach.
"Jerry," she purred, splaying her legs farther and wiggling around on the bench.
He raised up and hunched over her as he undid her blouse and unhooked the clasp of her bra between the lacy little cups. Her large, creamy white breasts bounced into view, her tiny nipples as hard as pointed pebbles. "Your tits are lovely, Karen," he said, licking the flat of his tongue across each one and leaving a trail of saliva. He stood between her legs with his knees pressing into her thighs. "Take my jockstrap off."
The blonde didn't have to be told twice. Her hands raced to the knit waistband and shoved the supporter down to the assistant coach's ankles. His hard meaty cock snapped out and vibrated against her tits. Mr. Marshall may not have been as large as Norman, but his erect peter certainly rivalled the size of Mike's pecker. The knob was a deep purple, the shaft, thick and etched with veins that webbed down into a dense orange bush and a pair of large cum swollen balls.
"Kiss my cock, Karen."
She pressed her lips against the fleshy glans already wet with his pre-cum, then took the head into her mouth. She had suctioned the ring of her lips halfway down the wide shaft and was toying with his huge balls when he suddenly pulled his pelvis back, cheating her of any further oral homage.
"I can't take much more of your hot cock sucking or I'll shoot off in your lovely throat."
Karen thrust her face against Jerry's throbbing dick, pressing the hard pecker against his belly while she showered the dorsal side with kisses. "I love your cock," she purred, knowing she didn't dare tongue it too much or he would cum.
"Karen," he said, stepping out of the jockstrap roping his ankles and laying her back on the bench, "I want to fuck you."
"Oh, yes!" she moaned, parting her legs for him and pulling his trim waist into the spread of her thighs. "Fuck me, Jerry. Shove your hard cock up my hot pussy, please!" She could hear the pleading whine of her voice echo in the boys dressing room as he positioned her legs around his muscular thighs so her ankles locked on the firm pillow of his naked ass.
Jerry stabbed the bloated head of his rod into the tight, juicy quim, then froze, his eyes puzzling as he looked into Karen's heated face. "Are you a virgin?" He had felt the thin membrane start to tear with his initial thrust.
"Yes," she said warmly, "but it doesn't matter. I want you to take my cherry. Fuck me, Jerry! Please, fuck me!"
He withdrew until just the tip of his dick was kissing her cunt, then stabbed as hard as he could. Her membrane shattered in an instant. His shaft sailed up her snatch until his heavy balls were snugged against her asshole. Both of them were panting hard and sweating. "Are you okay?"
"Oh, yes!" she answered, so hot from finally getting a man's hardon in her pussy that she barely noticed the destruction of her cherry. Assured that the blonde girl was in no discomfort, Jerry began pistoning his fat ram in and out of the freshly deflowered quim, bucking his ass high on the out strokes and dropping his hips down to plunge even deeper with each additional thrust. In no time at all, Karen was hunching her hips up to meet his onslaught as they both got closer and closer to their climaxes.
"I'm cumming!" she finally cried, feeling the heated spiral well up inside her.
"Feel that?" he asked, as he halted with his cock buried deep in her snatch. His dick spasmed wildly as his balls shrunk into his groin.
"Yes!"
"I'm filling your little cunt with my cum, Karen."
"It's fantastic," she purred.
After a few moments of his swollen knob spitting out its hot load up inside of her, he pulled out. His peter had started to wilt by the time he reached for her panties. "Do you want to clean up before putting these on?"
"No," she said, slipping the undies on and snapping her bra. "I want to take you juices with me."
"I know what you mean," Jerry said, yanking his jockstrap up over his hips. "I'm going to beat off thinking about you later tonight and smelling your twat on my hand."
"I wish you'd fuck me again."
"I don't know, Karen. It's pretty dangerous for me, being my first year here and all. If anyone caught me balling one of the students, it'd be my job for sure."
"I won't tell anyone, I promise." She stood to her feet, smoothed out her skirt and brought her lips up to his mouth.
His tongue met hers outside their faces, then he sucked it inside as her hands slid down to the bare cheeks of his humpy ass.
"You kiss as good as you fuck," she laughed as he pulled away.
"You'd better get out of here before we get caught."
She nodded and took a last look at the sexy redhead dressed in only his skimpy jockstrap, the pouch wet with what she knew was partly her own juices. "When will I see you again?"
"We'll figure out something," he promised, steering her toward the door. | 3 |
707 | The Wise Goodwife | "Gramma, I feel hot."
"Lands, child, on a cool fall day like this? Come here and let me feel of your forehead. Tsk! Feels like fever. Off to bed with you!"
"Gramma, I don't feel good."
"I know, child, I know. I reckon it's time to ask Goody Hawkins to help us."
"Who's Goody Hawkins?"
"Hush, now, try to sleep. I'll come back soon."
"Gramma, where did you go?"
"Out into the woods back of the farm, child."
"Why, Gramma?"
"To get Goody Hawkins' help."
"Who's Goody Hawkins?"
"Well, that's a long story."
"Tell me a story, Gramma."
Well, you know about the pilgrim days, Thanksgiving and all. Those people way back then, that first time, were giving thanks that they'd lived a whole year in a whole new country, without too many of them dying.
Lots of times you see pictures, drawings, with lots of Indians standing there to welcome them folks. Well, 'taint so. Weren't nobody there when they got off that boat, not but one Indian, all alone. History books say it was him, Squanto, as taught them first folks how to live through one of our winters -- ice 'n sleet 'n snow and all, not like they had back in England, where they came from. But that ain't rightly so, neither. Squanto, and a few other friendly Indians as wandered in later, they taught the menfolk. But the women, those days, well, they weren't s'posed to be important, even though they did most o' the work, so we don't hear 'bout them much.
Well, a woman come off'n that boat, not quite yet old as your mamma, and her name was Grace Hawkins, but ever' one called her Goody Hawkins. "Goody" is short for "good wife", and it's like callin' a lady "Missus" today.
Goody Hawkins was young and pretty, though you couldn't tell that very well, 'cause in those days the womenfolk wore long skirts and long sleeves and bonnets to tuck in and hide their hair. So Goody Hawkins had beautiful long brown hair, though you couldn't see it, and skin soft as the skin of a peach. But she had a nice young husband who loved her very much, and he knew how pretty she was.
And Goody Hawkins was one more thing that made her very special: she was a wise woman, who knew plants and herbs and roots and barks to make sick people feel better. They didn't have doctors like we do now, just a lot of men who figured if you were sick your blood was bad and so they'd make you bleed. That got people sicker, more often than not. They thought they were real smart, them old doctors, and maybe they were smart about gettin' money from folks. But they weren't smart 'bout the folks themselves, mostly 'cause they were too busy listening to each other talking 'bout high-falutin' doctor things in big words than listening to the sick bodies of the sick people.
But Goody Hawkins was different. She listened to the people talking 'bout what hurt them, and she felt of their heads and wrists and looked into their eyes and ears and mouths. And sometimes she didn't seem to look at them at all. She just closed her eyes and looked at them with her heart. And then she'd go into big clay pots and little wooden boxes in her house, and pick out just the thing a sick person needed. And do you know how she knew just the right thing, how Goody Hawkins could see with her heart and not just her eyes?
Goody Hawkins was a witch.
No, not like you dress up at Halloween. A real witch, a real wise woman. No warts, no wire hair, remember I told you she was pretty. and no flying broom, neither. She didn't need to fly, 'cause she could see ev'rything.
Well, no, she didn't have a crystal ball. But they way my granny told me, and her granny told her, was that she had a big silver bowl, a real treasure. And she'd pour clear rainwater in that bowl, and look into it in the nighttime, with just a candle for light. And they say she could see miles away, and even years away. Into yesterday, say, or last year, or ten years ago. And sometimes, she could see tomorrow.
A cauldron? Why of course she had a cauldron. Ever'one did, those days, just like we have pots and pans today. But she only had a little one at first--remember, they were poor in them first few years in America, and iron costed a lot of money. Goody Hawkins had just the little cauldron she brought with her from home, only as big as my big soup pot.
What did she boil up in her cauldron? Well, not babies, I can tell you that! It was herbs, mostly, tree bark and roots and such. Anise and coltsfoot, simmered with a little sugar or honey, as good a cough syrup as you can find nowadays, and even better than some. That's a recipe my granny's granny knew, and likely Goody Hawkins as well. Goody Hawkins made ointments from herbs and grease, she made soaps for fleas and lice, she brewed teas, she made mashes for cuts and bad hurts to make them heal clean and fast.
But I haven't told you the best part: Goody Hawkins could do magic. Not like making scarves disappear in her fist or pulling quarters out of your ear. I mean spells, oh yes, and special little bundles of things in little bags to keep in your pocket or put under your pillow. These had herbs in 'em, yes, and besides that she could put in a special rock, maybe, or a little short twig from a certain tree, or a piece of paper with secrets written on it, or any such small thing. You could wear one for good luck, sleep on one to have good dreams.
In the nighttime, often, you could see a light shining in Goody Hawkins' cottage, warm and bright, and if you listened real hard, you might hear words, strong and beautiful, or singing so soft and sweet it might have come out of a fairy hill.
And in the daytime, oh, the smells that came out of that cottage! You could tell what was brewing by the smells of the herbs in the breeze. Rosemary, mint, clove and cinnamon, lemon-leaf, basil, horehound and lavender.
And hanging from the ceiling in one corner of the cottage were always bunches of drying herbs, filling the whole room with spiciness and sweetness. She brought the little boxes special from her home in England, but the rest she got right here, from the meadows and forests.
One day she was in the forest, gathering plants for medicines. Some of the plants were just like at home, she knew them right away. Others she didn't know, and them she would look at, and smell, and taste of--it was right dangerous, that, but weren't no other way to find out about 'em. This spring day, after their first long hard, winter had passed, Goody Hawkins went to pluck a leaf off'n a plant, to taste it.
Suddenly, she heard a crashing in the bushes and a woman's voice crying out to her. She turned around and who should she see but an Indian woman, near her own age, come runnin' toward her, talkin' words she couldn't understand. This Indian woman, she snatched that leaf from Goody Hawkins and shooed her away from that plant quick as she could. The Indian woman pulled out a thin stick, rounded at one end, and waved it so that Goody Hawkins thought the other woman might hit her with it, so she backed up, afraid.
But the Indian woman turned to the plant and commenced to digging it out of the ground with her stick, digging up the roots. The Indian woman pulled off the roots and pushed them into Goody Hawkins' hands, keeping some for herself. She put the roots into a deerskin bag, and 'twas then that Goody Hawkins saw other herbs and things in that bag, and figured out that t'other woman was in the woods for just the same job as herself, namely, getting herbs.
Even though they didn't speak each other's language, by pantomiming and pointing they could understand each other, and Goody Hawkins learned that the leaf she'd been about to eat was deadly poison. But the roots were good eating, roasted or boiled just like a potato. How 'bout that! Plants are funny that way.
Goody Hawkins realised she owed her life to the Indian woman, for warnin' her off'n them leaves. But she didn't know just how to thank her new friend. Still, they spent the rest of the day walkin' in the woods, an' Goody Hawkins learned more about the new world's plants in one day than she could've in weeks if she'd had to figure things out for herself.
And by the end of the day, Goody Hawkins knew some Algonquin, and the Indian woman, Namequa, knew some words in English. Namequa saw Goody Hawkins back to the little town and then faded into the trees almost like magic.
Well, the seasons came and went, and Goody Hawkins had her hands full trying to keep people well, what with the snakes and unfriendly Indians and poisonous plants all around. The folks couldn't get none of the plants they brought with 'em to grow very well, 'cause the weather was so different from England's. That meant that folks weren't eatin' right, and 'specially with the children that was bad. But Namequa showed Goody Hawkins plants that were good eating, and Goody Hawkins showed the other womenfolk, and for a time the folks there lived like Indians, what with the menfolk learnin' to hunt and fish from Squanto and the women learnin' to gather wild plants to eat from Goody Hawkins and Namequa.That first Thanksgiving feast, they didn't eat just the corn and squash and beans that Squanto showed the men how to grow; they also had roasted-seed mush and lamb's-quarters gathered by the women. All those, and the deer the neighboring Indians brought, well, that was some dinner!
Well, little by little, those folks got settled. Other ships came, with more people, and, later, with cows and other stock. And then Goody Hawkins was busier than ever, 'cause she was supposed to take care of sick animals, too. Back then, if a cow didn't give milk, folks were apt to think the fairies had stolen the milk in the night, so 'twas only natural they should ask their wise woman for help.
Before long, there were babies, too, human and animal, and mothers needed Goody Hawkins' help to bring 'em into the world. Somehow, though, through all of this, Goody Hawkins kept time to visit with her good friend, and to keep learning, and to look into her silver bowl every now and again.
Well, the years went on, and everybody got older, and some folks just died from getting old. Goody Hawkins' husband died too, and they hadn't any children, so Goody Hawkins should have been alone in the world. But she had her friend Namequa, and every little child in the town called her "Aunt Grace"--she wasn't their real aunt, you know, but they loved her like she was, 'cause she made them things, like sweet-scented pillows, and spicy cookies, and she always listened to them when they told her things. Goody Hawkins had learned a lot from Namequa's tribe, and now that she had no husband to take care of, she spent more time visiting with her Indian friends, and they learned from her too.
Indian magic is full of drums and dreaming. Goody Hawkins' magic was full of words and wishing. But she was careful not to let the rest of the folks know she was learning and teaching magic. Why not? Well, folks don't like what they don't understand, is all. People were afraid of lots of things in them days, 'specially in a strange new place.
And as more of them Puritan preachers came over from England, the folks would be more secret 'bout visiting Goody Hawkins, not wanting the preachers to know they was holding to the old ways. And the preachers, 'specially one Pastor Langford, looked sidewise and never straight on at Goody Hawkins, being afraid she might hex 'em or some such nonsense. Well, Pastor Langford thought she was working for the devil, but he didn't want to say it outright, 'cause folks liked her.
But even that was changing as Goody Hawkins spent more time with Namequa's tribe, and folk got to whispering about it. There was a number of men interested in marrying her, after her husband died, saying it wasn't right for a woman to live alone, but she didn't care about any of 'em. She said no to all of 'em, and some of 'em went away mad. And folk got to saying things outright.
One lady said she seen Goody Hawkins dancing naked with all them Indians. Another said there was a demon keeping Goody Hawkins company, which was why she wasn't wanting to marry again. Somebody else said that it was that demon that killed Goody Hawkins' husband. All round town words buzzed like stinging wasps. Now, when a cow wasn't giving milk, it was Goody Hawkins, not the fairies, who they thought had stolen it. Folks began to keep their children away from her. And Pastor Langford came right out and made fiery sermons about witches and the devil and sin and punishment.
Goody Hawkins saw and heard all of this, but what could she do? It was her word against the words of respectable folk, and nobody was going to believe her. So she kept silent, kept to herself, and waited.
She didn't have to wait long. One evening, she came home from a visit to her Indian friends and found her cottage in ruins. Jars were smashed, boxes thrown all over. The herb-bunches had been torn down from the ceiling, her cauldron overturned, Bible verses scrawled all over the walls with charcoal from her fireplace. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live", they said, and Goody Hawkins felt cold in her heart because she knew that the people wanted to kill her.
And worst of all, her beautiful silver bowl was all bent and crushed, like someone had hit it with a hammer. Goody Hawkins sat down at the table in the midst of the mess, and cried.
She felt helpless and angry. She wished she really could turn people into toads. She made half-hearted tries at cleaning up, but gave it up. Her heart burned with wanting to hurt the people who'd done it, and froze with knowing her life wasn't worth a straw to 'em.
My granny said, that in that hour the devil did come to her, offering to kill the townsfolk for her, if she'd give up her soul to him, but Goody Hawkins chased him out with her broom. I think more likely, she thought about putting poison in the well-water, but knew that not only would that poison the townsfolk, it'd poison the water and the earth, and the water and earth hadn't hurt her. And she knew that killing all those folks would poison her soul, too, forever, make her sour and angry as a real wicked witch.
So instead, she gathered all her power to her, all her love and strength; she threw down her hiding bonnet, and shook out her hair, which was getting grey by now, and walked proud and tall out into the town square. The folks began to gather round, saying hateful things, but Goody Hawkins lifted up her arms and began to sing, strong and sweet, in the old tongue that nobody but wise folk could speak anymore. And when the folks saw that their words couldn't hurt her, they commenced to pick up stones to throw at her.
But before they could throw their stones, the preachers came and said she'd have to have a proper trial. So soldiers took Goody Hawkins away with them, away from the shouting people, and she was still singing as they locked her up.
They tried to get her to tell them things, like was she partners with the devil, and had she hexed people and animals, and did she have a demon helper, and did she change into a cat to steal milk, but she never did nothing but close her eyes and sing softly, smiling like she saw something beautiful. So finally they gave up and took her to the courthouse.
There all kinds of people told stories about Goody Hawkins and things she'd never really done. And all through it, Goody Hawkins stood tall, and looked straight in the faces of the folks as was doing the telling. When everyone was through with their lying, the judge asked Goody Hawkins had she anything to say.
Goody Hawkins looked round at the folks, looking like your momma when she's gonna scold you, and began telling each one what she'd done for them. This one wouldn't be alive if Goody Hawkins hadn't helped his mother with the birthing. That one's daughter was deathly sick with fever, and Goody Hawkins cured her. The other one's cows were dropping down dead before Goody Hawkins found out they were eating poisonous leaves. There wasn't one person in that courtroom Goody Hawkins hadn't helped somehow over the years. And folks were looking like you do when you're getting a scolding and you know you've been wrong.
But Pastor Langford butted in and said that Goody Hawkins must have led the cows to the poison leaves, she must have made the little girl sick, she must have put a hex on the mother so her baby had trouble being born. And even though some folks still looked uncertain, the rest of 'em started howling for Goody Hawkins to die, and that was that.
They took her out to the town square where there was a big oak tree, to hang her onto it. Some soldiers held the crowd back, while two of the others tied Goody Hawkins up, tied a rope around her neck, and threw the other end over one of the branches of the tree. Goody Hawkins wasn't scared to die, but she was scared of the pain, though she didn't let the people see that. She looked out at them and smiled, and was glad to see some people quit their shouting and look worried.
Pastor Langford came up, looking nervous, and said, "Do you wish to confess your sins? You may yet be forgiven and reach Heaven."
Goody Hawkins just smiled and said, "I have nothing to confess or be forgiven for, nothing I am ashamed of. I want no part of your heaven."
The preacher fairly threw a fit right there, choking and stuttering, he wanted so bad to cuss and swear at her but couldn't in front of the townsfolk. So he just pointed to the soldier holding the end of the rope, and he commenced to hauling on it.
Goody Hawkins felt the rope tighten and her ears started to ring, and she took what she was sure was her last breath. But suddenly there was a scream, and the rope went loose. Her head cleared, she looked around, and saw the soldier who'd been pulling her up holding onto his arm, where there was an arrow sticking out of it.
Folks was shouting and running all over the place, and Goody Hawkins saw that a whole tribe of Indians had come out of the woods like magic with bows and arrows and spears and all. The soldiers couldn't get a clear shot at none of the Indians, what with folks running round like ants when their hill gets kicked over. And in the middle of all that hollerin' and confusion, Goody Hawkins felt a sharp blade between her wrists, cutting the ropes that tied her.
There was two Indians there, a big young man and Goody Hawkins' friend Namequa who held a finger to her lips to shush her. The young man scooped Goody Hawkins up in his arms, and ran into the woods carrying her.
All of a sudden, the Indians disappeared like morning mist, and when the folks looked round, Goody Hawkins was gone too.
The folks never saw her again, and Namequa's tribe were never as friendly to them. Goody Hawkins' cottage was just left to fall down and rot, and nothing in it was ever touched.But some folks were sorry Goody Hawkins was gone, especially when they got sick, or their children or animals. And one day a mother whose little baby was as sick as could be and nobody could help her, she went into the woods by herself, carrying an iron pot. She walked into a clearing, and waited, listening. The woods got quiet, as if they were listening too, and the lady began talking about the baby's problem and asking for help of whoever was listening.
She put the pot down, turned around, and walked out of the woods without looking back. The next day, she came back, and where she had left the pot, there was a little bundle of herbs, wrapped up in a soft deerskin. She ran home with it, and made it into tea for her baby, and the baby got better.
Well, word of the cure got around among the womenfolk, quietly, not like the lies about Goody Hawkins had gotten around before. They kept it a secret from the preachers, and after a while the preachers forgot about Goody Hawkins.
And every once in a while, a woman would slip away from the town, out into the woods, carrying some small thing, that she thought Goody Hawkins might be able to use, knowing that Goody Hawkins was out there somewhere, and would hear them. And always there would be an herb packet there the next day, or a little charm, or some such.
As the years went by, the herb packets stopped appearing, but the woman who turned back would see a shaft of light fall on some plant, and would take that back home with her. And finally, even that stopped, but somehow the help always came, somebody got better. There was a song, too. My granny's granny taught her this song, and my granny taught it to me, to sing to Goody Hawkins when we needed help:
With heavy heart I come and stand
The oak and bonny ivy,
A gift to offer in my hand.
The hazel, ash and bay tree.
How can I hope for any good
The oak and bonny ivy,
By standing in the empty wood?
The hazel, ash and bay tree.
But I will trust and dry my tears,
The oak and bonny ivy,
And know that the Wise Goodwife hears.
The hazel, ash, and bay tree.
"Child, what are you doing out of bed?"
"I feel better, gramma!"
"Let me feel of your forehead. Well, that's fine."
"Gramma, can I have my coat?"
"Where are you going, child?"
"Out to the woods, gramma."
"What's that you have there?"
"It's a picture, gramma, look."
"Well, that's right nice. I think I can guess who that is. And I see you've given her back her silver bowl! She'll be happy. Off you go, then."
"Bye bye, gramma. I'll come back soon." | 4 |
730 | Wesley's Anal Ordeal Part 2 | "OWWWWWWWWW" Wesley gave out in a high pitched voice as Bok Dar the Ferengi slipped a stubby finger into Wes's tight virginal asshole.
"Listen to the pussyboy yelp" laughed the Klingon, cupping his growing member at the sight of Wesley's totally perfect and soon to be ravaged ass. Taul, the Vulcan captain and leader of Wes's abductors added, "Yes indeed, his is the Federation's most lovely heavenly body to behold." Bok Dar continued to finger fuck Wes's ass as acting Ensign Crusher moaned in discomfort. "Bring the boy into the interrogation room Bok" ordered Taul.
NO NO NO This can't be happening thought Wesley. He had known that many members of the Enterprise thought him attractive, but no one had made a pass at him, unless you counted Commander Riker's ass pats as passes....come to think of it, the Commander seemed rather fond of patting Wes's ass lately....but nothing could have prepared him for having his ass gouged by a horny Ferengi. They'll never accept me at the Academy if they found out about this, thought Wesley......Wesley had never heard about the rape rooms at Starfleet Academy or of Hell Week.......Picard had been shielding him....but nothing could shield him now as Bok pushed him on his hands and knees into the interrogation room....now with two Ferengi digits penetrating his tender ass.
"Good Bok, I like to see a boy on his hands and knees before I fuck him, especially a human boy...they're so soft and woman-like," offered Kor. "This is how we Ferengi treat our women" replied Bok Dar, "I thought the lad had better get used to it.
"ENOUGH" shouted Taul "I can no longer hold back the ancient calling of Pon Farr........Ensign Wesley Crusher....prepare to be fucked" the lustful Vulcan concluded as he snapped the two side buttons holding on his metallic briefs. They fell away revealing a throbbing cock, approximately 9 inches long....green tinged from the Vulcan blood that was rushing into it. Wesley could guess at its length because it was the same size as the Cilo-wrench he used in Engineering. Wesley's eyes got even wider when Kor, the renegade Klingon, stepped directly in front of him,.already undressed, and pointed an impossibly huge, deformed looking brownish cock at his tender mouth. "This is for you, Federation whore-boy" he said as he pressed the engorged head against Wes's mouth. "Kiss the pre-cum off my warrior dick, pussy boy."Due to the double-blind, any mail replies to this message will be anonymized, and an anonymous id will be allocated automatically. You have been warned. Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to [email protected]. | 4 |
742 | null | "I take after Dracula," Howell muttered. "Sunlight is hazardous to my health."
"Get out there, or...."
"I'm going, I'm going..." Howell staggered out the door.
Mrs. Howell put a cork in the bottle and stashed it back in Thurston's cabinet. She sat down at her dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror.
"Now. If the Professor and Gilligan were fooling around with Ginger and Mary Ann, and Thurston was passed out like he always is, then the only person who could have been with me was... the Captain." She winked at herself in the mirror.
"I do remember how sore I was the next morning. The Captain must be hung like my halfback." She turned in her chair, thinking aloud. "I've got to get some of that fruit."
Mary Ann was coming.
"Nnnnnnngggggghh!" she gasped, "Oooooooooohhhh!"
She shook her head from side to side, her fingers pinching her nipples, her pelvis tilting forward and back against Ginger's fingers, tongue and jaw.
Ginger sat back, lifting her head from Mary Ann's crotch, leaving her fingers inside her pussy.
Mary Ann collapsed against the sand. Ginger crawled up beside her and lay her head on Mary Ann's breast. She kept her hand where it was. Mary Ann squeezed her legs together, holding Ginger's hand in place.
"Gosh, that was good," Mary Ann whispered. "Who needs men?"
"Men are good for some things, though."
"Yeah, somebody's got to open the pickle jars."
Ginger giggled. "On the other hand, there's nothing feels as good as a hard cock..."
"Well, try this," Mary Ann said, pushing Ginger over onto her back. She reached down and pushed Ginger's legs apart and slipped down between them.
The Skipper was collecting shellfish for supper. He was up to his knees in the water, bending over, fumbling through the sandy bottom for them.
Mrs. Howell had just strolled to the lagoon and spotted him. She stood, admiring the view of the Skipper's rear end, imagining that she could see his sex organs hanging down under it.
"Yoo hoo, Captain!" Mrs. Howell called.
The Skipper straightened up, his hands full of shells. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Howell."
"Do you need some help with that?"
The Skipper looked at her. "In all the years we've been here on this island, this is the first time you've offered help."
As he said it, a sliver of a memory of one other time... no... that must have been a dream.
Lovey smiled at him. "There's a first time for everything."
She rolled up her pant legs and waded out into the lagoon toward the Skipper. He moved toward her. When they reached each other, the Skipper handed her the shells he had collected, and turned back to get more.
She watched him bend over again, wanting to reach out and caress his bottom. She turned, reluctantly taking her eyes from his ass, and took the shells to shore.
The Professor held the flask to the light, swirling the clear juice. "Very nice," he said, turning to Gilligan.
They had mashed the fruits and strained the juice using an improvised centrifuge. The fruits had produced a little over 30 cubic centimeters of juice.
"Why didn't you use all the fruit?" Gilligan asked, holding up the three remaining yellow globes.
"Simple," the Professor smiled. "Seeds."
"Oh." Gilligan set the fruits back on the Professor's lab table. "Oh! I get it. We can plant these and grow more."
The Professor nodded and smiled. "We're all ready for tonight."
Ginger looked down her body at the dark-haired Mary Ann, who had her face buried in Ginger's pussy.
"Oh gosh.... mmmmmmm," she moaned.
Mary Ann raised her eyes, looking up at Ginger, her lips fastened around Ginger's clit, her fingers inside her pussy.
Ginger raised up on her elbows, and threw her head back. Her body was shaking, and she rolled her pelvis against Mary Ann's mouth.
"Oh! Oh!" she gasped, "Yes.... yes.... yesssss"
Her body seemed to explode, a rolling wave of orgasm sweeping over her.
She collapsed to the sand. Mary Ann crawled up her body, kissing her way up Ginger's torso, pausing a moment at her breasts, then proceeding on to kiss her lips.
They lay together, wordlessly, exhausted on the sand.
The Skipper and Mrs. Howell carried the baskets of shellfish to the compound, setting it on the table in their cooking area. They looked around for Ginger or Mary Ann.
Not finding them, the Captain gathered some firewood to start a pot boiling to steam the shellfish.
"I'll be back after a while," Mrs. Howell said, gently.
The Skipper nodded, absently.
Mrs. Howell walked past her own hut, listening to hear Thurston mumbling to himself. He was back inside the hut again, probably drinking.
She walked quietly to the Professor's hut. She tapped at the door.
"Professor?"
There was no answer. She pushed the door open and crept inside. She looked around and spotted the bright yellow fruits on the lab table. She slipped one of the fruits into her bra, between her breasts.
She slipped back out the door and closed it behind her.
Ginger and Mary Ann walked into the 'kitchen'.
"Let us take over now, Skipper," Mary Ann smiled.
"Okay," he nodded, and wandered back toward the lagoon.
After supper that evening, Ginger and Mary Ann got up to fetch dessert. The Professor nodded at Gilligan. He then picked up the pitcher and refilled all of their drinking cups. Gilligan distracted the others, while the Professor slipped some of his juice into Ginger and Mary Ann's cups.
The girls returned with another banana cream pie. The Professor and Gilligan smiled as they watched Mary Ann and Ginger drain their cups.
The Professor volunteered to help Mary Ann with the dishes. She looked at him with a strange expression on her face.
They cleared the table and carried them to the washtub.
Mr. Howell yawned and said "I think I need a drink." He got up and headed toward his hut.
"Thurston," Mrs. Howell said, then she got up and followed him to their hut.
Gilligan looked across the table at Ginger. She batted her eyes at him.
"Did you want to say something, Gilligan?" she asked.
"W-W-Would you like to take a walk?" Gilligan stammered.
"Why would I want to walk with you?" Ginger pried."There's something down at the beach I want to show you."
"Oh," Ginger smiled. "Well, okay then..."
Gilligan scrambled to his feet. Ginger got up gracefully. The two of them walked off toward the lagoon, leaving the Skipper alone at the table.
The Skipper sat there for several minutes, picking his teeth. Soon he began to hear a sound something like a moose with a head cold. Mr. Howell must have fallen asleep.
The Skipper smiled and shook his head. How could his wife have stood that all these years?
He turned around and leaned back against the table, his toothpick stuck in the corner of his mouth. He looked up at the starry sky.
"All I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by," he muttered.
The door to the Howells' hut opened, and Lovey stepped out. She looked over to the table and spotted the Skipper. She strolled up and sat down beside him on the bench.
"He's unusually loud tonight," the Skipper commented.
"Yes."
They sat silently for a few minutes.
The Skipper looked up at the stars. While he was looking away, Lovey quietly slipped the yellow fruit out of her bra and put it into the fruit basket on the table.
The Professor and Mary Ann worked quietly, the Professor washing, Mary Ann drying the dishes. Every once in a while they would look at each other and smile.
The dishes finally done, the Professor dried his hands. He turned to Mary Ann.
"Would you like to take an after-dinner stroll?"
Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. "Sure."
They walked together slowly down the path toward the sweetwater pool. About halfway there, Mary Ann reached out and took his hand, and they strolled hand-in-hand to the pool.
Lovey cleared her throat. The Skipper looked over at her. She took a banana from the fruit basket.
"You're not going to let me eat alone, are you?" she asked.
The Skipper shook his head. He reached for the fruit basket, but Lovey took the yellow fruit from the basket and handed it to him.
His face lit up. "I thought these were all gone!" He bit into it.
Lovey smiled. She took the entire peeling off the banana, slowly and deliberately.
The Skipper took another bite.
Lovey nibbled one end of the peeled banana.
Gilligan and Ginger reached the lagoon. He picked up a few shells on the beach and began to skip them into the surf.
Ginger watched for a few minutes, then said, "Is this what you brought me here to see?"
Nervously, Gilligan turned to face her. "No.... ummm..."
He stepped up closer to her. He stood, nervously shifting from foot to foot.
She batted her eyes at him. "Yes, Gilligan?"
Finally, he leaned forward quickly and kissed her, a quick peck on the lips.
He stepped back, half expecting her to slap him. She reached out and took his head between her hands, and pulled it toward her, planting a kiss on him that would melt steel.
Mary Ann and the Professor reached the sweetwater pool. The moon reflected off the pool and the shimmering waterfall.
They turned to face each other, and the Professor wrapped his arms around her. She melted in his arms, tilting her head back. He kissed her tentatively, then with more passion, and she returned the kiss.
Lovey wrapped her lips around the banana, drawing it into her mouth sensually.
The Skipper's jaw dropped, and he stared, watching her fellate the banana.
The Professor dropped to his knees in front of Mary Ann, and untied the knot in her blouse. It dropped open, revealing her lovely, firm breasts and dark brown nipples.
He took first one, then the other nipple between his lips, tickling the tip of each with his tongue and sucking gently.
She ran her fingers through his hair, her head tilted back, her eyes closed.
Ginger dropped her hands to Gilligan's waist, and untied his drawstring pants. They fell to the sand.
She wrapped her fingers around his erection, and whispered in his ear, "Is this what you brought me here to see?"
Gilligan gulped, and nodded.
Ginger dropped to her knees and sat back on her heels. She turned his dick to the left, to the right, then up and down, examining it from all angles.
She looked up and smiled. "Gilligan, I think it's a penis."
Lovey finished her banana, the Skipper still staring, his hands shaking.
She reached across the table and gripped his hand.
"Come on," she whispered.
"M-m-mrs. H-h-howell," he stammered.
"Lovey... please," she smiled.
"I-I-I don't think that..."
"Shhhh," she whispered. "Don't worry about Thurston. Listen. You can still hear him snore."
She stood up and pulled the Skipper to his feet, and led him down the pathway into the jungle.
Ginger wrapped her lips around the end of Gilligan's cock, swirling her tongue around his cockhead.
Gilligan moaned, unconsciously bucking his hips, pushing his penis further into her mouth.
"Easy, now, Gilligan," she said, gripping him firmly. She applied her lips and tongue to his cock again, cupping his balls with one hand, a firm grip on his shaft with the other.
Mary Ann moaned softly as the Professor kissed his way down her belly, pushing his tongue into her navel. His hands worked gently at her shorts, unbuttoning them. They slid down her legs, and she stepped out of them.
She dropped her open blouse off her shoulders and stood naked in the moonlight. The Professor sat back on his heels, looking at her.
She turned, slowly. "Like what you see?"
"Prettiest girl on the island."
"Humpf. That's not saying much."
"Prettiest girl I've ever seen."
"That's better." She leaned over and kissed his lips. "Now it's your turn. Stand up."
He scrambled to his feet. Mary Ann unbuttoned his shirt, and slipped it back over his shoulders. She ran her hands down his hairless chest and down his belly. She unfastened his trousers, and let them drop. Then she pulled his boxer shorts down over his ass, and they joined his other clothing on the ground. He stepped out of his shoes as he freed his feet from his pants, his penis erect and throbbing.
"Last one in's a rotten egg," she said, and dashed for the pool.
The Professor wasn't far behind her. They hit the water at the same time, splashing into the cold water. They dove down, kissing under water, then broke the surface in an embrace, their feet just touching bottom as their heads bobbed at the surface. They held each other tightly.
Gilligan tugged off his shirt and cap, and stepped out of his pants.
Ginger stood up and turned around.
"Unzip me," she said.
Gilligan fumbled for the zipper pull, then worked it slowly down her back. The dress opened up, revealing her bare back -- no bra straps. The zipper ended just at the crack of her ass.
She shrugged out of the dress facing away from him, and let it drop slowly.
Gilligan stared at her ass, so round, so firm, so fully packed. He reached out and caressed it, gently, his hands shaking.
Mary Ann wrapped her legs around the Professor's hips, clinging to him in the water. As they kissed, she worked herself up him, until the tip of his penis was just at the entrance to her pussy. She lowered herself on him, taking his thick cock fully inside her.
The Professor stood in the water, marveling at how the differential in ambient temperature between the aqua pura and Mary Ann's internal vaginal temperature...
What the hell... the cold water made her cunt feel even hotter.
He gripped her tighter.
Lovey and the Skipper found a small clearing in the jungle and sat down.
Lovey wrapped her arms around the Skipper's neck and kissed him gently on the lips.
He hesitated a moment, then returned the kiss. She opened her mouth, and his tongue danced inside.
She slid over into his lap, running one hand over his barrel chest, outside his shirt.
Ginger turned around, giving Gilligan a good look at her firm, pink-nippled breasts, and the red-haired patch below. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him again.
They sank to their knees on the sandy beach. She pushed Gilligan backwards, and he lay on his back. She moved quickly into a sixty-nine position on top of him, lowering her pussy over his face, as she drew his penis between her lips.
Gilligan dove in greedily, fastening his lips around her clit, stroking it with his tongue. He reached up, grabbing the white globes of her asscheeks, clinging to them as she moved sensually.
She took his full length into her mouth, deep-throating him. Gilligan moaned.
Mary Ann and the Professor worked their way back to the edge of the pool, and the Professor climbed out, Mary Ann still wrapped around him.
He staggered a few feet, his cock firmly held inside her pussy. He dropped to his knees, and gently lowered her to the ground.
She released her grip on his hips, and he began to take slow, deep strokes. She met each stroke with a tilt of her pelvis, rubbing her clit against his shaft.
Lovey unbuttoned her blouse, letting it drop off her shoulders.She reached behind her and unhooked her bra, and shrugged out of it. She grasped the Skipper's shaking hands and placed them on her breasts. His fingers found her nipples, and as he twisted them between his fingers, she kissed his lips again.
She pushed him gently backwards until he lay on the soft grass. She knelt between his legs and unfastened his pants. She reached inside and wrapped her fingers around his growing penis. Her fingers did not reach all the way around it.
He lifted his hips, and she slid his pants down, maneuvering around to get them down his legs and off, taking his shoes with them. She knelt again between his legs and licked his penis, which was too big to take into her mouth. She cupped his balls in one hand, gently massaging them as she worked over his huge cockhead with her lips and tongue.
Ginger's body shook as she neared orgasm. Gilligan was nothing if not diligent in his efforts at her clit. She sat back a little, pressing her cunt against his jaw and tongue, keeping a firm grip on his penis.
She started to come, her orgasm beginning at her clit, radiating through her body in a warm rush. As her contractions ended, she slid off his face and turned to kiss his lips, tasting her own juices on his mouth.
The Professor rolled over onto his back, pulling Mary Ann over on top of him. She sat up, impaling herself on his cock. She sat there, making small circles, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone and base of his cock.
She could feel little contractions beginning in her pussy and reached down to stroke her clit. He pushed her hands aside and, using his thumbs, made circular motions over her clit.
Mary Ann tilted her head back, her eyes closed, her breasts thrust forward, a lovely sight for the Professor. Her cunt clamped down on him as she climaxed, her body quivering with the force of her orgasm.
Lovey stood up and unfastened her skirt, allowing it to drop to the ground. As the Skipper watched interestedly, she turned and pulled her panties down over her ass, giving him a view not only of her asshole but a good look at her pussy.
Now naked, she turned again towards him, stepping over his legs and squatting over his hips. His huge cock stood up in front of her dark pubic hair. She wrapped both hands around his cock and stroked gently, as he reached up to tweak her nipples with his fingers.
She raised herself up and forward, guiding his penis to the entrance to her cunt. She lowered herself, breathing deeply as his cockhead forced her cuntlips aside, pushing slowly inside her.
Mary Ann began to move again, pushing herself up and down with her legs. The Professor reached up and took hold of her breasts, rolling her erect nipples with his thumbs.
He neared orgasm. He moved his hands from her breasts to her shoulders and pulled her on top of him. He kissed her lips as his balls exploded, pumping spurt after spurt into her hot, waiting pussy.
Ginger lay back on the sand. Gilligan scrambled up between her legs and kissed his way up her body, pausing briefly to suck on her pink nipples. She pulled him to her and kissed his mouth, her tongue slipping through their lips. She reached down and guided his cock into her dripping pussy.
He began slow, easy strokes, her legs wrapped around his, her feet just behind his knees. Gilligan neared orgasm and pushed himself deeply into Ginger's cunt. Ginger slid her legs up around his hips, holding him inside her as he started to ejaculate. He collapsed on top of her, and they breathed heavily together.
The Skipper was breathing heavily, too, as Lovey continued to lower herself on his huge shaft. Lovey moaned softly, allowing her body to adjust to the Skipper's size. She was lubricating freely, which was making it easier for the Skipper's cock to slide inside her.
She reached the bottom of his shaft. She sat still a moment, savoring the sensation of being completely filled up. He was the size of her fullback in college, and that brought back some lovely memories.
The Skipper was caressing her breasts, rolling his thumbs over her nipples. She tilted her head back, arching her back, pressing her tits into his hands. She reached down and stroked her clit, pressing it between her fingers and his penis. She shivered with pleasure.
She raised herself just a bit, allowing the Skipper's cock to slide out about two inches, then lowered herself again. The movement was getting easier. She did it again and again, picking up a little speed, holding her clit against his penis.
"Nnnnngh," the Skipper moaned, and clasped at her. He began to come; there was no room inside her, so it gushed around his cock and ran down into his pubic hair.
She continued to work herself up and down his shaft, nearing orgasm herself. As the Skipper's cock softened, and with the extra lubrication of his come, she picked up some speed.
The contractions came suddenly, squeezing against his cock, shaking her body. She collapsed forward, with him still inside her, and lay on his barrel chest.
The Professor and Mary Ann took another dip in the pool, rinsing each other off with giggles and tender touches. They got dressed and headed back to the compound.
Ginger and Gilligan also arose and dashed hand-in-hand into the surf in the lagoon to rinse off the sand, then they too dressed and headed 'home'. The four of them arrived at the girls' hut at the same time. With knowing glances at each other, the two couples kissed again good-night. The two girls headed into their hut.
The Professor put his arm around Gilligan's shoulder. "So how did it go?"
"It didn't go," Gilligan grinned. "It came."
The Professor chuckled. They headed back to their huts.
Lovey reluctantly removed herself from the Skipper's cock; even in its flaccid state it was a sizable organ. She recovered her clothing, slipping into her blouse and skirt, tucking her bra and panties into her pocket. The Skipper arose and tugged on his trousers and shoes.
They walked hand in hand almost to the compound, dropping this last physical contact when they approached the clearing, in case anyone was still up to see them. They needn't have bothered; there was no one in the compound, and the only sound was the buzz-saw roar of Thurston Howell's snores.
The Skipper walked her to the door of her hut. "Good-night, sweet Captain," she whispered. She kissed him quickly and slipped through the hut door. The Skipper sauntered back to his hut. He noted that Gilligan was already in the top hammock, and he rolled into the lower one. As he pulled the blankets up under his chin, he felt suddenly dizzy; then he fell into a deep sleep.
Lovey changed into her nightgown, using a hand towel to wipe away most of the Skipper's semen. She slipped into the bed, listened for a moment to the roar of the buzz saw, then reached over for the soft gum earplugs.
Thurston was cuddled up with his teddy bear. "He couldn't care less if I was here or not," she muttered. She lay back against the pillow, thinking about the Captain's penis.
Morning. The seven castaways headed for the outhouses and the sweetwater pool for their morning cleanup.
The Professor and Mary Ann passed each other on the path. "Good morning, Roy," Mary Ann said, smiling.
"'Morning," the Professor smiled back.
She took his hand and leaned forward to kiss him lightly. "Thanks for last night," she whispered. "It was great!" She continued toward the pool.
The Professor was staggered; the juice was supposed to work on her memory...
Gilligan was just coming out of the outhouse as Ginger approached. She slipped one hand under Gilligan's balls and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Hi, Stud Muffin!"
"H-h-hello!" Gilligan stammered and stumbled.
She moved past him into the outhouse and closed the door. Gilligan ran toward the other outhouse, where the Professor was just emerging.
"It didn't work," he gasped.
"What are you talking about?"
"Ginger remembered! The juice didn't work!"
"Of course it worked... You got laid, didn't you?" The Professor smiled. "Maybe it's better this way, anyhow."
"Why's that?"
"This way we can make love with the girls any time we want. We don't have to rely on the fruit."
"Oh, yeah." Gilligan smiled. "Right."
They walked up the path to join the others at the pool.
Lovey watched the others as they played together in the water. It was obvious that the younger folks were getting to know each other as lovers. Her eyes widened as she thought, "They remember! They weren't supposed to remember!"
The Skipper arrived at the pool. "Good morning, Mrs. Howell."
"Good morning, Captain," she smiled. "And how did you sleep last night?"
"I went to bed right after supper," he said, "and I slept like a baby all night."
Lovey heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't remember! She puzzled over it in her mind, until she came to a sudden realization. It's not the juice of the fruit that works, it's the pulp!
She would have to talk to the Professor about that... someday.PART THREE
Gilligan was crouching in the bushes, peering through the foliage, as Ginger waded into the sweetwater pool under the waterfall. Her back was toward him as she moved under the waterfall. He saw her drop her clothing and caught a glimpse of her bare ass before it was covered with the white water.
"C'mon, Ginger, turn around," he whispered. "Turn around..."
He reached down into his pants and gripped his penis, already erect. He pulled it out and stroked it, watching the shadowy image of Ginger's naked bottom through the flowing water.
Ginger turned around under the waterfall and stuck her head through the flow. "Gilligan!" she shouted. "Get your ass over here right now!"
Gilligan stood up and ran down to the pool. He pulled off his clothes and waded to the waterfall. Ginger reached through the flow of water and grabbed his hand, pulling him under the falls to the little alcove underneath.
Ginger wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a passionate kiss, rubbing her wet, naked body against him. She reached down and grabbed his penis, stroking its length. She lowered herself in the water, pulling him down on top of her.
Gilligan kissed her breasts as she guided his cock to the entrance to her pussy. He pressed it inside her, and she moaned with pleasure, taking his full length easily. He began slow, easy strokes, the resistance of the water making his movements easier and slower.
Ginger's clit pressed against the base of his cock with each stroke, and she gasped every time he pressed against it.
"Oh, gosh," she whispered, "I'm coming..."
Her pussy grabbed at his cock as her body shook, with a warm glow flowing from her pussy though the rest of her body.
Gilligan pumped twice more, and with the pressure from her orgasmic pussy, he began to ejaculate inside her. He kissed her lips as they caught their breath.
They stood up, finally. Ginger picked up her bar of coconut-butter soap, and they lathered each other up, giggling and laughing.
Roy Hinkley, "The Professor", was making his bed. Literally making his bed. He had gathered some nice pieces of bamboo and was busily making a double-sized bed.
Whistling as he worked, he was also trying to decide just how to approach Mary Ann about moving in with him. Making love in the moonlight in the great outdoors was great, but the rainy season was approaching.
The Skipper was whistling, too, as he cast his fishing line into the surf. He waited for a nibble, holding the fishing rod braced against his belly.
A strange, yet familiar voice sounded behind him. "Welcome to Sherwood."
He turned to see a man all in green perched on a fallen tree trunk. He was carrying a huge bow and a quiver of arrows on his back.
He blinked twice, almost dropping his fishing rod. "Robin Hood?"
"None other," the man in green said, grinning. "You look very familiar. Are you not the son of one of my merry men?"
"No," the Skipper shook his head. "Not that I know of."
"Strange," Robin said. He looked at the Skipper's fishing rod. "Fishing? Is there no game in the forest?"
"Not that we've been able to find," the Skipper said. "How did you get here? Are you our rescue?"
"Rescue? From Sherwood?"
"This is NOT Sherwood. It's an island in the South Pacific." The Skipper reeled in his line and set the fishing rod aside.
"South... Pacific? It looks like Sherwood..." Robin turned and looked around. "But then again..."
"Believe me," the Skipper said, "it's not England. Do you have a boat?"
Robin shook his head.
"A plane? A helicopter?"
Robin shook his head. Suddenly, he stood still. "Hark!"
"What is it..."
Robin placed a hand over the Skipper's mouth, silencing him. "A deer!" he whispered, "A fine stag to make a man's dinner."
He nocked an arrow into the bow and climbed over the fallen tree and into the jungle.
Moments later, Mr. Howell walked out of the jungle onto the beach. The Skipper was staring into the jungle.
"Captain..."
"Did you see him?"
"See who?" Howell frowned.
"Robin Hood."
"Captain, have you been raiding my liquor cabinet?"
Mary Ann looked around the hut at her few meager possessions. She sat down on the cot, considering how quickly she could pack them all away if the Professor asked her the question she wanted him to ask. Five minutes, maybe less.
"But what about Ginger? Would she be all alone in this hut if I moved in with the Professor? Or would Gilligan move in here with her?" she thought. "And that would leave the Skipper alone... oh, my... how complicated."
Ginger walked in, wrapped in her towel. She had been to the waterfall again. And from the glow in her face, it looked like she had been there with someone.
"Talking to yourself again?" Ginger grinned.
"Was I?" Mary Ann blushed. "I've been doing a lot of thinking."
"About the Professor?" Ginger sat on the other cot, facing her. "Has he asked you yet?"
Mary Ann shook her head. Ginger reached over and took her hand.
"He will. Don't worry." Ginger looked into Mary Ann's eyes. "And if he does, do it. Don't worry about me."
Mary Ann reached out and took Ginger into her arms. "Thanks."
Ginger's towel fell away. "In the meantime," she cooed.
Gilligan sat down on a log near a clearing in the jungle. He sat in a position like Rodin's "The Thinker", his chin resting on his fist, his elbow on his knee.
He was considering his relationship with Ginger. He loved her, he really did. Or was it just lust? Did he want to live the rest of his life with her, or was it that she was available, and here, and...
His vision blurred, and he blinked. Next to him on the log was a golden-haired fellow, about his same age. He blinked again. The fellow was still there.
"Hi, Maynard, old buddy." The golden-haired fellow grinned.
Gilligan sat up. "Maynard?"
"Hey, where's your goatee?"
Gilligan rubbed his chin.
"What's wrong, Maynard?"
"My name is Gilligan. Who are you?"
"You mean you don't recognize your oldest friend? It's Dobie." The fellow laughed. "And you're Maynard."
"Gilligan," he said. "My name is Gilligan."
"It's Maynard, and I'll prove it. Watch this... 'work'"
A shiver ran up Gilligan's spine. He shook it off.
"See there," Dobie said. "You're Maynard."
Gilligan shook his head.
"Well, whatever, old buddy," Dobie grinned. "What's on your mind?"
"Ummm," Gilligan squirmed. "I guess I can tell you since you're imaginary."
"Who's imaginary?" Dobie grinned. "Que pasa?"
"It's a girl," Gilligan said.
"I figured that," Dobie smiled. "Why else would I be here?"
"I'm not sure what I feel for her. Is it love or is it lust?"
"Does it matter?"
Gilligan looked at him. "Of course it matters."
"Okay. Do you want to be with her even when you've got your clothes on?"
"Yeah."
"Then it's probably love. Go for it."
Gilligan glanced away. "Go for it?"
There was silence. He looked back, and Dobie was gone.
He sat there a moment longer. "Go for it...."
Lovey Howell adjusted her makeup in the small mirror. She had managed to get Thurston out of the hut for a while, anyway. He needed to get some fresh air, and away from the liquor cabinet for a few hours.
She adjusted her clothing; it was getting a bit tattered with the years of wear. Thank goodness she had brought all of the trunks she had; she pitied the poor younger girls who only had a few outfits.
And the Captain and Gilligan had only one set of clothes, since they had expected to be home that night so long ago.
When they wore out their clothes, I guess they'd have to go naked...
Thinking of the Captain naked brought a sly grin to her face. That might not be so bad after all.
She headed out the door toward the Professor's hut. She needed to talk with him about the fruits.
The Professor tied the last knots and slid the double-sized bed towards the wall. He had to adjust the position of his lab-table and trunk, but it all fit. At least he didn't have to rebuild the hut.
He stood back and admired his work, thinking about the workout he wanted to give it.
There was a tap at the door. "Professor?"
It was Mrs. Howell. He invited her in. She sat in his 'relaxing' chair, and he perched on his lab stool.
"What can I help you with?"
"This is rather awkward, Professor," she said, almost blushing.
"Go ahead. We're all friends here," the Professor smiled.
"It's about those yellow fruits Gilligan found last week."
The Professor paused. "Yes? What about them?"
"I know what they do, Professor." She looked away from him, slightly embarrassed. "And I want to grow some more."
"Oh?" The Professor squirmed on his stool. "Are you and Mr. Howell having ...problems?"
"Yes..." Lovey lied. "That's it exactly."
The Professor reached over and picked up the two remaining fruits from his lab table. They had softened, and were giving off a sour fragrance.
"That's funny," he said, "I thought there were three."
Mrs. Howell grimaced.
The Professor handed them to her. He opened his botany book and read from the page describing the fruit.
"Looks like it should be planted in sandy soil, near a tree where the vine can climb. That's all the information I have." He closed the book. "I can't guarantee they'll grow, and I have no idea when the vines will bear fruit."
"I understand, Professor," she said, smiling. "Thank you."
"You're very welcome. I hope the problems work out."Lovey went into the jungle, looking for likely spots to plant her seeds. She found two trees close to the pathway that looked hopeful. She dug a shallow hole next to each tree and placed the rotting fruits in them, covering the hole. She kissed her fingers, then the soil. "Grow, please grow," she whispered.
Thurston Howell walked along the beach. "Damn this island," he said aloud. "Damn this beach, damn this ocean, damn these waves, damn..." He was so distracted by his tirade that he nearly fell over the barrel. He kicked it. It didn't move, and he hurt his foot. He hopped around on his good foot, holding the hurt one. He sat on the barrel, which was lying on the sand. He massaged his toes, muttering, "and damn this barrel." As he worked on his sore toes, he looked down at the barrel. Stenciled on the side of the barrel was the name "Inverness." He looked up at the sky. "If there's a god in heaven, let this be full." He got up and pushed at the barrel. It was very heavy, it had SOMETHING inside. He pushed harder, and the barrel rolled over, exposing the bung. It was intact. "Praise the gods!" he shouted, then clamped his hands over his mouth. He looked around. "I've got to find Gilligan," he muttered.
Mary Ann and Ginger were in a sixty-nine position, with Ginger on top. Ginger's lips were locked around Mary Ann's clitoris, her tongue dancing around the tip of the sensitive nubbin. Mary Ann had her hands around the cheeks of Ginger's ass, her fingertips brushing her anus. Mary Ann's tongue was stroking over Ginger's clitoris, her concentration on her nearing orgasm. Her body began to quiver under Ginger's ministrations. Ginger's fingers slid into Mary Ann's vagina, pressing upward against her g-spot. Mary Ann's body tried to levitate, as an explosive orgasm shook her body. As her contractions slowed, she again applied herself to Ginger's pussy, sucking hungrily on her clitoris. Her fingertips approached Ginger's anus again, and slowly, Mary Ann slid her middle finger into Ginger's anus. "Mmmmmmmmm," Ginger moaned, "Oh, yes." With her other hand, Mary Ann slipped two fingers into Ginger's pussy. Ginger raised up, pushing back against Mary Ann's hands and mouth. "Yes... yes, that's it," she gasped, "Oh yes..." Her body began to quiver, and a gush of vaginal fluid ran down Mary Ann's face. Ginger's orgasm shook the bed, as Mary Ann slowed her tonguing of Ginger's clitoris. Ginger got up slowly and turned around, and lay beside Mary Ann in the narrow cot.
Gilligan was sitting at the table in the compound, contemplating the basket of fruit. Which one was he least tired of? Mrs. Howell approached the compound. "Gilligan, there's something I want you to do for me." "What's that, Mrs. Howell?" "Do you think you could find any more of that yellow fruit?" Gilligan goggled at her for a moment, but remembered that she couldn't possibly know what it was good for. "I'll try, Mrs. Howell," he nodded. "Thank you." She headed for her hut. At that moment, Mr. Howell came running up the path from the beach. "Gilligan, dear boy. Just the man I was looking for..." "What do you want me to do?" sighed Gilligan. Howell looked back toward his hut. Lovey had gone inside. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I've made a wonderful find on the beach, and I need your help." "What did you find?" Gilligan asked, in a normal voice. "Shhhhh...." hissed Howell. "Keep your voice down." "Okay," whispered Gilligan, "what did you find?" "A whole barrel of Inverness Scotch." "A whole barrel?" Gilligan's voice rose to a normal level again. "Shhhhh!" Howell hissed again. "Sorry," whispered Gilligan. "Come with me. I need to roll it up away from the tide, and I'll need help to get it open."
The Skipper landed his catch; a very nice, big fish. As he pulled it up the beach, he glanced at the jungle, half expecting Robin Hood, or Tarzan, or some other character to come popping out. But nobody did. He pulled out his knife and started cleaning the fish.
The Professor strolled over to the girls' hut and tapped on the door. "Anybody home?" "Just a minute," Ginger's voice sounded from inside. The Professor heard some scrambling around. Ginger jumped up and grabbed a dress, slipping it over her head and zipping it up. Mary Ann retrieved her shorts and slipped them on, and buttoned her blouse. Ginger went to the door. "Hi, Professor." She batted her eyes at him. "I was just coming... er, going." She walked out the door, winking at Mary Ann. "Come on in, Roy." Mary Ann sat on the edge of the bed. The Professor sat down next to her and took her hand. "Mary Ann... I want to ask..." "Yes," she said, smiling. "You didn't know what I want to ask." "Yes I do, and I do." She kissed him. "Give me five minutes to pack up." She finished in four. The Professor picked up her little bag, and they walked hand-in-hand to his hut.
Gilligan and Mr. Howell rolled the barrel up the beach to the edge of the jungle. They tipped it up on end to keep it from rolling back down to the water. "I don't think the tide gets this high," Gilligan observed. "Good. Now, how to open it." Gilligan smiled and picked up the tool box. "I know how to open barrels." He took out the hammer and took aim at the top. "Wait! NO!" Howell shouted, and grabbed the hammer. "If you break the top, we can't close it back up!" He leaned over and looked in the tool box. He picked up a brace and bit. "Now, this will make a small hole that we can plug up." He set the tip of the bit on the top of the barrel-end, and Gilligan started to turn the brace.
The hole was bored through. Gilligan pulled out the bit, and Howell leaned over to sniff the contents. "Heavenly," Howell sighed. "It's Scotch, all right." Then he frowned. "But how do we get it out of the barrel?" "I could still smash the top," suggested Gilligan. Howell just frowned at him. "The Professor uses a kind of vine for tubing in his lab. Maybe we could find some." "Good idea. Go look for some. I'll just sniff for a while." Gilligan dashed into the jungle. He was looking for the vine that the Professor used, but a flash of yellow caught his eye. He stopped and looked closer. It was another vine-full of yellow fruits, just like the ones he found before! He marked the place in his mind and went looking for the tubing-vine. He found some, and pulled it down. Using his pocket knife, he cut off the leaves from a length of it, and took it back to Howell. Howell was standing over the barrel, his nose pressed against the hole. "So near and yet so far," he sighed. Gilligan handed him the vine, and Howell lowered one end into the barrel. He placed the other end between his lips and sucked. "Like drinking through a straw," Gilligan noted. The fluid finally reached Howell's mouth. He filled his mouth, then pinched the end of the vine. He swirled the liquid around his mouth, then swallowed. "Ambrosia," he said, "Nectar!" He raised his eyes to the sky. "Thank you!" "You're welcome," said Gilligan.
Ginger walked toward the compound table, just as the Skipper brought up his load of fish. "I'll take that, Skipper," she said, and he handed over his bundle. "Thanks, Ginger." He stopped to wipe his brow and said, "I'm going to go up to the waterfall and wash up." He started up the path to the sweetwater pool. Ginger took the fish over by the fireplace and added some wood to the coals still smouldering there. Flames started to appear around the new wood.
"Gilligan, dear boy, go back to my hut and get a couple of empty bottles," Howell said, sipping from his straw. "Sure, Mr. Howell." "Oh... If Lovey is there, don't let her see you." "Okay." Gilligan started back toward the compound, but remembered the fruits. He doubled back into the jungle and located the vine. He picked three of the yellow fruits and rolled them up in his shirt. Then he headed back toward the compound.
The Professor and Mary Ann entered his hut... their hut. The Professor led her over to show her the new bed. "Oh, Roy," she said, "you expected me to say yes!" The Professor nodded. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Let's break it in," she whispered, huskily.
Gilligan ran into the compound and looked around for Mrs. Howell. Not seeing her, he tapped on their door. "Mrs. Howell?" "Yes, Gilligan dear?" She opened the door. "I found some," he said, breathlessly. He unrolled his shirt and handed her the three fruits. "Oh, thank you, dear boy!" She took one and sniffed it. "Smells delicious!" "Ummm," Gilligan shifted from foot to foot. "Mrs. Howell, Mr. Howell sent me for a couple of his empty bottles. But I wasn't supposed to tell you." Lovey frowned slightly, but she was delighted to have the fruits. "Of course you can have his empties." She stepped away from the door and let Gilligan inside. "They're over there in the cabinet."Gilligan stepped over and opened the door. There were several bottles of different-colored fermented fruit juices, and several empties. He picked up two of the empty bottles.
"Thanks," Gilligan said, clutching the bottles.
"Thank you, Gilligan," she said, clasping the fruits to her chest.
The Professor unbuttoned Mary Ann's blouse and peeled it back over her shoulders. He caressed the smooth globes of her breasts, their dark brown nipples popping up like rubber erasers under his fingers.
She moaned and kissed his neck.
His hands moved farther down and unfastened her shorts, dropping them to her feet, where she stepped out of them, along with her shoes.
She reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers down his hairless chest. She dropped her hands down to his pants, unfastening them, and they joined Mary Ann's on the floor. He stepped out of his shoes.
Mary Ann sank down into the bed and lay on her back. She lifted her knees, extending her arms towards the Professor. He climbed into the bed, slipping up between her thighs.
He ran his hands over her legs and up her sides to her breasts, tweaking her nipples again. Then back down, running his fingers through her dark pubic hair to the warm wet place below.
His thumb found her clitoris, warm and erect under its tiny hood. She gasped as his thumb brushed over it.
The fingers of his other hand parted her labia, and he could see the moist pinkness within. He slipped a finger inside her, and she gripped it with her vaginal muscles.
He bent down and touched her clitoris with his tongue. It felt hot, and he rolled his tongue over it.
Mary Ann gasped and reached for his head, running her fingers into his hair.
He moved his tongue down further, sliding down the slippery skin past her urethra, plunging his tongue as deeply as he could into her pussy.
She wiggled her hips, running her fingers over his head.
He moved back up to her clitoris, sliding his tongue around and over it.
He fastened his lips around her clitoris, sucking gently, brushing her clitoris with the tip of his tongue. She gripped his hair, holding him in place.
"Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!" she moaned, thrashing her head from side to side.
The Professor raised his head, and as Mary Ann released her grip on his hair, he slid up her body to kiss her waiting lips. His penis poised at the entrance to her vagina, the glans parting her labia and sliding to its full length inside her.
"Ummmmmmph," moaned Mary Ann into the Professor's mouth. Her clitoris pressed against the base of his penis as she tilted her pelvis back. Her vaginal muscles clamped around his penis, holding him in place.
Mrs. Howell walked around to the "kitchen," where Ginger was stirring the hot coals, ready to place the fish fillets on the grill.
"Do you know where the Captain is?" Mrs. Howell asked.
"He said he was going up to take a shower in the waterfall," Ginger said. | 5 |
754 | Zangara's Elegy | "'He was a bloody tyrant, and we brought him down. And I will not have history think I did it for a bag of gold or in some kind of rabid fit!'"
I looked curiously at this disheveled individual who was ranting what I perceived to be nonsense. I turned to my guide, and hopefully future employer. "What is he talking about?"
"Oh, he's no one. He thinks he's John Wilkes Booth, that's all," came the reply. I looked closer at my guide. I hadn't really studied him up to this point. Suddenly, however, I knew that he posed me no threat, and so I wished to know more about him.
"'Tell them how the Union can never recover from that vulgar, high and mighty niggerlover, Never--!'"
I began going over what I knew about my guide. His name was Dr. Charles Guiteau, and he was the director of the mental ward of the University of Massachusetts Medical Center. I knew nothing about his credentials, but that was not where my curiosity lay. I was interested in his character, and since it was his profession to know other people's thoughts, I was able to delve into his inner self even as he showed me the building.
"Kibo, would you like to join us?" Dr. Guiteau asked the mental patient. "This is Dr. Sam Byck, and I'm showing him around the building."
"My name is not Kibo, it is Johnny Booth. Sure, I'll come along. 'Someone slew the tyrant, just as Brutus slew the tyrant.'"
"We don't know his real name, so for a while we were calling him Johnny. Then the doctor who was handling his case decided it was better to call him something else. I'm not sure where the name Kibo came from though," Dr. Guiteau rambled on. "By the way, if you come on, Kibo will be one of your patients. Dr. Czolgosz, the man who left for Buffalo, was his doctor."
I had been half listening to this exchange until Dr. Guiteau's last sentence. Suddenly my interest in this specimen was piqued. There had to be some way of using him to my purposes. "I would be interested in seeing his file," I replied, confident that my speech had not skipped a beat.
"That will have to wait until you accept the position, which we hope you do. It will certainly give our department prestige, something we have been lacking for quite a while."
This man was showing all of his cards, wasn't he? I had nothing to fear at all, in fact I had him wrapped around my finger. Kibo, on the other hand, was someone I would have to learn. His next comment threw me for a loop.
"'Attention must be paid.'"
"That was from Death of a Salesman. Arthur Miller was born in 1915, and wrote that play in 1949. John Wilkes Booth died in 1865. Why is he quoting Arthur Miller?" I frantically asked Dr. Guiteau, although I'm sure he couldn't see the panic I was feeling.
Dr. Guiteau just chuckled. "Listen to him a little longer, maybe you'll figure it out. Although if you do, you're a better detective than I. I had to read his file to figure it out. I still don't know how Dr. Czolgosz deduced it. Maybe Kibo told him, I don't know."
"'I'm an actor, Lee, and I'm a good one. But Willy Loman is a part that I could never play.'"
"Lee! Who the hell is Lee?!?" I blurted out anxiously.
Dr. Guiteau chuckled again. He just didn't understand, did he? "Tell Dr. Byck who Lee is, Kibo," Dr. Guiteau said quietly.
"Why, Lee Harvey Oswald of course. Who else would I be talking to? And DON'T CALL ME KIBO!!!! Please."
"Now don't get hostile," Dr. Guiteau turned back to me. "Do you understand any better now?"
"Yes," I said, much more calmly. It was really a good thing that Guiteau was so clueless and Kibo was nuts, or I might have been in deep. I made a mental note to control my emotions better than I had. "But I still don't see how John Wilkes Booth could be talking to Lee Harvey Oswald, and how he could be quoting Death of a Salesman."
"Keep listening, maybe you'll figure it out. If not, I guess you'll have to accept the position so you can look at his file." He chuckled again. God, that chuckle was getting annoying.
"'You should kill the President of the United States. . . . He didn't come here to get shot. . . . Lee, when you kill a president it isn't murder. Murder is a tawdry little crime. . . . when Julius Caesar got killed--he was assassinated. . . . Ah, you know his name. Brutus assassinated Caesar -- what?--two thousand years ago, and here's a high school drop-out with a dollar twenty-five an hour job in Dallas, Texas, who knows who he was. And they say fame is fleeting. . .'"
My clinical mind was itching to get Kibo in a padded room and go to work on him. He intrigued me immensely. Dr. Guiteau, on the other hand, was extremely simple, and I could manipulate him any way I saw fit. So I told him, "Kibo here fascinates me enormously. He has stimulated my professional curiosity to the point where I must see if I can help him. Therefore, I accept the position as your assistant here at U/Mass Medical Center."
"Good, good, we are very excited for you to be on our staff." His use of the word "we" was getting cumbersome, but I bore with him. "Let me show you to your office. All of Dr. Czolgosz's files have been put in there already." Now we were getting somewhere.
"'That's a Mannlicher-Carcano. 6.5 millimeter. Stopping range 900 yards. The sight's already been adjusted. . . . My name is John Wilkes Booth, Lee.'" Ahem! "'My name is John Wilkes Booth, Lee.'"
"Oh, that's my cue," said Dr. Guiteau. "He likes to have an Oswald for this part. 'John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln.'"
"'Attention has been paid.'"
"He's trying to convince Oswald to kill Kennedy, isn't he?" I asked Guiteau. "It's as if he's reading from a script."
"You are good. That's exactly what he's doing. Like I said, I don't know how Dr. Czolgosz figured it out, but the things that Kibo says in the guise of John Wilkes Booth are from a Broadway musical called Assassins. He must have been exposed to it before he came here. In fact, Dr. Czolgosz's theory is that Kibo was as sane as you or I when he was exposed to it, and then some action shocked him into this persona."
This will truly be an interesting subject."I am far too clever for anyone to catch me.
"Razor."
What is your trick? Do you know what's going on in my mind? Calm down, of course not. "Rap." But damn, you're hitting a nerve. Maybe I should just lose and end the game.
"Poison."
All right, you little punk, this game is ending. No wait, you can't know. You're a fucking nutcase. You think you're John Wilkes Booth. "Nonplus." And you think you can talk to Lee Harvey Oswald.
"Shower."
You stupid, fucking runt. Stop with the fucking words. No, I will not lose to this crazy sonofabitch who thinks that a man who died in 1865 can quote a man who was born in 1915. "Road."
"Death."
You think you're an assassin. Of course you're going to say death. Don't think you can fool me. "Hew." Even if you do know what I've done, there's no way you can prove it. Who'd believe a crazy fuck like you.
"Wife."
Holy shit, you do know. The crazy fuck knows. Well, there's no way you can prove it. "Entity."
"Yellow."
I'm not yellow, you little shit. I'm the most courageous man on the face of the planet. I'm alone in the same room as a man who is proud to think he's an assassin. "Wasp." Not many men would take that chance. And I'm not even scared.
"Phallus."
You pervert. And that just proves you have no clue, it was only blind luck. "Ski."
"Inheritance."
Yeah, that's why I did it, so what. I only think you're playing with me, but you have no idea of what you're saying. "Epithet." You're just trying to win this stupid game.
"Trial."
There will never be a trial, you dumb fuck. "Loop." And even if there was, I'd get off scot-free.
"Police."
Are you kidding? The police are stupider than you are. They actually consoled me when it happened. "Era." The stupid fucks consoled my wife's murderer.
"Arrest."
No way, sonny. It has been five months, and they've gotten nowhere. They think she committed suicide. "Trapeze." They are NOT going to arrest me.
"Ewe. E-W-E."
"Earth." See, you have no idea. I'm the only one who knows, and I will NEVER confess.
"Hammer."
"How the hell do you do it?!? Yes, I killed my wife, Lee. Yes, I knocked her out with a hammer. Yes, I cut her with a poison razor. Yes, I put her in the shower to look like suicide. Yes, I did it to collect all of her father's inheritance. Yes, yes, yes!"
Kibo was gone. I slumped in my chair. It was now a matter of them believing a crazy wanna-be assassin or a distinguished doctor. I still had nothing to worry about. Even when the officer was reading me my rights, I knew I was still invincible.
The sergeant was sitting across the table from me asking me questions, and I was telling him the same old bullshit. The accommodations weren't bad considering I was under arrest. Of course, they would have to release me soon, they had nothing on me. Just the testimony of some crazy patient at the U/Mass Medical Center. I had nothing to worry about. After all, my profession was minds, and I knew the police believed me, and thought the crazy fuck was just that, a crazy fuck. The cop was just going through the motions as he asked me if I had killed my wife, if I had confessed in that office, and even what I thought of the mental stability of my accuser. That was the fingered me. They did not think that I had done it.
A buzzer sounded, and the sergeant picked up a phone. He listened a moment. "Send him in," he said into the phone and turned to me as he hung up. "The chief is coming in."
The door opened, and the chief came in. "We have no evidence to hold you, Dr. Byck. I'm sorry this all happened. Apparently, the arresting officers were unaware that your accuser was a patient, and quite frankly, we are desperate to find an explanation for your wife's death, so..."
He let it drop there. "Oh, it really is quite alright," I said. "I understand, and I wish I knew the truth about my wife's death. No hard feelings."
"One thing though, Doctor," the chief continued. "We found this audio cassette in Kibo's pocket. It seems to be a musical play of some sort. I'd like for you to listen to it a moment."
The speakers in the room started to crackle from age. A raspy sound started to emanate from them. "Yes, I killed my wife, Lee. Yes, I knocked her out with a hammer. Yes, I cut her with a poison razor. Yes, I..." Two officers restrained me as I tried to bolt from the room.
"There is one more thing, Dr. Byck," the chief said. "I'd like to introduce you to Detective Giuseppe "Kibo" Zangara." The door opened, and there stood Kibo, the crazy fuck who had cornered me.
"Why, Kibo, why did you fuck me over?"
"'I did it to bring down the government of Abraham Lincoln and avenge the ravaged south...'"*
* The speech meant to emulate John Wilkes Booth is taken from the musical Assassins by Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman | 4 |
765 | Girl Scout Camp Adventures | "A favor?" I asked the Program Director. I've learned to be wary when someone asks me a question like that - sometimes you bite off more than you can chew. This one was fairly straightforward, though. The staff person who handled our adventure challenge program was "feeling a little out of sorts" (any guesses, people?) and could I fill in? Being qualified to handle such things, and more than ready for another reason to get out of the office, I gladly agreed.
This particular morning, there was a group of 9 of the younger girls, aged 10 or so. We were working on the low challenge course, which is a collection of obstacles that the girls had to pass, working as a group.
To digress for a moment, and answer a reader question, the girls were not required to wear uniforms at all times, only on "official" Girl Scout occasions.
The first challenge was called the 'all-aboard' and consists of a platform about 3 feet square, and 1 foot off the ground. The object is to get all your team onto the platform at the same time, for long enough time to sing a refrain of a popular song, which this time was "Row, Row, Row your boat."
(Author Note: I don't want to give away the solution to these problems, so in some cases I am fudging a bit. Please understand! Thanks!)
Of course, as soon as I started the clock to measure the time it took to complete the problem, all the girls attempted to race onto the platform at once. One of my roles during this type of activity was to "spot" the campers, making sure that no one got hurt.
As the girls attempted to complete the problem, many fell off the platform, wherein I found myself in the position to catch them. As I did this, I found myself inadvertently making contact with the girls' lower back, thighs, rear ends, and chests. To my embarrassment, I found myself growing excited.
To my relief, the girls managed to complete the task at hand before I lost my composure, and we went on to the discussion phase of the program.
The rest of the day passed without incident, and I retired to my cabin after dinner to prepare for the evening's activity, a dance. I must admit, I was curious to see how a dance would go at an all-girl facility.
As was becoming a regular occurrence at camp, again I found myself surprised. Many girls at the dance paired off, or formed groups, including the staff. I myself was working with the DJ, but took the opportunity to dance with a number of the female staff, and on one occasion found myself inside a horde of surprisingly provocatively dressed campers. I escaped with my composure and dignity intact, and ended up quite enjoying the evening.
As I climbed into bed, and began to drift off into sleep, my mind focused on two of the younger female staff (Bethany and Robin, I think their names were) who had been dancing together, and at occasion quite closely during the evening....Robin took a quick look at her watch. "Shit, we have to be back in the tents before curfew! But next time, it's my turn!" Both girls grinned at each other as they rapidly cleaned themselves off. As they got dressed, I took the opportunity to slip away.
As I woke up the next day, I found my sheets in disarray. Must have been one hell of a dream! I made my way to the mess hall after a quick shower. While eating breakfast, I noticed two of the girls that had been dancing at the party the night before, and the strangest thought ran through my mind. Naaaaahhhh...... | 3 |
851 | Little Beth's Boyfriends | "Spread your Barbie dolls out on the sand and play with them," Cathy told her baby sister as the 16-year-old blonde took off on a lope across the beach. "I'll be back later!"
Cathy's plump buttocks twisted provocatively in orange bikini pants which failed to conceal them. Much of the fabric was caught in the crack between her ass cheeks. The satiny swells quivered as she ran.
A white-haired man who sat on a blanket, next to his dozing wife, felt an uncommon stirring in trunks as Cathy's tantalizing bottom wiggled past, nearly close enough for him to take a bite of it.
The eyes of a young passerby were brightened by the bouncy quiver of her tits. Cathy was the proud possessor of a pair which resembled sponge-rubber balls, except for the rigid tips which projected from their crests. Her bikini top came high enough only to conceal the thrusting stems, while revealing the rims of her pink aureoles. The swelling orbs on which her nipples sat were alive with vibrating motion.
Cathy's baby sister, Beth, had just begun to sprout nubbins at the age of twelve. Cathy's opulent breasts and curvy bottom frightened Beth, when she thought that she herself might possess such bulges some day. The hair on her sister's body was even more frightening. Beth had no hair between her legs at all.
She differed from her sister Cathy in another way as well: Beth had no interest in boys. She was happy to play with her dolls and to fantasize about a glamorous life without boys. A girl's body was just something to put pretty clothes on, as far as Beth was concerned.
"Hi! See anything interesting!"
The blond, muscular lifeguard to whom Cathy had called turned from scanning the water and looked down at her, standing at the foot of his tower. He grinned behind dark glasses.
"Now I do!" he said, ogling Cathy's breasts.
"Well, just what do you see?" she teased, twisting languidly so that her breasts wobbled to and fro in their flimsy wrap-around.
The lifeguard scurried down his ladder, bounding onto the sand in front of her. He wrapped strong hands around her upper arms and gazed down at the creamy globes that rose insolently from her bikini top.
"I see the juiciest set of tits on the beach," he said.
"Boyd, you dirty guy!" Cathy scolded, laughing.
The lifeguard glanced quickly around him. The beach was lightly populated on that early summer's weekday. Deciding that there was no one close enough to be shocked, Boyd hooked two fingers around the center of Cathy's bra and yanked it down. Her tits leaped out to stand quivering in pink-nippled perfection.
She gasped, and a blush came to her cheeks. "Are you crazy? Not out in the open!"
"Then let's get into my tent," Boyd said. "I've got a hard-on already."
A downward sweep of Cathy's blue eyes told her that it was true. The young man's swim-trunks were bulging before the urgent thrust of his prick.
Cathy turned and, holding an arm across jiggly breasts, dodged under the three-sided canvas shelter that faced the sea at the base of the lifeguard's tower. She tumbled onto Boyd's blanket.
He was right after her, tumbling onto the blanket also. He clutched Cathy. They rolled and giggled. His mouth was hot on hers, his tongue spearing. Cathy felt his dick pressing her thigh, then the grasp of his hand around a bulging breast.
Boyd squeezed her firm titty and plucked at the nipple while they kissed. Thrills radiated through the responsive girl.
Her mother would have been shocked if she had known Cathy was letting a young man get to her that way, but Cathy couldn't have cared less. She was at the rebellious age. Before she'd given Boyd her virginity, life had been a drag. Since then it was one luscious thrill after another.
Cathy's hand stroked the lifeguard's big, hairy chest. She plucked at the wiry ringlets. All the while his demanding tongue was thrashing in her mouth, making her think of how his cock felt when it probed somewhere else.
Her hand skidded down to his trunks, and she grasped at the hardness which was stretching them out of shape.
Boyd pulled his mouth from hers with a gasp. "When you grab me there, I go crazy!" he said.
"I want you to go crazy with me!" Cathy exclaimed, and kept massaging his constricted hard-on through the single garment.
The youth drove his face to her breasts and sucked up a thrusting, hard nipple. He bathed the tingling titty-tip in his warm mouth, thrilling Cathy. She struggled blindly with the young man's trunks, pulling them partway down. But his big prick was so stiff that it kept them from gliding off.
Boyd raised his mouth from her gleaming, wet nipple and looked at what she was doing. Cathy looked, too.
Boyd's trunks had skidded low enough to expose the top of his pubic patch, but they clung to the towering projection of his penis. Only the base of the pole was revealed, where it soared up from his golden thicket.
He took hold of the top of his trunks and stretched them as he squirmed. The garment pulled his prick down, then relinquished it with a snap. The bulb-ended shaft bobbed up and down springily before locking into a high-aiming thrust. The head swelled, rosy and plump. The stalk was super-stiff.
Cathy gazed at it as if hypnotized. She hadn't gotten sufficiently used to Boyd's prick yet to take it for granted, if she ever could.
Her slender, delicate fingers crept around it. Boyd watched, and thrilled, as her hand took hold. Squeezing his cock, she watched its head bulge even larger than before.
"What a thing!" she said excitedly.
"Call it by its right name, why don't you?" Boyd suggested.
"It has different names, doesn't it?" Cathy asked sexily as she stroked it.
"Yeah. Use 'em all."
"But they're dirty!"
"So what?"
So what, indeed! Cathy thought. Even if sex was dirty, it was fun!
"Cock!" Cathy said, as if she had uttered a major pronouncement. She looked at Boyd shyly and blushed.
"What other names for it do you know?" Boyd asked, writhing voluptuously under her caress.
"Prick!" Cathy said, blushing more. It stimulated her to use forbidden words.
"How about another one?"
"Rod?" Cathy said, intoning it as a question.
"Okay. More."
"Well ... dick?"
"More yet," Boyd urged, squirming in the delightful clasp of her hand.
"I don't know any more," Cathy said, gazing at the beautiful long rod she was holding.
"How about pecker?"
Cathy giggled. "That sounds so cute!" She tried it out: "I dig your pecker!" She laughed and blushed some more.An open bottle and two glasses stood on top of it.
Joe watched as his wife poured some more liquor for herself. A lock of Marcella's dark red hair had fallen sexily across a cheek. Her face was pretty, though a slight puffiness betrayed her thirty-eight years. Her breasts were large, and the moderately low-cut dress she was wearing showed off their pale, bulging tops.
"Want one?" she asked as she finished pouring her own drink.
"I'm okay," Joe said.
Marcella laughed. "I know what you're worried about--you're afraid that if you drink any more you won't be able to do your thing!" Her voice was thick.
"Listen," Joe replied, "I could do it if I was roaring drunk. I just wouldn't enjoy it as much. Now, with women it's different--the more booze they drink, the wilder they get."
Marcella turned to face him. "And just how would you know about women ... plural? How many broads have you been screwing around with?"
Beth was shocked to hear her usually prim and proper mother use words like broads and screwing.
"You know I don't screw anybody but you," Joe said, walking over to her, a grin on his face. "But I remember before we were married."
"Oh, here we go again! Now you're going to tell me about Elaine and Lois and all the rest of them ... and how fuckin' wild they were!"
Fuckin'? Beth couldn't believe her ears. Her mother had to be pretty drunk.
"Baby, I'm not interested in anybody but you," Joe said, and took Marcella into his arms. She was sipping from her glass as he cuddled her, caressing her bottom again.
He walked her to the sofa, his arm around her waist. Marcella sat down heavily, almost sloshing the liquor out of her glass. Joe sat beside her. He gave her a kiss. Beth was shocked to see his hand close around one of her mother's breasts, squeezing the bulgy mound.
Marcella finished the liquor in her glass and stretched to place it on an end table. The glass nearly tipped onto its side.
Joe went to work on his wife in earnest, pushing her skirt and slip up her thighs, then grasping her breast once more. As they kissed, he slid his hand down across her middle and dug between her fleshy thighs, grasping her hairy softness through her panties. Her thighs widened their spread, and Beth could see dark hairs along the crotch elastics of her mother's pants. The narrow strip of blue nylon that passed between her legs had gotten creased and was narrower than usual. As she squirmed in response to her husband's ardent caress, he hooked the nylon away, and Beth got her first glimpse of her mother's mature pussy. The gash was red at the center, its lips unfurled by the wanton spread of her legs and her excitement. Lots of hair bordered the juicy crevice.
Joe's finger delved into his wife's meaty slit.
"Oooo!" Marcella moaned, tearing her mouth from his. "Why don't you fuck me?"
There it is--that naughty word again, Beth thought. And Mommy's using it!
"You're not ready to be fucked yet," Joe replied.
"Oooh, yes I am!" Marcella insisted, writhing passionately. More of her hair had fallen over her face by that time. "Can't you feel how wet I am?"
"You're wet all right," Joe observed, taking out his finger and looking at it. (Even Beth could see it glisten). "But I think my baby needs a little more feeling up. She needs to get the top of her dress pulled down," Joe added, reaching behind her to unzip her zipper. "She needs to get her titties spilled out."
Marcella laughed giddily as the top of her dress was lowered. But her tits didn't tumble free. She was wearing a low-cut bra.
She squirmed against Joe as he went for the hooks on her brassiere. When his hands withdrew, he brought the bra with him, and Marcella leaned back, boldly showing him her breasts. Like melons they were, with wide rosy discs at their crests. At the center of each aureole sat a plump, ruddy nipple.
"Mama's really got 'em!" Joe said with a grin, bringing his hands up underneath her bountiful boobs. He lifted the chesty treasures and let them drop, quivering.
Marcella glowed. It did thrill her to be stripped in the living room and to be forced to show herself off.
"Shake 'em, honey!" Joe said.
Laughing, his drunk wife waggled her shoulders, causing her big tits to bounce to and fro. Joe drove his face against the rounded, satiny pillows. Beth stared as her father licked and sucked her mother's nipples. The child watched avidly as he lifted a breast, tugged with his mouth at its rigid tip, then let the titty drop. He pounced onto the other one.
Marcella reached blindly for the front of her husband's pants. Beth's guilty excitement increased as her mother felt all around his lower front, even down between his legs, then found the tab of his zipper and lowered it, opening his fly.
I'm going to see Daddy's cock! Beth thought.
A little voice told her that she shouldn't look at it, that she was being very naughty and should hurry back to bed. But her fascination with her parents' lovemaking was too great to resist. She had to remain on the stairs and continue to watch.
Marcella reached into Joe's pants while he nuzzled and pawed at her breasts. Her hand came back out, and it was clutching a long, hard column that, to Beth, looked very much like Gary's. It too was covered by an outer skin, except for its rosy tip. Beth's mother stroked that hard, thrusting cock, rolling the foreskin up and down across the ridge of his head.
Joe sat up and stared at what she was doing.
Suddenly he dropped to his knees on the carpet. He spread Marcella's legs wide apart and dived between them. Their daughter's breath became labored and she felt very warm between her own legs as her father licked the inner slopes of her mother's thighs, from her tightly cinched stocking tops all the way to the edges of her lacy blue pants. His hands stroked up and down the outside of her thighs, traveling along the straps of her garters.
Finally he clutched Marcella's panties and pulled them down. Her dark hair gushed out. Joe lifted her legs in front of him to take her panties off. He tossed the blue briefs aside. He spread his wife's legs into a wide V, continuing to hold them up in front of him, and then he did something that shocked and thrilled Beth.
He dove straight to her mother's hairy slash, burrowing his mouth into the moist meat. He lay her legs on his shoulders and twisted his head, ravenously eating Marcella's flowing, flavorful cunt.
Beth throbbed as she watched. Her eyes were bugging. Her mouth hung open, and her throat was dry.
Marcella wiggled her bare bottom on the sofa. She tossed her head from side to side, her red hair whipping across her face. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, Her titties bounced like big rubber balls.
So Daddy puts his mouth down there, just like those men made me do with them! Beth thought excitedly. I wonder if Mommy will do Daddy the same way.
Joe was licking up and down the meaty flanges of his wife's cunt, his tongue wiggling all the fleshy folds. He sucked up her gushing honey. He licked the pearl-like head of her clit until it was slick and extremely hard. He even stroked his tongue down and into the mouth of her slippery, hot vagina.
Marcella bumped her hips spastically. She no longer was able to suppress her moans. She clutched her husband's head, ruffling his dark hair, pulling him deeper into her humid swamp.
Finally he raised his head. His mouth and nose were wet.
Marcella was panting wildly.
Joe stood in front of her, his prick proudly projecting from his open fly. He moved very close to Marcella, standing between her legs.
"No!" she exclaimed, and tried to push him away.
"God damn it, why not?" he demanded, wild with lust.
"Because I don't do that!" his wife said. "I've told you many times I won't. Just because that slut Elaine used to do it for you is no reason to expect me to." She no longer seemed so drunk.
"Damn you!" Joe snarled. "You're a prude!"
"Maybe so," Marcella said, succeeding in pushing him away from her. "Come on, Joe," she added, her tone softening, "let's make love nice!"
He angrily grasped her and twisted her about, until she was pitched forward, over an arm of the sofa. Her ass was aimed into the air. Its fleshy cheeks were framed by her white garter straps and the dark bands at the top of her hose.
Joe jerked her thighs apart so that one leg extended out to the floor. He landed behind her on his knees and quickly pushed his pants and shorts down. He drove his hard prick into her upturned pussy, spearing it all the way to his dangling, hairy balls.
Beth stared from a point of vantage which permitted her to see between her father's legs, to watch his thick column stroking in and out of her mommy's hair-fringed hole. She watched her daddy's balls shake. She saw how wet his cock was getting as he pumped up and down, pulling the little red lips of her mommy's pussy outward, then folding them back inside as he drove all the way, socking his belly noisily against Marcella's ass.
So that's how people fuck! Beth thought, shocked and excited by the blatant display of raw lust. That it was her own gentle parents behaving in such a wild and wanton manner startled the child all the more.
This was bound to be a day and night that Beth would never forget.
"Oooh, yes!" Marcella cried, bumping her cunt backward against her husband's savage plunges. She wiggled her sumptuous ass. "That's sooooooh gooooood!"
Joe just grunted, angry in his lust because she hadn't given him the thrill he had most wanted. If he could just once feel her warm, wet mouth around his prick and watch her pink lips pump up and down on it, he would be the happiest man on earth, he thought. But she continued to deny him that supreme pleasure. She probably always would.
He fucked into her none-too-tight cunt with brutal vengeance, and Marcella seemed to enjoy it, despite his roughness.
Watching, Beth was frightened for her mother.
That must hurt awful! the young girl thought. How does Mommy stand it?
Beth didn't see how she herself could ever let a man or boy drive his long, hard thing into her. Her pussy was so small and tight that a man would surely rip her to pieces doing that.
The fear put a damper on the vicarious excitement Beth had been enjoying up to that point. Still, she continued to watch, spellbound by the sheer animal lust which her father and mother displayed.
Marcella was bobbing her ass atop the sofa arm, pushing with her feet against the cushion and the floor, bracing her hands against the floor, as well. Her hair hung completely over her face. Her breasts dangled and swayed like tolling bells.
Joe was clutching her bare hips and driving for dear life into her soggy cunt. His shaft gleamed slippery wet each time it flashed out. His balls had pulled into a knot at its base.
Beth's eyes burned from staring. Her tense throat ached with dryness.
Aren't they ever going to stop? she wondered as her parents fucked on and on.
"Uuuh ... uh! ... OOOOOOOOH!" Marcella cried, and her ass shook, vibrating like jell-o. Waves of luscious warmth spread through her.
Her cunt spasmed around Joe's cock which was still pumping within it. But because Marcella's pussy wasn't the tightest in the world, her orgasmic contractions didn't bring him to climax. However, his stimulation was heightened by her obvious pleasure, and he speared her even faster and stronger. His hips bobbed as briskly as they could go. His eyes rolled back in their sockets, and his head turned light.
His whole being was concentrated on his driving cock as he pumped into Marcella with fiendish zeal. He slapped her quivering ass. He cursed.
Finally he came with an explosive burst which shook him. He growled raspingly and emptied his passion in spurt after quivering spurt within his wife's still-quaking cunt.
He flopped over her back, breathing hard. She was panting, also.
"Oooh, what a fucking!" she said.
Beth could have uttered an amen to that. It was the most savage and frightening act she had ever witnessed between human beings.
She never wanted it to happen to her.Boyd stood outside, dressed in slacks and a t-shirt. Cathy let him in quickly.
She no sooner had closed the door before he pulled her into his arms. They kissed warmly, their tongues stroking. Cathy could feel Boyd's cock stir against her.
He broke the kiss before his rod fully rose.
"So, what happened with your kid sister at the beach today that made you two leave so quickly?" he asked. "And who was that guy you were talking to?"
"He was just a friend of our parents," Cathy lied. "Then I remembered something I had to do at home."
The tall, bronzed lifeguard grinned. "Well, you won't be able to get away from me tonight. I've got no ocean to keep my eyes on. I can just look at you."
Cathy took his hand and led him to the sofa. "Want a Coke or something?"
"I just want you," Boyd said.
They sank to the couch, and he took her into his arms. He drew Cathy toward him so that she was sitting on the side of one hip. As they kissed, he placed his hand on her bare leg just above the knee. It was a simple matter for him to push her skirt up as he caressed her smooth thigh, then to gain access to her panty-clad bottom. He stroked the plump cheeks of her ass, wobbling them in her silky briefs.
Cathy heated up fast. She was never slow to respond, but after the sensuous time she'd spent in Gary's apartment, she was more receptive than usual. She had learned a few things that she was anxious to try out with Boyd.
But it was going to be up to him to make the first move. He had been neglecting a very important part of lovemaking, she had learned today.
Cathy's tongue tickled Boyd's darting into his mouth, then withdrawing. He shoved his tongue between her lips, and she sucked on it. He squirmed and glided his hand up across the front of her dress. He clutched a bulging breast, thrilled to discover that Cathy was braless. He pinched a stiffening nipple through her dress.
She was licking along Boyd's lips, using her tongue more than usual. What had happened earlier in the day had caused her to think more about lips and tongues.
Boyd lay back on the couch and pulled her forward on top of him. She could feel his hard cock sticking up in his clothes. He drew down the zipper on the back of her dress and brushed the garment off her shoulders. She propped herself on her arms, smiling down at him, and let her dress fall away. Her titties hung bare and beautiful, their pink nipples rigid with excitement.
Boyd cupped her tits in his hands. Grinning pleasurably, he bounced and wiggled the responsive globes, which were elongated by her posture. He milked at her nipples.
Cathy crawled higher on him, dropping a titty to his lips. Boyd caught the stiff nipple and sucked on it. Cathy rubbed her belly against him while wiggling her tit in his mouth.
Boyd's hands glided down her back and discovered that her crawling had caused her skirt to creep back over her bottom. He flipped the skirt up once again and filled both hands with the sumptuous curves that stretched her light panties. His fingertips tickled her ass-crack through her briefs. He stroked and patted her bottom, enjoying the way it jiggled in her silk panties.
All the while, his cock throbbed. It was painfully constricted between their bodies, imprisoned by his clothes.
Cathy wanted to let his cock out. She wanted to play a lot with that stiff, exciting thing this evening. But first, Boyd was going to have to do something very nice for her.
She crawled farther forward until the front of her pink panties was right above his face.
"Hey, what's this?" he asked playfully, and clutched her ass, pulling her against his mouth.
As he kissed her through the front of her briefs, Cathy thrilled. But he was kissing just below her belly button, not where it would do her the most good. She tried to wiggle higher yet.
"Just what are you up to?" he asked, grasping her silken sheathed hips and holding her above him.
"Kiss me there!" Cathy blurted. "Kiss me all over!"
"You're getting some pretty wild ideas," Boyd said, still holding her away from his face. He seemed embarrassed.
Cathy swung off him and stood next to the sofa, right by his face. She held her skirt wantonly up around her waist. "Take off my panties," she said.
"With pleasure," Boyd replied, and swung around to sit straddling her legs. He ran his hands up the back of her bare thighs and onto her panties. He hefted her lusciously curved buttocks and rubbed them against each other. His fingers crept up to hook around the elastic at the top of her pants.
Cathy's excitement mounted as he slowly pulled her pink panties down. The clump of golden fluff on her mons appeared. Boyd pulled her panties lower, and he got a teasing view of her slit through the curly hairs. Her panties clung between her thighs causing them to turn inside out as Boyd hauled the top of them farther down. Cathy moved her legs a little way apart, and the pants skidded down past her knees. She lifted one leg, then the other, and let Boyd take her panties off.
He had been ogling her wiggly slit through this process, glimpsing more of it when she raised each thigh. He tossed her panties away.
Cathy moved very close to him. She took hold of his blond, bushy head and pushed it down, smacking his mouth against her bare belly.
Boyd licked around, between her belly button and her fluff. He held her asscheeks in his hands. His fingertips crept into her warm, satiny crack, tickling her in an exciting way as he wiggled her buttocks. Cathy pushed down on his head, causing his mouth to skid into the curls at the top of her pussy.
He quickly sat up.
"What's the matter?" Cathy asked.
"Nothing." Boyd was embarrassed again. "I was just kissing kind of low there."
"Not too low for me," Cathy said.
Boyd's embarrassment turned to anger. "What do you expect--that I'm gonna kiss your cunt?"
Color flared in Cathy's cheeks, and she backed up. While she was forming a caustic reply in her mind, a younger feminine voice spoke from the doorway:
"I'll bet I can get Boyd to kiss me down there," Beth said boldly and stepped forward, stark naked.
Cathy was aghast. "Get back to your room this minute!" she exclaimed.
Beth dismissed the order with, "What do you think you're talking to, some kid?"
Smiling at Boyd, she knelt in front of him. His eyes all but popped from his face as he took in her sleek twelve-year-old body with its mere nubbins for breasts and no hair at all. He gazed down at the cute little bump between her thighs and the top of her very tight slit, barely visible.
As Cathy stared, shocked to the quick by her baby sister's bold intrusion, Beth leaned forward and unzipped Boyd's slacks. Her childish hand dipped into his fly and brought out a prick which was long and stiff, and pink-headed. The slit at the tip of his cock was wet.
"Heyyyyy, wow!" Boyd exclaimed.
"BETH!" Cathy shrieked, and stamped her foot, causing her titties to bounce up and down.
Smiling faintly with a confidence beyond her years, Beth bent forward and stuck out her little tongue. She fluttered the dainty pink organ against the tip of Boyd's upthrust prick.
"AAAHHHHHRGH!" he groaned pleasurably, for this was the first time he had ever had his cock licked. His super-stiff pecker twitched in wild excitement.
Beth caught the tip of his glans between her soft lips and glided them over the rosy crown, widening her little mouth until it was stretched to the maximum as the fattest part of Boyd's organ popped inside. She clasped her lips snugly in the groove just behind his cockhead.
"Ooooh, Jesus!" Boyd husked, grasping the head of the young girl.
Cathy was still staring at the incredible scene, not knowing what to do. Beth had just taken over, seeming to steal Cathy's boyfriend completely. All his attention was wrapped up in her as she ardently sucked his cock, gliding her lips up and down on his shaft, which her saliva had turned slippery.
Cathy watched her baby sister's throat work as she drank down the bland fluid which oozed from the tip of Boyd's aroused prick. He was caressing her short, girlish hairdo. One hand glided down her front to twiddle her baby-pink tits.
"NO!" Cathy cried, and rushed forward. Grasping her sister fiercely, she pulled her away from Boyd's lap, causing his prick to flip out of her mouth and bob quiveringly, sticking up toward the ceiling.
Doing the only thing she could do to win back the young man's full attention, Cathy dropped to her knees where Beth had been. She grasped his bristling cock and pointed it toward her pink lips. She glided her mouth down over his slick glans.
"AAAHGH!" Boyd rasped, and his hips lurched, driving his prick deeper into Cathy's warm, wet mouth.
She began to suck him fiercely, gliding her encircling lips up and down on his spit-slick rod. Now it was Beth's turn to watch while Boyd stared down at Cathy's bobbing head, enjoying the wonderful thrills she was giving him as her soft, clasping lips skidded repeatedly across the sensitive ridge of his corona. She went her baby sister one better by reaching into his pants and bringing out his balls. She played with those blond-fuzzed baubles as she pumped her mouth on his prick.
Beth decided she could still fulfill the prediction she had made when she had entered the room. She jumped up and stood on the sofa. Boyd turned his head to stare at her as she edged along the cushions and straddled his lap. This placed her cute, hairless pussy right in front of his face.
Boyd grasped her around the bottom, finding its cheeks smaller and firmer that Cathy's. When he didn't pull her toward his face right away, Beth just shoved her hips forward, bracing herself on the wall behind the sofa. Her smooth little cunt smacked against Boyd's mouth.
What else could he do but kiss it? Intent though Cathy was upon the sucking of Boyd's cock, she nevertheless became aware of someone above her. Releasing her boyfriend's prick and looking up, she found herself staring into the V of Beth's thighs where Boyd was doing with her what he had refused to do with Cathy: His lips had wrapped themselves almost wholly around her baby sister's pouty little cunt, as if he were going to chew it up and swallow it.
Beth was grinding her pussy between Boyd's lips. His tongue was tickling her slit. Thrills raced through her. She grasped Boyd's head and ruffled his thick blond hair.
Infuriated, Cathy scrambled to her feet. She looped an arm around Beth's waist and yanked the precocious girl off the sofa. She took Beth's place, as she earlier had done on the floor.
Boyd was so worked up by that time, and his inhibitions had been so weakened, that he grasped Cathy and pulled her to his mouth. His tongue wiggled into her blonde nest, forcing the wet lips of her pussy apart, and he began to lick wildly up and down her clit.
Cathy forgave her baby sister everything as luscious thrills powered through her. She didn't even care that Beth was kneeling between Boyd's knees and had seized his cock in her mouth. She was working the snug elastic circle of her lips up and down, up and down, on his bone-hard, quivering organ.
The little girl was so excited that she needed only a squirt from Boyd's hot prick to bring her satisfaction. She sucked him wildly, trying to make him shoot as soon as possible.
This produced an unplanned benefit for her sister, because Boyd licked Cathy's cunt all the wilder. His tongue plunged deep into her steamy swamp of flesh, as he breathed in its musky fragrance, even enjoying her twat's tangy taste. He poked his tongue into Cathy's cunt-hole and lapped upward across her quivering clit. He slurped her flowing juices. She placed her palms over his ears and shot her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.
Boyd was bouncing his ass on the sofa as Beth's stripping lips all but pulled his cock out by its roots. His balls churned heatedly. He twisted Cathy's ass for dear life, smearing her feast of cunt-flesh against his mouth as he licked and slurped and tongue-fucked her, all at the same time. She quivered and squealed. Boyd blubbered into her wet meat. Beth glugged around her mouthful of big, juicy cock.
Suddenly, as if a dam had burst to inundate the entire room, an orgasmic wave swept the three lovers as they clutched one another. Cathy's honey flowed onto Boyd's tongue, trickling down his throat, while his lust spurted into Beth's sucking mouth. She gulped it eagerly, setting off a trembling climax within herself.
Cathy hugged Boyd to her belly. His mouth had thrilled her even more intensely than Pedro's had done.
Beth was blissfully satisfied as she licked Boyd's cock up and down, finally letting it flop away, turning soft. It seemed that all she needed to feel perfect was a shot of warm, thick man-cream into her mouth and throat.
She saw no reason to ever let herself be fucked.First he bracketed her plump ass-cheeks in his hands, extending his fingers upward along their flanks and his thumbs along the creases beneath her buttocks. He rolled the rubbery mounds against each other, watching the crack between them wiggle.
Cathy felt humiliated to have her bottom played with like that, especially out in the open, though the foursome on the blanket still had that part of the beach to themselves. She couldn't get away from Pedro, nor even strike at him from her belly-down position.
The aroused Latin jiggled his thumbs against the meaty lower portions of Cathy's ass-cheeks. This caused her fleshy mounds to quiver rhythmically, and it opened and closed her crack just enough to let her tight little asshole wink into view.
Cathy's humiliation increased.
Pedro quit jiggling her ass and merely patted it, making her buttocks shiver against his stroking hand. His cock was poking hard against the interior of his swim-trunks.
He bowed his head and began to lick Cathy's buttocks.
Oh, my goodness, what's he doing to me? she thought. He could fuck me or make me suck his cock. Why is he fooling around BACK THERE?
His licking of her bottom embarrassed her, but it stimulated her at the same time. She was getting all warm and woozy. Soon he began to wiggle her bottom against the man's face, which caused his gliding tongue to skid very close to her ass-crack.
Pedro was heady with excitement. The sixteen-year-old's ass had turned him on strongly. Casting all inhibitions aside, he thrust his moist tongue into the wiggly crack between her buttocks.
Cathy gasped as she felt the man lick her asshole.
Nasty, nasty! she thought. But she loved it.
She tilted her ass upward and spread her knees so that her crack opened wider. She thrust her hot asshole against the man's swabbing tongue.
Pedro quivered all over as he licked the adorable dimple between the girl's satiny buttocks. The little puckers that radiated from the tight slit tickled his tongue. Cathy's warm buttocks vibrated against his cheeks. He let his saliva drool against her anus, then with his tongue he pushed the moisture into the tiny crevice.
Oh, is he going to ...? Cathy wondered wildly.
"Wow!" she exclaimed when he did it, pushing his wet tongue right up her asshole.
Her circular muscle relaxed voluptuously to let his tongue glide through. It felt wonderful, even though her anal ring was stretched as he forced his tongue deeper and deeper. His mouth moisture softened and slackened her tissues. She had never felt so loose!
Pedro pulled his tongue from her ass and lifted his head. Crouching behind the beautiful girl, he pushed down his swim-trunks and let his cock leap free. Someone was walking up the beach toward them, but Pedro wasn't about to let anything interfere with what he intended to do. Clutching his cock, he guided it into the crack of Cathy's ass.
She realized what was going to happen only when Pedro began to push his prick against her moistened nest of puckers. By then it was too late to stop him.
All Cathy could do was to raise her head and holler as his cock forced her asshole wide open and started gliding in. It felt as if a red-hot log were being rammed up her butt. The pain eased somewhat after Pedro's bulging glans popped into her channel and her sphincter contracted around the stem of his cock. Grinding and pushing, he sank his hot cock deeper and deeper into the girl's virgin asshole.
Her hollering caused Beth to raise her head from Gary's prick, and she stared at Pedro's shaft sticking into Cathy the wrong way. The twelve-year-old was shocked.
That must hurt even worse that a regular fucking! she thought. It sure doesn't pay for a girl to let a man get his thing between her legs at all!
Beth went back to sucking Gary's prick with a vengeance. She wanted to keep him so interested in her mouth that he wouldn't even think of fucking.
Cathy's eyes had misted with a sudden gush of tears when Pedro painfully jammed his cock up her ass. But now that the pain was easing and her tight rectum was adjusting itself to the monstrous foreign bulk, she was able to see again.
What she saw appalled her:
Approaching on the beach, not twenty yards away by that time, was a bare-chested man in walking shorts. He had gray hair and was squinting against the sun's glare at what was happening on the blanket. He looked as if he had difficulty believing his eyes.
It was impossible to tell whether he was more shocked by the sight of a young girl, not yet at the age of puberty, pumping her mouth up and down on the cock of a thirty-year-old man ... or by the picture of a teenaged blonde spread out frog-like, getting her ass fucked by a swarthy Latin.
The passerby hesitated, obviously torn between just standing and watching, doing something to stop the shocking display, or going on with his walk as if he had seen nothing. Cathy stared at him through wide eyes as Pedro pumped his prick in and out of her clasping anus, driving fire deep into her guts. Pedro glared at the gray-haired man. Gary insolently grinned at him as Beth just kept bobbing her head, oblivious to the fact that she was being observed.
Finally the beach-roamer walked on, finding the going more difficult with an iron bar in his shorts.
He was not the only one to observe the shocking spectacle on the blanket. Boyd had lifted his binoculars and trained them on the young girls and their adult boyfriends. His prick stuck up like a spike as the glasses revealed in stunning detail the buggery and fellatio being committed on the beach over which he had jurisdiction. Worse than that, his girlfriend and her baby sister were involved. This filled Boyd with anger, and he wanted to intervene. But two husky older men would be more than a match for him, he feared, and anyway it didn't look as if Cathy or Beth wanted help. They seemed to be getting everything they wanted, without his assistance.
By that time, Cathy was grinding her ass pleasurably around the pumping prick that stretched her anus. Beth had let Gary's cock escape from her mouth and was darting her moist little tongue up and down it.
"Come on--get out of your swimsuit and sit on my face!" he husked.
Beth was quick to comply, because that sounded like a great new thrill. As she peeled her suit away, Gary thrilled once again to the sight of her little-girlish body, without so much as a wisp of hair and with such barely budding breasts as to be scarcely noticeable. Her tiny, velvet pussy was the cutest he had ever seen.
He guided her to straddle his head, facing his loins from which his cock towered. She immediately clutched the big, tasty bone and stuck it back into her mouth while settling her sweet crotch over Gary's face. He held her trim buttocks between his hands and licked her precious little cunt. His prick throbbed delightedly in her mouth.
"Oooh! Oooh! Oooh!" Cathy cried as Pedro drove his hard dick up her ass. His belly patted against her buttocks. His balls swung against her cunt.
It was wild getting fucked the wrong way, Cathy decided. She wasn't yet sure if she really liked it, because the pressure remained intense. But it certainly was a thrill. Without her pussy having been penetrated, she felt herself approaching a climax.
Pedro fucked her upflung butt harder. His prick fairly flew in and out of her tight, rippling asshole. His balls bunched up. His eyes rolled back. He clutched Cathy's ass as he pumped his prick into it.
Beth's tight mouth was bobbing just as fast on Gary's cock. His tongue was briskly stroking her pussy, drawing precious droplets of honey. He was tickling her tiny clit, making it throb.
A burst of sweet sensation shook Beth, and she champed hard on Gary's cock. He groaned, spurting upward into her mouth. She gobbled at his semen, but some of it escaped her, dribbling down his shaft.
Pedro's prick twitched deep in Cathy's ass, and he let loose a torrent of gushing lust which warmed her bowels and set her to trembling. The orgasm spread until her entire body was consumed by quaking frenzy. Even her pussy spasmed, with no prick inside it. Her hard clit tingled.
She fell utterly limp on the blanket, Pedro's cock still sticking deep between her buttocks.
Cooing softly, Beth licked the spilled cream from the sides of Gary's prick. Finally she pursed her soft lips around the tip of his organ and sucked up the final drop or two of his precious fluid.
High on his tower, Boyd was stroking his prick in his trunks, holding his binoculars in the other hand and watching the tableau on the blanket. If anyone had called for help in the ocean, they would have been out of luck.She suddenly had made up her mind to take the big step, and Gabe was the one she wanted to do it with. She wanted to do it right then, while the urge was strong within her. If she waited, she might chicken out.
"Would you like to fuck me?" she asked Gabe.
The tall, tow-headed mute was thrilled.
Gary was amazed, then angered. But he played it cool. He watched, not saying a word, as Gabe grinned and shucked off his trunks. Beth sank to the carpeted floor. Lying on her back, she spread her legs wide open.
Gabe's prick was up by the time he landed on his knees. He gazed with delight at Beth's hairless pussy, which was like a little roll of velvet, tightly slitted.
"Be gentle," she murmured, as she stared at him through limpid eyes.
He bent and began to lick her.
Gary burned. But Beth had made her choice, and he couldn't forcibly toss Gabe aside. All he could do was to watch, with his prick sticking up, and content himself with seconds perhaps. He had wanted very much to take the little girl's cherry.
Gabe's moist tongue stroked her pussy, spreading a glaze of saliva over the delicious morsel. His hands traveled over her body, brushing her stiff nipples. Beth lifted her legs, because it felt good to hold them up in the air, wide apart. But after awhile this became tiring, and she rested them on Gabe's shoulders.
His tongue was really getting to her by that time, gently prying open the smooth petals of her baby cunt. His saliva drooled inside, mixing with her own natural juices. Her pussy tingled. If she had ever felt like getting fucked, it was then.
Gabe's tongue tickled her hot little clit and stroked the very small mouth of her vagina. He ran the tip of his oral organ around that slick orifice, softening and moistening the gateway to paradise. Very carefully, the sensitive young man thrust his tongue into the opening, so that the channel spread just a bit.
Beth thought she had an inkling of what it would feel like when his cock came thrusting in--and it was good. A rush of voluptuous sensation convinced her that she wanted to be penetrated, and as quickly as possible.
She began to stir restlessly against Gabe's cautious oral explorations.
Gary watched all this, wishing he were in the mute's place. His frustration and bitterness increased. He didn't blame Beth--what did she know? Gabe was the one at fault, Gary felt, for taking over his girl in his bedroom. After all, hadn't he brought Beth to the apartment the first time? Hadn't he carefully guided her along to this moment of culmination, only to have the supreme thrill snatched from him by Gabe?
Somehow he would find a way to get back at that son of a bitch, he vowed.
Gabe raised his head and crawled forward to spread his rangy body over the slender form of the little girl. This was Beth's first time to be mounted, and her fear rose. She felt helpless. Suddenly she wondered if she wanted to go through with the fucking after all.
But she realized that it was too late to back out. Gabe's prick was poking at her tender little cunt, trying to find the way into it.
Beth was afraid to breathe. She lay perfectly still. Her heart pounded.
Gabe's tentative pokes at her pussy became more demanding as his lust increased. He wiggled his rod against her softest part. He pushed.
Beth felt her tender flesh being spread by his thrust. What was pushing into her was much bulkier than a tongue. Her pussy lips were forced so wide apart that they felt as if they might snap from the strain.
Then suddenly there was a sharp hurt as Gabe's prick pushed against the delicate membrane which guarded Beth's inner passage. She held her breath and shut her eyes. She had to bite her lips to keep from crying.
The pain increased as Gabe pushed harder.
Oh, why did I let him do this? Beth thought.
She heard him grunt. There came the strongest pressure yet ... the greatest hurt ... and then the inward pressure stopped and Beth felt the man's bulk gliding fully into her, creating a new and pleasurable pressure in the walls of her vagina and around its mouth.
Gabe stopped, pushed up onto his arms, and looked down at her. There was warmth and tenderness in his eyes. He smiled, and Beth smiled back at him through her tears.
She knew everything was going to be all right.
Everything was WONDERFUL!
Gabe gently stroked his long, stiff cock in and out of Beth's marvelously tight little cunt, and she thrilled as never before in her life. She was being fucked, and she loved it!
The man's gliding hardness thrilled every nerve-end in her cuntal walls. His log stroked the red-hot tip of her clitty. Her sensitive pussy-lips worked the length of his cock, feeling lusciously stretched. There was nothing like having a big, hard prick pumping inside her.
To Gabe, the thrill was supreme. He had never screwed such a tight, hot pussy. What made it even more wonderful was to look down at the little girl's innocent face gazing up at him, her eyes wide, her pink lips parted.
Gabe had to hold himself under strict control to keep from fucking her hard and fast. But he didn't want to hurt her.
Beth was beyond fear. Gabe's prick felt better and better with every stroke. She began to move her hips a bit, responding to an instinctive urge.
This stimulated Gabe to move faster. He was careful still not to push his entire prick into her, however. That wasn't necessary to give him total satisfaction.
As his stroking increased in tempo, Beth felt herself approaching a plateau of pleasure that she had never reached before. She clutched Gabe's back. She instinctively wrapped her slender legs around him. She fucked back as Gabe fucked her.
Her brain swam. Her senses rioted.
Gabe's eyes rolled back as he neared a climax. He pumped his prick briskly in the snug, elastic channel of the virgin twelve-year-old. Suddenly he growled, and his lust leaped from his churning balls, steaming through the tube of his penis, exploding with hot spurts into the little girl's clasping cunny.
Beth cried out. Her body lurched. Warm vibrations swept through her, turning her brain light. She clung to Gabe and thrilled as never before, her slender little form quivering against him, as she took his jetting heat into the pit of her belly.
Supreme bliss followed her tumultuous climax. Every cell in her body was gloriously relaxed and at peace with all creation.
She hardly felt it when Gabe pulled his cock out of her. She lay still, her cheek pressed against the carpet, breathing deeply.
No wonder Cathy dug it.
Fucking was the greatest thing in the world!Looking up, he thrilled as the young girl positioned herself over his towering skinny cock, then let her cunt down onto it, taking the spear all the way up inside her warm little body. Beth screwed happily, grinding her lithe hips and working them up and down. Sighting down across his chest and belly, Gabe watched his cock being claimed by her dainty, hairless cunt, then released, her little cunt-lips turning outward as they glided toward the end of his shaft, only to fold inward once more as she settled down on top of him again.
The clutching tightness of her pussy was a marvelous thrill in itself. The snug fit of Gabe's cock thrilled Beth, also. With every stroke of her pussy up and down on his rod, his cock-ridge rippled her cuntal walls. She leaned farther forward so that her clitty pressed his iron-hard column while she pumped.
Both sisters were having the time of their young lives, fucking the virile men from on top. It was like riding the most exciting merry-go-round in the world, their horses bobbing up and down, up and down. But instead of sitting on the saddles of their mounts, they were bouncing on the saddle-horns! Their little pussies thrilled to the deep, rhythmic penetrations of the men's long cocks.
Cathy was missing one thing that she had wished for, however. She had been denied the opportunity of sucking and getting fucked at the same time. If only Beth weren't monopolizing Gabe, she thought, or if Pedro were to talk in ...
But Beth wasn't about to give up the skinny, stiff dick she was screwing, and Pedro didn't arrive. Cathy had to make do with what she had--which was one, big, long bone sticking up in her squishy center, which she could grind on and stroke on and enjoy to her heart's content.
That wasn't bad.
The men had greater-than-usual endurance at that time, because Beth had depleted both of them earlier. But the stimulation which the girls provided, by kneeling astride them and riding their pricks, got their balls to bubbling quickly.
Cathy helped Gary along by dangling her titties above his face, dropping first one nipple, then the other, into his eager mouth, and tugging them away after he'd gotten a few quick sucks. She shook her titties to and fro, across his nose.
Beth couldn't do things like that with her tits, because they were little more than bee-stings. This, in itself, provided a thrill for Gabe as he gazed up at her pre-pubescent body while feeling her tiny cunt wring his cock.
Soon the men's hips were flopping up and down on the floor with dizzying speed, giving the girls a bucking ride which they wouldn't soon forget.
Beth was the first to cum, flopping forward against Gabe's chest and squealing as warm vibrations coursed through her. Gabe felt the spastic contractions of her babyish cunt, and they brought him along.
Cathy came moments later, sitting up and jerking her hips as Gary's cock extended to its full length inside her. She felt that column throb and the head expand deep in her belly. His warm spurts filled her with gooey cream which drooled down his shaft and dampened his balls.
Cathy kept writhing, shaking her tits, until her orgasm was completely played out. Then she fell forward and kissed Gary moistly on the lips.
He had enjoyed himself, but this had been just an ordinary bout of sex. He still resented Gabe for not letting him to be the one to take Beth's virginity. Little girls turned him on the most, and he'd never met one who was as sweet and naturally sexy as that charming twelve-year-old.
Cathy dismounted Gary, his now limp penis slithering down out of her and falling against his belly with a wet slap, and went to the bathroom to clean up.
Beth rolled off Gabe, coming to rest on her back.
What a wonderful day it had been, she thought. She had conquered her fear of fucking, and she felt really grown-up for the first time.
No one could ever look down on her again, she confidently believed. And she had a whole lifetime of pleasure to look forward to--fucking and sucking until she was sixty years old or even older.
But that was too far in the future to think about. Anyway, why dream about what was to come? The present was perfect, just as it was.Let them do their thing, she thought, and she would do hers.
Do it she did, with all the sweet young passion that welled up within her. Her cunt was a marvelously tight, hot encirclement which stroked up and down on Gabe's upthrust rod. He groaned and pumped deeply into her.
She fucked him faster and harder.
Soon her lithe hips were flying up and down as she rode righteously atop him. Gabe was bucking like a bronco.
Beth gasped. She squealed. She came just as the man spurted joyously inside her, and they quivered together, his cock twitching spastically in her tight sheath.
Beth lay forward against him. They kissed, and his hands caressed her smooth back.
When his cock had softened inside her, Beth rolled off. Now more concerned about their public location, she got back into her swimsuit. Gabe pulled up his trunks.
"Come on," she said. "Let's take a dip in the ocean."
As she sprang to her feet, she saw Gary crossing the beach toward her. He seemed agitated and in a hurry.
"So you're with this guy!" he snorted, glaring at Gabe.
"I like him," Beth said, and added with a smile, "But I like you, too."
Gary was glancing about, as if looking for someone.
"My sister isn't here today," Beth said.
"So, what else is new?" Gary kept looking in the direction from which he had just come.
"Uh, Gabe and I were going to take a swim," Beth said.
"Sounds like a good idea," Gary replied. "Let's go."
"Gabe, do you want to come with us?" Beth asked.
"Forget him!" Gary tugged at her arm, suddenly in a hurry to take to the water.
His anxious gaze across the beach told Beth what was troubling him. A police officer was approaching at a lope.
"You!" he yelled at Gary. "Just got here, did you?"
"Why?" Gary forced a grin. "Is anything wrong?"
"A blind man who runs a store over on the street was just knocked unconscious and robbed."
"Well, I hope you don't suspect me," Gary said nervously. "I've got no money on me."
"You could have stashed the loot and your weapon, too--in a trash can or some place," the officer said, taking hold of Gary's arm. "All we know is, the robber ran this way."
"I've been here for half an hour," Gabe blurted. "There's the guy who just ran up." He pointed to Gabe.
The mute sat and stared as the officer looked him over. Gabe made a pitiful effort to speak, producing only a nasal groan.
"My little niece saw him," Gary said. "Tell the officer, Beth honey."
Beth liked Gary, as she had told him. But she couldn't lie for him-- certainly not to get Gabe into trouble. She was shocked that Gary would try to pin the blame on Gabe for something Gabe didn't do.
"That isn't true," Beth told the police officer. "And I'm not this man's niece. He's the one who just got here."
"Okay, you're coming with me!" the officer said to Gary. "We'll find somebody who saw you running from that blind man's place."
He led Gary away, the latter still protesting.
Gabe smiled gratefully at Beth.
It must be awful, she thought, to have no voice to defend yourself when you're accused of something.
"Race you to the water!" she said, and took off on a run.
Gabe followed.
They romped into the surf, taking the spray in their faces. They ducked into the rolling waves. Gabe clutched her, and she laughed as she bobbed to the surface.
He was rubbing his body against hers under water, and she could feel a hardness in his trunks. Her hand dipped down and stroked him.
Can people do it in the water? she wondered.
She decided to find out.
Gabe helped her work his trunks down, and it was a simple matter for him to draw the crotch of her bathing suit aside. His stiff prick parted the petals of her pussy, and his hardness glided up inside her.
They fucked in the water as the waves crashed over and around them. Beth clung to the tall man while he braced himself on the bottom. Her legs and arms were wrapped about him, and her hips pounded. His cock stroked briskly in her wet channel.
The sea's tumult added to their excitement, building to primeval frenzy. When they came, together, it was as if they were part of the crashing surf and in a sense, they were, because they were all acting out the drama of nature.
Beth felt very close to Gabe, but she doubted if she would ever see him again. With Gary arrested, Gabe wouldn't be coming around to the apartment, and she didn't know where he lived.
She had wondered how Gary supported himself, and it seemed that she had found out: He was a thief. Perhaps Gabe was one, too, though he hadn't been guilty of the theft from the blind man.
It was just as well, Beth decided, for her not to see either of them any more.
Though it had been an exciting and pleasurable day, she felt a bit sad as she rode home."Then why can't we take our swimsuits off right now?" she blurted. "There's nobody else here to see us."
Joe sat up and stared at his daughter. "Do you really want to?"
"I'd like it very much!" Beth smiled warmly at her father,
"I don't know," Joe said. "Your mother wouldn't approve. And maybe it wouldn't be decent."
Beth hopped to her feet. "But you said families do it and that it's a healthy thing. I feel like it, Daddy."
Before Joe could stop her, the twelve-year-old skinned out of her swimsuit. He stared at her naked body for the first time since she was a little child.
Joe felt a stirring in his loins. His daughter was so sweet and innocent looking, with no hair at all between her legs and her little breasts scarcely beginning to push out.
"Come on!" she coaxed smilingly. "Don't be a party poop, Daddy! Take off your swimsuit, too."
Joe cast a quick glance around. He and his daughter were still completely alone. Perhaps it would be good for the girl, he thought, to see what a man's body looked like, in a situation like this, which was clean and wholesome. How could it do any harm? He was, after all, her father, and she was his little girl.
He stood and shucked down his trunks. Though he felt strangely excited, his penis remained soft. How could it be otherwise with his daughter, whom he wouldn't let himself entertain carnal thoughts about?
Beth didn't seem shocked in the least as she gazed at his cock and balls. This surprised Joe a bit. But it pleased him, also. It showed what a healthy mind Beth had, he thought.
He grinned. "Want to race me to the water?"
"Why don't we just get some sun first?" Beth suggested.
"Okay," Joe said, and stretched out on a blanket. Beth sat beside him, "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" he added.
"It sure is!" Beth exclaimed, gazing delightedly at her father's naked form.
She had become aroused, even if Joe hadn't. She had to do something about it. This meant taking the most daring step she had ever tried.
Her father might get angry and punish her, she thought. Maybe he would never forgive her.
But on the other hand, maybe she could make him like what she wanted to do so much that he wouldn't ask her to stop.
She had to take the chance.
She edged closer to her father's recumbent form. Joe's eyes were shut, so he was unaware of Beth's extreme nearness. She bent over him.
Now! she thought, and quickly grasped her father's soft penis, holding it up. She capped her mouth around the hooded head of it and sucked.
Joe's eyes popped open and he sat bolt upright.
"Beth!" he exclaimed, his voice made ragged by the thrill she was giving him.
Her encircling small hand glided the foreskin down off the head of his cock, and she sucked the bare knob, giving him an even more intense sensation. Beth thrilled to the burst of strong, man flavor she derived. She had come to love that! She thrilled stronger as her father's cockhead swelled in her mouth. His shaft stiffened in her grasp.
Oh, my God! Joe thought in alarm. I'm getting a hard-on with my own daughter! And she's sucking me! Ooh, it's WONDERFUL!
He couldn't stop her. What she was doing felt too good. And she obviously was enjoying it.
Joe lay back and writhed, trying not to think of what a despicable act he was committing as his young daughter stroked her small, tight mouth on his prick. His rod had thickened and extended out to an iron-hard erection. His bulging glans stuffed Beth's mouth. His shaft stretched her lips.
To Beth the act was not sinful at all. She simply loved it. Now that her father hadn't stopped her, and had lain back to enjoy her lovemaking, she gained greater courage. She knew that everything was all right.
She stopped sucking him to raise her head and smile. "Do you like that, Daddy?" she asked. "Does that make you feel good?"
"Oooh, my darling!" he husked. "It's heavenly!"
"I like it too, Daddy! I like it very much!"
She capped her mouth around the bulging knob of his penis once more and resumed sucking as she slowly, steadily stroked her lips up and down. Joe's glans traveled the length of her velvet tongue, forging into the very tight opening of her throat. Still, she didn't gag. Her lips crawled lower and lower on his shaft until they were nearly touching his balls.
The sensation was the most magnificent Joe had ever received. His thoughts of guilt dissolved in the wondrous excitement of his young daughter's cocksucking. He writhed, his balls churning.
Beth let his prick escape from her mouth and stand up alongside her nose as she licked along it. His cock twitched ecstatically while her little pink tongue scurried to its base and onto his bobbling nuts.
Beth seized one of her father's balls in her mouth and sucked on it. She let that one go and sucked on the other.
She worked her tongue back up his quivering stalk and licked its wet flower all over. She took little sucks from the tip of his prick, drinking down the clear, viscous fluid he exuded.
"Ooh, Daddy ... Daddy ... I want to fuck you!" Beth cried as she raised her head.
Joe had been reduced to such a trembling mass of protoplasm that he couldn't resist her shocking desire. What was even more shocking, he didn't want to, though to take his young daughter's virginity would be a terrible thing!
He was amazed by the fact that Beth so quickly mounted him, as if this was something she had done before. She didn't seem frightened in the least.
Grasping her father's stiff prick to hold it straight up, Beth positioned her smooth dainty crotch above it. Joe gazed at her little slit which opened slightly, revealing the pastel pinkness within. She was very wet and ready to receive him.
She let the tip of his pecker part her delicate folds. Slowly lowering her body, she took in his widening cockhead until the fattest part of it was lodged in her small cunt-mouth. So she wasn't a virgin, Joe realized. She had done this before! Joe's brain turned light from the extreme tightness. His daughter lowered herself further, and his entire glans popped into her slick cunt. He gasped in acute pleasure as the slippery heat of her tight little cunny enveloped his sensitive knob. She was very wet and ready to receive him.
With her hands on her knees, and a wicked grin on her face, Beth squatted slowly on his rigid shaft. Joe watched in amazement as she continued to lower herself smoothly and his fat knob slipped smoothly up her hot buttered channel followed by inch after inch of his horny shaft until she had his entire lengthy prick within her and was sitting against his balls.
She wasn't a virgin, Joe realized. She had done this before!
Joe thrilled wildly, feeling less inhibited and less guilty now that he knew he had not ruined his daughter. Did he dare to enjoy her fully and freely?
He found that he had no choice, for her super-snug cunt gave sheer ecstasy as it stroked up and down on his throbbing prick. He had never had such a luscious fucking! He shut his eyes and groaned with delight, running his hands blindly up and down his daughter's smooth body, feeling her baby tits, so small yet bristling with passion.
Beth circled her tight pussy on his prick by twisting her hips from side to side as she pumped up and down. She rode him with supreme pleasure, happy that they were balling beneath the warm sun, in the fresh, tangy air from the ocean. She could hear the waves crashing on the rocks not far away, and they were echoed by the thudding of her heart.
"Ooh, my darling little girl!" Joe exclaimed, rocking his hips and driving his hard prick up into her.
"Daddy, I love you!" Beth cried, bobbing on his strong cock.
Their waves of passion heightened until a storm raged within their linked loins. The rippling strokes of Beth's cunt around her father's prick caused his organ to twitch as it drove vigorously upward. His balls were filled with molten heat, wanting to burst forth.
"Ooh, Daddy!" Beth cried, bobbing faster astride him. "It's so good to fuck you!"
That sweet, passionate declaration from his twelve-year-old daughter caused Joe's lust to surge. He groaned and arched his back, driving his prick all the way up into her and holding it there as it twitched. The head ballooned deep within her pussy. Beth ignored the discomfort of his rigid shaft stabbing into the bottom of her pussy. She squirmed against him and clenched her inner muscles instinctively in her effort to give him all the pleasure she could.
His hot spurts told her he was completing, and this set off a vibrating burst within Beth which radiated throughout her body. She lay forward, clinging to her father, as her orgasm matched the crashing force of the nearby ocean.He moaned and lovingly caressed his wife's red hair.
Freddie wrestled off Marcella's swimsuit, and Joe had no opportunity--or even any inclination--to protest as the lad knelt behind her, driving his cock into her pussy from the rear.
Tom was fucking Cathy on the next blanket.
And in the crashing surf, Beth clung to one blond fourteen-year-old, her legs encircling his waist while her pussy bobbed on his thrusting rod, at the same time embracing his twin with her arms, taking his projecting cock in her mouth. The twelve-year-old happily fucked and sucked.
The entire family grooved as never before in their lives, and it seemed that they had nothing but happiness before them. The most remarkable thing about it was that a child had showed them the way--their very own beach baby. | 4 |
870 | Tease | "Hi."
I look up to see a girl standing in the doorway of my office. She is a first-year student who is taking my set theory class. I think her name is Melissa. She is smiling, and I smile back.
"Hello, how can I help you?" I'm in a particularly good mood. I've just heard that I've had a paper accepted in a reasonably prestigious journal, so smiling is coming naturally at present. Of course, it is hard not to smile when a pretty girl smiles at you. It seems that their smiles release happy-particles into a male's bloodstream. When you are younger, it can leave you grinning like an idiot; of course, as a mature lecturer of twenty-eight, I am thankfully past that stage.
"Can I come in, Dr. Edwards?" she asks tentatively, her expression revealing nothing of her reasons.
"Sure."
As she enters, I idly note her clothes: she is dressed in figure-hugging blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. The t-shirt is a little bit too taut. That is, too taut for my peace of mind, for it is stretched tightly over her breasts, making them beacons for my eyes. I can certainly testify that there is nothing strange about these attractors. Normally, whatever the provocation, I'm very careful about ensuring that my appreciation of female students isn't detectable; there are enough pitfalls for a male lecturer as it is, but I could tell that this time was going to be extra taxing on my nerves.
"It's Melissa, isn't it?"
"Yes." And I'm rewarded with another smile. Smiles like that could become addictive.
Melissa takes a seat and launches into her problem, "I'm having trouble with your last couple of lectures. I don't really understand this `ZFC' set theory."
There's nothing like a chance to lead another soul to see the light of axiomatic set theory to take this mathematician's mind off more earthly matters. Thus engaged, my enthusiasm quickly leads me into explaining the necessity of putting naive set theory on a sound footing, and I start to describe the role of formal axiomatization in this. I then proceed to enumerate the axioms of ZFC and explain where they come from. However, I'm not so blinded by my enthusiasm to fail to monitor the glassy-eyed-ness of my audience. I've bored far too many people to make that mistake.
After a while, I become aware that Melissa is licking her lips and looking at me strangely. It puts me off my stride, and I lose my concentration. Unaccountably, I find myself blushing. Melissa just looks up at me innocently. I suddenly notice that her nipples are visible now, little mole-hills which have sprung up on her otherwise smooth t-shirt. Why would they have done that? I master myself and bring my eyes back to my scribble on the whiteboard. Now, where was I?
Melissa supplied the answer, "You were just about to start explaining what the axiom of choice means," almost as though she could read my thoughts.
I look up, and nearly lose myself in her twinkling eyes. Is she laughing at me? No, but she seems aware of the spark which has passed between us.
"What I'm having trouble with is...," she breathed, as she rose from her chair to stand next to me and point at the board.
I confess, "I'm sorry, I missed that." Her delicate perfume assaulted my nostrils as she stood beside me, and suddenly parsing her sentence was the last thing on my mind. She repeats her sentence while stretching and pointing to a formula at the top of the board. I'm mesmerized by the resulting lifting and straining of her breasts. It is suddenly very hot and stuffy in my office. Now, what did she say again? Rather than reveal my inattention, I talk generally about the axiom in question.
"Yes, but how do you know that sets have that property? It's a little bit arbitrary, isn't it?" Melissa brushes against me as she points to part of the axiom, her breast squashing slightly against my arm.
I retreat behind the safety of my desk before replying. It was getting much too difficult to think with sweet Melissa so close. Unbidden, I'm suddenly reminded of the lyrics of a song by The Police,
"Young teacher, the subject, of school-girl fantasy,
She wants him, so badly, that's where she wants to be ...
Don't stand so,
Don't stand so,
Don't stand so close to me."
They suddenly seem all too relevant, and I develop a new sympathy for the hapless teacher of the song. Of course, the real situation is that Melissa has been behaving above reproach, and there is no evidence that I'm the subject of one of her fantasies; it is only me who is having trouble with my baser instincts. In particular, my desire to pull her into my arms, crush her ruby lips under mine, caress her tantalizing breasts, suck on her pert nipples, and fuck her. Another reason for my retreat was to hide a growing bulge.
Did I catch her looking at my crotch before she raised her big innocent eyes and fixed them on my face? I can't tell. And is that sensual, surreptitious licking of her lips with her tongue a come-on, or an unconscious action? Her eyes reveal nothing; they are simply questioning, awaiting my answer, but they sparkle.
At that moment, a colleague, Andy, barges in and reminds me that we have a faculty meeting this morning. Apologizing to Melissa, I suggest that she comes back another time. Andy and I both watch as she leaves my office. Was that hip swing deliberately provocative?
"She's a firecracker! What a cute ass!" Andy exclaims.
I give a non-committal grunt, inwardly deploring his outspoken lechering and crudeness, although honest enough to admit that similar thoughts had occurred to me.
We head off to the faculty meeting.
CHAPTER: 2. Confession
"How was your day, babe?" I ask Liz when she picks me up after work.
"Not too bad, but I did have a sad case of a fifteen-year-old with a probable ectopic."
Liz's work as a doctor is so much more dramatic than mine. My day consists of giving lectures, attending meetings, and, if I'm lucky, some time to think about my research.Her day consists of breaking the news to someone that they have cancer, or fighting to ensure a baby is born safely. There is no comparison. Not that I'd swap for any money.
"Will she be all right?"
"Probably. We should be able to save her ovary and tube. How was your day, love?"
"Fine. Pretty normal, only I did have a boring faculty meeting this morning." I consider briefly whether or not to mention Melissa. Knowing Lizzy, I decide to tell her. "One highlight was this cute student who came to my office this morning."
"Oh yes?" This has a playful hint of suspicion in Liz's voice.
"Yes. She was wearing the tightest t-shirt over her full breasts you've ever seen," I exaggerate slightly. "She kept on giving me these seductive smiles, and she made sure she brushed her breasts across my arm."
Liz was wearing a mock frown. "Were her breasts as nice as mine?", she asks, taking a hand from the wheel to cup one of her beautiful breasts through her blouse.
"Mmm, let me see... you know, I can't remember what yours look like. Perhaps I ought to remind myself." I lean over to start to undo her buttons, but Liz slaps my hand away.
"Not while I'm driving you maniac!"
I laugh. We've done some mad things while driving, but not on the short drive home from work in broad daylight.
"So," Liz continues her cross-examination, "did she make you hard?"
"Yes. I had to hide it on the way to the Faculty Office."
"Ahh, poor baby," Liz laughs.
Our easy-going attitude is built, not on a promiscuous philosophy or lifestyle, but on trust. There is no way either of us would be unfaithful to the other.
This morning I gave my First Years another lecture on set theory. I was acutely conscious of Melissa's piercing blue eyes upon me the whole time. However, I succeeded in ignoring her and not letting it interfere with the usual theatrical entertainment which I provide for them in a vain attempt to keep their interest for an hour. I couldn't help noticing, however, how beautiful she looked, her face framed in her delightful blonde locks. Melissa came up to me afterwards and contrived to press against me again as she reached over to pick up a copy of the question sheet I'd prepared for them. She was the only one who was this clumsy. I felt my cock harden slightly, but I couldn't prevent a pang of guilt at such a response when she looked up innocently at me and apologized for her clumsiness. Did she know my eyes were on her as she crossed the room? Was that roll of her hips natural, or was it put on for my benefit? If she was still a few years younger, she'd definitely be what they call "jail-bait". As it was, she was still dangerous enough. Liaisons between students and staff are so frowned on that it is dangerous to even think about forming one. Certain feminists on campus seem to have ESP for such thoughts.
Not, of course, that I was seriously considering anything. Liz is more than enough woman for me. But Melissa provokes certain fantasies, however much they are obviously going to have to remain as fantasies.
I successfully dismissed Melissa from my thoughts for the rest of the day, until, that is, she turned up in my office at six o'clock. I was still there as Liz was working late tonight. The hours that junior doctors work is criminal, especially given that one day it will be my life that a dead-tired doctor is looking after. Melissa knocked and entered.
I immediately noticed that she was dressed differently; she had swapped her t-shirt for a blouse and her jeans for a skirt. The blouse was not as tight as her t-shirt had been, but it was more sheer, promising, but not delivering, glimpses of paradise. Perhaps more importantly, its first few buttons were undone. Melissa wasn't indecent, but my imagination quickly made her so.
Remembering my position, I quickly brought the subject of set theory up, hoping that it would detract me from her sensual lips, the sweetness of which called out to be tasted. It soon transpired that she had been doing some background reading, and that her questions were more sophisticated today. I mentally harangued myself for ever thinking her motives were other than professional. Surely this industry put the matter beyond question?
Delighting in the attention of an interested and intelligent student, I soon found myself going beyond my lecture material and touching upon the Borel Hierarchy. Or was it that I kept talking so that I could remain in the presence of those blue eyes?
After a while, I noticed that Melissa was idly fiddling with a gold necklace, and that her toying had caused another button to slide undone. Unconsciously, while I continued talking, I stared at the start of the gentle swell of flesh that could now be seen. When I noticed what I was doing, I searched her face for an indication that she was toying with me as well, but found only innocent concentration. Liz must be right, my mind must be one-track.
However, Melissa's next actions caused me to question her motives all over again. She tucked one of her legs under her, in the process giving me a glimpse of her white thighs. Fidgeting, she managed to repeat this torture. Now, once could be an accident, but three times? Again her eyes twinkle with her natural vivacity, making it impossible to be sure if her innocence is true or only assumed, a cruel facade. A facade I'd love to tear down and expose, along with her breasts, which I have come to believe are braless under her blouse.
Of course, uncertainty prevents me from doing or saying anything. A wrong move could have her running screaming from my office, my career in ruins. My lusts are indeed "sickled over with the pale cast of thought" to a degree which even rivals Hamlet's tragic dithering. The ambiguity in the nature of his father's ghost was as nothing compared to the ambiguity of the nymph in my office. Is she the purest of angels, or the wickedest tease this side of hell? Scholar or wanton?
Any action in such circumstances is, of course, perilous. Moreover, I never trust my reasoning when my erection is throbbing like this. Hence, I continue talking about sets, while sex is all I can think about. I manage to keep going for a few minutes, until Melissa decides to stretch. The shifting, thrusting, and straining of her gentle breasts within, makes her blouse a magnet for my eyes, and my thoughts dissolve like the mist.
"Sorry, I'm getting a little tired," Melissa apologizes into my pause. "I still have a few questions however. Do you mind if I come back and ask you some more questions another time?"
It would take a stronger man than me to turn down such a request. "Of course not," I say, managing to keep all signs of arousal out of my voice. I hope.
As Melissa walks out the door, the apt phrase "She's a seven-sector call-out" from a favorite childhood science-fiction book springs to my mind. A beauty she certainly is, but is she also a saint or a witch?
My answer comes as she turns in the doorway, revealing her completely unbuttoned blouse and magical breasts. For a second, we are both frozen, and then she is gone. I rush to the door in time to see her hurrying down the corridor.
The wicked tease! | 4 |
876 | Sharing a Bed for the Night | "Are you sure you can't go, Honey?"
"I'd love to, Rocky, but I have two clients scheduled for today. I should have left the day open."
"No, it's not your fault, Ron. Denny's birthday isn't until Thursday. I didn't know until last night that he has something planned for next weekend. He was so cute on the phone. He was acting like a pouting child about getting his birthday presents early, and when he asked us to come up today, I didn't have the heart to say no."
"Well, I'm going to miss you. Give Denny my love and tell him not to drink all that beer at one sitting!"
"I'll miss you, too. Have a fire going when I get home tonight. I'll need it after six hours on the road today."
"And a glass of wine or two?" Ron smiled and raised an eyebrow with the question.
"At least two glasses!" I finished pulling on my gloves and circled around the kitchen table to whisper in Ron's ear, "and you know how I get after two glasses of wine!"
His hand crept up my leg and under my skirt as we kissed. His fingers pressed against my warm mons -- they felt strong and exciting through my panties and pantyhose.
I pulled myself away with great reluctance, "Oh, my! What you do to me! You better not be too tired tonight! I've been super-horny for over a week and you haven't been able to stay awake! It's been a long time!"
Ron affectionately smacked my buns, "Tax season, Rocky. You know what that's like! Don't worry, Baby, I'll be plenty awake tonight -- even if it *IS* tax season."
With a final wave, I made my way outside into the crisp, cold air. I got into the "Z," all gassed up and loaded down with goodies for Denny, and headed down the road. The car warmed up quickly so I stopped before I entered the Interstate and removed my jacket and gloves, making for an even more comfortable drive.
There's something so relaxing about speeding along an Interstate. I was in our new 300ZX, the road was dry, traffic light. It was the perfect drive to just let the mind wander."
With one last glance at my legs, then my breasts, and a smile right at me, Officer Boyd moved away from my window.
"Sure. Just drive careful, now."
Back on the road with just a warning.
YES!
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
I didn't hit any snow until I was only about a half hour outside of Philly; but, when I did hit it, it was one hell of a storm. I was too close to Denny's and too far from home to turn back, but it took me well over an hour to get to the campus. The "Z" was slipping and sliding, and I did two thrilling "one-eighties" on the very slick streets.
I exhaled with relief as I crept onto a campus parking lot near Denny's apartment and turned the ignition off. Here at last, and safe. The last hour had been a real bitch!
I stepped out of the car and into at least four inches of icy, wet, cold snow. Counting my shoes as ruined, I grabbed my purse, gloves, and jacket and ran, sliding and slipping my way to the front entrance of Denny's high-rise dormitory. I grabbed the house phone on the wall and dialed Denny's number.
"Yeah?"
"Is Denny there?"
"Yeah, hold on." Whoever answered, dropped the phone on something hard, and it clattered in my ear. Then I heard in the background, "Hey, butt-face, there's a cunt on the phone for you."
"Who is it, asshole?" It was Denny's voice.
"How the fuck should I know? You're the big pussy-hound."
"Fuck off!" Then into the phone, "Hello?"
"Denny!"
"Mom!? Uh... Where are you?"
"I'm downstairs. I need you to get me past the security desk."
"Oh, sure. I called Ron to tell him about the weather and to tell you guys to stay home."
"Denny, can we talk about this up in your apartment? I'm wet and freezing my buns off out here."
"Oh! Sure, mom. Sorry. I'll be right down."
"Bring some strong backs, Dear, the car's loaded with stuff."
I stepped inside the double doors and waited for Denny to come down on the elevator and sign me in. The college made sure their residences were secure, and since the campus wasn't in the best neighborhood, I didn't mind the inconvenience if it helped keep the students (including my baby) safer.
The dorm I was standing in was one of four high-rise apartment buildings. Denny had lived on campus all four years; but, this year, his accommodations were in the most coveted dorms, reserved for jocks and lucky upperclassmen. Denny's apartment had a large living room-dining room combination, a kitchen, three bedrooms, and two baths. He had three roommates -- Brian was another senior, and Steve and Tom bunked together and were juniors. They were all in the same fraternity together and seemed to get along well.
The elevator opened, and Denny and two boys I didn't recognize got off. He signed me in at the desk, and when I passed through the gate, I was finally able to hug my little boy. "Hi, Baby. How are you?"
"Great, Mom. I can't believe you got here through this stuff -- especially in the `Z.'"
"Well, it wasn't easy. Honey, can I go up to your apartment and get a pair of dry socks on? My feet are freezing! Here are the keys. The car is about 20 spaces over to the left and 2 or 3 rows back. Make sure it's locked."
"No problem, Mom. We're right behind you."
And they were. By the time I caught the next elevator and got my bearings, I had just knocked and was getting the apartment door opened when the three of them came banging and thudding off the elevator and down the hall.
It was just after noon on a Saturday, but it looked like Denny and his roommates had a small party going, already. There was a basketball game on the TV, but the volume was turned down so as not to interfere with the stereo, blasting music I didn't recognize. But the real entertainment was the snow. With the curtains drawn back, the view from the fifteenth floor was spectacular -- it was snowing and blowing, and you could barely see the ground.
I followed Denny into his bedroom, and he handed me two mismatched white socks -- after smelling them! As we talked, I reached up under my skirt and wiggled my wet pantyhose off my hips and peeled them down my legs. The dry socks felt warm and wonderful.
Denny and his friends were happy to see two cases of Sam Adams beer and a couple bottles of wine disappear into the refrigerator. From the kitchen, I called Ron to tell him I was safe, then I asked if anyone was hungry. When I got all affirmative responses, I opened the contents of a Tupperware container I'd brought into a pot and turned on the oven.
"I brought it all, guys -- spaghetti, meatballs, and homemade bread. Ready in about a half-hour," I announced.
The smells of home cooking must have permeated the halls, because kids kept arriving, and soon I figured I better put on a second pot of sauce and more pasta. As the crowd got bigger and bigger, I was trapped in the kitchen, serving plates of food and slicing the bread. Denny's friend, Brian, fought his way through the crowd, handed me my second glass of wine, and began to help me with the starving herd.
The stereo was blasting, and people were talking, and it was fun to be a part of it. Brian stayed to help me with the dishes, and we talked about music and school, and the snow. My third glass of wine was history, and I knew I was buzzed as I accepted my fourth. I was giddy, and my skin felt super-sensitive as Brian inadvertently brushed against my hip or breast as we worked together.
I pushed my way through the crowd, holding Denny's birthday cake with the lit candles on it. I could feel Brian's hands holding my hips as I bent over to place the cake on a low coffee table in front of the birthday-boy. Brian and I made our way back into the kitchen and opened another bottle of wine as the cake disappeared in the living room.
The afternoon passed into evening, and we sat and talked and played drinking games and looked out the window at the snowstorm. Occasionally, Brian would ask me to dance, and as he pressed me close, I could feel his hardness between us. We ran out of wine, but, by then, I was too drunk to care, and switched to beer. When I finally noticed how tired and blitzed I was, almost everyone had moved on to another party somewhere, and the apartment was empty and looked like what Times Square on New Year's morning must look like.
Still sober enough to realize that I hadn't expected to spend the night and had no other clothes, I asked Denny if I could borrow a large t-shirt or sweatshirt.
"Sure, Mom. Second drawer down. Take your pick."
I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth with my finger, then went into Denny's room. I carefully took off my skirt and blouse and hung them on hangers. I debated leaving my bra on, but decided on comfort over modesty -- it always feels so damn good to take it off.
I picked out what looked like Denny's cleanest sweatshirt, and dropped it over my hands and head. I stood there in Denny's old sweatshirt, tugging it down over my hips and checking how short it was on me -- it barely came down to my crotch, and I could see a tiny sliver of my white panties between my thighs in his mirror. I was just shrugging and figuring I was only going to sleep in it anyway, when there was a light knock, and the door opened. It was Brian.
"Hi, Rocky. I was just wondering if there was anything you needed that I could provide for you."
I couldn't remember exactly when we had moved from "Mrs. Chase" to "Rocky," but I let it slide. I stood very still. I figured with that short sweatshirt on, if I moved at all, he'd see even more of me exposed.
He was leaning against the door jamb, smiling. He was bare-chested and was wearing only blue, silky-looking pajama bottoms. His shoulders were broad, his chest was smooth and hairless, and his stomach was rippled and hard-looking. Quite a package.
"Where's Denny?"
"He passed out on the sofa. Dead to the world. It's just the two of us left. Well?"
"`Well' what, Brian?"
"Is there something you need?"
There was no doubt in my mind that he was hitting on me. I guess all those brushes against my buns and breasts and the slow dancing weren't inadvertent, after all. I was old enough to be his mother and I was his best friend's mom! He was supremely confident in his masculinity and appeal, but I didn't know how I would ever be able to look him or Denny in the eyes the next morning if I accepted his blatant offer.
"No, thanks, Brian, there's nothing I need."
"How about want? Is there anything you want, Rocky?"
"No, Brian. There's nothing I want. Now, goodnight, Dear, and thanks for the offer."
He smiled and shrugged, "Okay. Goodnight, Rocky. See you in the morning."
Don't ask me why, but as I laid in bed, I couldn't sleep. The long drive, the snow, the pasta, all the booze -- instead of knocking me out as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was antsy and restless and wide awake. Maybe trying to sleep in Denny's lumpy mattress on the floor had something to do with it. Maybe being horny and feeling more than a little tingly had something to do with it, too.
A little while later, as I laid there, I heard the apartment door open and close, and then noise in the next bedroom. It was just what I needed in my already-aroused state! Through the thin wall, next to my bed, I heard a couple getting it on, loudly. They were humping away, and she was a real moaner. It seemed to go on and on, and I felt myself sweating as I listened. My panties grew warm and wet as I placed my ear against the wall, secretly listening to their climax. Then they were through, and I was left alone and hanging!
I must have drifted off into a light sleep after that, because I awoke to the sound of the toilet flushing and, next, the bedroom door opening.Assuming it was Brian making another attack on my virtue, I feigned sleep, staying still and quiet, facing the wall away from the door. The door closed, and I listened to someone undress and then collapse onto the mattress.
It was Denny, and he was immediately asleep. In his drunken state, he must have forgotten about me and reflexively returned to his bed after going to the bathroom. I rearranged the covers over the both of us. There was nowhere else in the apartment for me to sleep (except maybe Brian's bed!), and there was no way I was going to wake Denny to get him to move, so I told myself I would be out of bed long before he woke up, rolled over, and tried to get back to sleep.
Before I could drift off, Denny moved closer to me in the narrow bed, and I felt the lump of an erection pressed against my back. Then he rolled over onto his back. There was enough light in the room from the small reading light on Denny's desk. Tempted beyond behaving, I rolled over and, giggling to myself, lifted the covers.
My God! Denny's boxers were tented up and straining against what had to be the largest penis I had ever seen. My son! Feeling like a naughty girl, I folded back the covers. His erection was standing straight up, and the material in his shorts had to be near its tolerance for ripping. At first hesitating, and then giving in totally to the urge, I reached to the slit opening in his shorts. I just had to see!
Denny's penis exploded through the opening, standing even taller. Not only was his penis long, it was almost as thick as my wrist. The head was deep pink, shiny, and huge. I had never seen another cock like that in my life. I snickered, thinking back to all the times I had given my little baby a bath, never dreaming he would grow something like this.
The cooler air must have gotten to Denny, because he pulled on the covers and began to roll over. I scrambled back into the blankets, still thinking in wonder about the prodigious penis on my son.
Denny moved again, and we were arranged like two spoons -- his front to my back. His erection was still there, and no longer hidden in his shorts, I could feel its warmth pressed against me.
Telling myself I was readjusting my position to get more comfortable, I squirmed and wiggled, and when I stopped, my son's huge, hard penis was pressed between my thighs.
I was getting very wet. I'd had a sex-buzz all day, from the state trooper fantasy to Brian's not-so-subtle feels, his blatant offer, the wine, and the couple in the next bedroom -- Goddammit! I was horny!
I was playing a game with myself. I was as curious as I was horny. As I moved away from Denny to slide my panties down my legs, I knew I was going to blame whatever happened on the wine.
When I moved back into position, I let the cock press between my thighs, again. Another slight movement, and it was at my wet slit! I could feel its heat and hardness in my wetness, touching, but not yet penetrating me. I was gasping for breath with excitement.
I lifted my right leg, opening myself. I pressed my hips back, and the cockhead began to enter me. I was so near cumming! A little more, and I can feel the huge knob slip all the way into me.
Denny was still asleep, but his reflexes took over for him. His arm fell across my shoulder and breasts. His hips thrust at me forcefully, ramming more of that superprick deeper into my pussy. He began to hump me. My son was fucking me in his sleep, and I was loving it!
My climax began with an explosion and took off from there. Denny humped me a few more times, and then he came inside me with a grunt. After just a few more soft thrusts, he rolled over and began to snore, again.
Finally, I fell asleep.
I was far away. I wasn't sure where I was, and the weather was confusing. It was snowing, but the sky was a bright blue, and I wasn't cold. I was laying on my back, on the trunk of a Pennsylvania State Police car. I couldn't see the markings, but I knew it was a State Police car. The lights were flashing. I was naked and spread open.
There was something or someone between my spread legs, and I was aroused. I looked down my body and saw the brown "Smokey" police hat jerking at my crotch, and I knew it was Officer Boyd wearing his hat as he ate my pussy!
I wasn't going to get a ticket! I put my head back on the trunk and watched the snow fall from the blue sky as I concentrate on what he's doing to me. His strong tongue penetrates me, and then his mouth moves to my clit and gently sucks it between his lips and teeth. I was quickly nearing an orgasm and was anxious to surrender to it.
Officer Boyd stopped eating me and moved up my body. I whimpered when his mouth left my pussy. The hat still hid his face as he lowered his mouth to my nipple. I missed his mouth on my pussy. His hips pushed forward, and I felt his penis seeking my cunt. I moved to help it, and I gasped as its head found my wet slit.
Officer Boyd grunted. Then he grunted again as he thrust his cock between my labia and deep into my pussy.
It was good. It was very, very good. Officer Boyd felt so big, so filling. In and out, his cock pounded into my greedy pussy. Each plunge crashed my ass cheeks into the trunk of the car, but the trunk was soft and comfortable.
"Make me come, Officer Boyd! Make me come!" I begged.
"Who's 'Officer Boyd?'"
My eyes popped open. It was Denny! His face looked up at me from under the covers. I must have been dreaming the setting, but the sex was real! My son was fucking me!
"Denny! Stop! Get off me!"
"Come on, mom. You didn't want me to stop last night."
"Ohhh..." His cock was still pistoning in and out of me, and like last night, I knew I had never felt a monster-cock like his before! "Please, stop, Dear. It's not right. We can't do this."
"Mom, please don't make me stop, now. Please." Denny was pumping faster and faster. He was going to cum inside me.
I reached to his face and held it between my hands. "Alright, Dear. You can finish."
But he wasn't the only one nearing a finish. Involuntarily, I felt my hips rising to meet his thrusts, my arms moved around his neck, my legs wrapped around his waist, and I felt him slip even deeper inside me, if that was possible.
I was cumming! I was cumming, and I didn't know if I would live through it! The pleasure was going to kill me! I had never, never felt an orgasm like that!
I bit into my son's tender shoulder to keep from screaming, and as I did, I tasted his blood in my mouth and his semen in my cunt.
I passed out.
I opened my eyes. The dark room was spinning, and I was having trouble taking deep breaths.
Denny was sitting on the mattress, smiling down at me, pressing one warm washcloth to my forehead and another to his shoulder.
"Wow!" he said.
I reached to touch his hand, "Yeah, wow. This was never supposed to happen, you know."
He nodded.
"I'm sorry I let it happen, Dear. It was wrong, and I shouldn't have done this to you."
"Are you kidding? I wanted it to happen, mom. I've *ALWAYS* wanted to do what we've just done -- for as long as I can remember."
I was touched and felt a tear form in each eye. "But a boy's teenage fantasy is just a fantasy, Denny. Normal mothers and sons don't do this. I'm scared I've harmed you."
"I'm not harmed. I've never felt happier in my life. Is that a harm? Will you get pregnant?" <I shook my head no.> "Well there's no harm there, either. Mom, I love you, and I want to do what we've done over and over and over again."
"No, Denny, we can never let this happen again. Never."
"But, mom-"
I placed my finger to his lips and shook my head. It must never happen again.
Who did I think I was kidding? I called Ron and told him the roads wouldn't be clear of the snow for another day. That day and the next, Denny and I rutted together like two dogs in heat. Denny told his roommates that I had caught a cold and was staying in bed. I was staying in bed, alright -- wrapped around my son's hard body with his even-harder prick shoved up my cunt to the hilt. I'm sure his roommates were curious (and maybe Brian even had an idea what was going on), but neither of us cared.
We fucked on that mattress until neither of us could fuck anymore, then we would nap and start all over again. I sucked his big, beautiful cock until my jaw was sore. He sucked my tits and licked my cunt until his mouth was tired. And, always, that monster cock was there -- ready, again and again.
This old lady wasn't used to fucking a young stud, but I was more than willing to adjust.
When I finally dressed to leave, I couldn't go without one more mouthful of Denny's cum. I dropped to the floor, took his dick out of his pants, and blew him until he came yet again.
On the long drive home, I thought about what had happened. I didn't know *WHY* it had happened, it just did. I thought I'd be all twisted up with guilt, but I wasn't. I felt such a deep and intense passion for Denny, I couldn't believe it. My only twinge of guilt was for Ron.
That twinge didn't slow me down. Instead of going to the islands with his Frat brothers over Spring Break, Denny came home, and the two of us spent every second that Ron was out of the house fucking and sucking each other into exhaustion.
Denny graduated in May and wasn't leaving for Grad school until September.All summer, I urged him to go out with his friends and to date girls his own age. Of course, when he did date, I was terribly jealous -- until the next morning, after Ron left for the office, Denny would crawl into bed with me, and we would go off to our own little world of sex.
Denny left Labor Day weekend, and I missed him terribly.
Now, the Monday after Thanksgiving, after seeing Denny off at the airport, I'm thrilled that the turkey wasn't the only thing that got stuffed this weekend! | 3 |
885 | Stacy & Steve | "He's here!" my mom called from the porch. Dad and I raced down the stairs to see my brother, Steve, who was coming home from college for Christmas break.
He stepped out of the cab, and I could not believe my eyes. He had changed so much in the past year! He left a scrawny high school senior and was now back a college man. And I do mean man. He grew at least 4 inches and now stood at 6'2". Like all of us, he had dark hair and eyes, and I'm sure that my handsome brother broke many hearts on that college campus.
I had changed a lot too in the year. When Steve left, I was 16 and still the most underdeveloped girl in school. I was skinny, had no form, and braces. But a few months ago, my braces came off, and I have developed into the most popular girl in school.
As we all went into the house, I pulled Steve to the side to give him a hug. I felt my body press against his, and I felt a little stirring in my stomach, but I brushed it aside. This was my brother, I told myself, not my lover. He held me out at arm's length and slowly looked me up and down...and back up again, taking in my long legs, slim waist, and ample chest. "Wow, Stace, you've really changed!" As he said that, I noticed that his eyes lingered on my breasts.
"You too, Steve. So how's college?"
"It's cool. No big thing."
"I'm glad you're home," I said shyly.
He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss, which I expected to be on the cheek, but it lightly brushed my lips. He gave me a sly smile. "Yeah, me too."
The next day, our parents were out visiting friends. Steve had a project to finish, and he begged me to leave him alone. I couldn't. I was bored. My friends were all in Vermont, on a trip on which I was not allowed to go. So I had to bother Steve. I sat in the chair near the desk in the den, watching him work. Whenever he was concentrating, he chewed the side of his lip and pinched his chin.
It was so cute!
He was getting annoyed with me and I knew it. "Do you have to stare at me? Go play!" he yelled.
"Sorry! I'm bored, what else do you expect me to do? Come on, Stevie, play with me!" I snatched up one of his papers and ran. He chased after me, and when he caught me, he grabbed me by the waist and fell on top of me. I was on the couch, smushed underneath his huge body, with his arms wrapped around me.
And he didn't get up either. We laid there for a while, catching our breath. Steve tried to free his hand so he could get up, and he accidentally grazed my breast, flicking my nipple. I got a weird sensation from this, and I felt something growing up against my rear. But that sensation went away when Steve cleared his throat and got up, leaving me there pondering my feelings for my brother.
A few days later, I was just getting up, and I always take a shower before I go downstairs. I don't know if I was groggy, deaf, or wanted it in my subconscious, but I entered the bathroom while Steve was in the shower. This would have been no big deal, but I came in while he was getting out, and I got a full view of Steve's assets, and boy were there assets! His chest was covered with black hair, but the ripples in his stomach were still visible. My brother didn't even work out! But below the belt was the most amazing thing. His cock was semi-hard (who knows what he was thinking about in the shower) and had to be at least seven inches at that state. What a sight!
I had to hide my embarrassment (and amazement) by blushing, muttering a quick "I'm sorry" and exiting stage left--fast. I ran to my room, closed the door, and thought about what I saw, and what I felt. When I saw Steve step out of that shower, I felt a feeling that I have never felt. My pulse quickened, and I really didn't want to leave. I was extremely aroused. Steve didn't say anything to me about it. I thought that he would come into my room and yell for barging in, but he did nothing. I guess he was a little embarrassed too.
Steve was still working on that damn project, and I was determined to draw him away from it. My first tactic (aka snatching the paper) was useless, so it was on to plan B. Get Steve's attention sexually. I was NOT trying to commit incest with my brother. An attractive woman in sexy clothes can get any man's attention, and that's all I wanted. ATTENTION. I was bored.
I dressed in a bra and panties set that I was keeping for my friend. Her parents would kill her if they found it. It had a garter and hose and the whole nine yards. I was going to put on heels also, but that was a bit much. The set was a deep blue (Steve's favorite color) and it complimented my teenage body very well. I was not going to walk around the house stark naked, so I put on a silky kimono that my mother brought back from Japan.
I sat on the couch and watched Steve from afar. He really was a sexy specimen. His dark hair was flopped over as he buried his head in his hand, frustrated. Now was my chance. I slipped up from behind, placing my small, delicate fingers on his shoulders. I could feel how tight they were. His head popped up, startled. He didn't turn around.
"You need to relax." I started massaging his shoulders. I traced from his neck to his arm and back. He didn't say a word, but I could tell he was enjoying it. This continued for five minutes, when he swiveled his chair around.
"What the hell do you have on, Stace? Why the kimono?"
I smiled seductively and tilted my head. "I'm trying to get you to pay attention to me. Maybe this will help." I slowly untied the kimono and it opened slightly to give him a hint of what was under there. "Are you paying attention?" His eyes lingered on the robe. I knew he was.
I slipped the robe off of my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He could now see my entire body. His eyes traced it too. He started at my face, avoiding my eyes, to my neck. He seemed to zoom in on my breasts. The lace delicately complemented them, and I was so hot that my nipples were fully erect, so I'm sure he could see them too. He then studied my flat stomach and the panties I was wearing. The push of my pubic hair against the fabric was visible. Some was actually curling around the edges of the panties, and was very sexy. He finally took in my legs, tinted blue by the stockings, but still long and slender and sensuous. I stared at Steve while he stared at me. His sweat was becoming more and more tented as his eyes got lower and lower. By the time he reached my ankles, he was really hard.
At this point, I did not care that Steve was my brother. He was so damn sexy, and I was so aroused that it didn't matter. I moved closer to him and pulled him up out of his chair. He was much taller, so I had to look up. I pulled up his sweatshirt, and ran my fingers over his stomach. His skin was warm, but it burned at my touch because of what we were doing. He slid one of the bra straps off of my shoulder, revealing a bit more of my breasts. I tilted my head back and he leaned over to kiss my neck. I was in.....
"Beep!" The computer broke the spell. Steve pulled his shirt down and walked over to the computer. "What the hell are you doing Stace? Put some damn clothes on. I'm your brother!" He sat down and began typing again. I was pissed. How dare he? He was into it just like I was. I ran up to my room, flopped on my bed, and sulked for the rest of the day.
Somehow I had to have Steve. I knew this, and I was determined to do it. I knew that he wanted me as much as I wanted him, but he just couldn't face it. If it wasn't for that damn computer..... I decided to write him a note. I left it on his night table where he was sure to see it. It said:
Dear Steve, I'm sorry for being so forward today, but I had to bring to your attention what you and I both want. Each other. If it wasn't for the computer, we both would be happy and satisfied. I love you so much, and what better way to show love? Please, I'm begging you. I want you so bad. Please. I'll be awake tonight, all night, thinking of you, so if you change your mind, drop by. I'll still be wearing the lingerie. I know you liked it.
Love, Stacy
Just like I thought, Steve came by. It was about 2:30 A.M. when I heard the knock at my door. He was wearing boxers and a white T-shirt, and in the dark, he still looked absolutely gorgeous. He closed the door quietly (our parents' room is right next door) and stood there.
"Look, Stacy, what has gotten into you? What's that note all about?"
"You know what it's about, or you wouldn't be here." I walked over to him in the bra and panties and trapped him against the door. "Yeah, you want me....or you wouldn't be here."
"Stace, look....you're very beautiful." He looked me up and down quickly. "VERY beautiful......but, uh, I'm your brother, and......He stopped because he felt a hand against his crotch. I began slowly stroking him through the fabric, and I could feel him rising. "You may not want me, but something does."
"Oh, Stace..." I slipped my arms around his neck and hugged him close, and he returned it. I whispered in his ear, "I knew you wanted me." I took his hand and led him to the bed. He turned me so that I was facing the bed, my back toward him, and stood there. Then I felt a hand at my back as he unhooked my bra. My firm, young breasts sprang free, and my nipples were erect. He reached around from behind and gave them a little pinch. I shivered. I turned back around and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his oh-so-muscular chest. I pulled down his silk boxers, and his cock bounced out. It had to be nine inches at the least.
The head was glistening with pre-cum. I realized that I hadn't kissed Steve, so I looked up and searched for his mouth in the dark. I found it. He slipped his tongue through my lips, probing my mouth with it. I returned the favor, twirling my tongue around his and sucking on it.
Steve pulled away after a while and laid me back on my bed. He slowly unfastened the garters and removed my panties. He moved up and kissed me for a moment, then kissed my neck, my shoulders, and my breasts, where he stayed for a while. He gently bit one nipple as he played with the other, and sucked both of them like he did our mother's 18 years ago. He was definitely a breast man. He moved down to my stomach, tracing my middle with his tongue. When he reached my pussy, he lightly blew on my mound so that it tickled. I giggled. He spread my lips, and I helped by spreading my legs wider. He lightly brushed my clitoris with his thumb, sending sensations up and down my spine. His index finger found its way to my hole and slowly moved in and out. I moaned with delight. Steve decided to replace his hand with his mouth. His hot breath against my cunt was a sign of things to come. He flicked my clitoris with his tongue, and then led a trail to my hole, soaking up my juices. I was enjoying every minute of it. His tongue darted in and out of my vagina, licking my insides clean. I grabbed his head and pushed him in deeper, and as my passions grew, I began bucking my hips off the bed, grinding my pussy into his face.
"Oh, Steve!" I yelled as quietly as I could, if that's possible. "Oh, God, I'm cumming! Oh!" My orgasm swept over me like a wildfire. It started in the depths of me and slowly spread to the point of ecstasy. Every touch after that moment sent me deeper, and Steve knew it, because he kept busy, slurping up all of the effects of my climax.
When he was done, he climbed in the bed and laid next to me. I turned him on his back and mounted him, my cunt pushing against his hard cock. He leaned up and kissed me, and I could taste all of my juices that he just lapped up from my pussy. I pulled away and worked my way down to that huge cock of his. It was so hard that it pointed straight up, and it was still getting harder by the minute, jerking as soon as I got near. A droplet of pre-cum escaped from Steve's urethra, and I quickly snapped it up with my tongue. I then moved to his thighs, kissing and nibbling at them, not at all neglecting his balls. I juggled one in my mouth as I played with the other, urged on by Steve's groans.
I finally went back to his manhood. I gripped his cock at the base, my small fist not even fitting around it. My mouth watered for the taste of his rod. I slowly devoured it, taking it in inch by inch until about half of it was in, the head pushing at the back of my throat. His thick cock, stretching my lips to the limits, throbbed and pulsated in my hot mouth. I let it out, releasing it just as slowly, until just the head remained between my lips. I then took his cock in and out very fast, my hand jerking him off in the process. He grabbed my head exactly as I had done, and forced my mouth down on his cock harder. More and more cum was running out, and finally Steve came, sending a stream of his sweet, salty cum down my throat.
I laid down next to Steve again, resting my head on his chest. "Do you think what we just did was really that bad, Steve?" He shook his head. "Who cares, anyway? It was good!" He rolled on top of me, pinning my arms above my head, and planted a sloppy wet kiss on my lips. I could feel his organ growing again against my thigh. My pussy was twitching, and I knew that I wanted him in me.
"Alright, Steve," I said between kisses, "fuck me!" He obliged. I spread my legs and raised my knees to my chest so he would have easy access to my pussy.
He draped my legs over his shoulders so he could have it even easier. I felt the head of his cock at the entrance to my velvety soft vagina, stretching my hole around his thickness. He pushed on and on until I felt his balls against my ass.
Then I said, "Come on, big brother, fuck my brains out." Again, he obliged. I felt him pull all the way out and then jam it in all the way to the hilt, and I cried out with joy.
Steve thought I was hurt. "You okay?" I responded by bucking my hips off the bed and pushing his cock in further. He took this as a yes and began fucking me faster and harder. We developed a rhythm quickly, and Steve was ready to cum in minutes. I wouldn't let him, so we held still until the feeling passed. I turned him over so I could ride him. He laid back on the bed, smiling, and grabbed two handfuls of my ripe breasts. I placed my hand on his chest and began moving my hips up and down, lowering my wet pussy on his throbbing cock. He was ready to cum again, and again I wouldn't let him. I knew that when he finally came, it would be a great one. I continued to ride Steve until I was ready to cum.
"Steve, I'm cumming! Ohhhhhhh!" He rubbed my clitoris, and my orgasm rippled around his cock. This was his signal, and like I said, his orgasm was huge.
"Oh, God, Stace! Uhhhhhhhhhh!" His cum scalded my insides for a full minute! I laid there on his chest after we experienced our orgasms, his cock still buried in me. It was the greatest feeling in the world, having my dear brother's fresh cum lining the insides of my pussy. It doesn't get any better than this. | 4 |
903 | 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 move 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."
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."
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 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 sun-screen 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.
Jerry was half-dressed, watching a movie when the girls came out of the bathroom. Both were clad only in terry cloth robes and they sat on either side of him. Jerry felt something was up, and he was almost afraid of saying anything to spoil it. For a long time he'd fantasized about having Kristen's long legs wrapped around him, and it seemed like he would have his chance.
Kristen sat so that when she looked at the TV, she could not see either Janet or Jerry. When she watched part of the show, Jerry slipped his hand under Janet's robe and between her legs. The sudden stiffness was like a jerk and Kristen turned her head, looking right at Jerry's half hidden hand.
"Turn it on," Janet whispered softly.
Jerry saw that Kristen was looking, and felt his cock rising into a tremendous erection. His fingers found the switch and a light humming noise filled the air just as Janet's body shuddered. The "Y" shaped dildo inside her began vibrating her body, sending delicious waves of pleasure through her. Janet held his hand over her cunt, cupping her twat and pressing the vibrator deeper.
Kristen took Jerry's other hand gently, spreading her legs slightly and placing his hand under her robe. Jerry's hand explored her crotch, finding the other dildo already in place. Jerry's fingers found the switch and turned it on. Kristen's body jerked, and she gasped several times as the dildo began squirming in her cunt.
"Ah-h-h-h-h...Ohhhhhhhh!" Kristen sighed, cupping Jerry's hand over her cunt. Her hips rocked against the twisting, thrusting vibrator, and her eyes closed, jaw slack in rapture.
"Let me suck you," Janet said softly, sliding down off the sofa. She quickly unfastened his pants and removed his rigid cock. Without a word she sucked on him, moving up and down the shaft with quick movements. Her mouth watered and saliva coated his cock, making it glisten wetly. Janet shucked her robe to the floor, curling her feet under her so that as she rocked her body back and forth it pressed the humming vibrator deeper into her holes.
Kristen leaned over and kissed Jerry, sending her tongue halfway into his throat. He kissed back, taking command and forcing her tongue to retreat. They mouth-fucked each other with their tongues, bodies blazing with fiery passions. Jerry's hips rocked up to cram his cock into Janet's mouth, and she made loud slurping noises.
Jerry kneaded Kristen's tits, and she began panting, coming closer to her orgasm from the vibrator and all the sensations. Jerry couldn't hold on, and he felt the thick jism rising from his balls. Janet's wet mouth slobbered down his cock, making sloppy, wet noises as his cock began swelling. She moaned twice, urgently trying to call Kristen. Just as Kristen moved, Jerry's hips arched.
Kristen saw Janet's brow furrow in concentration and the thick pulsing of Jerry's cock in her mouth. Janet's mouth and jaw worked, and then Kristen heard a swishing, squirting noise. Janet moaned as his jism flowed, filling her mouth with his creamy cum. She greedily sucked his sperm into her mouth, coaxing every drop by licking just under the tip of the head. Finally spent, she let his softening cock slip from between her lips, trailing a dribble of sperm over her lower lip. Kristen leaned down and licked the semen from Janet's lips.
Janet grabbed her head and pulled her closer. Kristen opened her mouth, expecting to taste Jerry's cum. Janet opened her mouth and used her tongue to push the warm, thick mass of sperm into Kristen's mouth. It was erotic to Kristen, and she sucked the sperm from Janet's mouth, then they tongued each other fiercely, swishing the cum around back and forth. Parting their kiss, strands of jism connected their lips. Tongues flashed and collected it, and both girls swallowed, tasting his jizz like a cream sauce. The vibrators had brought them both close to orgasm, yet their bodies refused to yield. Kristen's passions were beyond what she'd known, and she wanted to come so badly she would do anything Janet asked.
"Go get my bag," Janet said to Jerry. She smiled and asked Kristen if she ever fantasized about being watched. Kristen, in a very carnal mood, ran her hands over her tits, licking her lips.
"No," she breathed.
"Let's let him watch us," Janet said, cupping Kristen's cunt and shoving the dildo into her.
Kristen was being fucked by the little machine, and the twisting head kept her so close to orgasm that Janet's hand nearly sent her over the edge. The hand withdrew too soon, leaving Kristen almost in tears, until she watched Janet lick her cream off her fingers. Jerry returned carrying Janet's duffle bag, his cock returning to full size.
Janet unzipped the bag and reached in. "You'll love this toy," she said, pulling out a two foot double-headed dildo. Kristen's cunt spasmed, and she reached down to finger herself.
"NO!" Janet said sharply, pulling the blonde's hand from her bush. Then, softly, "Cum WITH me." And she kissed Kristen softly. Kristen followed along, floating on her erotic, lust-filled cloud.
Janet positioned her on her hands and knees, adjusting the dildo to a slower rhythm. She pulled it out of Kristen's twat, watching her gaping cunt hole spasm and close slowly. She pressed the humming, twisting head to Kristen's asshole, pressing the slick, rubbery head firmly.
"Oh, no, don't...." Kristen started, but suddenly her asshole was filled with sensations that made her cream flow like water. She trembled and her stomach jerked. Kristen's ass shot up in the air, and Janet pushed the toy down into the girl's tight hole. "Ohhhh Goddddddd!" Kristen wailed.
Janet rubbed her hand all over Kristen's glistening vulva, massaging her cunt juice all over her crotch, coating her thighs and belly with the creamy fluid that dripped from her. Kristen tried to catch her breath, feeling as though she were being split open and fucked inside-out. Janet picked up the large dildo and coated it with her hand, smearing Kristen's juices on the bulbous head. She held Kristen's hips, pressing the thick rubber cock into her cunt.
"Ah-h-h-h...Ohh! Make me cummm! Please! Makemecum!"
Janet slowly pushed ten inches of the cock up the blonde's snatch, watching her holes spasm as it eased into her. Each outstroke brought her pouty cuntlips out, as though they were holding on and trying to suck it deeper. Once she had the dildo seated, Janet stood up and walked around in front of Kristen.
Kristen looked up at her naked friend, at the "Y" shaped vibrator still humming in her asshole and cunt. Kristen felt filled with cock, as though she would explode. Janet moved close, standing with her crotch almost in Kristen's face.
"Pull it out of me," She hissed. "Jerk it out hard, do it fast."
Kristen reached up a trembling hand and grasped the end of the vibrator. It was slick with Janet's cream, but Kristen jerked hard, yanking it out of her cunt and butt.
"Ohhhhhh CUMM!" Janet yelled, then grabbed Kristen's head, shoving her hips forward and rocking them against Kristen's face. "Drink me!" Janet's cream poured from her, soaking Kristen's face and Janet's crotch. Janet shuddered and ground her pussy against the girl's face. Kristen felt her nose rubbing Janet's clit hard.
Janet moved away suddenly, going behind Kristen and kneeling down, facing away from her friend. Janet pushed the long dildo into her cunt and then pressed her ass against Kristen's.
"Fuck me baby!" Janet pleaded. "Fuck me with that beautiful blonde pussy! Fuck me!"
Kristen and Janet began rocking their hips back and forth, fucking each other with the dildo. Jerry had been watching from the sofa, stroking his cock. Several times he'd had to grip tightly to keep from shooting his load too early. Now he knelt alongside the girls, reaching between their slapping asses to hold the dildo still so that it would slide in and out of their slick cunts.
Wailing moans filled the room from both women. Kristen felt a huge orgasm welling up deep inside her. Each warm slap of Janet's butt to hers brought her a half step closer. Both were near the edge, sweat shining on their backs, making their asses seem rounder and softer."Fuck me Kristen! Fuck me baby!" Janet moaned again. "Oh! Kristen! Kristen! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU KRISTEN!!" she screamed.
Both of them cried out, slamming their asses tightly together, pinning Jerry's hand between them. They shook in orgasm, moaning and jerking around, cramming as much cock in them as they could. Each shudder from one sent the other into another shudder. It seemed to last forever as they climaxed, bodies roiling with waves and waves of spasming pleasure.
Kristen felt her muscles tightening and then it was if she were drowning in sensations. Cum sensations. The fullness in her ass and cunt made her eyes roll back, and her hips arched, pressing hard against Jerry's hand. She could actually feel the tickle of Janet's cunt hairs on her sensitive twat, and the cum-juices trickling down her thighs. Sparks and lights went off in her head and she thought she might pass out from the intensity of it all, but she did not. She rode each delicious wave, surfing each one down into her cunt, flowing out between her cuntlips and down her cream-slick thighs.
Janet's cunt contracted and gripped the dildo hard. She could feel Jerry's hand trapped against her vulva, hot and hard. Her tits seemed to be swelling up, and her nipples were brushing the coarse fibers of the rug. Her ass arched high, and she could feel the heat of Kristen's spasming cunt near hers. The dildo pressed against her cervix, giving her a full feeling. Her stomach bulged out, then contracted only to relax and bulge again with the feeling of being crammed full of thick cock. Her cream was flowing and she could feel her crotch was slick with juices. Each of Kristen's shudders was like an electric pulse to her clit, making her shudder in response.
Jerry pulled his hand out, and Janet felt Kristen's sopped cunt splat against hers. She arched back, trying to grind her pussy against the wet blonde's. They both tried, bouncing back and forth until they felt another wave wash over them. The second orgasm was unlike the first. This was more sensual, sexy and warm. The first had been full of fire, passion, and need. This was icing on the cake.
The two sweaty women sank to the floor, the dildo still in their cunts, although almost out of each one. Jerry gently removed it from their pussies, and also gently removed the vibrator from Kristen's ass. They shuddered and jerked as he removed the toys, then lay still in a limp tangle of glistening legs, asses and cunts. Jerry lovingly caressed their sweaty behinds, running his hands down the backs of their thighs.
"Janet," Kristen said hoarsely.
"Hmmm?"
"I love you too," Kristen said.
"Mmmmmmmmm!"
Jerry's cock pressed against Janet's waist, and she smiled. "I think we forgot someone," she said softly.
Slowly they both sat up, and smiled at Jerry. "You liked our little show?" Janet asked.
"Yes!" Jerry said. "I'm so horny I could cum right now!"
Kristen looked up at him. "Then do it," she said, thrusting her tits forward. "Cum all over us."
Jerry's cock ached, standing straight out like a metal rod. Pre-cum oozed down from the hole, forming a droplet under the head. Kristen leaned forward and extended her lower lip to remove it, letting it form a string as she moved back, licking it off her lip. Jerry groaned.
"I know what he wants," Janet cooed.
Moments later, Janet lay on the floor with Kristen's ass over her chest, arched up for Jerry's entry. Kristen's tits pressed between Janet's thighs, and Kristen's hands gripped Janet's calves. Jerry sank deep into Kristen's sopping wet pussy.
"Ohhh Jeeezzus!" Jerry moaned.
Kristen gasped then sighed as his cock began sliding in and out of her slippery hole. Janet caressed her friend's legs, her ass, and belly. "She's so beautiful isn't she?" Janet said to Jerry. "And so hot and wet. Fuck her. Go ahead, I know you want to fuck her and cum in her. Do it!" Jerry moved faster, trying to restrain himself in Kristen's beautiful cunt. Her body glistened with sweat, and with her ass high, offered to him, Jerry was straining not to shoot too soon. He wanted it to last, for her as well as for him.
Janet wasn't helping matters. "Shove that cock up her cunt and fuck her!" Janet teased. "Make her cum all over that beautiful cock of yours. She wants you to fill her with cum. Cum in her cunt!"
Jerry pumped faster, his cock throbbing and straining. It felt like his cock was a steel ramrod, plunging in and out of Kristen's soft flesh. Her cunt made squishing, slippery noises, and the way she moved her butt against him made Jerry grimace to keep his resolve.
"Ohh yes! Cum in me Jerry!" Kristen moaned. "Fill me with cum! Fuck me! Fuck me baby! Fuck me!"
Jerry felt his balls tighten from her moans.
"Yes!" Janet added. "I want to eat your cum out of her. Let me lick your cum off her cunt. Soak her. Soak her with cum!"
Jerry's cock exploded, gushing thick sperm into Kristen's cunt. He thrust deep into her, pressing her mons down onto Janet's chest. She could see his cock swell between her cuntlips with each pulse, and feel the tension in his legs as well as all through Kristen's sweat-slicked body. Jerry spurt and spurt into Kristen, feeling like his body was draining itself dry in her, trying to fill her sucking cunt to capacity with his sperm. At last he stopped, feeling the thick warmth surrounding his cock inside her. Kristen was moaning softly, and grinning broadly.
Janet pulled Jerry back, and as his cock plopped out of her, he dripped sperm onto her neck, the soft, wet cock hitting her mouth and chin with a wet splat. Janet licked the head, then pulled Kristen's cunt to her mouth. Opening her mouth wide, Janet began sucking the length of the blonde's slit, lapping up the sperm and cunt-juice that flowed out of her beautiful friend's snatch. Janet shoved her tongue inside Kristen's hole, withdrawing it covered with their rich, creamy mixture. Janet lapped and sucked at Kristen's pussy, making the blonde climax twice. When she finally finished, her face and neck were slick with their juices.
Kristen rolled off, sat up and kissed Janet deeply, licking her own cum mixed with Jerry's semen from Janet's lips and face. The two girls hugged and kissed a last time, then looked at Jerry.
"Hard again!?" Janet teased.
"Nobody could stay limp watching you two," Jerry smiled.
"Can you cum again?" Kristen asked.
He shook his head. "Not for a while," he said. "I need a shower and maybe a quick nap before I'll be 'recharged'. You girls have drained me!"
They laughed, and Jerry went to shower. The two girls sat on the sofa, gently touching and kissing each other.
"You know," Kristen began, "I never thought it would be so good with another woman."
Janet smiled. "Oh, you're so sweet and sexy I could just hold you close to me forever!"
Kristen smiled at her. "I-I'm glad it was you. For my first time."
Janet kissed her softly. "First and always."
"Janet," Kristen said between soft kisses. "I love you."
They embraced and kissed, caressing each other tenderly.
"I knew I was falling in love with you the other night," Janet confessed.
"What? When?" Kristen asked.
"When Jerry was fucking my ass and you were masturbating in the bathroom."
"But...how did you see me?" Kristen asked.
"The night light in there. Remember? I could see right through your nightie. The mirrors in the bedroom showed you clearly," Janet said smiling.
Kristen blushed.
"I knew then that I wanted you, and that my feelings for you were deep. That's why I came so hard. I knew you were watching," Janet added.
"I-I felt perverted doing that. Like a peeping Tom," Kristen said, looking at the floor.
Janet lifted her face and smiled. "No, next time I want your tongue in me while he fucks my ass."
"You mean that?" Kristen asked, her eyes wide.
Janet nodded. "Yes. Just so I can have my tongue in you too!"
Again they kissed.
This trip may have started out all wrong, Kristen thought, but it's sure turned out wonderful!! | 5 |
910 | The Maid | "Sir, I found this note in the garbage. Is it yours?" The dark brown innocent looking eyes of Tiyar awaited my answer as she held out the crumpled paper to me.
"Thank you." I took the note and read it. It was from my business partner, and that an important meeting had been rescheduled, to start an hour ago! I could not control the anger in my voice, "Did you take this note Ti?" I often called her this, she had asked me to during the first week she began work.
"No Mr. Simons." And I believed her, it was written in my wife's handwriting.
"God damn it all too hell!" I spun about and slammed my hands upon my desk. I forgot the maid standing at my flank. Since I missed the meeting, my company probably lost the chance we had for a huge account, and a large amount of revenue. Why would Linda throw out a message that I hadn't received yet?
I spun about to go out to the backyard where my wife was taking in some sun, instead I discovered Ti kneeling before me. Her head was down as she picked up the mess I had made that morning while working. From the angle that she was I could see directly down the front of her dress to her ample bosom. The naturally brown skin tantalized and stunned me for a brief second. I, of course, had noticed that the maid was a very beautiful young woman, but usually my appraisal was less than energetic. The large firm mounds swayed beneath her as she reached and grabbed the small bundles of garbage, a sight that greatly incensed me. I could see much of her breast, minus the sight of her nipple, a part of her that I greatly imagined the sight of.
After several enjoyable moments of this sight, she looked up directly into my eyes, her hand and knees still upon the floor. Silence. I was extremely conscious that my knees were spread and she was but an arm's reach from my crotch, while her face was level with my lap.
"Honey?!" It was Linda.
It took a few seconds before I answered, all thought of the crumpled note gone, just the silent beauty kneeling before me in my thoughts. "Yes?" Ti stood and immediately took the garbage pail out of my den. My wife entered seconds after, dressed in a see-through summer wrap which revealed her one-piece bikini underneath. "Oh..." I was startled by her sudden appearance.Nothing was said between Tiyar and myself about that afternoon. We acted as if nothing had ever happened. Yet our eyes would sometimes meet and a silent communication would be passed between us. A few times I had caught her eyes upon me, attempting to pierce my clothing. I was also doing the same towards her. Things would have continued from that point if I didn't walk in on Ti as she was masturbating.
It was the Sunday after her witnessing my nuptial coupling and the house was quiet when I got home from golf. I had thought everyone gone, even Ti since it was her day off, but I was standing in the hallway browsing through the Sunday Paper when I noticed movement from down the hall leading to the kitchen. Actually, once I stuck my head around the corner the movement had come from the breakfast nook and not from the actual kitchen. And what I saw startled me, even after seeing my maid's hunger as she watched me and Linda.
Ti was sitting in the large bay window that led out to the backyard, her right side facing me. She was sitting in the large comfortable chairs Linda had wanted so badly, and had her naked feet placed up on the window sill. The long brown smooth legs were uncovered and led right up to the edge of her oversized t-shirt, the knees well apart. She was almost laying horizontal in that chair, but her head and neck was staring out the window directly at my wife's bikini-clad body. That was a shock, but when Ti moaned and clenched her unseen crotch with both hands, I was truly amazed.
Perhaps Ti had not been excited at seeing me the other day, but my wife! I wasn't sure if I should be disgusted or turned on. Ti was a very beautiful woman, and the fact that she was interested in my wife's body instead of mine puzzled me. I could barely see Linda out in the yard, laying face down upon the huge towel. Her body glistening with tanning lotion and sweat, the sun darkening her pale skin. She too looked attractive.
Again Ti moaned, one arm moving faster upon her crotch than the other. I could just make out the faint noise of her juicy vagina as its folds were being manipulated. As I stood dumbly in the hallway, Ti brought up one hand, covered in her sexual secretions and sucked on the fingers one at a time, being sure to get every drop. She then used the same hand to begin to pinch her nipples through her t-shirt. Her bottom began to rotate upon the chair, in time to her moaning and heavy breathing, yet her eyes never left the naked limbs of my wife.
Linda, meanwhile, was unaware of the audience she had. But lay contented before the pool, a few feet from the large window. She was reading one of those trashy novels housewives seem to purchase often. Her feet were waving about in the air as she was raised up on her elbows. Her breasts hung down in the slim bathing suit, and from the angle she was at I could see almost all the way to her navel. A tall glass with a drink sat next to her, and she reached out to wipe the sweat from the clear cup. She rubbed the moisture upon her upper chest and forehead. Linda did indeed look delicious, and I may have lingered to enjoy the sight of her if Ti had not.
The maid's enjoyment was reaching a climax, her body was quivering uncontrollably now, her calf muscles jumping in excitement. The sounds of pleasure loud against the silence of the house. Ti stiffened noticeably while her body became like a statue for several lengthy seconds. Her climax shot throughout her body, and then she began to relax and enjoy the sexual after-effects. It took a long time for her to gain her body back under control.
Ti suddenly turned her head and looked directly into my eyes. Without any emotion upon her face she looked down upon my bulging crotch and appraised my covered organ. She stood, and for a brief second I wondered if she would come towards me, yet she promptly disappeared around the corner towards her bedroom.
The breakfast room smelled faintly like a woman's sexual heat, and I stood before the large window at the close proximity of my wife as she was still unaware of what had just transpired. Out of the corner of my eye, I again saw movement, but so enthralled was I in what I had just seen, I didn't realize it was from the opposite direction than Tiyar had departed to.I could feel my seed shoot out the head of my cock even while her vagina clasped my fucking finger in a hungry and climaxing grasp. It was one of the most peculiar orgasms I have ever had. Ti and I both climaxed simultaneously, neither had a huge cum. I for one was attempting to hide my enjoyment for my wife and company, while very conscious of any above-table movements. It was a strange orgasm that I had, but fulfilling all the same.
Several moments went by and Ti and I returned our hands to our laps. Unseen by anyone else at the table, my maid daintily lifted her expert hand and licked off two drops of pearly white sperm, smiling at me all the while. I looked into her eyes as I finally lifted and quickly tasted my hand, her juices delicious and her scent strong but highly addictive.
What happened next should be obvious. That I would seek out the maid and become a sexual beast upon her. Yet, that is not how it happened. I did seek her out in the darkness of the night, but could not find her in her room or even in any of the obvious places in the house. So I began to hunt the not so obvious places.
I came upon my teenage daughter's room and the slightly open door. The crack glowed with a yellow pale light from within, though not enough to even brighten the hallway which I stood. It was no perverse or demented reason that I stole a peek into my daughter's privacy, just simple interest and casual turn of the head. Inside, my slim pretty young girl leisurely masturbated unknown to her father's sudden surprise.
At first, I was surprised and shocked that my "little girl" had advanced in years that her own sexuality had emerged. Something that I had dreaded and pretended not to notice. Yet, my eyes, and ears, proved that her body was becoming something that a father never wants for his daughter, a "woman". A wave of guilt ran through me, from my intrusion into affairs that hardly included me. Yet, her slim strong tanned limbs enticed and seduced my vision as well as my mind and I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes glued to the long spread legs of my own flesh and blood.
Time had no meaning, it was measured in the movement of my daughter's long shiny wet fingers upon her obviously excited vagina. She was naked, not a stitch of clothing or a blanket hid any part of her from my prying eyes. I would involuntarily lick my lips as I watched the excited young lady arch her back off the bed, and grasp her own young firm breast in her claw-like-hands. The hand between her legs would move to the enlarged clitoris showing above her glistening slit to agitate it viciously, before moving back down to rub up and down the full length of her slightly spread sex lips. Her gasp of self-pleasure echoing in my ears, almost deafened me with my guilty lust.
My body was secular to my single sense of sight, yet that sight noticed a movement beneath me. Or rather, just in front and below me. Tyar's eyes looked directly into my own, her fingers fumbling with my tied-off rugby bottoms. Shocked that I had a witness to my incestuous thoughts, if not my inaction, and shocked that she obviously cared not. My hardness emerged with an insistent jerk that slapped the young woman on her cheek. With her eyes still looking into my own, she opened her mouth and swallowed two-thirds of my manhood. This time, my own quiet moan of delight resounded in time with my daughter's mounting excitement. The maid, closed her eyes and earnestly began to please me. So my vision again returned to my daughter's quickening movements.
The teenager rolled to her side away from me, and the doorway, her hips pumping her sex against her wet fingers. She bit into her own pillow to stifle a scream of pleasure. Even as my daughter's orgasm approached, so did mine. A part of me wanted to feel my seed spend at the exact moment my daughter reacted to her own out rush of energy. And with the help of the determined lips and mouth of my hired-hand, it would soon be accomplished.
The seconds progressed more quickly than before, much to my disappointment. My daughter returned to laying upon her backside, her legs spread almost horizontal and never once touching the bed. I was amazed at my "little girl's" sexuality, the emotions she was about to expel was proof of her capacity.
The face bobbing upon my cock, mattered little, Ti didn't matter only her working mouth did. And even then, only to produce an orgasm that I had thought too dirty an action to do while being a witness to my daughter's enjoyment. And Ti did an expert job, even though she could not witness what I could see. And as greedy as I was, I am glad that I was the only witness to the beautiful young lady's pleasure.
My cock began to shoot even before I was aware of the fact, so engrossed in my own daughter's orgasm. She clenched fiercely, both her thigh and shoulder muscles quivering violently, even while her teeth ground and her fingers dug into flesh. I thought my darling young girl would hurt herself, for that briefest of moments, until she again collapsed flat upon the bed, her body draped in exhaustion. The last of my sperm was deposited upon the brown skin of my maid's cheek.
I could barely stand, and backed up to lean against the hallway wall. My maid, stood triumphantly and pressed her clothed body against my own. Without a word she kissed me passionately, my own taste entering my mouth along with her spearing tongue. The kiss lasted a scant few seconds, long enough for me to feel a gentle ripple in my sex, before my maid stood away from me. She stole my soul with her piercing gaze, then turned and left me alone in the hallway.
Guilty at all that had transpired, I quickly returned to my wife and my bed.The next few days were distant, at least with my interactions with other people. I barely spoke to my wife, and never touched her. She, of course, noticed my coldness and inquired into my feelings and thoughts, I just smiled as warm as I could then allowed her to kiss me. On the cheek. I avoided my daughter, every time I saw her I picture that pretty woman laying upon her bed naked and damn sexy. And, of course, the guilty pleasure I had received just from that sight alone. As for my son, I went out of my way to not see. And for some strange reason didn't blame him for what was going on with my wife. Linda was older, and his mother, she was to blame. I understood that teenagers had raging hormones and would take anything that came along, though I did wonder where the line must be drawn. Tiyar was the only one that I didn't avoid, in fact I wished she would seek my company more often.
I desired Tiyar's company for a new reason now; I thought she was the only one who knew the tremendous emotions running through me, and I figured I would be able to talk with her. When that moment finally came, she sat down with me, alone in the house, and I talked for almost an hour. While she was being the perfect listener. Even holding my hand, kissing the fingertips in sympathy for my words. A new rush of desire ran through me, one solely to possess this beautiful and sexy maid. It was stronger than lust before, this time I began to think I was falling in love with Tiyar.
My house was not a comfortable place to live, my daughter was the first to voice this problem. She cried upon my shoulder telling me that "everyone hated her". Of course I reassured her this was preposterous while at the same time was very conscious of her warm young body fiercely holding me. At that time, I didn't actually wonder why my daughter hadn't gone to my wife for support, as the two of them were usually bound tightly as some mother-daughters were.
I didn't want my desire to rise, and I did attempt to hold it back, but my heart rate and sex had other ideas. Could my daughter feel the growing size of my organ against her hip, as she sat upon my lap as she used to do as a very young girl? The sweat was rolling down my back and face, and it wasn't the heat. I hated myself, hated what my body urged for. My hand was nonchalantly laying upon my daughters upper thigh, and I wondered if she could feel it quiver as well as then forced will I put into it, just so it didn't move.
She wiggled about, seemingly to get more comfortable, yet this stimulated my rock hard sex. Surely she could feel the manhood against her? She had talked herself out and just had her arms wrapped about my neck in a strong hug. She was so small and attractive that my desire was strongly overcoming my willpower to stop any actions that may lead, or suggest, a lewdness or impropriety in our parts. Incest is such a ugly word, as my wife should well know.
I honestly do now know how far it would have gone. My daughter wiggled about even more, pressing her hip harder into my lap, my small breasts poking into my chest, and her soft cheek against my own. She only kissed me twice. Two little peeks upon my neck. But that is all it took, I lost control; my hand slid up between her thighs and began to slowly reach upwards to that warm wonderful spot that I had witness not so long before. She responded by spreading her legs just enough for my hand to reach her covered crotch.
My fingers touched the cloth covering her sex mound, I gently pressed into the lower crack then tracing upwards towards the spot that caused her to moan and wiggled about. I was enjoyed the obvious heat and moisture in this region, when Ti walked in on us. "Excuse me Sir, would a cold supper be all right tonight?" I pulled away from my daughter, too stunned to think. While she suddenly jumped up and walked away, quickly to her room. If I had been thinking straight I would have known what she would be soon doing alone in her room.
"My god!" I gasped for breath, just realizing what I had been about to do, what I almost did. "Thank god." Tiyar looked at me knowingly, yet with compassion. "Thank you Ti, I..."
The maid came over and replaced my daughter upon my lap, I still too stunned to even think straight. "Understandable after everything you have been through." She kissed my cheek softly. "And she is an attractive young woman," again a kissed this time upon the same spot that my daughter had kissed, "and you have been under great stress lately."
"Yes..." I realized that Tiyar had sat upon my lap, not sideways but facing me, her knees straddling my hips. I could feel warm against my covered crotch as she pressed her sex against me. That was when I came out of my delirium and my desire again rose to uncontrolled heights. I reached between us and unbuttoned my fly, realizing my cock while feeling the naked hairless wet sex against the back of my hand, Ti hadn't worn anything under her short loose skirt.I soon purchased an auto focus, auto forward, quiet camera. My plans disgusted me, yet I knew them to be important if I wanted to keep everything that I ever worked for. Ti was again the maid, our actions were innocent and nothing could be taken out of context. Meaning, I didn't attempt to fuck her again, yet almost daily I received a sexy phone call from Ti, her husky voice sexily talking with me. She also agreed to help me.
After a week of waiting and watching, Ti and I were only able to get a few pictures. Linda, my wife, was sunbathing as she usually does on a hot sunny day, and my son was rubbing lotion upon her skin. Innocent enough, except the photo action suggested more when my son bends forward and kisses my wife's near-naked buttock. Then in a later photo, while she was upon her back, he again bends forward to give her a kiss, this time on her round covered breast. The best picture was seconds later when his teeth were playfully pulling her bikini top several inches upwards from her chest, while Linda had a huge playful grin on her face.
They were certainly suspect, but as Ti said, they were not enough to prove incest. I agreed, then made better plans to capture the affair between my wife and son. Firstly, I attempted to be around my son very much for the next few days, assuming that his own sex drive would be the downfall of my wife. Then I "disappeared" for a whole day, making sure everyone in the house knew it. My daughter was to be away at a friend's house, and Ti had the day off. The plan worked perfectly when I watched my son's school, and saw that he left only moments after I dropped him off. Obviously, I was hidden and he hadn't any intention of going to classes that day. In fact, my son rushed home to "mommy".
I was angry, hurt, and more than a little disgusted when I walked around my house and saw that my wife and son were heatedly kissing in the backyard.I was so angry I was not even able to approach my wife with the separation papers, nor with the accumulated evidence I had taken. My lawyer was one of the best civil litigators in the city, and he was the one that confronted Linda. If I had sat across from her, looking deep into those large round eyes, as I passed the pictures, I may have lost control, and thus, the advantage I had with the courts would have been gone.
Her options were extremely limited; she had to leave the house by the time I returned home, she could take nothing, nor could she contact me in any way, she would be given an adequate living allowance, and the kids had a choice of whom they wished to live with, and finally, if she contest any of my wishes the photos of her incestuous affair would be revealed in court and she would get nothing. My lawyer phoned me later in the afternoon and told me the deed was done, she had gone. Moments later, Ti also phoned and told me the same. The only thing that was left up in the air, was the kids.
My son made the decision to live with his mother, not knowing why we had separated, as I had predicated. My daughter, on the other hand, sounded determined to stay with me in my house. I agreed with the children and assured them that our separation had nothing to do with them, and I still loved them. The boy left the house that weekend.
It was quiet, the house seemed to echo with my movements. At first I was extremely depressed and lonely, almost ready to forgive Linda of her indiscretions. Two things got me through the next few months; my daughter's love and Tiyar.
Without any spoken word, Ti took on the role of the woman of the house. And I was surprised that my daughter didn't reject this proposal but followed the young woman's directions completely. The maid still did the work she had been originally assigned, but she also took care of me and my daughter. Our private relationship, during this time, was blossoming. Ti withheld nothing from my bed, her brown skinned body taking everything I gave it. She was the perfect lover. As my appetites rose, Ti had less time for her domestic duties and I allowed her to hire another maid, just to help out. She still had her own room, but she rarely slept in it. I did attempt to hide my affair with the maid from my daughter, but it was obvious that my secret was impossible to hide. My "little" girl even caught me leaving my bedroom with nothing but a towel about my waist, and beyond me into the room, the sweaty maid lay naked. I smiled shyly while she giggled girl-like then quickly disappeared before I had a chance to talk with her.
My experience with other women was limited since I had been faithfully married for a long time to the same woman. And was not prepared for the demands by Ti upon me. For one, my separated wife's clothes were now commonly worn by the maid, at least the clothes that fit. It was just a little unsettling, to see a young, slight woman dressed in the same clothes of the woman that had broken my heart. I spoke to Ti about my feelings and she verbally pounced upon me accusing me of still "loving that bitch" whom had "fucked her own son"! I gave in, and she calmed down after a day, the first time since my wife's departure that I slept alone. I never spoke of it again. Another thing I noticed, was that Ti was very possessive. She wanted me to get a new secretary for my office, the current one "had that look in her eye", a look that seemed to anger my maid. I replaced her, and Ti made a trip over to look her over, and as my "reward" she again wore nothing under her long jacket except heels.
Yet, her seductive body and hungry desire caused me to forget these episodes and only think about fucking her. Something she would only withhold if I angered her in some way.
Almost to the day that my wife left the house, the divorce came through and I received the forms with all the signatures upon it. During all that time I had not spoken nor seen my now ex-wife. Ti would not allow that. A week later, Tiyar and I were married in a private ceremony that only my daughter attended.It was only the next day when I sat down to breakfast, wondering if the episode last night was only a dream. So distracted was I that I didn't even notice that the three of us were alone in my large house, and that Tiyar had made breakfast. Something she had not done since our marriage day. I continuously looked into my daughter's face for some clue, to see if my memories were true. Yet she never even looked up from her plate, she ate in silence.
When I finally looked down, my stomach growling for nutrition, that I saw them.
A pile of pictures lay upon my seat. The top one was a close-up of my face and my daughter's, our lips pressed together and glimpses of our tongues obvious, as was the saliva and sweat. I felt the blood drain from my body, my heart stopped. It was true, everything that happened last night was true. But the wonderful memories and the fantasy was corrupted by these photos, obviously taken with low-intensity light film. I almost threw up right there, my empty stomach churning the bile about.
I slowly looked up; directly into Tiyar's smiling face. She was the one who had taken the photos, she was the one that had seduced me into divorcing my ex-wife and then marrying her, she was the one that coldly stood before me. "Why?"
"I want you to leave this house. And I want a divorce." It was a question, but a simple statement. She was using the same strategy upon me as I had done to Linda. And my guilt was in the photos, my incestuous relationship enough to convince anyone of my guilt. For the first time I knew what my ex-wife had felt after being confronted with the evidence. "My lawyer has the negatives and duplicate pictures, so you can keep those." She actually smiled.
I turned to my daughter, wondering her part in this. Has she been duped as I had, "Dear...?"
"I'm sorry daddy." She had tears running down her cheeks, but she still could not look at me. So, she had been an accomplice.
"Yes, she helped me. In fact, she will do anything I ask!" She giggled slightly. "Darling take your clothes off and come here." Silence as I watched my daughter stand without hesitation and pull off her shorts and tee-shirt. That naked body from my memories stood beyond my reach, and knelt before Ti. It was a nightmare as my wife looked into my astonished eyes as her step-daughter lifted the front of the skirt and pressed her face into the crotchless panties beneath. Ti's hand held the head against her sex, the mouth obviously busy upon the clitoris that I had often manipulated. "See? She is a good girl, who will do anything I want." She lifted a long brown leg up onto a chair, so my view of my daughter's face was clearer. "You will give me everything, your money, this house, your cars."
She was right, I could not fight this. I would have to start over, begin afresh as I had done so many years ago after getting out of University. But then I had Linda to give me moral support.
"I will leave you but one thing." I didn't say anything, but was surprised that she would give me anything.She was in a position that she didn't need to. "Something that I used and no longer need." The sound of my daughter's tongue was loud as she slurped and sucked upon my wife's cunt.
With the hand that held the back of my daughter's head, Tiyar turned it into a claw and pulled the dripping face from her sex, the mouth still open. "You can have your slut of a daughter. I don't need her any longer!" She threw my darling to the floor before me. I reached out and lifted my naked daughter to my lap. "You two have until four o'clock to leave this house." She spun about and left us in the kitchen.
My daughter was crying uncontrollably, and I realized she had been used just as I had been. I could not fault her for something that I had also fallen for. And I was just as guilty, I didn't have to succumb to the beauty of my little girl the night before, nor did I ever have to allow myself to be seduced by the evil woman who had been my maid. I wondered what she had done to manipulate my ex-wife and son into bed, I no longer thought it was a coincidence.
"Come dear, let's get ready to leave." She allowed herself to be placed back upon the ground standing up. We left to get ready to leave.
Tiyar, the maid had won! | 5 |
974 | XXX-Men #1 (Archangel & Psylocke) | "I had a wonderful time, Warren," she said as they walked up the front steps and approached the mansion's door, arm in arm. She smiled radiantly, and her violet eyes sparkled in the moonlight.
"Me too, Betsy. What's not to love about an enchanting evening of dining and dancing on the rooftops of New York City with the most beautiful British/Asian ninja telepath in the world?" he smirked.
"No mean feat, considering I'm the only one we know of, Mr. Charmer," she slapped him on the shoulder. "Surely you can do better than that!"
"Okay, okay, the most beautiful *woman* in the world," he amended. She looked skeptical for a moment, then smiled again.
"Very impressive, Warren. A surface probe has verified your sincerity. That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she crooned and planted an electric kiss on his lips. He pulled her closer, returning the kiss passionately, their bodies ground together, and his loins tingled with a hot, maddening sensation. He felt a pang of regret as they broke apart. He reached into his pocket and fished out his key. He opened the door and invited Betsy to enter with a bow of the head and a sweeping gesture with his arm. She nodded in acquiescence and stepped into the foyer ahead of him.
They ascended the stairs to the second floor, and at the top, Warren stood and looked at her awkwardly. He blushed a little, which created an interesting effect on his light blue skin. He didn't know how to proceed and felt like such an adolescent for it. He felt that he was getting all kinds of signals from Betsy all night, but he hadn't been with a woman in two years, since his last long-time girlfriend Candy Southern was murdered as he watched helplessly, and they'd been serious for nearly six years. He didn't have sex with Charlotte Jones during their short relationship, as the right time never presented itself. So it had been almost eight years since he'd been in the position of a first sexual encounter with a new lover!
If Betsy was picking up any of this, she showed no sign. She just kissed him on the cheek and turned on her heel towards the left and the women's dormitories, sparing him a backwards glance and a wink. She sauntered off, and Warren was left to gape stupidly, watching her ass as it shifted beneath her slinky red evening gown before she disappeared around the corner, and wonder what the hell happened.
"Damn!" he whispered through clenched teeth. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head slightly in disappointment and proceeded to follow Betsy halfway down the hall, taking a right just beyond the stairway to Ororo's attic, through the galley and into the bath and dressing rooms.
He flicked on the light and began to undress, neatly folding his tuxedo and setting it aside. Warren took slight notice of the hard-on he was sporting. His nine-inch blue penis stood proudly up and out from his short bush of groomed, sharply contrasting blond pubic hair. He chastised himself inwardly; he hadn't been with a woman in two years, but he still styled his pubic hair out of the force of habit that he'd made as a millionaire playboy. He was a compulsive groomer. He turned on the water in the shower and stepped inside. Warren sighed heavily and tried to relax and let the tension be washed away by the water rushing over his smoothly muscled body and be carried down the drain.
It wasn't working.
Betsy had him so worked up that he could have just grabbed her and fucked them both senseless right there on the front steps. He chuckled a little; the professor wouldn't be likely to appreciate that. Plus, Bobby could be back from Long Island with Rogue any time, as a visit with his parents never lasted very long. Warren tried to imagine Bobby and Rogue profusely excusing themselves and stepping over and around he and Betsy's twisting, grunting, sweating bodies.
Imagining this little scene wasn't helping him cool down any. Warren was lathering his hair and looked back down at his unebbing erection; he considered a moment and then closed his soapy fist around the massive organ and began to masturbate. He slid his slick fist furiously up and down his shaft and fantasized about Betsy, until, standing on his toes with his arched back to the steaming water, he came, spilling out copious amounts of jizz from his aching, purple head.
*That* was working. No substitute for Betsy's flesh, but it got rid of that maddening hard-on and loosened him up a bit. Besides, Warren was no stranger to jacking off during this two-year, *and counting*, he thought with melancholy, dry spell.
He finished cleaning up and dried off. He proceeded to the adjoining dressing rooms and found his bathrobe among the rest of the team's robes and a stockpile of standard blue and gold training uniforms. He put it on, picked up his tuxedo, and proceeded back through the galley, down the hall, past the staircase to the first floor and the foyer, and to the men's dormitory wing. As he approached the door to his room, he noticed that it was slightly ajar. Battle-honed suspicion kicked into high gear; he dropped the tux and squinted his eagle-sharp eyes. Fully tensed and ready to unfurl his deadly wings, he twisted into a stance from which he could slam the door wide open with a powerful side kick.
<Warren,> the gentle telepathic voice reached him, and calm flowed through his mind and body, stopping him in mid-kick. But the adrenaline didn't stop pumping into his system as he recognized the voice and realized what it must mean. He opened the door and turned the dimmer knob above the light switch, illuminating the room in a soft glow.
Betsy sat stark naked at the edge of his four-poster bed, her left leg dangling over the edge and the other tucked up under her. Her hands rested on her left knee, which caused her arms to press her 44-DD breasts together, creating an amazingly sensual effect.
*Warren, my boy,* he thought to himself, *you're gonna get laid after all,* and unconsciously closed the door behind him.Betsy jiggled a little with laughter like the tinkling of bells, and said, "How perceptive you are, Mr. Worthington," as she slid off the bed's satin comforter, making a small swishing noise. She stood tall, and Warren marveled at her voluptuous, athletic body. Smooth, flawless bronze skin, shapely limbs, a flat belly slightly rippled with the faint suggestion of feminine abs, large breasts with plum nipples that complemented her darkish skin beautifully, an elegant Asian face that managed to carry and suggest her British-born aristocracy in a unique effect, and flowing lustrous deep purple hair. Warren noticed that her little triangle of pubic hair was purple as well, meaning that while Betsy Braddock was blond by birth, Kwannon's exotic hair color must have been natural. Unless she dyed that too, but that seemed unlikely.
Warren gulped and licked his lips in a nervous gesture, a little sweat popped up on his brow, and he trembled slightly as Betsy strode toward him confidently, heaving her chest with deep breaths, a no doubt intentional effect. She reached out to him, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on the base of his neck, and pulled herself to him, mashing herself against his body and fiercely kissing him. She finessed the folds of his robe open with her knees, and, positioning her left leg between his legs and her right leg alongside the outside of his left leg, she began to grind her crotch against his left hip. Lifting her left leg to his crotch, she began to rub his balls with it.
Warren's eyes bulged, and his heartbeat became erratic, thumping in his chest and temples so hard he thought he might pass out. She had sucked his tongue into her mouth and was rolling hers around it, *she was <chewing> on his tongue!*, alternating between little nips at the tip with her incisors and grinding it lightly between her molars. Warren gasped deeply, forgetting to breathe through his nose and almost choked. Betsy sent a telepathic cascade of laughter, like a babbling brook, across his mind. She continued to suck his face, tickling the roof of his mouth and licking his teeth for a while before she began to close her mouth, forcing his to close with it by sucking the air out of him. A loud, astoundingly dry, smacking sound was produced when both their lips came together, and the seal was broken.
Warren let out a nervous laugh, little "huh" sounds between gasps for breath. "Wow," he whispered sincerely with glazed eyes. Betsy untied his robe and pushed it over his shoulders so that it dropped off his body. She put her hands on his hips and lowered to her knees. *Good lord!* he thought, his head spinning, *the <kiss> almost got me off!*
Betsy cradled his genitals in her hands, cupping his sack in her palms and holding his stiff member between her thumbs. She massaged his nuts and gently kissed the head of his cock, wetting it with saliva. She tilted it upward and flattened her tongue onto his balls, slowly running it up the underside of his shaft and, upon reaching the end, swiftly gulped down his entire penis, tightened her lips snugly around the base of his dick, and slowly retreated to the head, which she began to polish with her tongue. Then she licked the side of his cock in a back and forth motion before taking it back into her mouth and continued to give him the best head of his life. Sucking, licking, and nibbling him into new heights of ecstasy.
"Wait," he panted, heavily setting his hand on her head when he was teetering on the edge of an orgasm. She disengaged and stood, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. He was beginning to get over his initial shock and befuddlement and was ready to take a more confident and active role. He took her by the waist and guided her to the bed. He lifted her into his arms and slid onto the bed, setting her down with her head on the pillows. He opened her legs and sat between them with his legs folded under him.
She was so beautiful, lying naked on red satin, one arm lay slightly crooked at her side, the other bent in a right angle, lying palm upward. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were slightly parted. Her head was tilted to one side, stretching her elegant long neck. Warren was drawn to that neck, he bent down and kissed it gently. She smelled of tropical flowers, light and sweet. He trailed kisses down her body, lingering on her breasts and belly. He was forced to untuck his legs and lie flat as he moved downward.
Now he was propped on his elbows between her silky thighs, his face only inches in front of her pussy. He reached out and placed two fingers on the soft folds of her labia, which were the same plum color of her nipples, and spread them open to reveal the glistening pink within. He touched the tip of his tongue to that pink flesh, capturing the salty tang of her juices. Betsy moaned slightly. Warren clamped his mouth onto her mound and forced his tongue inside of her, slithering it along her petal-like folds and grinding her clitoris. Betsy writhed and twisted. As Warren continued his oral ministrations, she reached her first climax and began to thrash around so hard he could hardly keep his lips affixed, so he slid his arms under her legs and locked them around her thighs. He rose to his knees, lifting her hips and leaving only her head and shoulders still in contact with the bed, he pressed on with determination, relentlessly licking and sucking and pulling at her folds with his lips. She came noisily again, and he was spurred on by her reaction and the musky smell of her fluids. Less than a minute later, she came a third time, and he stopped eating her out and set her down.
Betsy lay there catching her breath, covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, her chest and abdomen heaving. Warren leaned over and kissed her on the mouth once before inserting his dick between her wet and swollen pussy lips and into her tight channel with a low grunt. He rammed it in to the hilt, until he felt his sack come to rest between her buttocks. He was instantly enraptured by the hot sensation and saw double for a moment. He didn't really realize how much he missed this and was struck all at once by overwhelming passion, love for Betsy, and joy at their sharing this, and bittersweet memories of Candy.
Taken by a brilliant, spontaneous and exciting whim, he lifted Betsy's shoulders up, crossing his arms behind her back. He pressed her to his chest and rolled the two of them over. He sat up, scooted over to the edge of the bed, and stood, holding Betsy off the ground by pressing one arm across her back and supporting her under the ass with the other, all the while managing to keep himself deep inside of her. Betsy squealed a little with surprise by this sudden and swift movement, reflexively grabbing his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his hips to keep from falling.
"What are you...?" she stammered, staring at him with a look of confusion. He just smiled broadly at her and didn't answer. He disabled the security on his windows by entering his code on the remote control that lay on the nightstand. He proceeded to the window, bracing her against the sill for a moment while he threw it open.
"Don't scream, please," he asked her quietly, "we've already made too much racket," he grinned, and pushed forward, sending them tumbling into the night.
"Warren!" she yelped, her eyes widening impossibly as she clutched him crushingly tight. "Are you crazy?" she hissed; to her credit, very quietly as they plunged from the second-story window. Warren spread his wings wide and arched upward at the last second, Betsy's hair brushed the lawn as their momentum was redirected. They shot upward at a nauseating velocity, Warren giggled to himself at Betsy's expression. Her teeth were clenched, and her eyes were shut tightly, a tear escaped from the corner of an eye and swiftly ran down her cheek, dragged by the "G" forces.
Warren stopped climbing and began to hover. Betsy shivered against him, looking ill, and cautiously opened her eyes. He began to laugh heartily.
"*You* _bastard!_" she exclaimed. He stopped laughing and looked her dead in the eyes solemnly.
"Oh, come on, Betsy! Look around you and try to tell me you don't want to be here," as he spoke, his eyes swept the sky and came to rest looking down at the mansion. Her eyes followed his, she looked at the mansion, seeming small below them, then over to the horizon and the forested Appalachian mountains, bathed in the soft moonlight. She gasped slightly and smiled, her face softening, and her stifling grip loosening. The starry fall nights of urban Westchester in the New York highlands were always gorgeous, but infinitely more so from this altitude.
"Oh, Warren! I haven't flown since I was Captain Britain! It's been so long, two lifetimes ago, it seems, since I've experienced the freedom and wonder of the skies!"
"You're forgiven," she breathed and kissed him deeply.
Warren, having kept still inside her for so long, began to pump his hips slowly, sliding his organ in and out in long, sensuous strokes. He held her tightly to him, burying his face in her neck and hair as she twined her legs around his and stroked and kneaded his buttocks. They screwed in a vertical position, bobbing up and down slightly against a backdrop of stars as he flapped his wings sporadically.The heat of their bodies quickly rose to protect against the chilly autumn night.
After a few minutes, Warren reoriented them, turning so that they were horizontal, with Betsy hanging underneath. He held her legs to his sides, and she hooked her arms under his armpits and gripped his shoulders from behind. Confident that she wouldn't fall, he began to fly, soaring over the estate's grounds. He proceeded toward the mountains and the jet hangar, pistoning furiously and grunting while they kissed and licked all over each other's faces, necks, and ears.
Soon Betsy came, spasming violently. Warren had never seen a woman react to an orgasm like she did! He was worried about one of them losing their grip, so he rolled them over so that he was facing the sky and turned back towards the estate. Betsy regained her composure and sat up, balancing across his hips and bracing her hands against his shoulders as he closed his on her waist.
She began to ride him, moving in sync with his thrusts as though they were choreographed, as if one was an extension of the other. Warren noticed that they were passing Scott and Jean's place and soon were over Breakstone Lake, when Betsy suddenly straightened bolt upright. She swayed back and forth, stroking her breasts and trailing her hands up her neck into her hair, pulling it up above her head and licking her lips. She looked so ethereally beautiful to Warren, her face, breasts, and belly bathed in luminescent moonlight. She was positively aglow! Warren gazed at her long and hard, his eyes caressing her soft form, trailing down her body. He looked past his sweaty pecs and abs to their joined regions. He watched his cock as it plunged in and out of her and felt the inevitable climax building, he moaned and growled as Betsy panted and squealed, she was going to come too. He drew her back down to him and steeled himself for it. Suddenly he felt Betsy in his mind and became disoriented by strange, alien sensations that were coming to him. He struggled to understand and realized that she was linking them, allowing him to experience what she was feeling! He felt like he was going to burst as she synchronized and shared their orgasms, literally doubling the staggering sensation. All reality seemed to explode and fall apart around him, his groin burned with the white-hot ecstasy of the senses-shattering super orgasm. Warren's muscles locked, and his eyes bulged, he howled out loud and lost control of his wings. They dropped from the sky like a stone and landed in the lake's cove with a splash.
Warren was shocked by how cold the water felt against his hot skin and swallowed a lot of water before surfacing. He was barely able to tread water, his muscles felt like jelly. He scanned the water, searching for Betsy. There she was, sputtering and coughing. He doggy paddled over to her.
"Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded with one last cough and smiled mischievously, flicking her eyebrows upward twice rapidly, as if to say "you like?" "That was un-*fucking*-be*lieve*able!" he answered to her silent query, "pardon the pun."
"Of course," she nodded her head toward the shore and began to swim away. Warren stared, wondering where she got the energy to move that fast. Then he began to follow and was surprised that his strength was rapidly recovering.
She reached the beach, halfway between Scott and Jean's cottage and the cove's peninsula, before him. She crawled a little way inland and rolled over onto her back, propped herself up on her hands and lifted her knees. She began to slowly open and close them. Warren rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, she was absolutely relentless!
He crawled up to her and, since he wouldn't be able to get hard again for about fifteen minutes, he took one of her tits into both of his hands, leaned over and closed his mouth around the nipple. He began to suck forcefully and nip at it as he ran his right hand down her abdomen and laid his palm against her bush, stroking her labia and clitoris gently with his middle finger. He worked open the folds with his index and ring fingers, and inserted his middle, followed by his index, into her vagina. Betsy shuddered and groaned as he stroked up and down, by approaching the pussy from above and arching the fingers into the channel, the clitoris was constantly stimulated, when coming at it from ahead would completely miss it. By her reaction, Betsy obviously appreciated the technique. She ground her pelvis into the sand, thrashing her head back and forth as he noisily sucked her tits and furiously frigged her. She reached down and took Warren's limp penis into her hands, brushing it between her fingers and thumb until it was erect. She closed her fist around it just as she came, squeezing it painfully. Warren gritted his teeth until it was over, and she began to slowly stroke it as if she were milking a cow; pinching the base between thumb and forefinger and pulling down. Shortly she came again, her pussy was becoming quite slick, and Warren was wearing his arm out by fingerfucking her so quickly. When she climaxed a third time, he felt his drawing close.
<Spray my tits,> he received the telepathic order. He frowned slightly, being the cultured gentleman he was, he found splattering a woman slightly distasteful and disrespectful. Making her swallow was absolutely unforgivable, that's why he told her to stop when she was blowing him. But, she was requesting it, so he was willing to do as she said. He rose to his knees, and she propped herself on one elbow, taking his cock in her hand and giving a final few jerks. He breathed harshly through his teeth, squirting on her gigantic bosom. She held onto his spasming dick, laughing with delight and aiming it like a firehose, she coated her tits. She aimed it just below the base of her throat most of the time, allowing the jizz to run down her cleavage, some of it oozed down her belly and collected in her navel. Warren gaped at the incredible amount of glistening semen that was glazing her mountainous breasts. She laid back down on the sand.
<Fuck them,> she ordered, pressing the heels of her hands on the sides of her boobs and rubbing them together.
"But I just..." he protested. She cut him off by shaking her head and gesturing at his still-erect member. He was astounded, his cock was showing no signs of becoming flaccid, it was still as hard as ever. He wondered how the hell that could be, then figured it must be Betsy's doing, mastery of the brain is mastery of the central nervous system. She was preventing the inevitable "crash" that was part of coming down from an orgasm, a fair comparison being how a drug user's system crashes when coming down from a high. *This* was a pleasant utilization of telepathic abilities he'd never thought of before!
He straddled her stomach and inserted his penis between her slippery tits. He began to pump, and she squeezed his tool tight between her breasts, alternating between grinding them in a circular motion and sliding them to mirror his thrusts. The sensations were very pleasant, the softness of her plump breasts, the sticky tackiness of his come, and the warmth the friction created. He removed his hands from his hips and began to tweak her nipples, circling the bumpy areolas with the pads of his fingertips and pinching and pulling the nipples gently. He continued to piston for only a couple more minutes when he felt his climax approaching, much sooner than usual. He guessed that if given the chance, men's orgasms happened closer together as they continued to have them, just as women do. Women are capable of having multiple orgasms after prolonged stimulation, orgasms so close together that you can hardly tell them apart. With Betsy, Warren could have multiple orgasms! He would have to try that sometime, and shelved the thought away. He threw his head back in the air, moaning and grunting as he came, the ejaculate spraying out from between her tits and drenching her lips, chin, and neck. Betsy was laughing again, she just loved to be coated in a man's juices. Warren guessed that one of his old habits was about to change while he was partners with her.
Warren stood, and Betsy reached for his hand. He took it and helped pull her up. She stepped back a little from him, that disturbing little grin was back. Warren was wondering what the hell she was up to when she scooped some of the jizz off of her body and smeared her palm into his face playfully. Before he had the chance to yell and freak out, wipe his face and spit, she smashed her body against his. Holding him in a tight bear hug, she licked his face and kissed him, forcing her messy tongue into his mouth. Though it was surprisingly tasteless, he was still pretty grossed out. *She really loves this stuff,* he thought to himself. Suddenly she released his mouth and tackled him into the water, making him forget all about her little trick as they wrestled and played around in the lake. They horsed around like teenagers, splashing and dunking each other, laughing and making idle threats.
After about fifteen minutes, Betsy made for the shore, and Warren gave chase. He reached the beach only a few paces behind her and sprinted, knocking her to the sand. They necked for a little while, and Betsy ended up lying halfway on top of him, her head on his chest as he stroked and ran his fingers through her drying hair."I love you, Betsy," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. Warren felt her cheek pull upward into a smile, and she snuggled closer against him.
"I love you too," he heard her say as he drifted off to sleep.
A little more than three hours later, Warren awoke. He squinted against the light of the sunrise and stretched, yawning. Then his eyes snapped open as he realized that they had fallen asleep on the beach. "*Shit!* Betsy!" he shouted, shaking her.
"What," she moaned groggily, annoyed. Then her eyes flew open, and she sat up, her eyes flicking back and forth to confirm their location. "*Shit!*" she hissed.
"I already said that," Warren quipped, standing up and brushing the sand off his naked body and shaking out his hair. Betsy did the same. "C'mon," he said, holding out his arms. She went to him, and he picked her up. He covered the distance between the lake and the mansion by flying low, at an altitude about equal to his height. They reached the wing that held the men's dormitory, and Warren's window was directly above and still open. They were standing in front of the window to Professor Xavier's office. Warren happened to glance inside and noticed a gathering; he quickly shot upward to the second floor, hoping that they weren't spotted. He set Betsy on the window sill, and she climbed in; he followed. "What's going on down there?" he asked.
"The professor has summoned Hank, Scott, Ororo, Jean, Bishop, and Bobby. They must be briefing for a mission," she answered. He picked his robe up off the floor and handed it to her.
"Here, get back to your room with this. I hope Charles didn't want either of us for the assignment, so that no one's looking for us," he paused, "I noticed, none of your clothes are in here. You came here like that?"
"Yes, I scanned everyone but you as being asleep, and I expected you to be in here. I thought that coming to your door naked would be fun," she smiled, putting on the robe, "I was inspired by your comment last night that we should `cut to the chase'," she quoted.
There was a knock at the door, "Hey, buddy," it was Bobby's voice. Warren and Betsy froze. The door swung open as Bobby continued, "are you gettin' up or wha... ohboy," he whispered, staring at Betsy. Warren, though he was the one who was still naked, stepped in front of her.
"I..." Bobby stammered, averting his eyes, "The prof sent me to..." Betsy moved around Warren and brushed past Bobby.
"Drake, *get the hell out of here!*" Warren snarled, turning him by the shoulders and pushing him out the door. Warren took a step into the hall and heard Rogue's voice.
"There you are, Betsy," she was saying, "me an' Remy were just looking for you in your room," sure enough, Remy was right behind her, as usual. It was sickening, the way he tailed her every move. He made eye contact with Warren and covered his mouth, snickering. Then Rogue saw him too, she blushed and turned her back, swiftly proceeding toward the stairs. Remy opened his mouth to say something rude, and Rogue barked "Gambit!". He dropped it and followed her, stealing a backward glance to Warren, he winked and gave him a "thumbs up."
Warren covered his face with his hand and retreated into his room, slamming the door. *Even without Jubilee around, this will spread* he thought, plopping onto his bed. He smiled, *but given the chance, I wouldn't have changed a thing.*
<Me neither, luv,> Betsy sent. This was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. No more brooding in solitary for Warren, Apocalypse was months dead, and Warren had met a woman to pull him out of the darkness he'd allowed himself to grow comfortable in. It was no longer enough, and he was ready to rejoin the land of the living. Pushed into action by Jubilee's biting words, he'd allowed himself to love again.
And he'd never felt so good in his life.
-The End-The look on his face was precious, slack-jawed and wide-eyed with amazement.
"Chere! How... how in the hell did we do that?!" he stammered. She clutched him around the torso, pressing one side of her soaked face against his hard chest.
"Ah've been in therapy with the Professor for months now, we determined that mah problem with controlling mah power was psychological," he was stroking her hair lovingly, "He helped me past the blocks I'd placed cause of all mah guilt an' self-loathin' over what happened to Cody an' Carol..." she explained, *an' then Belle,* she thought to herself. "The Prof was mah first test, we risked it an' ah was able to touch him on the hand... Ah was so afraid it wouldn't work again!"
She looked up into his eyes, "Oh, Remy! Ah can really touch again! Ah want foh us to touch each other all night long, fall asleep in each other's arms! To hold on to each other an' _never_ let go!" She was gripping his hands tightly, pressing them to her breasts.
Remy smiled broadly and kissed her forehead, "Gambit have no problems at all wit' dat!" He led Rogue to the bed and she sat down on it, swinging her legs up with her. He swiftly pulled his shirt up over his head and dropped it to the floor before sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. He kissed her, opening his mouth and snaking his tongue into her. She accepted his soft and wet tongue into her mouth, rolling it around with hers, feeling their teeth scrape together. He began to kiss and suck her long, arched neck gently as her hands explored his bare back, memorizing every muscle.
He was now entirely on the bed, lying on top of her. She rolled him over and sat across his hips. She began to kiss all over his face, nibbling his lips and ears, rubbing her mouth on his beard stubble. She could feel the bulge of his erect penis pressing eagerly against her crotch, inhibited by two layers of jeans. She took off her sweater and tossed it aside. Remy smiled, getting a view of her firm tits and flat stomach. He no doubt wanted her to take off her lacy black bra, but she wasn't ready for that yet. Rogue touched his shoulders, running her hands slowly down his muscular arms. From his smooth biceps to his forearms, which were sparsely covered by little hairs. She closed her hands around his right wrist and lifted it. She kissed the back of his hand and rubbed it against her face, then sucked his fingertips into her mouth. She put his hand against one of her breasts and he squeezed it. Rogue sighed and ground her crotch against his. Remy moaned.
She dropped his arm and scooted down a bit, lowering herself onto him. She licked his rough jawline, then his adam's apple. Oh, the _smell_ of him! Rampagingly masculine! His salty flesh, a little perspiration, and an expensive cologne. Oh, what was it called! She couldn't remember. She wandered over to one of his nipples in a frenzy, pinching it between her lips and tugging firmly. She flattened out her tongue against it and began to circle it slowly, rubbing the other pec with the palm of her hand. Remy breathed heavily, his chest heaving under her. She slid down further, brushing his well-defined abs with the tip of her nose. She could feel her own hot breath, bouncing off his tight body and warming her face. She found his navel and kissed it, flicking her tongue into it, once, then twice.
Rogue felt something tickle her chin, and raised herself up on her hands. A thin little triangle of sparse, coarse hair peeked from under the waistband of Remy's pants, the point touching his navel. She began to unbutton his pants, they were Levi's 501, with the button fly. She undid the buttons slowly, plucking them from the slots with both hands. She folded the fly open, creasing them to the sides. Remy was wearing red cotton jockey shorts. She retreated to the foot of the bed, and, taking his pant-legs by the hem, she eased his jeans off. Then Rogue stood and dropped her own pants to the floor, hooked one of her feet into the tangled mass, and kicked them backward and out of the way, losing her socks in the process.
She then plucked off Remy's socks and took him by the ankles. She noticed that, much like Remy's arms, his legs were only hairy on the lower half. His sculpted, broad thighs were bare and smooth, as though they were carved in marble, while below the knees there was a little hair. She darted her tongue out, brushing one of his ankles with the tip. Then she gently kissed it, and began to pull him toward her, leaving a trail of sweet little kisses along the inside of his leg. All the while she gradually lowered herself to her knees. Now Rogue held Remy's knees at her shoulders and was licking his inner thigh, halfway down from the knee. She looked down his leg to his crotch. The fabric of his underpants was stretched to the limit, pulled into a teepee by his massive organ. The waistband was pulled down to expose a couple inches of short, kinky pubic hair and the legbands were stretched away from his body, forming what looked like a shadowy cave. Remy's head was tilted to the side, his eyes shut tightly and his teeth clenched. His face and neck were flushed and he was clutching the bedspread, bunching it in his fists. His hard-on was quite obviously making him extremely uncomfortable.
Rogue was going to have to proceed to something much more intimate earlier than she'd originally planned to, something more satisfying for Remy. She'd wanted for them to just touch each other tonight and proceed to actual sex later on. She realized now that not only was that a kind of cruel thing to do to Remy, but that it was probably unrealistic... She now knew now that it would be unlikely to have been able to restrain _herself_ in that way once going this far! She set Remy's legs down over her shoulders and hooked her hands into the waistband of his undershorts. Remy took the signal and bent forward, bracing himself on his elbows and lifting his ass from the bed. She pulled his shorts off, dragging them toward her face. Remy straightened out this legs, extending them high into the air. Once she'd pulled them past his knees, he bent them again. She ducked her head under the jockey shorts that stretched between his legs. Gravity did the rest as they slipped of his legs and tumbled down her back to land on her feet.
She was now staring down the barrel of Remy's unbelievably long cock. It jutted out from his body and pointed right at her nose, bare inches from her face. Rogue shrugged his legs off of her shoulders and reached for it. With the tips of her fingers, *Oh! It's so _hot!_*, she began to tilt it in all different directions, looking at it from different angles. The shaft was solid and strong, during her inspection she noticed that it took more of an effort to turn it downward than it did to press it to the sides and no effort at all to push it upward; it's natural resting position was at an upward angle.
It was marked by a roadmap of veins, the largest of which was on the underside and to the right, originating from the body and running upward. Breaking off from it were all the other smaller veins, sort of tributaries that meandered all over the penis. All the larger veins were on the underside, which also had a higher concentration of veins. Oh, and some tributaries had tributaries. There was a definite ridge that ran the center of the the underside.
The thickness was somewhat inconsistent, it was broader across than it was thick and it was more wide at the center than at the root, and it tapered at the head so that it was a bit thinner than the base. The head was plump and looked sort of like a mushroom. It was also a little purplish, especially at the edge, and it was spongy to the touch. She could see his circumcision scar, brown and puckered. *Mah God! How long _is_ this thing, anyway? It must be at least _ten inches_!* When she closed both her hands around it there were still three inches that poked from her fist! It wasn't remarkably thick, though, her middle fingers could press the balls of her thumbs easily. She felt his pulse throbbing under her fingers. A drop of milky liquid formed at the head and began to lazily trickle down... She was distracted by a sudden noise. Remy was laughing!
"Chere, you gon' be _doin'_ somethin' wit' dat ting 'fore Gambit go over de top and you be gettin' a squirt in de eye?" he asked patiently, smiling broadly, and continued his gentle ribbing. "You plan on writin' an essay later on? Maybe we could go down to de sub-levels and be fetchin' some diagnostic 'quipment for your studies?"
Rogue smirked, a little embarrassed. This was the first time she'd had a good look at a man's cock in person, she didn't realize that she was scrutinizing so intently. But even Belle's memories of Remy's monstrous manhood couldn't prepare her for actually holding it in her hands.
"You asked foh it sugah!" she warned cryptically. Rogue's fists were still wrapped around his prick and the pre-ejaculate had puddled against her thumb. She tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to this miniature pearl and followed the short trail upward, where she closed her lips around the soft head of his stiff prong. She began to nudge and probe at it with her tongue. Remy let out a hiss of breath between his teeth. She uncurled her right fist and slowly drew Remy's dick down her throat as far as it would go.Her lips touched her left hand, and she was just this side of gagging. Then she thought of the saying about biting off more than you could swallow, and she almost did gag. She managed to keep from laughing and pulled back, keeping her lips tight and sliding her tongue from side to side. She withdrew to the head and repeated the gulping technique very swiftly three more times.
Then she lifted his balls from the bed, cradling the hairy, wrinkled sack of dark, soft skin in her hand. She felt for the firm spheres of his testicles, and, finding one, she pressed her lips against it and slurped it into her mouth, drawing half his scrotum after it. She sucked his nut for a while, rolling it around in her mouth, before spitting it back out. Then she pressed his cock back against his abdomen, laid her tongue against his soggy balls, and licked the length of his shaft a few times.
Remy's squirming and the little noises he made turned Rogue on tremendously. She closed his dick in her left hand again and began to suck and lick it furiously as her other hand wandered down and began to rub her tender pussy lips and clitoris through her already wet panties. After a couple minutes, Rogue came from her masturbating just as Remy's cock began to spasm. It squirted a wad of thick liquid into her mouth before she could release it, then it squirted again, splattering her face. She gasped and grabbed the bobbing organ, turning it slightly so that it squirted over her left shoulder. She cleared a little come from her eye and looked at Remy. His mouth hung wide open and his eyes were rolled back, he was making breathless gasping sounds. Rogue just watched him as he made funny sounds and even funnier faces, holding onto his prick as it sprayed come everywhere. She counted about seven or eight wet spasms and about four "dry heaves" before it was finally still and began to grow soft.
Remy lay there for a little while, his breathing slowing to normal. Then he forced himself to sit up and smiled winningly at Rogue, "Chère..." he began raspily, his eyelids were heavy and tiny beads of sweat dotted his brow and unshaven upper lip, "That was just incredible," he drew Rogue up into his arms and kissed her roughly, squeezing her tight to his unyielding body and kneading her ass with both his hands. He released her from the kiss and grinned mischievously, arching one eyebrow, "Now, let's see what ol' Gambit can do for _you_."
He stood, pressing his hands to her waist. Rogue clamped her thighs on his hips for support and reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. The brassiere fell forward and she shrugged it off of her arms. Remy gazed appreciatively at her pert, round breasts and pivoted so that he faced the bed. He placed one knee as deep toward the center of the bed as he could reach and levered himself onto it. Rogue closed her hands behind his neck and he leaned into it, gently falling on top of her.
Rogue folded her legs across his back and slipped her arms under his. They kissed deeply, probing each other's mouths eagerly. Then Remy reached between them to stroke one of her breasts and Rogue moaned, feeling her lips vibrate against his. Remy stopped kissing her and she uncrossed her legs to give him free movement. He moved down her body and took her breast in both hands, splaying his fingers so that her nipple showed through the triangle-shaped window formed by his thumbs and forefingers. He teased her achingly erect nipple with the tip of his tongue, wagging it back and forth swiftly. Then he squeezed her tit and clamped his mouth on her nipple, sucking hard and grinding it with his tongue. Rogue pursed her lips and cooed, rubbing her pelvis against his belly frantically. Remy suckled her breast for what seemed like forever, she stroked his hair and lightly raked his back with her fingernails.
Remy suddenly disengaged and moved to her side, sitting with his legs folded under him. "Roll over, Chère," he ordered. "An' lose de panties," he added with a grin. Rogue squinted at him quizzically for a moment, then proceeded to do as he asked. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and began to wiggle them down, baring her dark pubic hair and smooth hips a little bit at a time. Remy was watching intently, his eyes glued on her midsection as he licked his lips absent-mindedly. She pushed the panties down her hips and thighs and completely off, tossing them over the bed. Then she rolled onto her stomach and folded her arms, leaning her cheek onto them and gazing at Remy expectantly.
Remy scooted a little closer to her and laid his large, calloused hands on her shoulders and began to gently rub them. Rogue sighed heavily, it felt so good to have his strong fingers kneading her flesh, relaxing the muscles. He continued to massage her back expertly, working his fingers into her shoulder blades, unknotting her upper back. She was drifting away on fluffy white clouds and her breathing was becoming comfortably shallow. He ran a succession of jarring karate chops up and down her spine, loosening the vertebrae. Then he laid his hands on her buttocks and began to stroke and knead them. Rogue knew that there were probably no muscles in the ass that are very active and didn't need massaging, but she wasn't about to complain. Her loins were tingling pleasantly and she could see that Remy's cock was stirring, growing erect very slowly.
She was about to touch it when Remy began to move, wedging one of his knees between her legs. She spread her legs for him and he sat between them and began to massage her ribs. He slowly moved his hands down her body until he was massaging her hips, then he began to stroke both sides of one of her thighs. Rogue was getting so hot, she could feel a puddle of wetness spreading under her as her pussy was getting wetter and wetter. Remy suddenly touched the tender petals of her labia with the tips of his fingers.
Rogue gasped and hiked her ass up a little. He began to stroke her mound with his open hand, his middle finger lingering on her sensitive clitoris, moving in little circles. Rogue rocked with the rhythm of his expert hands and came forcefully before too long. Now she was on her elbows and knees and Remy was kissing and licking her buttocks, she could feel his hot breath in the crack of her ass and on her throbbing pussy. He inserted one of his fingers into her channel and began to tongue the area around the opening while continuing to tease her clitoris with another finger. She came again, yelling and gritting her teeth. She loved the feel of his firm digits and soft, wet tongue probing her pussy, and the feel of his rough stubble, scraping against her thigh where it joined her body.
She was teetering on the edge of another orgasm when Remy stopped. Rogue took the few seconds to catch her breath. She could hear Remy shuffling around back there, then his legs brushed the insides of hers and his hands fell on her hips. Something blunt and firm nudged her between the legs. It took a little while for her to realize that he was waiting for her to signal that it was alright to proceed.
"Yesss..." she exhaled huskily. One of his hands left her hip and she could feel the head of his cock open the soaked lips of her pussy, he pressed it firmly against her entrance and she felt it stretch and close around the plump head. Rogue's entire body trembled and she reflexively contracted the muscles in her cunt, pinching the tip of Remy's cock like a vise. Remy groaned and forced his dick into her tightened channel ever so slowly, edging it in one inch at a time. She savored the delicious feeling of his stiff rod as it drove deeper and deeper inside of her, she flexed and released, urging it forward. There was a little pain, but she bore it as it was almost entirely drowned in wave after wave of pleasure. She climaxed, shuddering violently as her muscle control melted away and she slumped to the bed, her breathing reduced to hiccupping gasps. Remy's hands slipped off her hips and his penis popped out of her.
Rogue blinked. She thought that she must have blacked out for a couple seconds. She was lying on her back now and Remy was lightly slapping her cheek and saying, "Rogue! Chère!"
Her mind unclouded and she looked up at Remy and smiled. With one hand she drew his head down to her and kissed him while grabbing his wet prick roughly with the other, guiding it back to her pussy. She felt his lips pull up into a smile and he kissed her back, re-entering her slippery, expanded cunt easily and sliding in to the hilt. She twined her legs around his and held onto his ass as he began to pump in and out of her, alternating between piston-like pounding and slow, methodical stroking.
Rogue surrendered to the maddening sensation with all of her being. Tilting her head back and closing her eyes, languidly licking her teeth and lips. She writhed slightly under Remy's thrusting, undulating body, lightly tracing cross-hatching patterns all over his back, sides, ass, and hips with the tips of her fingernails. Remy's head was bent downward and his bangs brushed her face, tickling her cheeks and eyelids. He was breathing in short, rapid jets, blowing into her cleavage. His loosely hanging balls, drenched in Rogue's flowing juices, made audible slaps as they smacked in between her ass cheeks, against her anus, with each deep thrust of his cock into her tight channel.Remy kissed her, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and nibbling on it. Then he planted little kisses on her chin and another on her neck. Rogue reached up to place her hand on the base of his skull and pressed his head to her shoulder. She licked him behind the ear, and drawing the lobe into her mouth with her tongue, she began to suck on it. Then she traced the edge of his ear with her tongue, and gently bit into it. Rogue moved her hips in sync with Remy's thrusts, feeling another climax approaching. She gripped him tighter and squealed as she came, thrashing her head from side to side. Remy's pace slowed and his muscles tensed. He buried his cock deep and he came too, drawing in a strangled moan and releasing it in a choking burst, "Nnnnnnnnnnnnn-ghuh! Huh... huh..." he panted, washing Rogue's insides with his cream. His elbows gave out and he lay heavily on top of her for a couple minutes.
Remy rolled off of her, his now flaccid penis slipping out of her contracting vagina. They lay blissfully next to each other, silently staring at the ceiling. Then Rogue got off the bed and pulled up the covers, sliding under them and motioning for Remy to do the same. He sat up and pulled the comforter out from under him and slid under it next to Rogue. She nuzzled up against him, laying her head on his collarbone and cuddling up to him with one leg over his and one hand on his chest. He hugged her with one arm and lolled his cheek on the top of her head, brushing his fingers on her shoulder and fiddling with her curly locks. It was Rogue who broke the silence.
"Remy, ah love you," she whispered, the tips of her fingers moving in circular motions on his chest. Remy hugged her a little tighter and kissed her on the top of her head.
"I love you too, chere."
Rogue smiled faintly. "Remy..." she paused, "Mah real name..."
"Chere," Remy interrupted.
"Shush, Remy," Rogue asserted firmly, "Ah'm ready to tell someone. This is ridiculous, keeping my name from y'all. Like ah'm still an outsider... Ah'm ready to let people get close to me again," she continued, "Mah real name is..."
Suddenly everything swam out of focus, the world was melting into the blackness. Rogue opened her eyes and was startled to see that Remy was not lying next to her. She jerked into a sitting position and frantically glanced about the room. The morning sunshine poured in through her windows, shining through her lacy curtains. Horrible realization began to sink into her and her face wrinkled in despair. She looked over at her alarm clock, which was buzzing and showed 7:00 on the digital face.
"NO!!!" she shouted and flashed out her arm, grabbing the clock and crushing it between her fingers. The clock popped and splintered, throwing off a few sparks and smoking a little. Tears streamed down her face and she dropped the smoldering remains to the floor. Rogue turned face down and muffled her gut-wrenching sobs with her pillow. | 4 |
1,041 | The Release of the Master | "You don't get it, do you, Slayer?" the Master said to the beautiful Buffy. "It is not your blood that will break me free. It's your love juice, Slayer. Why do you think that all slayers throughout history are mostly female."
Buffy was fully conscious of what was going on, but unable to do anything. When she got down into the Master's lair, something came from behind her and grabbed her wrists. She had dropped her crossbow in shock. It was a stupid and un-slayer-like thing to do, but she dropped her weapon.
She still had not figured out what it was that got her, but it had her immobilized and pinned to the wall in the Master's lair. And the speech about her love juice from the Master was not helping either.
"See, Slayer, we are now going to extract that juice that will set me free," the Master continued.
With that, he waved his hands and Buffy could see two blurs flying towards her. They landed on each of her breasts and started clawing at her white gown. They quickly tore through her thin gown and thin laced bras. She gasped. Bats! They were bats clawing at her breasts!
But as soon as they tore through her clothing, they stopped... and started sucking her nipples.
In the meantime, the thing that had her pinned to the wall started to grow. Actually, she just noticed that it had been growing ever since it got her. The thing felt damp as it pressed itself onto her back. Then suddenly, it pulled away from her back. And it took the back part of her gown with it! Because her gown was a one-piece gown, the front part of the gown just fell off! Now she was almost naked! She only had her white cotton panties on; and her clawed bras.
Her nipples were sore now. The bats had continued sucking on them non-stop all during this time. The thing that had her pinned down was back on her bare back. It felt slimy on her back. It was beginning to "overflow" towards the front now. It had seeped between her and her panties now and expanded itself to cover her two firm buttock cheeks now, at the same time pushing her panties away from her.
She felt her legs beginning to part. She could not help it. She was powerless against it. "Yes," the Master muttered. "I can sense your juice flowing now. Soon, I will be FREE!"
She could feel the thing pinning her down sucking on every part of her that touched it. It felt like tiny suckers nipping at her. Her skin was beginning to feel aroused. The thing had now covered past her sides. It had passed her ass and cunt area. It started to encompass her pubic area. It started to tug at her blonde pubic hairs. She tried to bear it. After all, she IS the slayer. It was trying to suck out her pubic hairs! She was highly aroused now from the tiny sucking going on to her clitoris area and anal area. It was heightened by the pain she was feeling on her pubic hair area.
Her breasts were now screaming with pain, too. The thing had started covering her breast area. The bats continued to suck like nothing was happening. The thing was almost onto the bats. Then, suddenly, the bats were gone. The numbness on her nipples increased her sexuality. In a split second, the thing had encompassed her nipples completely, nipping away. She gave out a moan as her nipples hardened like never before.
"Excellent!" the Master proclaimed. "Do you feel your weakness, Slayer? Your weakness is my strength."
It was true. The sensuality weakened her. Her arousal weakened her even more. She no longer stood on her own. The thing was enveloping and supporting her now. She moaned some more. This time, the thing started to engulf the lower part of her face. Her mouth was starting to be filled with the thing. It tasted bitter. But it tasted good. Her mind was starting to go into overload from the sensations of her body.
"Bring her to me, my torturer," the Master echoed. "I shall drink of her love now."
The thing extended itself towards the Master. The thing slowly lowered her where the Master sat at the throne. She suddenly felt the lips to her womanhood extended. She opened her eyes and saw into the Master's eyes. She was being impaled by the Master's penis. She wanted to shout "No!" but her mouth was covered with the thing. She was a virgin and it was not good. Her cunt's lips gave way and she felt the pain as her hymen began to tear. The pain mixed with the pleasure and the sensualism all over her body overtook her as her orgasm hit her. The Master's tool penetrated her as she felt her anal muscles begin to stretch. She gasped when she realized what was happening. There was something else trying to get into her anal passage! As the Master's tool penetrated her deeper, the anal object stretched her anal hole likewise. She wanted to scream, but could not. Her mouth was now filled with the thing. It was beginning to choke her. The muscle pain at her anal passage screamed, too as the invader relentlessly and mercilessly violated her in the most defiled way. Her second orgasm ricocheted through her body and her mind. The cognitive part of her had completely shut down. She was like a puppet doll to be used by the Master now.
The Master's tool and the anal invader sank deeper and deeper into her. It must have been her G-spot because as the Master's tool pulsated faster and deeper, she started to climax faster. She was moaning now; there was no more resistance from her. The Master's tool was now sucking her love juice for his freedom. The anal invader continued to extend into her. It had passed the Master's tool in depth now.
It took almost 30 minutes before the Master had drained all her love juice. She was dead way before the Master was done. The thing finally lifted her off the Master and retracted back. She fell by gravity's pull into the pool where Xander would find her. | 3 |
1,043 | Willow and Cordy | "Do you guys feel hypnotized? Are we supposed to feel hypnotized? Do you think we were hypnotized? 'Cause I don't feel hypnotized," rambled Willow Rosenberg.
Buffy and Xander stopped walking and just stared.
"Willow, the guy was a fraud, although the monkey was kinda cool," stated Xander, "Right, Buff?"
"Definitely," agreed Buffy. "I'm not really one to fall for that 'Ooga wooga, you're under my control' mumbo jumbo. Slaying legions of the undead, yes; Marvo the Marvelous, no."
Xander rolled his eyes. "You couldn't have just said 'Yes, Xander, you're so right?'"
Buffy gave him a look and tried to suppress her laughter.
The trio's hypnosis discussion, or lack thereof, was interrupted when Cordelia approached them.
"Oh look. It's the... the... uh," Xander scrambled to find his words of insult, but Willow spoke before he could finish.
"It's Cordelia."
Xander looked at Willow.
"Yes. It's the Cordelia," he said pointedly.
"Look," began Cordelia as Xander sighed in impatience, "I really need some extra credit for my Psychology grade. Miss Alexander said I could get some if I interviewed this mental-"
"Hypno-mentalist," corrected Willow.
"Exactly why I'm here," continued Cordy, "I was wondering if you could give me a hand with it, since you're so... sciency."
After a brief interlude of Xander's sarcasm, Willow and Cordelia went off to find the hypnotist. An hour later they met up with Buffy and Giles in the library.
"So, the hypno twins are back," announced Buffy, "How'd it go?"
"Boring as could be," uttered Cordelia, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, even I was losing interest," remarked Willow, "He kept going on and on about expressing your true self and there was this ball that met the monkey. His name is Harpo."
Giles tilted his head thoughtfully, "This, um, hypnotist... what was his name?"
"Marvo the Marvelous," chimed the entire group, somewhat surprised with each other.
"Yes, I do recall researching his methods in the past. He uses simple techniques to appear authentic. His personal methods, however, have proven to be quite successful."
Buffy grabbed her bag. "Well, that's great Giles, but I've got a ton of trig to do, so I'm off."
"Yeah, I've gotta book, too," replied Cordy. She turned to Willow, "So, you'll help me write up my paper?"
"Sure. Just let me know when."
"How 'bout tomorrow. After school? My house?"
"Okay."
"Great." Cordelia hurried out of the library.
Xander looked at Willow, "Tomorrow is Friday..."
"Yes, that's the day that comes after Thursday, which is today," Willow stated.
"I know that. But Cordelia always goes to the Bronze on Friday. We go to the Bronze on Friday. Do you see where I'm going with this."
"Maybe she's planning to speed type and then go to the Bronze after. That's what I do." Willow gathered her books and left the library.
"But Cordelia's the social queen. Something's not right." Xander turned to see that Giles had gone into his office, "And I'm talking to myself, like an idiot."
Friday mornings were always hectic at Sunnydale High School. The students were eager to start their weekends, and the teachers were just as anxious to send them on their merry ways so that they too could begin their weekend rituals. Buffy and Xander were discussing the previous evening's events, which involved Buffy and, what else, a vampire. Cordelia turned the corner and began to approach them. Buffy looked at her and did a double-take. Cordelia was dressed in a pair of Levi's and a T-shirt. Xander noticed Buffy looking at something and turned to see Cordelia.
"The queen of fashion dressed like that," Xander commented, "If this is a dream, please, just let me sleep five more minutes."
Behind them, Willow approached from the opposite end of the hall. They both met Buffy, Xander and Giles at the same moment, and seemed to take a minute to look at each other.
Later that day, Cordelia was searching for Willow. School was out and she wanted to get her paper written so she would have time to go to the Bronze. She opened the door to the music room, not sure if Willow was a band geek, but one could never be too thorough. Someone was playing a lilting Tori Amos tune on the piano. Sure enough, it was Willow pounding away on the keys.
"Wow, I didn't know you could play," Cordelia commented, startling Willow.
"Oh! I... uh... don't play much around people... or never around people."
Cordelia slowly walked to the piano bench. "Do you think you could teach me something?"
"Um..." Willow felt funny, but she wasn't sure why, other than feeling completely nervous about the whole situation.
Cordelia sat down next to Willow.
"Well, this here is middle C," Willow pointed to a key. "And you put your hand here," she took Cordy's hand, placing it on middle C. She placed her hand on top of Cordelia's, surprised at the dizzying effect she was getting from the feeling of Cordy's hand under her own.
"What is going on in here!" belted a voice from the doorway.
The girls turned to see Principal Snyder.
"School is over. That means go home!"
Minutes later, they were in Cordelia's car on their way to write the psychology paper. Cordelia pulled into the empty three-car garage of her high-class Sunnydale home.
"Wow. This is beautiful," exclaimed Willow, as they entered the house.
"Yeah, but it gets old after a while. Especially the Golden Swan Fountain," Cordy pointed to a Golden Swan Fountain and giggled. Willow began to giggle, too. Cordelia grabbed her hand, "C'mon, I'll show you my room."
"Are we being too rambunctious-like? Won't your parents get kinda... parenty if we keep being silly?"
"They're off in Rio or somewhere this weekend. Again."
"Oh."
"Here, this is my room," Cordy opened a door to reveal a simple, but nicely decorated room.
"This is nice."
"I like simplicity. It makes life easier, especially when I have to keep up with the popular thing. It's such a drain."
"Then why do you do it?"
"It's just the way I am, I guess. But enough about me."
Willow blinked. Did Cordelia Chase just say "enough about me"?
"Cordelia, are you feeling all right?"
"Never better. I actually feel kinda... free. Ever since yesterday..."
Willow nodded, "Me too."
They stared at each other for a minute. Willow took a step closer to Cordelia. "You don't think that Marvo really..."
"Really what? Surfaced our inner feelings?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know and I don't care. All I know is that I've felt this way for you for a long time..."
"Felt... this way?" Willow leaned forward and kissed Cordelia softly on the lips.
"Forward much?" remarked Cordelia as Willow broke the kiss.
Then Cordelia wrapped her arms around Willow and leaned in for another. This time the kiss was more passionate. Willow slowly slid her tongue into Cordelia's mouth. While their tongues danced in fiery intimacy, Willow's hands moved along Cordelia's body, down to her waist, pulling her closer, then up to her breasts, where she ran her thumbs across Cordy's erect nipples. Cordy broke the kiss, reached down and pulled off her shirt to give Willow better access. Willow smiled, gleefully, and pulled Cordy to the queen-sized bed.
Willow tugged at Cordelia's top. After a short while, they had both successfully removed all of each other's clothing. Willow laid Cordelia down and hovered over her. They kissed again. Willow began to kiss Cordy's neck and shoulders and then moved down to the May Queen's perfect breasts. She kissed them and began to lick one as her hand explored the other. Cordelia's moans of approval persuaded her to continue on this voyage. As her lips continued, her other hand moved down between Cordy's thighs. Willow heard Cordelia's sharp intake of breath and smiled. "You know, Cordy. I could stop now if you want..." Willow teased, playfully. "Don't you DARE!" was Cordy's response. Willow slowly began to stroke Cordelia's inner lips. It was hot and wet inside the realms of the cheerleader's womanhood. Willow slipped in a finger. Cordelia moaned. As she continued this movement, Willow kissed down Cordy's stomach to the patch of coming her to Cordyland. Willow breathed in the sweet scent of Cordelia. She lowered herself into Cordy, her tongue probing deep inside, eagerly tasting the fashion-conscious popularity guru. Cordelia arched her back as Willow replaced her finger with her tongue. She had never felt so good. Not even when she was nominated for Junior Miss Sunnydale. Willow continued to caress Cordy's insides with her tongue, quickening the pace. Cordelia's breath became sharper and faster; she pressed her hips into Willow's face. Willow slid her finger in alongside her tongue, rubbing in alternate motions. "God, Will! Don't - ever - stop!"Cordy's body was white-hot. Her breath was quick and sharp as she convulsed on the bed. Willow felt her tightening around her tongue and finger. She remained there until Cordelia relaxed, then kissed her way up to her mouth and planted a kiss on her lips. They held each other, peaceful, just happy to lie in the arms of each other. Willow smiled slyly, "Betcha never thought I could do that." Cordy smiled back, "You'd be surprised what I've thought about you." "Oh really?" Cordelia just grinned and ran her finger down Willow's chest. "I've had my eye on you for a long time, Willow Rosenberg." She kissed Willow with driving force and then moved down her body, kissing here and there until she reached Willow's wet, throbbing hot spot. She ran her tongue along the outside of Willow's crotch. Willow groaned in approval. Cordelia then thrust her tongue inside, eager to taste what she'd been dreaming about for so long. She lapped at an increasing speed as Willow writhed and spasmed. Willow was already hot from the excitement she had been able to give Cordelia, and it wasn't going to take much more to send her over the edge. She pressed her hips into Cordelia as she began to move her tongue in circles. This was enough for Willow. Her body tightened as she was washed in a wave of hot/cold electricity. Cordelia resumed her place next to Willow. After Willow regained the ability to move again, she snuggled closer to Cordelia and kissed her softly.
That night at the Bronze, Buffy and Xander wondered about Willow and Cordelia.
"Do you think they'll show?" asked Buffy.
"It's not like either of them to miss a night of frolicky fun. Besides, this is Sunnydale, land of the Hellmouth, what else is there to do," Xander remarked.
A voice came from behind them. "Hi, guys! Sorry we're late."
They turned to see Willow, wearing what looked to be a Todd Oldham original. Buffy tilted her head, puzzled. "Where'd you get the cool dress, Willers?"
"Oh, Cordy lent it to me..." Willow replied, matter-of-factly.
Buffy and Xander looked at each other, mouthing "Cordy" questioningly.
Cordelia approached the group with two bottles of Aquafina in hand, and handed one to Willow, "Here you go, love."
Willow took the bottle and set it on the table. "Thanks, but right now," she said, grabbing the other bottle from Cordelia and setting it on the table as well, "I want to dance."
She took Cordelia by the hand and led her out on the dance floor.
Buffy and Xander just stared.
Xander spoke first. "Oh-"
Buffy interrupted. "-my"
"god!" they both finished. | 4 |
1,046 | 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, and 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. He took stock of the situation and then formed 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. It could be anywhere in Gotham City - or for that matter, any city. A small bed, three dressers, a 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 a 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 his 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, having 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 hardwood 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 it was 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's 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 table-bed 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 areola. 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 carry-bag, 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. | 3 |
1,072 | Night Court: Well-Hung Jury | "What's next, Mac?" Judge Harry T. Stone twirled his gavel idly as the two hookers were taken away to the lockup.
"Last one of the night, your Honor," the court clerk said, slipping the folder in front of the judge. "Public indecency."
"I always like to go out with a bang, Mac," the judge said. "OK, Dan, what have we got here? Buns on the run? Or the whole hot dog?"
"More like a cocktail frank from the looks of him," the assistant district attorney said, approaching the bench. Dan Fielding was a tall, dark-haired man with a leer permanently etched on his face.
"The defendant," Fielding began, "is one Peter Little..." His eyebrows soared as he turned to the bedraggled man next to him, whose head came barely to Dan's shoulders. "No, really?"
"Hey, no jokes," the man snarled. "I'm sick of people making fun of my name, picking on me, you know. I'm always getting the short end of the stick."
"I would've thought the short end was what you gave them," Dan said. Judge Stone gaveled him to attention.
"But anyway. Mr. Little exposed his, uh, stick, to a group of Bible Society women in Central Park. They were able to definitely ID him by, ah, shall we say, size."
"Uh-huh," the judge said, leaning over the bench to look down at Little. "So what's his side of it?"
Christine Sullivan, the perky blonde public defender, looked up from her notes. "He was only bird-watching, your honor," she said. "Isn't that right, Dick -- I mean, Peter?"
"Y-yeah, right, I was bird-watching," the man mumbled.
"Yes," Dan interjected, "that's what he told the police, too. And just what kinds of birds was he watching, Christine?"
She looked again at her notes and blushed. "I don't think that's rele..."
"Tits!" Little said, smiling. "I was watching a beautiful pair of tits!"
"A hobby I enjoy myself," Dan smirked, giving Christine a wink.
"I see," the judge said, flipping closed the folder. "Well, Mr. Little, for tonight you'll have to be the birdman of the lockup. Bull, take him away." Harry looked down at Mac, who nodded, before turning back to the courtroom. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a wrap."
As he stepped down from the bench, Harry handed the folder to Mac. "I don't know what it is," he said, stifling a yawn, "but I'm really bushed tonight. I think I'll take a nap in my office before I head home. How about you, Mac?"
"Oh, I've got some paperwork to finish up, and then Quon Lee is picking me up. We're looking for a new couch," the clerk said, hiking up the sleeves of his sweater.
Meanwhile Dan and Christine were at their respective tables, stuffing papers into their briefcases. "Hey, Christine, want to do some bird-watching tonight?" Dan said. "I bet we can find a great pair of ..."
"Dan!" Christine didn't know why she always let herself get so irritated with Dan's remarks. He seemed to get some kicks just out of getting her mad, but try as she might she could never just ignore him. "Just put a sock in it," she snapped at him.
"Oh, but Christine, you'll love my nest..."
She looked up at him, her blue eyes flashing. "You can forget it, Dan. You won't have anything to crow about tonight!" She giggled. "Get it? Crow?"
Dan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Well, see you tomorrow," he said, tucking his briefcase under his arm.
Christine was about to toss the last folder into her own briefcase when she noticed a couple of empty blanks. "Darn!"
"What's wrong, Christine?"
Mac's voice startled her; she hadn't realized anyone else was left in the courtroom. Christine gathered up some of her papers, walked over to his desk and handed them over.
Mac grabbed them with a big, dark hand.
"See those blanks," she implored him. "Those, right. I didn't get the next-of-kin or the address. Do you have those?"
Mac nodded and pulled out the man's folder, transferring the information to Christine's files.
As he worked, Christine sat on the edge of his desk. Her tight beige skirt rode up as she crossed her long, lithe legs. She wiggled one foot encased in a high-heeled pump, impatiently. Then she looked down at Mac and realized she shouldn't be taking her anger out on him. "Thanks a lot, Mac," she said. "I really appreciate this. It's always nice to remember there's one gentleman in the courtroom." She let out an unladylike snort.
"Are you letting Dan get to you?" Mac looked up from his files.
Christine hesitated. She knew she had a tendency to gush out her troubles to anyone who'd listen, and she'd made a resolution to stop. But Mac seemed genuinely concerned.
"Oh, Mac, I don't know why I let him get to me," she said, scooting down off the table and turning to face him. "He just -- just -- oooh, I don't know. He knows how to push my buttons."
As Christine bent over the table to talk, she exposed the deep, sensuous cleft of her well-developed chest. She did it unthinkingly. For all Dan's lecherous advances, Christine still thought of herself as the mousy girl she was in high school, before puberty. She was quite unaware of her own lush sexuality, a naivete that made her all the more attractive.
So it was with her breasts looming in Mac's face that she told him how angry Dan made her, how frustrated she was by having to work next to him night after night.
And when she hooked a leg over the table while she went on, she exposed a perfect thigh -- smooth, tanned, exquisitely shaped. And yet she did it without intent.
But as Mac talked to her, counseling her, urging her not to take Dan seriously, she became aware of her attraction to him. Mac was a big, strapping hunk of a man, with a broad chest and well-muscled brown arms. Without quite knowing why, Christine began to wonder what it would be like to have a man like Mac as her lover.
He was gentle, kind, polite -- all that she knew from working with him. But was he also as strong as he looked? Was he as big -- all over?
"So, Christine, you have to stop letting him get to you," Mac was concluding. "He's not going to change. And when you try to argue with him, it just encourages him." He looked Christine straight in the eyes. With a flush, she realized she was getting wet -- down there.
Embarrassed by her reaction, Christine snatched up the papers. "Thanks, Mac, I've..."
As she turned to go, her fumbling fingers dropped one of the sheets. She stooped to pick it up at the same time Mac got out of his chair to retrieve it. Their hands touched, his arm brushing against her breast.
They froze for a moment.
"Here -- uh," Mac burbled as he clutched the paper, still half bent over.
"I've got it, I --" Christine faltered.
They both rose, standing with their faces only inches apart, Mac's dark visage bent to Christine's pale skin.
It seemed the most natural thing for Christine to put her arms around his shoulders and lift her lips to his. Their mouths touched, tentatively at first. Then hungrily, Mac's arms enfolding Christine's petite body and pressing it to him. She felt his probing tongue and met it with her own.
They kissed -- it seemed like forever to her. And then they moved apart. Mac looked away, then down at his feet. Christine didn't know what to say. She felt a little wobbly. Her panties were soaked with secretions.
"Christine, I..." Mac began. And then she knew what to do. Christine moved toward him, her arms curving around his waist. Their lips met again, pressing together, mouths open, devouring each other.
Mac's fingers moved to her silken blouse, fumbling at the buttons until they popped loose. Christine shrugged off the sleeves and unhooked her bra, letting it slip down and expose the massive mounds capped with rosy circles and stiffening little buds.
Mac took each in one of his large hands, palming them, rubbing the sensitive nipples.
Christine tugged his sweater and shirt out of his waistband and caressed his flat stomach.
They kissed again, greedily, so hard that flashing lights danced before Christine's closed eyes.
And then Mac tore off his shirt and sweater and knelt before her. Gently he unzipped her skirt and tugged it down, then her pantyhose and panties. He put his face between her pale thighs and approached her musky slit.
Christine held her breath as he approached. Mac kissed the insides of her thighs, the small bush of yellow hair, licked at the outer lips. She was going crazy. No man had ever been willing to do this to her. What would -- Oh God! Now he separated her labia with his fingers and slipped his hot tongue inside. Fluids gushed out of her as Christine shivered and shook to an instant orgasm. But Mac continued, teasing her opening, tickling her clit, driving her to new heights.
It became too much. As she felt herself toppling to another orgasm she pushed him away.
"I want you," she told him, her voice deep and husky with lust.The thought of his cock inside her was all she could focus on. She envisioned it large, but even so when it sprang free as Mac peeled off his slacks, she gasped. It was huge! Eight inches of thick, dark rod, with a fat bulbous head leering at her with its single eye. She spread her legs far apart and lay back on the desk, shoving all the papers to the floor.
"Put it in me, Mac," she begged, writhing beneath him, caressing her own breasts.
"Here it comes," he said in his quiet voice. She felt the head at her entrance and looked up. It was too big, she thought, too big -- but then it was in her! And she felt her walls giving way as Mac's massive shaft split her wide open.
It was a feeling unlike any before. Never had she felt so filled, so sated. Mac fed his snake into her deeper, deeper. He lifted her legs, holding them high. And then it was all the way in. Christine shrieked with delight.
But the best was yet to come. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly he moved his cock out of her, and then in. The tantalizing rhythm kept her close to the edge but not over it. Emotions flooded her brain. Her entire body seemed aboil.
"Fuck me, Mac!" Christine shouted, not knowing where the words came from. "Fuck me with that big, black cock! Oh, YES!"
Mac obliged, beginning to drive his rod into her faster, and then still faster. Christine's body jerked and swayed under the impacts, her breasts bobbing up and back as she slid on the now sweat-slickened desk.
"Take it all, Christine," Mac urged her. "Let me feel it all in you, girl."
"Yes, yes!" Christine felt a hot blast starting in her cunt and spreading to every cell. "I'm cumming again," she shouted, stunned by her body's reaction. "Oh, God, Mac, Oh, YYESSSSSS!"
The orgasm took control, sending tremors to every muscle.
And then Mac took two or three long, deep strokes. "I'm gonna cum, Christine," he moaned. "I'm gonna CCCUUMMMMMMM!"
She felt his hot jism blast into her as the thrashing waves of her own orgasm receded.
Christine opened her eyes and looked deep into Mac's. What she saw there made her mind reel. His thoughts were unmistakable.
Without a word, Christine slid off the desk and embraced the tall black man again, kissing him deeply. They held each other close. And then she kissed her way down his chest until she was kneeling before his sagging, shriveled cock. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. Opening her mouth, she bent and took him into her.
Lost in their passion, Mac and Christine didn't hear the door to the courtroom open behind Mac's desk, and they didn't see Mac's wife, Quon Lee, take a step inside. Nor did they see the look of shock on her face give way quickly to horror and then a fierce anger.
The short Asian woman shuddered with rage. She was jealous at even trivial things; this made her so mad that her fists clenched into tiny balls, her nails digging red welts in her palms. Her lips tightened to a thin, pale line. Her teeth gritted together. She wanted to kill them, to hit them, to stab them, to destroy them. She wanted to erase this scene from the face of the Earth.
In a small corner of her mind, a shred of humanity hung on, horrified by the vivid red anger flashing in the rest of her brain. It pulled her back, back into the corridor. Somehow she managed to close the door softly as she edged away.
Her mind was still whirling as she stepped back into the middle of the long hall, not quite sure where she was. She stared around blindly until her eyes fastened on a nameplate, the one announcing the office of Judge Harry T. Stone.
Quon Lee took several deep breaths. The sight of Judge Harry's office had somehow brought her back to reality. She felt a bit more in control.
And then, through the heavy wooden door of the courtroom, she heard Mac, her husband, shouting out Christine's name and calling on her to suck his dick.
Feeling the anger stir within her again, Quon Lee forced herself to run into the judge's office.
The lights were still on; that surprised her a bit. Then she saw the judge lying down on the couch, just a few feet from the door. Her mind grabbed at the hope that he would talk to her, calm her down, somehow convince her that what she saw wasn't really happening -- or, at least, keep her from killing the only man she'd ever loved. At least that.
Quon Lee took a few steps toward him and noticed that the judge's eyes were closed.
"Judge Harry?" she called softly. "Judge?"
He didn't stir.
The judge -- tall, sandy-haired, dressed now just in a shirt, jeans and sneakers -- was sound asleep, Quon Lee realized. She tip-toed up to him, just to make sure.
"Harry?"
Not a peep.
For a second she was crushed. No one to talk to! No one to tell her troubles to! Now what would she do?
Unbidden, the picture came to her mind again of Christine Sullivan, that beautiful naked white woman, deep-throating her husband's big black dick.
But this time, while it made her angry, it also made her hot. Quon Lee thought of Mac's monster, his big eight inches cleaving her tight cunt, driving into her ...
And all the while she was looking down at Judge Stone.
Tentatively, hesitantly, Quon Lee reached down with one well-manicured finger and touched his chest. Still no movement. With her nail she traced down his chest to the snap at the waistband of his jeans.
She glanced up at his face to be sure. Nothing. Her eyes focused again on his crotch, Quon Lee undid the snap and slowly slid open the zipper.
She paused then. She knew she was going to fuck the judge, to show her husband two could play at that game, and to slake her rising lust. But for a brief moment she thought about backing away. But then what? Mac was probably still getting a blow-job from Christine. Could she just wait patiently in the hallway until he was done? No, she could not.
Could she go home? Pretend she had forgotten to pick him up? Pretend this night never happened? No, the image burned into her mind was too sharp.
And the other alternatives ... no. No, the only way she could live with Mac after this -- the only way she could live with herself -- was to do this, now, to make it tit for tat and then move on.
Quon Lee stepped back from the couch and undid the buttons down the front of her pink, flowered dress. It slid to the floor and she stepped out, kicking off her shoes.
She had a small, almost boyish figure, with small breasts and hips only slightly wider than her waist. As she pulled off her bra and panties, she pictured Christine's lush body, the huge, heaving breasts, the wide ass. Was that what Mac really wanted? Was that what he dreamed about when he was fucking her?
She squeezed her arms together and looked down. Even then, her breasts were only small bulges. Quon Lee sighed.
But the fire in her loins was unabated. She bent down and carefully parted the judge's pants at the zipper. Slowly, with just her fingertips, she caressed his small cock through the thin material of his briefs, checking again and again that he was still asleep. Patiently she drew forth his manhood until it was, at last, bulging hard, its tip beginning to poke out underneath the elastic of the waistband.
While she stroked the judge's cock, Quon Lee's other hand caressed her own sex, until it was hot and wet and ready. She raised her hand to her face and sniffed, intoxicated with the scent of her own liquor.
For one last moment she looked down at Judge Harry. Then, in a rush of decision, the small Asian woman yanked down his pants and briefs. Instantly his cock sprung free. At six or seven inches, it was neither as long nor as large as Mac's, but it would have to do. Without hesitation Quon Lee stepped onto the couch, swung a leg over the judge's body and squatted down. In an instant she grasped his cock, raised it to her tunnel and drove it in.
She was so fast that Harry was still blinking his eyes when his rod entered her.
"Quon Lee! Quon Lee?" He tried to rise, but with her sitting on his waist he was pinned to the couch. "Quon Lee, what are you doing?"
"I fucking you, Judge Harry," she said, simply. "Mac fuck Christine, so I fuck you. Fair is fair." Already she was riding him, her tight, slick cunt sliding up and down his rock-hard pole.
"But, Quon Lee, I -- Mac fucking Christine? Really?"
"Really, Harry. I saw. In the courtroom."
"Christine? Are you sure?" But even as he asked, Harry was beginning to respond to her motion, bucking his hips up to piston his cock into her.
In reply, Quon Lee only speeded up her rhythm. Harry couldn't quite fill her like Mac, but she took advantage of his more convenient fit to show him a few tricks she couldn't do with her husband, slipping his rod from side to side within her.
Harry's hands lifted to her chest and rubbed her small breasts. A familiar electric thrill went through her.
"You like my tits?" she asked, mischievously.
Harry managed to answer in between groans. "Yes, yes, oh, God, Quon Lee!"
"You like to fuck me, I think," she said, grinding her cunt to the base of his cock. "I like to fuck you, Judge Harry. I like -- Oh! OH! OHHHHHHHH!"
A wild shiver turned her body to Jell-O and then returned, and again. It was an orgasm like never before, and when it was over she sank back down onto the judge's cock and let herself fall onto his chest, her breath coming in heaving gasps.
But in just a minute or two she felt his cock prodding her again. She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. She saw the lust there, and it stirred her own.Slowly at first, savoring the pleasure of every inch, she took him in, let him out. Quon Lee rose again to a sitting position, feeling the fluids pour out of her and cover his crotch. Harry drove his cock up, again, again, again! What he lacked in size, she discovered to her delight, he more than made up for in stamina. Her pussy quivered and shook with his assault, and another orgasm left her breathless and unable to support herself.
Still, Harry was rock-hard within her. Quon Lee slid off him and crawled onto her knees at the end of the couch, presenting her ass to him as she slathered the puckered brown hole with her own juices.
Harry entered her surely, sending his pole up her ass as his fingers sought out her sopping wet cunt.
"Damn, Quon Lee," he gasped, "it's even tighter than your cunt! Does it hurt?"
"No, Harry, no," she groaned. "Fuck it! Fuck me in the ass!"
He did, curling his long body over hers as he plunged into her asshole. At last, he began to moan, louder and louder, and Quon Lee could feel him growing thicker, pushing her asshole to the limit.
And then a hot burst inside her as he bellowed out, and they collapsed onto the sweat-soaked cushions.
Quon Lee started when she heard the sound of applause. She looked up. Mac and Christine were standing just inside the door.
As she looked into her husband's eyes, she hated him no longer. | 4 |
1,080 | NEWHART: The Made Maid | "Stephanie, I never said you weren't pretty. I just said that some men prefer, well, different types of women." Joanna grunted as she lifted a sack of potatoes from the car. "You can't expect every man to drool over you."
Stephanie continued to sort through the brown grocery bags, searching for the one with lightest load. "And why not, Joanna? You don't really expect me to believe those boys were looking at you in THAT way, do you?"
Joanna, a tall, slim woman of about 40, pushed a wisp of hair away from her face with the back of her hand as she leaned against the door of the inn she and her husband ran. As usual, she wore simple clothes -- a bright wool sweater and a pair of brown slacks. The clothes weren't sexy themselves, but the way Joanna filled them out gave them a special appeal. The horizontally striped pattern of the sweater accented the swell of her large breasts, and the curve of the slacks hinted at the long legs and tight ass beneath them.
She paused a few moments to get her breath back -- she had made 10 trips back and forth from the car to Stephanie's one -- before turning to the young maid. The irritation in her voice was barely veiled. "Stephanie, why can't you admit that those boys were whistling at me? They were looking right at me. It's not the first time that's ever happened to me, you know."
Stephanie faced Joanna, hands on hips. She was shorter and clearly much younger, with a pert, expertly made-up face and a halo of blond hair. The short, cream skirt she wore showed off her perfectly shaped legs, and it was clear from the outline of her white blouse that she was in excellent shape, although her breasts were certainly not as large as the older woman's. Her coral-pink lips were drawn into a pout as she spoke. "I'm sure," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The bag boys probably want you to have their babies all the time. But I still say the ones who whistled were aiming at me. They must have just been looking at you to figure out if -- oh, I don't know, to figure out if you were my mom or something. Let's face it, Joanna, you're no spring chicken."
With an exaggerated sigh, Joanna pushed past the younger girl and picked another bag from the trunk. "Let's just forget it, Stephanie."
The maid fished a bag out of the back seat; it contained only potato chips and a loaf of white bread. She trailed Joanna to the back door, waiting while the other woman put down her load of canned goods and opened the screen door.
A few minutes later, when they were both busy putting stuff away, Stephanie started up the argument again. "I just think it's time you faced the facts, Joanna," she said. "A girl like me -- beautiful, slim, young, rich -- I can get any man I want. They would be lined up 12 deep at my bedroom door if I didn't make it clear I wasn't interested. Why, you know, that's probably why those boys weren't looking at me! They saw that I was too good for them, so they were afraid to look me in the eye when they whistled." She nodded her head to punctuate the thought.
Joanna stretched to put some beans on a top shelf. Over her shoulder, she said, "You can believe what you want, Stephanie. But we both know that a lot of men like a woman with more, well, more development. I've had my share of wolf whistles. With this chest, I have to expect it."
She gathered up several boxes of cereal -- pointedly holding them in a basket of her arms, presenting her breasts as if on a platter. "And let's face it, Stephanie. You're young and pretty, but you just don't have the shape that a lot of men want."
The young maid's eyes blazed, but she didn't say a word. Turning abruptly on her heel, she stomped out of the kitchen. Joanna called after her to no avail; with a sigh, she finished putting away the groceries herself.
Dick Loudon was typing away in his den, writing another epic of home improvement, when he heard a soft tap at the door. Before he could call out, Stephanie slipped inside and shut the door behind her with a click.
He looked his question at her over the tops of his half-frame glasses. Stephanie batted her long eyelashes. "Now, Dick, I know you're busy with that writing thing you do, so you just go right ahead. Hee-hee -- that was a joke, wasn't it? Go "write" ahead? Get it?"
Dick glared at her. He was a very ordinary man, with thinning grayish hair, an unexceptional body and the perpetual look that said he wasn't sure what was going on but whatever it was he wanted nothing to do with it. His angry looks could be distinguished from his happy ones mostly by counting the number of wrinkles in his forehead.
"Stephanie," he said patiently, "I'm in the middle of a chapter here. The grout has just been applied and I have to tell them what to do next or it'll set and there'll be hell to pay. Can this wait until later?"
From behind her back, Stephanie flourished a feather duster. "Just doing some cleaning," she said. "Forget I'm even here."
With that she set to work. That in itself was enough to make Dick suspicious, but she seemed to be serious about it. He went back to his typewriter.
From time to time, in between paragraphs, he looked up to see the maid busily going about her job. Once he saw her reaching high to dust some of the books on a top shelf. As she reached, the hem of her skirt lifted and Dick admired the long, shapely line of her legs; with her standing on tiptoe, the sexy curve of her ankle was emphasized. Another time she reached down to a bottom shelf and Dick looked up just in time to see a very sexy ass waving in his face. He felt a stirring in his crotch that he ignored.
The next time he looked up she was nowhere in sight. But for a faint swishing sound behind him, he would have thought Stephanie had left the room. Without another thought for her, Dick went on typing.
In a few minutes he became aware of a faint floral smell, a scent he knew from long familiarity was Stephanie's perfume -- a personal blend she had a shop in Paris make up for her, she'd said once. Alerted to her presence, he wasn't startled when she began speaking.
"There," she said, "just about finished. And I didn't interrupt your typing, did I?"
Dick shook his head, keeping his eyes on the page as he tapped out the end of a sentence.
As he poked a finger at the period key, he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulders.
"Ooooh, you look very tense," Stephanie cooed. "How about a nice neck massage?"
Without turning to look at her, Dick frowned. "What is it, Stephanie?"
"What's what, Dick?"
"What are you asking for?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Stephanie, you haven't dusted this room in six weeks. And you've never given me a neck massage. C-c-c-come to think of it, no one's ever given me -- a little more to the left. That's it."
Her probing fingers erased the concern from his mind and Dick closed his eyes and sagged back against the chair. She was very good at his, he noticed; he could feel the tension draining out of him as she rubbed away at his neck and shoulders.
"There's a little teensy-weensy knot right here," Stephanie said, rubbing hard at a spot just below his right shoulder blade. "I think I need to get a little closer to it. Do you mind?" As she spoke, her hands slipped around Dick's sides and she unbuttoned his shirt. He leaned forward a bit to help her pull it down, and then settled back again as she went to work on the trouble spot. Her hands felt warm on his flesh as she kneaded away.
"Th-th-that's perfect," Dick sighed. Stephanie then began scratching his back with her long nails. Little shivers of delight rolled like waves through his body. He was so lost in pleasure that he didn't really notice when her hands strayed from his back and began tracing a path across his stomach, down to his belt buckle. It was only when Stephanie undid the buckle, simultaneously slipping a hot, wet tongue into his ear, that Dick came to with a start.
"St-st-stephanie, wh-wh-what are you doing?" She had undone his pants and slid down the zipper before he could get a grip on the desk's edge and spin himself around. When he had spun halfway around, his feet slammed into the floor, stopping the twist abruptly.
Stephanie stood before him almost completely naked, clad only in a lacy white garter belt, sheer white hose and her shiny high heels. Her perky young breasts stood out firm and erect, with the dainty aureoles capped by perfect nipples. Her lips were parted slightly, forming a pout that seemed much sexier than Dick had ever noticed it being before.
Before he could say another word, she stepped toward him. "Touch me, Dick," she commanded in a husky whisper. "I want you. I want you now."
"You want m-m-m-m-m-me?"
"You know I do," she said, and pointed at his crotch. "And you want me, too." He couldn't deny it.His boxers were tented high as his stiff cock strained at the restriction. Dick licked his lips and stared. She seemed too good to be true, all that lush young flesh. It was like a dream.
He didn't know what to do first, but Stephanie took his hands in hers and brought them to her breasts.
"Do you like my breasts, Dick? Are they big enough for you? They're not too small, are they?"
"No! They're -- they're perfect." He squeezed them, thrilling to their firmness. She had the tits of a teenager, and it had been a long time -- well, actually, he'd never felt a teenager's tits.
As he groped, Stephanie tugged his shorts down, freeing his cock to wave in the air like a fat flagpole. At her touch he shied away, but she gently placed both hands around his shaft. Her touch was warm and soft; her hands had obviously never done hard labor. Dick felt a few drops of pre-cum ooze out the tip as she caressed his rod.
"That's a very nice cock you have, Dick," Stephanie whispered. "I like men with nice, big, hard cocks. Do you know what I like to do when I get one? Do you?"
"N-n-no," he stammered out, his eyes still fastened to her chest.
"Ooooh, I like to touch it, like this. I like to rub my hands up and down and feel that nice, hard cock rubbing against my fingers. And do you know what else I like to do?"
He could only shake his head.
"I like to lick that long, stiff cock all over with my hot tongue. And then I like to put that cock in my mouth and suck on it, up and down, until it spurts out cum all over my face."
As she talked, Stephanie continued to rub his cock. Dick's hands had fallen back and his eyes were closed as he felt nothing but the sensation of her fingers on his shaft.
"Would you like me to do that, Dick? Would you like me to put that hard cock of yours in my little mouth? Would you ..."
"Yes!" He couldn't get the words out fast enough. "Yes, yes, oh God, yes!"
Stephanie knelt down before him and gently pressed his legs apart. She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock before opening her lips and taking him into her mouth. Her lips closed around the shaft, gripping it tightly, while her fingers circled the base and continued to pump. The combination of the sight of her beautiful naked body and the feel of her hot lips on his shaft didn't take long to get to Dick and within minutes he was moaning as white jets of cum shot out of his cock. True to her word, Stephanie swallowed them all, even licking the head of his rod to get the last few drops.
Dick felt drained, and he sagged back in his chair. But Stephanie appeared perky as ever, rising to her feet only to plop herself down onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a long, deep kiss on his lips. An orgasm usually left him feeling sleepy, but her kiss quickly revived him. He slipped one arm around her slim waist, letting the other hand fall to her silky bush. She wriggled in delight as his fingers tickled their way to her slit, already moist with secretions.
Stephanie's obvious delight in his actions made Dick feel like a kid again -- like the lover he never was. Tenderly, then with more and more passion, he drove his fingers into her slit as her pussy juices coated them. All the while they kissed and suckled each other.
"Oh, Dick, that's so good," she whispered in his ear. "Oh, god, do you know what else I want to do now?"
Dick had to take a deep breath before he could answer. "Wh-what would that be?"
"I want to fuck you," she said simply, and the words sent a jolt through him even more than when her lips had first closed on his cock.
"B-b-but I-I-I..." He paused and started again. "I can't d-do it so soon..."
"Yes you can," she giggled. To his surprise, Dick realized it was true; he could feel his cock beginning to swell anew.
"And I really want to fuck you, Dick. I want that hard cock inside my pussy. I want to ride it so hard! And you're going to make me cum, Dick. I can feel it. You're going to make me cum so hard! Won't that be fun!"
With one last long, deep kiss, Stephanie twisted around so that her back was against Dick's chest and his cock was poking up between her legs. She had to stroke it only a little while before it was once again stiff. With Dick holding her tightly around the waist, she lifted herself up and scooched forward, putting her soaking wet pussy lips directly above his shaft. In one long, slow, fluid movement she lowered herself and buried his cock in her up to the hilt. Dick pressed his mouth to her neck to muffle his scream of ecstasy as he felt her tight cunt walls enfold his rod.
"Ooooh, it's as good as I thought it would be," Stephanie cooed, while she wiggled around on the stiff cock. She began to pump away at it, bathing it in her secretions, squeezing it with her pussy lips. Guttural grunts escaped Dick's lips as his hands reached up to squeeze her pert breasts.
Stephanie bent her head around to plant a wet kiss on his face. "Do you like this, Dick? Am I doing OK?"
"Perfect," he managed to get out. "Perfect. Just -- perfect."
It was almost too much effort to speak, now; he wanted to concentrate only the incredible sensations. Stephanie's body felt as light as a feather on his lap, but her cunt's attack on his cock was strong and determined. He had never imagined their stuck-up maid could be such a sexual being. She was a goddess and he was worshiping eagerly at the temple of her body, driving his cock into her as a sacrifice to her beauty. Or at least that was one of the mental images flooding his lust-crazed mind as they continued to rut away with abandon, the desk chair squeaking beneath them.
"You're doing it, Dick," Stephanie said with a gasp. "Oh, god, you really are! You're going to make me cum! I can feel it! I can feel it! I can aaaaaaauuuuggghhhh!"
Stephanie's flailing orgasm brought on his own, and another surge of cum shot out of his cock, this time filling the girl's hot pussy and oozing out the sides to mingle with her own gush of fluids, pouring down his cock and onto the seat. With his last reserves of strength Dick drove his faltering cock into her cunt once, twice, a third time, squeezing the last bit of jism from it before his rod shriveled and his muscles gave out.
Just a few seconds later Stephanie rose off of him and briskly slipped her clothes back onto her sweaty body. Dick sat in a rapidly cooling puddle of their fluids, too exhausted to move.
"We-we-we've got to clean this up," he called out weakly as Stephanie moved toward the door. "What if Joanna ..."
"Sorry, Dick, it's my lunch hour now," the young girl said saucily, closing the door behind her.On her way to the door Stephanie intercepted Dick climbing up from the basement. "Come on," Stephanie said, slipping a hand around his back. "You can drive me into town."
"Oh, but I have to ..."
"Don't worry, Joanna won't mind! Will you, Joanna?" Stephanie smirked toward the desk, where the older woman was standing stock still, her mouth half open. "See? Joanna doesn't mind. Oh, and say, Joanna, if Michael calls, be a love and tell him I'll be back in a couple of hours, won't you?"
The door slammed behind her just as Joanna thought of the perfect comeback. She almost spat it out anyway, but the phone's insistent ring interrupted her train of thought.
"Stratford Inn, how may -- oh, hello, Michael. Yes, Stephanie said to tell you ..." She paused briefly and glanced at the door to Dick's den. "Ah, that is, Stephanie said to tell you to come right over. Don't waste any time, she said. That's right. Well, we'll see you soon, Michael."
For the next several minutes, Joanna busied herself around the inn, shifting things back and forth, tidying up here and there. She placed a few quilts on the floor in front of the fireplace and started a roaring fire. She was just getting to her feet and wiping a smudge or two of ash off her hands when the front door swung open. She rushed through the door to the lobby.
"Hi-ho, Jojo! Where's my little snugglepuss?" Michael was a young, impeccably dressed man with the air of a small boy playing dress-up.
Joanna composed her face into a look of chagrin. "Oh, Michael, I'm sorry, Stephanie had to go to town. She won't be back for at least an hour."
Michael's face fell. "But, Jojo, she asked me to come right over. I had to leave just as the Professor was setting up his radio. Now I'll never know if Gilligan got off the island!"
In her mind, Joanna grimaced. Michael was such a little boy. But a woman's got to do what a woman's got to do. She advanced on him, cooing her apology. Michael seemed near tears. Joanna put a hand around his shoulder and led him into the dining room.
"I'm sure Stephanie just forgot all about you," she said, turning her face so he couldn't see her smirk. "You know how she is. I wouldn't let it get you down, Michael."
"But, Joanna, she SAID she'd meet me!"
Joanna turned toward him again. Her hand applied gentle pressure, bending his head down onto her ample chest. "There, there, Michael. Don't worry."
The fire cast a warm glow on them as she nudged him toward the quilts spread on the floor. Michael was clutching her around the waist, shuffling his feet along with her. As they came to a halt, Joanna released her pressure on his head and spoke. "Michael, I..." He picked his head up to look at her. She quivered her lips as she gazed deeply into his red-rimmed eyes. "I..." Joanna pressed her lips to Michael's. At first it was a gentle kiss. Then she pressed harder, opening her mouth and forcing her tongue into his. Michael seemed paralyzed at first, but soon he responded, holding her closer, returning her smothering kiss.
When they broke their embrace, Joanna was feeling a bit flushed in spite of herself, but Michael looked completely flustered.
"Holy Mrs. Robinson, Joanna," he sputtered. "If my little love-bug had caught us -- or the Dickster!"
Joanna's voice was soft and low. "They're in town, Michael, and they're not coming back for a long time. No one's going to catch us. We can do whatever we want. So what do you want to do, Michael?"
He babbled in reply.
Joanna took the bottom of her sweater in both hands and pulled it over her head in one fluid move. As she tossed it aside, her large breasts cradled in a silky white bra jiggled slightly.
"Do you want to touch my breasts, Michael? They're not too big, are they?" She reached behind and undid the clasp. As the bra fell away, the tits sagged slightly but still stood out, with large dark aureoles capped by thick, erect nipples. Joanna was a bit surprised by her own horniness.
"Wow!" Michael reached out a hand, tentatively. It tremored as it neared her flesh. "Mega-bongos, Joanna. I've never, uh, had anything like those."
"But don't you prefer smaller breasts? Aren't mine a bit, well, much?"
"Negatory, Jojo. They're perfect! Who'd want some skimpy chick when they could have a shelf like yours!" His hand brushed against her breast. Joanna held her breath, hoping her plan worked. Michael rubbed the back of his fingers lightly against her skin for a few seconds, but soon both his hands were groping her large tits. Before long he had bent to take them into his mouth, one by one, licking and suckling like a baby. Joanna flung back her head, closed her eyes and reveled in his passion. The young man's slightly clumsy moves made her feel a little like a cradle robber, but that wasn't all bad; it felt curiously sexy to be seducing somewhat who wasn't much more than a boy. She could feel her crotch beginning to warm and moisten, and she made a slight change in her plans.
While Michael was occupied with her breasts, Joanna quietly slipped her slacks and panties to the floor and kicked off her low-heeled shoes. When she pushed the young man away from her chest, he let out a loud gasp as he saw her naked body.
"You're as pretty as a centerfold," he managed to get out. "Where have you been hiding that sexy body, Joanna?"
"Oh, Michael," Joanna said, smiling to herself, "do you really like it? It's not quite what you're used to..."
"Not by a mile, Jojo! It's way better. It's like -- like -- like the difference between day-old Ripple and four-year-old Chardonnay. You're prime vintage. Wow!"
Joanna pressed her arms to her side in a little private hug. This was working out even better than she'd hoped. Her hands traced paths across her flat stomach to the auburn patch of hair between her legs; she saw Michael's eyes following them.
"Aren't you a little overdressed?" She saw his eyes bounced back and forth between her crotch and her face several times.
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, I guess," Michael said, blushing. He tossed aside his designer wear with far more abandon than Joanna had ever seen him treat his clothes. He really is hot for me, she told herself.
Michael was, as she feared, a bit scrawny. But, she saw with approval, at least one part of him was well-developed. His cock was already stiff and stood out at least seven inches. Joanna licked her lips and almost dove on it, but held herself back. She was in the driver's seat, and she was determined not to give it up.
She spread her legs apart and brushed her fingers through her bush and down to her pussy lips, already well-lubricated. As she dipped a finger into her slit, she looked back up at Michael and saw his mouth half-open. She smiled.
"Looks good, doesn't it? Wouldn't you like a closer look?"
Michael knelt down, his face just inches from the musky cunt.
"I'm really, really hot and wet, Michael. My cunt is just aching for someone to put his fingers in me. And his tongue. Do you think..."
Before she could finish the sentence, the young man pressed two fingers into her slit as Joanna withdrew her own. Further talk was unnecessary as he pushed his fingers deeper into her cunt and her juices flowed lavishly. Joanna caressed her tits, sighing deeply as she felt her pussy respond to Michael's movements. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps when he bent forward and put his mouth to her hole. It had been so long! He was not an expert, but she gently corrected him, holding his head away when he became too rough, pressing him to her when he faltered. She felt as if her whole body was on fire while he suckled her, his probing tongue slipping between her folds and lapping at her cunt. When his thumb found her clit, the feeling was almost too much to take, and within a minute or two she dissolved into a wild orgasm.
When she could speak again, Joanna got to her knees and told Michael to lie down on the quilts. His cock was standing straight up as she crawled over to it and straddled him. She grabbed hold of his shaft and rubbed the tip against her pussy lips, keeping them just out of reach of his frantic bucking. "Not so fast, Michael," she cooed. "You're going to get it, but ..."
"Gee whillickers, Joanna, I need you! I'm into total sex craze! I..."
"Michael," she said softly.
He ignored the interruption. "I need that totally awesome cunt on me! You're like total goddessville, Joanna! You..."
"Michael!"
"You turn my insides on like a Pop-Tart in a toaster! You..."
"Michael, dear," she said in a flat tone. "Shut up."
He stopped short. As a reward, Joanna sank down onto his eager cock, taking it deep into her sopping wet cunt. She saw sparks fly and wasn't sure if they were really coming out of the fire or just in her mind. Michael's fat cock was big enough to fill her up; she'd thought no man could do that. On each downstroke she ground her pussy against his groin, thrilling to the feel of his balls slapping against her flesh. More than she had in years, Joanna felt like a sexual being. It was if she'd awakened from a long, deep sleep. She cast aside the last vestiges of her normal demureness as Michael's cock drove in and out of her.
"Fuck me," she commanded him. "That's it, slam your cock into me, Michael. Don't hold back! Don't hold anything back. I can take anything you can give me. Drive that big, hard cock into me up to the hilt!"
"Joanna," Michael started to say, but she silenced him with a finger to her lips.
"Don't talk, you fucking stud," she said. "God damn, this is good. Just fuck my cunt and squeeze my tits. That's all men are good for, anyway. Come on, Michael. Fuck me!"In her own mind, Joanna knew she was putting on an act, at least in part. She had guessed -- oh, how correctly -- that Michael would respond to a harsh mistress. But she also was getting a kick out of ordering him around and talking dirty.
As they continued to rut wildly, she tried out every dirty word she knew and a few she made up on the spot. Each time she'd throw one out Michael seemed to add an extra oomph to his humping, until she had to grab hold of his waist to keep from being tossed off. Her tits were bouncing up and down, slapping her chest with each powerful thrust of his hard cock.
Just when she began to feel a glow inside, she sensed that Michael too was nearing the edge. She forced him to slow down the pace, taking long, slow rides up and down his cock, until the first small tremor shook her sweaty body. Michael took the cue and drove his cock into her roughly, once, twice, and then a third time deep into her cunt. With a loud groan he let loose a torrent of cum as her own orgasm hit full force.
By the time she had ridden out the last wave of passion the logs in the fireplace had burned down to a few glowing embers. She stared at them for a few seconds before her mind snapped into the present.
Without hesitation, she rose off of Michael's flagging shaft and gathered up her clothes. The young man, still on the floor, grabbed at her ankle.
"Another round, Jojo?"
Joanna glanced out the window. "Isn't that our car? Oh, look, yes, there's Stephanie and Dick coming down the road."
Michael leaped to his feet and snatched up his slacks, hopping into them one-legged while Joanna giggled.
"Better hurry up, Michael," she teased him. "Wouldn't want your snugglepuss to know you've been snuggling some other pussy!"
"I, uh, I," he struggled to say as he zipped up his slacks and shoved his arms into his shirt. "Do you..."
"You don't have long now," Joanna said, pushing him out of the dining room and across to the front door. He turned back to her as he flung it open, but she didn't even wave; she was holding her sides as she laughed at him. When he'd closed the door behind him, Joanna dressed herself and got to the window in time to see his car peeling out of their driveway just as Dick slowed to turn in. The expression on Stephanie's face was priceless.
It didn't take long after Stephanie got a whiff of the quilts in the dining room for her to figure out what had happened. Even if she didn't get the idea right away, the shit-eating grin on Joanna's face would have clued her in. The young woman was furious, but guests started to come in from their daytime activities and there was no way for her to get Joanna alone.
It wasn't until the next day, when things quieted down after breakfast and Dick went to the TV station to tape his show, that Stephanie got her chance. Joanna was at the front desk, balancing the inn's accounts, when the maid stormed across the lobby toward her.
Their argument was short and loud, but didn't give Stephanie any satisfaction. Joanna had, as she pointed out several times, only given back in kind -- and proved a point about what men wanted, too. Stephanie insisted Joanna's trick had worked only because Michael was easily seduced, but that only allowed Joanna to say that Michael's horniness was the only way Stephanie had landed him.
The argument was going nowhere but Stephanie didn't want to give in; she wasn't used to doing that with anyone. It was out of sheer frustration, then, that she blurted it out.
"Any man would want me. Why, if I wanted to, I could get the next man through that door to do me!"
Joanna, who had been laughing her way through the argument, waited until her chuckles subsided before replying. "You're on," she said.
"What?"
"You're on. Let's see you do it. Let's see you get the next man through that door to fuck that sorry little pussy of yours."
"Joanna, I wasn't serious!"
"Chicken?"
"I am not!"
"Then do it."
Stephanie's eyes were blazing, but she was cornered and she knew it. It simply wasn't in her to end a fight with someone else getting the last word.
"All right," she said. "I'll do it."
The front door swung open just a few seconds later.
"Hi," said the scruffy leader of the trio that walked in. "I'm Larry. This is my brother Darryl, and this is my other brother Darryl." The two other men, even scruffier and filthier, nodded their greetings.
Stephanie's eyes grew wide and round, and she spun around and mouthed the words to Joanna: "I can't do it."
The older woman came out from behind the desk and stood next to Stephanie. She said hello to the men, and out of the side of her mouth whispered to the maid. "You promised," she said. "Chicken?"
While Stephanie shut her eyes to think, Larry asked Joanna about the chore she'd called them over for. Stephanie's eyes shot open.
"You called them? You knew they were coming?"
Larry cut in. "You bet, Miss Stephanie. Now where's that ditch that needs digging?"
Joanna smiled at Stephanie and turned to the men. "Oh, sorry, Larry, it turns out we didn't need that, after all. But Stephanie needs some help upstairs. Don't you?"
Stephanie felt sick, but her natural stubbornness fought back. There was no way she was going to let Joanna get the upper hand.
"That's right, boys," she said sweetly. "Could you follow me?"
Joanna waited a few minutes after Stephanie had led the filthy trio up the stairs before she tiptoed up herself and knelt before the keyhole to the maid's room.
She was surprised to see Stephanie had apparently chosen the brute force approach. The young girl was lying naked and spread-eagled on her bed, directly across from the door. Joanna had a perfect view of her wide-open snatch.
It occurred to the older woman that, while Stephanie's body was somewhat skimpy, it had its own charms. It certainly didn't look like it would take much to convince any normal man to strip and fuck, but Stephanie seemed to be having a hard time getting the boys to understand.
"Come on, Larry," the maid pleaded. "Do I have to rip your clothes off myself? Look." She pointed to her crotch. "This is my cunt." She rubbed her breasts. "And this is my tit, and this is my other tit. Now let's get to it!"
Joanna heard some scuffling noises and then saw the three men stride into her field of view, each stripped naked and sporting medium-sized hard-ons. She was surprised to realize they looked even dirtier with their clothes off, and for a second or two she regretted goading Stephanie into it. Then she remembered what the young girl had done to her husband, and settled in to watch the fun.
"One ground rule," Stephanie was saying as Larry knelt to shove his cock into her pussy and the other two opened their mouths to gobble up her tits. "No kissing on the mouth."
One of the Darryls whispered something in Larry's ear, and the spokesman paused with his cock just at the opening of Stephanie's cunt. "Darryl wants to know, do you mean him kissing Darryl, or you?"
Joanna choked back a laugh as Stephanie shouted "Neither!"
Without further talk, the foursome launched into a blistering series of sex acts. As Joanna watched from her vantage point, one after another the men slammed their cocks into the young girl's slit and spewed their cum deep inside her. She refused to suck their dicks, and had to struggle a bit when one of the Darryls tried to shove his shaft up her asshole. Even without that, Stephanie was clearly the worse for wear when it was all over. Her normally perfect hair was a mass of tangles and her makeup was smeared and runny. Joanna stared at the bedraggled sight so intently that she almost didn't realize that it was all over until one of the men backed up against the door as he was putting on his pants. She had to dash into her room and slip behind the door to avoid their eyes as Larry, Darryl and Darryl thumped down the stairs and out of the inn.
Just a couple of minutes after that, to Joanna's astonishment, she looked out and saw Stephanie leaving her room -- again looking perfect, hair combed just so, makeup all in place. The older woman stepped out of her room.
"Stephanie! How did you do that?"
"I just spread my legs and let them come on in, Joanna, what do you think?" Though she looked perfect, there was a slight haziness in Stephanie's voice.
"I don't mean that," Joanna said. "I mean how did you clean yourself up so fast?" She sniffed the air. "And you even smell nice! I'd expect you to smell of cum and old, dead animals after what you've been through."
Stephanie showed her bright, gleaming teeth. "Oh, Joanna, you poor thing. We Vanderkellens NEVER sweat, and we never give off odors. Really, Joanna, you should know better."
Another time, Joanna would have been put off by her vanity, but now it somehow seemed just the right personality to fit her body. She didn't even mind when the maid went on.
"And I think I've proved my point, Joanna."
"Which was?"
"That men prefer a young, perky body like mine. Even men like -- like those three. And don't think I don't know what you did, Joanna -- daring me like that when you knew they were coming over!"
Joanna laughed and slipped a hand around Stephanie's shoulder. "You're right, I did set you up. But I'm not so sure you've proved your point. Tell you what, Stephanie, I'll make you another bet."
"Another bet? And who will I have to bed this time?"
"This time the bet's on me," Joanna said, ignoring the question."I'll bet you that I can seduce the last person in the world you'd ever think would go to bed with me."
"The last -- who, Joanna?"
"You'll see -- in fact, I'll make sure you do. You hide in the closet in our room, and watch what happens."
Shortly thereafter Stephanie was nestled between two of Dick's heavy overcoats, peering through the narrow slit of the closet doors. Joanna, meanwhile, slipped into the bathroom. A few minutes later she emerged. Instead of her old around-the-house clothes, she had on a lacy red peignoir, so sheer as to be almost transparent. Clearly visible underneath were a dark red bra straining to hold in her massive tits and a silky bikini brief -- little more than two small triangles of material with spaghetti-thin strips on the sides. Even without high heels, Joanna's legs looked miles long, and the curves of her body through the misty red garment were lush and inviting.
Joanna crawled onto the bed, her breasts hanging down as she faced the closet.
"Can you see all right, Stephanie?"
The young girl's voice, muffled slightly, called out that she could see just fine but wanted to know when the action would start.
"In just a little while," Joanna said. "So what do you think of my outfit? Think it'll work?"
Another muffled response.
"I can't quite hear you, dear. Why don't you come a little closer? There's no one else here yet."
Stephanie's face appeared between the closet doors. "I said, you do look quite attractive in that, Joanna." She frowned slightly. "More than I would have imagined. I think I've been underestimating you a bit."
Joanna grinned and stroked her body. "So it's not too bad for an old broad, is it?"
"No, not at all!" Stephanie seemed surprised at her own enthusiasm. She started to withdraw back into the closet.
"Don't go yet," Joanna said. "Keep me company until -- you know." As she spoke, the older woman slid her long legs around until her feet were dangling over the end of the bed closest to the closet and she was sitting up. She raised her knees up and hugged them to herself.
"I don't know, Joanna," Stephanie said, a hint of petulance in her voice. "Just what is going to happen?"
The older woman smiled -- a little smile to Stephanie but a big one in her mind. "What do you think? Someone's going to come and make love to me!" Joanna turned sideways, stretching out her long legs. "Someone's going to caress me like this." She slid her hands up and down the smooth skin, from hips to ankles. "And then someone's going to take off my peignoir." She pulled the wispy garment off and let it drop to the floor. Joanna snuck a peek at Stephanie; the young girl had taken a step half out of the closet. "And someone's going to take off my bra." She unhooked the clasp and tossed the bra aside. Her breasts hung down full, the nipples already fully erect. Joanna heard a small gasp from the closet.
"And someone will caress my breasts, and lick them, and suck on them." She squeezed her tits with the sides of her arms and then stroked them, drawing her finger in slow circles that ended up on the tip of each nipple. There was a rustling noise in the closet.
"Yes, someone will make love to my breasts. Slow, passionate love. And we'll kiss, deep, hot, wet kisses that last for days. And we'll roll around on the bed." Joanna fell onto her back, spreading her legs wide and pointing her crotch toward the closet as she stroked and rubbed herself all over. She heard low moans coming from the young maid.
"And then, do you know what, Stephanie? Then I'll slip off my panties, just like this." She rolled the skimpy panties down her legs slowly and kicked them off. Falling again onto her back, Joanna pointed her knees to the ceiling and began to pet her silky bush and finger her already lubricated slit. "And we'll make love. Passionate love. Hard, hot, driving sex." She picked up the tempo of her fingers, slipping them inside her and beginning to push them in and out, faster and faster. "Harder, harder!" Her hips began to bounce up and down in time with her fingers.
"Oh, god, Joanna!" Stephanie cried out from the closet. "You're making me so hot! When will it start?"
Joanna smiled broadly and slipped her fingers out of her twat. "Very, very soon," she said, getting off the bed and walking over to the closet. When she opened the doors quickly, she caught Stephanie with one hand still buried in her own cunt.
"Sooner than you can imagine," Joanna said, quietly now. She reached down and pulled Stephanie's hand up. Staring straight into the young girl's eyes, Joanna took Stephanie's hand up to her lips and began to lick at it. She took each finger into her mouth, sucking at them so hard her cheeks hollowed.
"Joanna!" Stephanie's mouth fell open.
The older woman brought the young girl's hand down, sliding it over her large breasts and flat stomach, until it was brushing her cunt. Then she took her own hand, still wet with her pussy juices, and pressed it to Stephanie's lips.
"Oh, Joanna," Stephanie whispered, and began to lick. Imitating Joanna, she took the older woman's hand in hers and sucked the fingers in one by one.
Gently, Joanna pulled her hand away at last and took a step forward. She bent her head down and pressed her lips to Stephanie's, savoring the taste of the mingled fluids. The young girl still was shy at first, but Joanna pressed on, opening her mouth and using her hot tongue to tease Stephanie's lips until they opened to her probing.
Before long Stephanie and Joanna were locked in a tight embrace, their mouths crushed together as their hands explored each other's holes. Slowly, step by step, Joanna pulled Stephanie out of the closet and toward the bed. When the backs of her legs brushed against the downy quilt Joanna broke their embrace and sat down, crawling back until her head was against the pillows, opening her legs wide.
"Joanna, I never..." Stephanie whispered. The older woman shushed her.
"You're a little over dressed," Joanna said with a smile.
Even as she spoke, Stephanie was unbuttoning her blouse. Soon her clothes were tumbled in a heap on the floor and the young girl, stark naked, was crawling across the big bed toward Joanna.
They kissed again, Stephanie's small, firm breasts rubbing against Joanna's big, pillowy tits, their hands exploring each other's bodies. Then Stephanie slid down and began to kiss and suckle the massive mammaries. Joanna sighed.
"Yes," she said, "just like I said. Make love to them, Stephanie. Slow, passionate love."
Stephanie took her time, savoring every square inch of Joanna's lushness. Before long the older woman felt herself beginning to melt and she pushed Stephanie down, down, down, until the young girl's mouth was hovering over her cunt.
She thrilled at the first touch of Stephanie's wet tongue, sliding along the musky folds. "Oh, god, yes," Joanna moaned, pressing the girl's head down onto her. "Harder, Stephanie, harder!" And then, with a loud, deep groan, Joanna felt her body flood with an incredible orgasm just as the maid's tongue slid between her pussy lips and into her soaking wet tunnel.
Stephanie seemed stunned by the immediate reaction and started to pull away, but Joanna closed her thighs around the young girl's head, refusing to let her up. "Don't stop," she insisted, as the tremors of her passion raced up and down her body.
Stephanie went back to work, driving her tongue deep into Joanna's womanhood, while a gush of fluids coated her face and soaked into the mattress. Joanna slipped her own hand down to her cunt, rolling her sensitive clit around between her fingers while the maid ministered to her pussy.
A second orgasm followed quickly on the first. This one was so violent that Joanna's body was thrown up into the air again and again, and when it ended she was too weak to move.
Stephanie slid back up the older woman's sweaty body and planted a few delicate kisses on her lips. Joanna would have been content to just lie there, but she felt an obligation to her young lover.
Before long Stephanie was squatting astride the older woman's face, lowering her cunt to an already searching tongue. Even the young girl's musk was flowery, Joanna thought, as she licked the smooth skin on the inside of Stephanie's thighs, working her way closer and closer to the hot, wet center.
And then she was inside, her tongue driving between Stephanie's tight folds and plunging into her cunt. Joanna's hands reached up and sought out the firm breasts, squeezing them passionately as she continued to lap up the young girl's juices.
In time Joanna felt her strength returning and she began to buck her hips up at the empty air, feeling a longing in her loins. Stephanie turned her head back and saw. She pivoted, keeping her cunt poised above Joanna's probing tongue, and bent down until her breasts hung down onto the older woman's heaving stomach. When Stephanie again put her tongue to Joanna's pussy, the older woman felt an electric shock race through every nerve. The two women buried their tongues in each other, their hands sinking into the soft flesh of their buttocks, pleasuring each other over and over.
Feeling her own orgasm near, Joanna slid away from Stephanie's mouth, hoping to prolong the joyful agony a bit longer. Their slick bodies slid easily over each other as they grappled on the bed, the sheets and quilt tangling beneath them, pillows tumbling to the floor. In time they found themselves face to face again, hugging tightly, pressing passionate kisses onto each other's breasts, neck, lips. And then Joanna could stand it no longer.She entwined her legs with Stephanie's and began to hump against the young girl's cunt, desperately shoving her own hot pussy against the maid's crotch.
It wasn't enough. Soon they were scissored together, Joanna with her head at the top of the bed, Stephanie's head at its foot, their cunts pressed tightly together. Joanna's fingers sought out and buried themselves in Stephanie's tight twat just as the young girl pressed her fingers into Joanna's opening.
By now their moans were echoing off the walls as they drew nearer and nearer to what Joanna was sure would be colossal orgasms. Faster and faster they prodded each other until at last a blaze of white-hot passion burst in Joanna's groin and spread quickly through her entire body. She felt each muscle fiber contract, paralyzing her body, and then let go, and then contract again, a cycle repeated hundreds of times as the seconds flew past.
Vaguely she was aware of Stephanie launching into her own orgasm, all flailing legs and whirling arms and loud, shrieking cries. To Joanna's surprise, she found herself joining in the shouts. She had never thought of herself as a screamer before, but she felt loud bellows being wrung from her.
So caught up was she in her passion that she didn't hear the door to the room open, and it took several repetitions before she could puzzle out the words of the person who was now standing in the doorway.
"Joanna! Stephanie! I heard the screams and I was afraid -- I was -- oh, my!"
The speaker began to back out, but Joanna raised a hand, palm out. Then she looked down at Stephanie, who smiled and nodded. Joanna turned her hand around, curling the fingers toward herself in a beckoning gesture.
"Come here, George," she said in a husky whisper. | 4 |
1,133 | Leia in her Cell | "And now, your Highness, we shall discuss the location of your hidden rebel base," Vader intoned, as the sinister form of the interrogator droid slid into Leia's cell.
"You wouldn't use that on me!" Leia said, eyeing the intimidating droid as it hovered in the air before her.
"You underestimate me, princess. I am capable of many things you think me incapable."
The droid's incessant, rhythmic thrumming grew louder. One of the two guards in the cell with Vader and his daughter shot the other a look. Their names were Bor and Cendal, and they were both low-ranking imperial disposables. A detention block assignment under Moff Tarkin was about the most boring duty around, since he had a regular tendency to kill his prisoners, making incarceration quite irregular.
The princess was a different case, however. Her status made outright murder unacceptable, so she was referred to their detention block. Both had taken double watches since then so they could gape at her in her cell, peep when she was showering, and watch her while she dressed. She'd been in the cell for three days, and they had seen all of her. But neither had had a chance for any hands-on duty.
So when Bor shot Cendal that look, Cendal knew they had been chosen for the right guard shift at the right time. Cendal looked Leia in the eyes from behind the interrogator droid and licked his lips. She glowered in return.
The thrumming of the machine was growing more incessant in Leia's head. She was building up her resolve, hoping that she could fight off the drugs that they would use on her by sheer force of will. She found soon, though, that her breathing was matching the rhythm of the machine and that she was having difficulty concentrating on the task she had set for herself.
"I'm sure you will put up quite a fight to the drugs in this droid, princess. And I assure you that the more... primitive methods it is programmed and equipped to employ should the medicinal tactics not render you tractable will be most unpleasant. Most unpleasant." Vader was trying to intimidate her. It wasn't working.
What was working was the incessant humming of the droid. Leia felt her eyelids growing heavier and a heat building in her body, a comfortable warmth that made her want to go to sleep.
"I will leave you to its tender mercies, princess," he pointed a black gloved finger at her, "If you talk quickly it will be best. The pain will only get worse. Watch her closely. Summon me the moment she breaks." He spoke curtly to Bor and Cendal, and strode out of the cell, his footsteps ringing on the metal grated floor outside.
Both of the guards listened to him leave, measuring the distance covered by his footsteps, to make sure he was gone before they proceeded. They could be killed for what they were about to do, but, well, it had been quite a while since they had had any...
Bor reached out to the droid as it was about to administer a syringe full of green liquid to the princess, who was looking at the floor and gritting her teeth in expectation of the drug. He flipped a switch and the droid dropped two feet towards the floor, and the lights on its surface dimmed.
Leia felt as if a warm blanket had been ripped from her, as the source of her induced comfort was removed. Her nipples hardened visibly and her teeth chattered in the imagined cold. She was wearing a soft gown of thin material that somehow managed to cover her more shapely features without hiding them at all. Exactly the wrong thing to be wearing stuck in a cell with two horny imperial thugs, but she couldn't exactly help that. Instead, she pulled both arms up to her chest to hide her nipples, straining as they were against the cloth.
"I've shut the machine down, Highness," Bor said.
"W-w-why?" she asked, her eyes slits of suspicion.
"In order to give you a choice." Cendal said as he sat down next to her on the bench that served her as a bed. "You see, my partner Bor there has a bit of droid training, and we can program that machine to tell Vader that you resisted it totally, and it gained no information."
"I suppose you want something in exchange for your treason, then."
Bor smiled as he tinkered with the machine. He adjusted a few switches, turned a few dials, and slipped out one circuit board. Carefully, without allowing Leia to see what he was doing, he snatched a replacement board and a vial of red liquid from his pocket. He placed the new circuit board into the droid and pushed the vial into place within the droid's innards, and then closed the access hatch he'd been working through. He gave Cendal a conspiratorial wink while Leia was looking at Cendal. The syringe emptied and refilled with red liquid. Leia did not notice.
Cendal leaned back and placed one hand on the small of Leia's back, "Well, naturally, we'd...." Leia slapped him and stood bolt upright.
"You can let the damn droid do its worst, you filthy animals!"
Cendal looked a bit disappointed, but Bor not in the slightest. Bor spoke first. "Then you'd best sit back down, Highness, since the droid's going to have to do its grisly work on you. It's too bad though, we'd have liked to have it another way."
Cendal stood and turned his back on Leia, a grin creasing his face suddenly as he turned away from her. Bor turned the droid back on, and the black sphere rose back into the air, and the thrumming resumed, but deeper and faster this time. Bor and Cendal left the room.
"Did you get it done?" Cendal asked as they slid onto the stools at the watch desk, flipping the monitors to Leia's cell.
"Completely. All the way down to the new memory board. The droid thinks it's asking her about the location and size of the rebel fleet, and the planet where the rebels are hiding."
Cendal chuckled.
Leia scowled in defiance as the two left and lifted her chin to await the first round of drugs. The droid thrummed on as it slid inexorably toward her. She noticed that the thrumming was different this time, more insistent, less comforting. She examined the droid as it floated nearer. It was roughly the size of a derthaball, and it was studded with various implements of pain, which began to twitch as the syringe arm prepared to deliver its cargo.
The thrumming was definitely different, Leia noticed. She started to feel the warmth again... but this time... it was...
Without warning, the droid stopped suddenly and all the pain devices slipped inside, as if they were not to be used. Leia assumed that they would come back after she defeated the drugs... if she defeated the drugs. She sat there waiting, both hands flat on the metal seat of the bench, her legs slightly parted as she waited for the injection.
Then the arm extended. A metal tentacle with a syringe at one end slipped out of the droid's housing and snaked its way towards her neck.
"Here it comes," Cendal said, licking his lips again.
The thin needle struck. Leia winced in quiet pain as the red liquid disappeared from the glass syringe and into her bloodstream. The thrumming grew louder, and Leia felt suddenly warmer, but it was no longer a comforting warmth. She felt restless, as though she were suddenly hungry. But the hunger was not in her stomach. The drug hit her heart and disseminated into her body. The warmth was a heat now. Her shoulders relaxed, and her legs slipped apart, and Leia's full, soft, lips opened, and she let go a breathy, satisfied sigh. She felt her mind slipping away from her as her nipples hardened again. Her small hands, no longer acting according to her consciousness, rose from the bench to caress her hips, up then to her ribcage, and finally each of the fingers of her two hands slipped over each of her supple breasts.
"No..." she thought. "The bastards... the guards did this..." And then her mind was no longer hers.
She couldn't remember where she was. She knew who she was, and that she was suddenly very excited. Her hands covered her breasts, sending shocks of pleasure from each nipple as her caressing fingers bumped over them. Up and down, up and down. It felt exquisite. She elbowed the button that extended the bench, and leaned back to take full advantage of her body. Hands still on her chest, she lifted one leg up to the metal slat that she lay on, and let loose another lusty sigh.
"She's fantastic," Bor said, watching intently and shifting his position on the stool to relieve the pressure his uniform trousers were placing on him. Cendal was speechless.
"Aihh! Ahh!" Leia panted, passing one hand down her body, doing circles over the soft material of her dress as it slid over her flat belly. "Ooooooh," she cooed as she let two of her fingers pinch a nipple. Her other hand had errands of its own. She let it slip down between her thighs to her sex. She rubbed her dampening pussy through the cloth of her gown with a slow, languorous rhythm that matched the still thrumming droid. Leia felt incredible. She was a virgin, and the pleasures that raced through her body now had always felt like guilty ones when she had indulged in them before.
With a sudden kick, she threw her right leg up, letting her dress fall down to her hip, revealing the creamy skin beneath.The hand that had been busily rubbing her sex moved over, and she curled her fingers under the hem of her dress, pulling it up to reveal the soft brown bush that covered her cunt. When the dress hem had reached her belly button, she flattened her hand and slid it over the soft skin of her stomach, through the silky curls of her bush, and back down into the depths of heat and pleasure. "Mmmaker, this is good," she was moaning oaths of ecstasy as she pulled the dress over her head and lay naked on the metal bed. The cold metal was an exciting contrast to the heat that had conquered her body, and Leia exulted in the surfeit of sensation accosting her. Her lower hand began moving with a bit of ferocity, and her sensuous shrieks were growing as she reached an orgasm. Through all this, the droid thrummed on.
Her upper hand was teasing her painfully erect nipples, tickling and pinching them, rolling them between her thumb and forefinger. Then that hand slowly followed the skin path down to join her other, busier hand. Both hands were between her milky thighs now, one spreading the lips of her sex, the other pinching and rubbing her clitoris as her hips bucked into the air. "Ahhhh! Ah! Ah! Ooh! Oh!" She was totally out of control, screaming in pleasure as an orgasm took her body, nearly lifting it from the bed, shaking it from head to toe and back again, and then finally letting it rest, the pleasure receding to her sex and pooling there, giving her a short respite.
Leia caught her breath, but the drug was not ready to release her yet. The heat began to build again, and she had no desire to fight it. Her hands were furiously busy once again, and the two men at the watch station had to reduce the volume on the monitors for fear of... | 4 |
1,168 | Nicole Kidman story (NC, hanging, snuff) | "Oh, God, Tom, please don't do this," Nicole whimpered.
"So you feel a little bit differently about things, now that your wrists are cuffed behind your back and there's a noose around your throat? I thought you might. But I'm afraid it's too late for that, Nicole. My mind's made up. You're going to hang. What's more, you're going to hang slowly, so you'll have plenty of time to think about what you've done."
"But I haven't done anything!" she sobbed.
"Don't give me that bullshit. I know perfectly well that you fucked Val Kilmer while you were filming that goddamned Batman movie."
"No, Tom! It isn't true! You know I love you!" Nicole protested.
"All I know is that you're a slut. I know you've been lying to me for years, and I know you're lying to me now. So go ahead and lie, Nicole. Enjoy it. Because these are the last lies you'll ever tell."
Tom sat down in front of a Macintosh computer and took hold of the mouse. There were only three icons on his desktop: the hard drive, the trash can, and something that looked like a drawing of a gallows from a child's "hangman" game. Below the gallows was the phrase "Hang 'Em High 1.0." It was the only software program installed on the computer. This was, after all, a computer with a very specific purpose.
Tom double-clicked on the gallows icon. "This program cost me a fortune," he grumbled. "So it had damn well better work."
The screen was filled with a black and white cartoon of a beautiful, naked woman dancing on air, a noose tight around her throat. Next to the cartoon were some words: "Hang 'Em High 1.0 Gallows Operation Utility. Requires motorized noose winch and electronic trapdoor release (not included)."
"Yeah, yeah, we have all that shit," Tom muttered impatiently.
"Tom, please..." Nicole begged.
"Shut up, bitch! I'd be more than happy to ball gag you if you don't stop whining. Ah, here we go." The intro screen vanished, and Tom was left with two menus labeled "noose" and "trapdoor." Clicking on "noose," he saw three options: "auto up," "auto down" and "manual." He chose "auto up." A dialog box asked him to specify, in inches, how far he wanted to raise the noose. He paused for a moment. He wanted to keep Nicole's feet on the ground. For this part of the hanging, he wanted her in pain but able to breathe. He took a guess and entered "5," then hit "return." The winch motor hummed. Nicole started to protest, but she was cut short as the rope dug into her throat. Her soft, blue eyes bulged in fear and pain as the noose pulled her up onto her tiptoes. And then she was in the air, hanging freely, her feet kicking and swinging as she strangled.
"Damn!" Tom cursed under his breath, and quickly selected "manual." He was presented with an up-arrow and a down-arrow; positioning the pointer over the down-arrow, he clicked and held the mouse button. The motor hummed again, and Nicole returned to the earth. Tom held the mouse button down until Nicole's toes began to brush against the gallows platform. When he released the button, she was perfectly positioned: standing on her tiptoes, she could avoid complete strangulation, but Tom could tell by the look on her face that breathing was difficult and very painful for her.
Tom turned now to his "trapdoor" menu. Here he had three options: "manual," "timed" and "random." He hesitated here. He had planned on setting the trapdoor to drop after a certain period of time, but there was something exciting about the "random" option, so he selected that instead. The dialog box read: "%chance of drop each minute." Tom entered "1," because he wanted Nicole to suffer through a nice, long period of partial strangulation before she hanged for real. There was another field which read: "Begin checking after __ minutes." Tom entered "90." That was good. Now Nicole would be held right where she was for at least an hour and a half, and probably much longer. The trap would most likely drop out from under her feet after she had been through three or four hours of agony. Best of all, she wouldn't have any idea when to expect it. Even Tom didn't know when it would happen.
Tom took a moment and explained to Nicole what he had done. She was giving most of her attention to the very challenging project of trying to breathe, but something in her eyes told him that she understood. Tom switched on the videocamera and made sure that it was pointing right at his suffering wife. Tom's new girlfriend was deeply into asphyxiation. She loved to play hanging games, and when Tom had told her of his plans for Nicole, she had made him promise to film the session. Tom knew that the video of Nicole's hanging would drive his girlfriend wild; no doubt she would put it on Tom's big-screen TV and fuck his brains out repeatedly as they watched Nicole die over and over, in infinite slow-mo repeat.
"So long, Nicole," Tom said. "You were a good lay. Too bad you were such a cunt." Nicole gagged softly. Tom turned and left her hanging, locking the door behind him.
Nicole stared at the locked door in pain and disbelief. He was really doing it! Her husband was murdering her! And he didn't even have the decency to grant her a clean, easy death. He had to make sure she suffered first, suffered tremendously.
And she WAS suffering. God, it hurt so much, and she had only just begun! From what Tom had told her, she knew that she had hours of this to endure. She didn't see how she could do it. She gazed in horror at the computer which was silently counting the seconds to her eventual doom. What a cold, impersonal thing it was, this electronic hangman! Tom didn't even have the courage to hang her himself; he had to get a machine to do it for him...and another machine to watch it for him, she added to herself, glancing at the camera. He didn't even care about her enough to stay and watch her die. Somehow that made it all hurt even more.
She imagined him watching the videotape, enjoying it with his new girlfriend. What would they see? Nicole was a gorgeous young woman; she had no illusions about that, and Tom had dressed her--or undressed her--for her death. Apart from a slip of lacy, black silk, she was entirely naked. The slip had spaghetti straps which plunged to a low neckline, revealing her ample cleavage. Her breasts were round and firm; Tom had always liked them. Nicole's nipples were very hard now, for reasons she didn't quite understand. She imagined that they were poking rather conspicuously through the thin black silk. The slip was quite short; it showed off her smooth, sleek, well-turned legs. It also revealed quite a bit of creamy, white thigh. Nicole decided that she probably looked pretty great in her slip. But she was in agony; what would that do to her appearance? She imagined what her face must look like: eyes bulging out in pain, tongue rolling out of her mouth, tears pouring down her cheeks. She imagined her soft, red hair in a disarray around her face. She listened to the soft, desperate gagging sounds she made as she strangled. Did Tom really think that was sexy? Obviously he did. Nicole tried to understand. There WAS something pretty sexy about being this helpless. And there was a certain familiar rhythm to the way she moved as she struggled; it was actually quite similar to the way her body moved when she was fucking.
Suddenly she found herself wishing desperately that Tom would come back. She saw now what he needed, what she had never been able to give him, what had driven him to that other woman. If only he'd come back and save her, she'd play his hanging games with him! He didn't need that other cunt! Nicole would let him hang her every night. He could hang her while she fucked him.
But Tom wasn't coming back. There was only Nicole, and the noose, and the computer. And so Nicole suffered. She stood there balanced on her toes, in perfect equilibrium, partly strangled and in tremendous pain, but still able to breathe a little. And the seconds dragged on into minutes. Slowly, very slowly, the minutes became hours. How long had she been up? She had lost all sense of time. There was only a single endless, undifferentiated pain. What did it matter, anyway?Even if she knew how long she had been hanging, she still wouldn't know how long she had left. Only the computer knew that, and it wasn't talking. What had Tom said? A one percent chance every minute? Well, what if that one percent never came up? She could be here all night, caught halfway between life and death, in spectacular, eternal agony. She felt sure that the pain would drive her mad if it went on much longer.
She hadn't moved an inch the whole time--at least, she hadn't moved up or down, though she was certainly wiggling her sweet, pale young body. And yet the pain was getting worse all the time. How could that be? She didn't understand why, but each breath was harder than the last; it was a constant struggle to force the air down. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Such pain! She didn't know how she was able to endure it. Clearly she had greater endurance than she knew.
Nicole realized that her body was wearing out; she was simply exhausted. Was it possible that she might just die right here like this, before the trapdoor ever opened? Surely there must be limits to how long a woman could be slow hanged like this, and she must be nearing those limits. Nicole was startled to find herself hoping that the end was near. It was the first time she had actively wished for death. The slim hope that Tom might have a change of heart was gone now. She just wanted the pain to end.
Just when she felt as if she couldn't possibly endure another minute of torture, there was a beep from the computer, and Nicole's world fell out from under her. This was it! She was swinging freely, dancing on air; she was well and truly hanged. She felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She was almost free. But she still had some work left to do. The noose was even tighter at her throat now, and it had strangled her completely. She found herself panicking as she realized her breathing was totally cut off. She began to kick desperately. These were her death throes, the last helpless struggles of a dying woman. Her entire body quivered with the tension. She arched her back, thrusting her pert, proud breasts forward. She felt her bladder relax; warm piss trickled down her naked thighs. "Goodbye, Tom," she thought. "I hope you enjoy my death..." And then she relaxed, still and lifeless in the noose. | 6 |
1,191 | Catwoman - Double Standard | "Waaaooooo," came the howl as yet another orgasm rolled through the bound form on the rack. "That's twelve," thought the woman who sat nearby, enjoying the show.
Catwoman smiled at the sound, watching the blonde writhe under the force of the power-cocks locked into her pussy.
Playing possum for the girl was easy, and she had easily overpowered her once her hands were free. Spice had obviously never been in prison and didn't know how to handle real prisoners. Catwoman planned to change that. But first, she settled her own need. Working the dildo deep inside herself again, she worked herself to her fifth orgasm of the day. She thought about Batman and started working the shaft with renewed energy.
After satisfying herself, Catwoman rose, her fluidity proof of her relaxed satisfaction.
Looking herself over, Catwoman groaned inwardly. She was dressed in her black, thigh-high boots, gloves, mask, and G-string. "I look like a character out of one of those adult comic-books," she thought. But there was no help for it. Sugar had taken her own cat-suit, and Spice's clothes were simply too small.
Selecting a long bull-whip from the rack, Catwoman set out through the criminal's lair. She wanted Two-Face. She wanted Sugar. She wanted revenge. She would settle for her clothes.
Prowling through the halls, silent as a shadow, she listened at every door. At the fifth one, she heard voices. Having already used her "curiosity caught the rat" trick once on these men, she wasted no time on tricks. Grasping her whip in one hand and the doorknob in the other, she stepped into the room, ready for anything.
The room was partially dark, lit by a single lamp over the table. Three men looked up from their card game as she entered.
"Well, it looks like we get to pet the cat after all," one of them chortled. All three smiled as they rose from the table and moved to flanking positions. They had been beaten by this woman once, but that was one on one, in a darkened room. This was different.
Catwoman avoided the first man's lunge easily, planting a knee in his midsection and his skull in the doorframe as he passed. His eyes, and his hands, had both been aimed at her breasts. "What kind of thugs are you?" she asked. "Is Assault with intent to Grope the best you can do?"
The next pair of men charged her together, angry at her mocking attitude. Shifting her Kung-Fu stance to the Tiger position, her favorite, she caught the outstretched hand of the thug on her left, yanking him into the path of the other thug and sending them down in a pile. This was too easy.
Then, she was in trouble. One of the men snaked a hand out of the pile, grabbing her by the ankle. He pulled, and she staggered as her balance was lost. In seconds, both men had piled onto her, burying her struggling form beneath their own.
Catwoman was rolled onto her back, outdone simply because the two men outweighed her. One sat down on her chest, the hardness of his cock clearly detectable through his pants as he struggled to pin her wrists to the floor. The second man was trying to sit on her thrashing legs, but seemed more interested in tearing off her G-string panties. She felt the second man slide a hand under her squirming ass as he tried to drive his thumb into her vagina.
The thug felt the naked woman stiffen as he penetrated her with his thumb, and knew that he had her. Her back arched and her legs stretched out and apart as he rasped his calloused skin against her clitoris. Shifting his weight, he lowered his face towards the shaved pussy before him, intent on licking this wildcat into submission. Then his world exploded, suddenly, painfully, as Catwoman's knee struck him in the temple.
Catwoman was amazed. Did these men actually believe that a woman turned to jelly the moment anyone touched her clitoris? The man on her legs was still on her legs, but as a soft, dead weight. Twisting like the cat she was named after, she sank her teeth into the wrist of the man on her chest, tasting blood. The man yanked his hand back reflexively, swearing. Driving the heel of her hand into his shoulder, she felt the satisfying crack of a broken collarbone. Her second blow would have ended his life, crushing his windpipe, but she diverted it at the last second, sending him to dreamland. His jaw was probably broken, but he was alive.
Congratulating herself on having let the man live, she rolled him and his unfortunate partner off and climbed to her feet. Checking to see that all three were still breathing, she tore their jackets into strips and tied them securely.
Two-Face strode into the back bedroom, planning a five-way orgy: Sugar, Spice, Catwoman, and both of him. He expected to find Catwoman climaxed to near mindlessness and looked forward to finishing her off.
What he found was something else. Spice lay on the bondage rack, her legs folded back over her head, a leather and steel bikini locked around her pussy. Her head lolled to one side as drool ran down her cheek. She moaned softly, her body still trying to respond to the loudly buzzing shafts buried deep inside her body. Nipple-clamps had been applied, with slender leather thongs pulling her tender tips up towards the ceiling.
"Where the hell is she?" the split-psychopath raged, oblivious to the fact that Spice couldn't respond. Grabbing the telephone, he pressed a single button and began to shout into it, "Everybody, everybody! Catwoman has escaped. Find her and bring her to me, double time. The one who catches her gets her."
Turning to where Sugar was tending to her delirious sister, Two-Face pulled out his coin and flipped it. Snarling at the result, he stormed out of the room without a word.
"Oh God," moaned Spice as the vibrators finally went silent. "I thought he was going to kill me. Now hurry up and get those damned things out of me."
Sugar smiled at her sister. "I guess you didn't see the coin," she said sweetly. "It came up bad-heads. He wants you punished." Placing fresh batteries in the double-dong, she continued, "And do you remember what you did to me when you got me locked down last week? Payback time."
Spice wailed in despair as she felt herself being penetrated once again. Sugar cinched the leather crotch-strap up to its tightest notch, driving the shafts even deeper into her sister's twin tunnels. "You looked like you had enough at level 8," she cooed softly as she fingered the control. "Let's see how you do on level 10."
Two-Face found Catwoman himself. She was happily choking the last of his men into oblivion, her long arm wrapped around his throat while her legs scissored around his waist from behind, driving the air from his lungs.
"Catwoman!" he growled as she dropped the man to the floor. "Damn you're good." Running his eyes up and down her naked form, he smiled that evil half-smile. "In fact, you're magnificent." Then he sprang to the attack.
Catwoman had no illusions about being able to take this man in a straight slugging match. But then, she had no intention of trying. It simply wasn't her style. Laughing as she dodged his first punch, she leapt lightly onto a crate marked "Fragile - Glass."
Two-Face charged, shoving the crate sideways and out from under his agile adversary. He received a kick in the face for his trouble, making his head spin for a moment. When he looked up, Catwoman was crouched on top of a pair of crates, waiting to spring.
"I'm gonna take you in both ends," growled the angered madman. "Heads and tails." With that, he vaulted onto the crate Catwoman had just vacated and tried to wrap up her shapely legs in a single gorilla hug. She drove a knee into his face, then leapt free in a tumbling somersault to another stack of crates.Again, Two-Face followed. Wiping some blood from his mouth, he smiled. "You're good, Catwoman. But I only have to catch you once. One time, and the famous Catwoman is just another piece of pussy." Leaping heavily from one stack to another, he approached his foe on an equal level.
Two-Face pursued his naked prey from crate to crate, higher and higher, until she had no place left to go.
Catwoman was cornered. All paths of escape were within reach of her heavier, stronger opponent. She had kicked him twice in the head, and he wasn't even dazed. She was in trouble. Shifting her stance, she waited for his attack.
Sensing victory, Two-Face closed the gap, screaming, "Heads and Tails!" as he charged, body-slamming his smaller opponent. | 4 |
1,238 | Star Trek: Voyager Q-Spot Part 4 | "Is this a dream?" Seven thought as she looked in the mirror. "Or a hallucination, it might even be a holodeck program," the ex-Borg thought as she moved around the apartment she was sharing with a couple of girls.
"Why do I think of this as my apartment?" She thought, then she saw one of her roommates sleeping on the couch.
"Hmm, why is she sleeping here? She is such an airhead," Seven thought as she observed the slim blonde woman sleeping on the couch. The woman was wearing a long T-shirt, which she normally slept in, and Seven could see her slim legs which were stretched out on the couch.
Seven had admired the figure of the sleeping girl since she found herself there a couple of days ago. Suddenly the woman moved, and Seven could see that she was not wearing any panties. Seven could see the woman's trimmed blonde snatch. She was surprised to see the pussy, and she immediately thought of her own pussy. The Doctor had stimulated her follicle growth, including on her pussy. She was not comfortable with the wild bush that had appeared, and the Doctor had to trim it every week. She knew that he was a hologram, but she thought that he enjoyed it as much as she did.
Seven's hormones had asserted themselves over the last couple of weeks, but she had not yet had an opportunity to get any relief. She looked at the woman's exposed crotch and thought, "What the hell, I'll give it a try," Seven thought and sat on the couch besides the girl.
Seven let her hands slide up and down the woman's legs to see how deep she was asleep. She soon found her hands on the pussy of the sleeping woman. Seven found that she was already wet, and she had to taste it soon. She first licked her hand gently to taste the juices. Seven positioned herself between the woman's legs and gently put her tongue on the sleeping woman's pussy. She liked the taste even more when it came straight from the source, and she started to lick the wet cunt with greater enthusiasm and had to put a hand down her own pants to rub her own cunt.
Suddenly the sleeping woman stirred and then she opened her eyes and said, "Rachel, what the hell are you doing?"
"Don't you like it, Phoebe?" Seven said.
"Well, maybe, but that doesn't mean that I'm a thespian," Phoebe said, not taking her eyes off the sight of her "friend" licking her pussy while putting a hand down her own pants.
"You mean lesbian, Phoebe," Seven said. "Do you want me to stop?" She said and then returned to her cunt licking.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, well, I guess not," Phoebe said and pulled her T-shirt up over her breasts. She started to fondle her own tits as Seven licked her wet cunt. "Let's get completely naked," Phoebe suggested.
"Alright," Seven said and started to remove her clothes. Her tight pants were quickly followed by a lace bra and a pair of black G-string panties. Seven stood in front of Phoebe completely naked, enjoying Phoebe's attention.
"At first, I thought it was Joey, but you are even better," Phoebe said as she put her hands on Seven's huge tits.
"Joey?" Seven said as she felt Phoebe's hot body against her own.
"Yeah, we sometimes have a quick fuck, you know, just to take the pressure," Phoebe said and kissed Seven deeply. She then moved down Seven's body as she started to kiss her glorious tits. She sucked on Seven's nipples, and they quickly hardened as Phoebe continued to suck on them alternately. Seven's hands soon found Phoebe's ass, and she started to knead it.
Phoebe got down on her knees and put her face in Seven's cunt. "OOHHHH my," Seven moaned as she felt a woman lick her pussy. Seven pushed Phoebe back onto the floor and sat on her face. Phoebe hungrily ate Seven's pussy and then pushed a finger up her own cunt. Seven turned around, and then she started to lick Phoebe's pussy as Phoebe licked hers.
Phoebe's oral lashings were too much for Seven as she had her first ever orgasm. She shuddered as Phoebe continued to lick her cunt, and Seven felt the most awesome sensation she had ever felt.
"Wow, Phoebe, that was great," Seven said and kissed Phoebe. "Hey, I have an idea," she then said. "Sit back and wait."
Seven got up and went into the kitchen. After a moment, Seven returned with a cucumber in her hand.
"Let's try this out," Seven said as she started to lick the cucumber. She sat down beside Phoebe, and they both started to lick the cucumber. "Lean back, Phoebe, and brace yourself," Seven said.
Seven put the cucumber at the mouth of Phoebe's cunt and then she slid it in. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH My," Phoebe moaned as she felt the ridged vegetable slide up her cunt. Seven started to move the cucumber in and out with greater speed and force. "Oh, Rachel, it feels incredible. You should try it," Phoebe said as her hips started to buck to meet Seven's hands.
"I will try it. Right now, actually," She said as she moved her pussy so it faced Phoebe's cunt and then she slid the other end of the cucumber into her own cunt. Seven moved closer to Phoebe, and their pussies met. They started to press their hips together, working the cucumber around their pussies. "Oh, fuck yes," Seven said, and Phoebe pressed her crotch against Seven's wet pussy. Seven was not sure which felt better, the cucumber in her hot, tight pussy or the feel of Phoebe's wet pussy against her own.
Seven massaged her tits as they fucked each other with great joy, and then her hand found her clit. Seven found that she could massage both their clits as they moved against each other, and she was reaching new heights of ecstasy.
"Oh yes, oh yes," Phoebe started to moan higher and higher until she climaxed with a loud moan of pleasure. "OOOOOHHH MMMMMMYYYYY GGGGGGOOOOOOODDDDD."
The motion of Phoebe's climaxing body turned Seven on even more, and she felt her second orgasm coming on, and this one was even greater than the first. "YYYYYYYYYEEEEEESSSSSS," Seven moaned as she came, and then she slumped to the floor with exhaustion.
"Man, Rachel, you are full of surprises. This was great. Can we do this again later, please?" Phoebe pleaded.
"Of course, we can, Phoebe, and next time, we might even include Monica in our fun," Seven said as she kissed Phoebe. | 3 |
1,242 | Star Trek: Voyager Q-Spot Part 11 | "So Q, am I a Q or are you human?" Janeway asked as the flash subsided.
"Well, I'm human now. It was the lesser of two evils. So, Kathy, let's fuck," Q said and unzipped his uniform.
"That's good, Q. By the way, I have someone you should meet," Janeway said, and then a voice came from behind them both.
"Hello, Q," the female voice said. Q and Janeway turned around to see the female Q, Mrs. Q.
"Eh, hello, dear," Q said. "Damn, it's the old ball and chain," he whispered to Janeway.
"Sure she is. I invited her, Q, and now the tables have turned," Janeway said with a smile.
"That's right, Q, and the jig is up," Mrs. Q said, and then she snapped her fingers. Q found himself bound and gagged; he was unable to move or speak.
"So, Q, you want to have sex with this woman," Mrs. Q said. "That's a great idea, but why settle for just one Voyager woman?" And then B'Elanna appeared on the bridge, completely naked. "Or two." Again, she snapped her fingers, and Seven appeared on the bridge; she was buck-naked too. "Well, we are four now, but let's complete the group." And then Kes appeared on the bridge; she looked no older than the day she had joined the crew, and her hair was still short. "There we are, all together now. Oh, by the way, I had to pick this ravishing creature out of time to have her join us," Mrs. Q said as she took Kes by the shoulder.
"So, Q, do you like what you see?" Mrs. Q asked Q as she saw his cock getting hard. "Too bad, because you can't join us. You like to look? Well, then, take a look at this," Mrs. Q said, and then she kissed Captain Janeway.
Q could do nothing but watch as Captain Janeway and Mrs. Q started to kiss each other, and he was straining against his restraints as he saw Mrs. Q's clothes disappear in a flash. Soon, Captain Janeway and Mrs. Q pressed their naked bodies against each other.
While they were going at it, B'Elanna and Kes had decided to show her the joys of human sexuality as they each sucked on one of her huge tits. Kes' hand soon found Seven's cunt and started to play with it, B'Elanna moved around Seven to her back and started to kiss her from the neck down to her round ass. Without thinking, Seven pulled Kes to her feet and kissed her deeply; Kes returned the favor, and soon their tongues were dancing around.
As Kes and B'Elanna worked over Seven, the Captain was showing Mrs. Q the joys of cunnilingus as she was licking her dark red cunt with great expertise. Mrs. Q had never felt anything like this; she was, for all intents and purposes, a virgin. Janeway licked Mrs. Q's clit and felt the electricity running through Mrs. Q's body; she then moved up Mrs. Q's belly and soon her mouth found Mrs. Q's large and luscious tits.
Seven sat down in the captain's chair, and Kes quickly moved in between her legs and started to lick Seven's pussy. B'Elanna took advantage of Kes' position and started to lick the delicate Ocampan's hairless cunt. B'Elanna's tongue sends a shiver through Kes' body, which is then transferred to Seven's body as Kes' tongue slides deep inside her cunt.
Seven is finally getting into the action, and she starts to cup her own tits and then she lifts her right tit and licks her nipple. Seven's hips start to buck under Kes' oral assault, and B'Elanna pushes two fingers up Kes' pussy at the same time so that both women push down on Kes at the same time, creating an incredible effect on the young alien. Soon, Kes screams in joy as she comes in a thunderous orgasm and then slips down to the floor. B'Elanna wastes no time in taking her place between Seven's legs and she gets her first taste of the ex-Borg's cunt juices.
Janeway instructs Mrs. Q in how to really lick her own pussy while she has her head buried in the red pussy of the omnipotent woman as they explore each other's bodies in a passionate 69. "This is better than anything I have ever experienced," Mrs. Q said in between licking Janeway's cunt. "I could go on forever."
"Well, we'll see about that," Janeway thought as she slowly slid a finger up Mrs. Q's pussy. Janeway clearly felt the wave of emotion rushing through Mrs. Q's body as she started to shake all over. She then inserted another finger in Mrs. Q's tight pussy and found that it was so tight that she might not be able to fit a third finger inside her right now. Janeway was pleased when she felt two fingers on her own pussy. "She's a quick study," Janeway thought as first two, then three, and finally four fingers pumped in and out of her pussy.
B'Elanna felt that Seven was on the verge of an orgasm and increased her licking, and soon Seven came in a roaring orgasm, which sent a flow of pussy juice onto B'Elanna's face. As Seven caught her breath, B'Elanna licked the pussy juice off her own face, then she saw Captain Janeway and Mrs. Q in a 69 and went over to them.
"Can I join you?" B'Elanna asked, not waiting for an answer before she started to kiss Captain Janeway. Quickly, Janeway and B'Elanna started to lick Mrs. Q's tits. After a moment of licking and sucking, B'Elanna straddled Mrs. Q's face as Janeway resumed her licking of Mrs. Q's pussy. B'Elanna showed her black cunt into Mrs. Q's face and quickly felt the tongue of the omnipotent woman lying under her.
Kes had recovered from her orgasm, and she joined the three women on the floor as she started to knead Mrs. Q's fleshy mounds with great zeal. Seven joined the party shortly, and she started to work over Mrs. Q's other tit. The four women worked on Mrs. Q for minutes until she could not take it anymore and came with a blinding firework (literally) and arched her body.
"Holy Continuum," Mrs. Q whispered as she caught her breath. "Now let me return the favor to you, to you all," and then there were four of her, one for each woman. The four Starfleet women soon found themselves being eaten by a female Q.
Within minutes, the bridge echoed with moans of pleasure and ecstasy as Captain Janeway, Seven, B'Elanna, and Kes came almost in unison under the pussy licking of the female Qs. As they caught their breath, Mrs. Q fused back together as one being.
"That was more than just exciting; it was a display of the greatest force in the universe. It's even greater than the Q Continuum, as this warthog so clearly demonstrated," Mrs. Q said as she pointed to the bound and gagged Q.
"So, Q, did you like what you saw? What's the matter, Q? Cat got your tongue?" Mrs. Q said to Q. "Well, Kathryn, that was great. Let's do this again sometime, okay?"
"Anytime, Q, as long as you leave that amoeba at home," Janeway answered.
"Ooh, he'll be busy for the next couple of millennia. He has to answer to the Continuum and to me," Mrs. Q said, and with a flash, she appeared in a tight, shiny leather outfit, holding a bullwhip and a cat-o-nine tails in her hands. "He is going to be punished by the Q, and thank God we are mostly female. Goodbye, Kate," Mrs. Q said, kissed Captain Janeway, and then left in a flash. Q was gone too, and so was Kes.
Kathryn Janeway looked at the naked Seven of Nine and B'Elanna Torres and then said, "I hope the men are back!"
The End | 3 |
1,243 | Frasier Crane; at your service Part 1 | "Frasier, you're on in two minutes."
"Thank you, Roz. I'll be ready," Frasier Crane said, as he put on his headphones ready for his radio show.
"Hey, Frasier, have you seen my coffee anywhere?" Roz asked.
"How the hell should... Isn't that it right there behind you?" Frasier said with some impatience.
"Thanks, Frasier," she said and gulped down the entire cup. "Euw, that tasted even worse than normal," she said and winced.
"Frasier, you're on," Roz said as she opened the link to the outside.
"Hello, Seattle, this is Doctor Frasier Crane with today's show. Today, we'll talk about work and the psychological problems that might come from it. Remember, I'm Frasier Crane; at your service. Let's start by opening up the phones. Roz, do we have a caller?"
"Yes, we have 'Randy' on the phone," Roz said over the speaker.
"Hello, Randy. What is your problem?" Frasier says as he opens the line.
"Hello, Doctor Crane. I have a problem at work," Randy says.
"Yes, tell me about it, and maybe I can help you," Frasier said with a smooth voice.
"Okay. The problem is that I am in love with a man I work with, but he does not seem to notice me 'like that,' you know," Randy said with a low voice.
"Well, I can certainly imagine the anguish you must go through. Let me ask you this, is he involved with anybody at this time?" Frasier asked.
"I don't think so, no. I'm sure that there is nobody else. Dr. Crane, I can't really just blurt it out, he is too shy," Randy said.
"Then show him how you feel, make some small gestures to show him how you feel. If you show him, you might find out how he feels by the response you get. And the more personal the gesture, the more reliable the response is," Frasier said.
"Okay, Dr. Crane, I'll try. By the way, don't you ever get tired of just helping others without anybody helping you? I mean, isn't anybody at your service?" Randy asked.
"Well, 'Randy,' the money always helps, ha, ha, ha. But seriously, Randy, I get a lot of pleasure from helping other people. Besides, I have friends who help me," Frasier said to Randy.
"Oh, you mean like that producer of yours," Randy said.
"Yes, Roz is a good friend. I hope I helped you, Randy. Goodbye," Frasier said and switched to another caller.
"Hello, you are on the air. How may I help you?" Frasier asked.
"Hi, I'm Geneva. I just have some advice for Randy who just called," the voice said.
"Okay, what is it?"
"Well, if she really wanted to know how he feels, she should give him a blow job," Geneva said.
"What the..." Frasier shot out. "Do you mean that she should initiate fellatio just to see how he feels?"
"Yes, that's how I do it," Geneva said.
"And I bet you come up with a winner every time. Let's take a commercial on that note," Frasier said and switched off his microphone.
Roz came into the studio. "That last woman sure surprised you," she said.
"Yeah, she did. I mean, that was the last thing I expected to hear," Frasier said as he slumped back in his chair.
"But on the good side, it can only help improve the ratings," Roz said with a smile.
"Har, har, har," Frasier just said.
"Frasier, I have something to tell you," Roz said while looking at her feet.
"Yes, Roz, what is it?" Frasier said.
"I'm 'Randy,'" Roz said quickly.
"You certainly are. I read it on the men's room wall," Frasier quipped, not knowing what Roz meant.
"No, Frasier, I'm the caller 'Randy.' I needed to talk to someone, and I couldn't talk directly with you, so..." Roz said, and her voice trailed off.
"But, Roz, do you mean that you are in love with someone here at the station?" Frasier said, suddenly interested.
"Oh, yes," Roz said as she sat on the table in front of Frasier.
"Well, I hope you don't take the advice of the other caller. I mean..." and then his words were cut off by Roz's hand on his zipper.
"What the hell?" Frasier whispered as Roz unzipped his pants.
"Just sit back and enjoy," Roz said and slipped her hand inside the pants. "MMMMMMM, that looks good enough to eat," Roz said and kissed the head of Frasier's cock. "Hey, that got a response," she said as Frasier's dick went hard in her hands. Frasier could not believe what was happening. Roz was about to suck his cock. Nobody had ever done that. He had not had the nerve to ask Diane to do it, and Lillith thought that it was disgusting. Frasier could not help admitting that he had thought, no, fantasized about Roz, and she was really getting to him.
Roz massaged his hard cock with her hands, and then she tasted the precum on Frasier's cock. "You are ready, I see, but you are also on in 10 seconds," Roz said and slid his throbbing cock into her hungry mouth.
"Oh, shit," Frasier said as he put on his headset and turned on the microphone. "Hello again, this is FRAS-ier Crane COMING from the eeehhh well. Oh, you know the station's name," Frasier said, unable to focus on anything other than Roz's lips around his cock, moving up and down. He was afraid that the listeners would hear the loud blow job he was getting, so he turned the microphone away from himself.
"Okay, let's have a song while we enjoy this we-e-e-e-t summer day," Frasier punched the dials, and the music came on.
"Oh, god, Frasier, you have one great cock," Roz said as she started to lick it up and down while fondling his hanging balls. Frasier said nothing as he was riding the waves of ecstasy, trying his best not to come.
"Oh, Frasier, I want to taste you cum, shoot it down my throat," Roz said and then swallowed his dick to the base.
"Oh, my god," Frasier said as his hips thrust forward to meet Roz's mouth. Her hands on his balls and the sensation of her probing tongue on the underside of his cock was too much, and he shot his entire load into Roz's mouth with the force of a jet engine. Roz felt the spurts on the back of her throat, and she was enjoying her first real taste of Frasier. She tried to swallow all of Frasier's juices, but it was too much even for an experienced cock sucker like Roz, and some of it started to drip down her chin.
"She's swallowing it all, this is better than I ever imagined," Frasier thought as he looked at Roz's flushed face sucking his cum.
"My god, Roz, you are really good," Frasier said as Roz stood up.
"Well, I have had some experience with cock sucking before," Roz said and wiped the semen off her chin. "By the way, the song ran out about a minute ago," She said as she went back to her booth.
"Oh, eh, hello again, Seattle. Sorry about the delay, we had a eeeh technical problem, yeah, that's it. So, I'm sorry about that, but we are ready to take callers again, so let's see who's out there," Frasier said and jabbed at the phone lines.
"Hello, this is Randy again," The voice said, and this time Frasier did recognize Roz's voice.
"So, Randy, what's up eeeh I mean, what can I do for you?" Frasier said.
"Oh, you have already done enough. I took your advice, and I took Geneva's advice as well," Roz said with a coy smile as she looked at Frasier.
"Oh, I'm sure he appreciated it. I can only say that I would if it happened to me. So, how did he respond?" Frasier asked.
"Well, I'm not sure. What do you think?" Roz asked.
"I'm sure he loved it. I would, and he can not help looking at you differently after today. I know I do," Frasier said.
"Thank you, Dr. Crane," Roz said and hung up.
"You're welcome, Roz eeh, Randy, and please call me Frasier. Oh, look at the time, it's time to go, so, as always, I'm Frasier Crane; at your service. Goodbye," Frasier said and turned off the microphone.
"Roz, where are you?" Frasier said, but she was gone.
"What the??" Frasier thought.
"Hey, Frasier, how's the head-shrinking business?" Bulldog said as he barged into the studio. "I thought your show would pick up when that woman talked about sucking the big one, but then you turned it into a stuttering idiot," Bulldog said and slapped Frasier on the back.
"Hello, Bulldog, as subtle as a chainsaw, eh?" Frasier said.
"Oh, by the way, have you seen a cup of brown liquid in here?" Bulldog said as he looked around.
"No, I don't think so," Frasier said.
"Oh, shit, man. That was a powerful Native-American aphrodisiac, and now it's gone. Oh, man," Bulldog said and sat down.
"A Native-American aphrodisiac? Where the hell did you get it?" Frasier asked with a sneaking suspicion.
"From that guy who works the coffee stand down in the lobby, what's his name? Oh, yeah, Apu," Bulldog said.
"Apu? But he's an Indian, Bulldog," Frasier said.
"That's not very PC, is it, Frasier?" Bulldog said.
"No, what I mean is that he is from India," Frasier responded.
"No way, man. He said he just moved here from Springfield, where he ran the Kwicky-Mart," Bulldog said without realizing what Frasier meant.
"No, what I mean is that 'Apu Nahasapeemapetilan' is not a Native-American name," Frasier said.
"Whatever, Frasier.""But that aphrodisiac was a sure thing," Bulldog said while he continued to look for it.
"How does it work?" Frasier asked.
"Well, the person who drinks it falls in love with the person she looks at after she drinks it. It makes her so horny that she has to have it right then and there," Bulldog said.
"That explains a hell of a lot," Frasier thought. "What happens afterwards?" Frasier asked.
"Well, that depends. Apu said that if she swallows the semen, then she'll be forever in love; otherwise, it wears off after a couple of hours," Bulldog said and went to get his gear.
"Oh shit, that's what Roz drank before the show, and she swallowed my whole load. She'll be forever in love with me. Oh well, it could be worse. I mean, she's beautiful and sexy and a great cock sucker, man, she's great," Frasier thought. | 3 |
1,244 | Star Trek: Voyager Q-Spot Part 7 | "Q, I can't have sex with you as things are now," Janeway said in response to Q's request.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I could not... have sex with you when you are so superior to me. I am not the submissive kind," Janeway said with a stern look in her eyes.
"What do you suggest then, Kathy?"
"Well, you could make me a Q," Janeway said, but Q looked at her with horror and said, "No way, Kathy. How stupid do you think I am? If I gave you Q powers, you'd just snap yourself and this pathetic tub of yours home and leave me unsatisfied."
"Well, you could become human."
"You would like that, make me as fragile as you, Cro-Magnon sub-species. It's absolutely out of the question."
"It's the only way, Q. If you want me, you choose," Janeway said in defiance.
"With all due respect, bite me, Kathy. Let's look in on that Klingon bitch you call a chief engineer," Q said, and the image of B'Elanna Torres in a clothes shop appeared.
"This is really stupid, clothes shopping with two airheads. I would rather lick the warp core, but I must keep my cover," B'Elanna thought as the two blonde girls stood in front of her, comparing two tight, skimpy outfits.
"Why don't you just buy them both? You can afford them, right?" B'Elanna said, trying to end the shopping torture.
"Hey, that's a great idea, Brenda," the natural blonde said. "Of course it is, Kelly. That's why I'm the brains of this group," B'Elanna said, trying to hurry them up. "Of course I'm the brains. Kelly is alright, but no rocket scientist, and Donna? Don't get me started. If she did not have those (obvious) fake tits, she would have anything going for her."
They bought the clothes and left. Outside, they met Brandon, B'Elanna's "brother."
"Hi, girls. What's up?" Brandon said. Kelly looked away, saying nothing, while Donna mindlessly started to chatter with Brandon. "Hm, something is wrong between Kelly and Brandon. So what," B'Elanna thought as she observed the others.
Kelly and Donna quickly left, leaving the two Walsh twins behind. "So what's up, Brenda?" Brandon asked.
"Oh, nothing much. I just don't feel right."
"Don't give me that. You are off to England in a few weeks, and the rest of us have to stay here."
"I know, and I'll miss you all, especially you, Brandon," B'Elanna said and hugged him tightly. She really didn't care about Brandon; she had something else in mind. "So you and Kelly have problems, huh?"
"Well," Brandon started and then just stared at the road.
"Come on, Brandon. It's obvious to a blind man, you have problems."
"Well, you are right. We do not see eye to eye on some matters."
"It's sex, isn't it? I know how you look at her with lust," she said, trying to judge his reaction.
Brandon was shocked that his sister had put her finger on it so easily and decided to be honest. "Yeah, she's not ready. I mean, she has a long history of sexual partners, and now she won't sleep with me because she *loves* me, jeesh."
"She's a slut, but you can't get any, eh?"
"Brenda, what are you saying? She's your best friend."
"Yeah, right. Listen, Brandon; you are a great-looking guy, a hot guy to be honest. I can't believe that she could keep her hands off you. I mean, I could not," then she stopped.
"You! You have those kinds of thoughts about me, but I'm your brother?"
"Oh, please, Brandon. Of course, I have. I'm a normal teenager with sexual desires, and I share a bathroom with a very sexy man. Don't tell me you haven't thought of me that way. I know that you sometimes sneak a peek at me when I shower."
"I do not!"
"Don't try that. I even saw you jerking off while smelling a pair of my panties. Don't worry, Brandon. I liked what I saw, and if we had been alone in the house, I might have joined you." B'Elanna said and graced his cock quickly.
Brandon's face turned red, both by the fact that Brenda saw him whacking to her panties or the fact that she was giving him some incredibly hot images. "But Brenda," Brandon started to say, but B'Elanna put a finger on his mouth.
"If you show me yours, I'll show you mine," she said with an impish grin. "Come on," she said and took his hand.
"Where are we going, Brenda?"
"Oh, you'll see. We have to find a place that is just a little more private but not too private," B'Elanna said while a plan formed in her head.
She pulled him into a store, she did not care which, and then they made their way to the dressing cubicles in the back. B'Elanna pulled Brandon into the cubicle and looked at him with desire.
"Now, I want to see you like I did that day," she said, and then she pulled down her black satin panties and threw them to Brandon. "Let's see some action," B'Elanna said and sat down on the stool, careful not to let her short skirt ride up.
Brandon was not sure what to do as he stood in the cubicle with his sister's panties in his hand, but then he opened his pants and pulled out his cock. He smelled her panties and started to rub his cock, which was quickly getting hard.
"You said if I show you mine, you would show me yours. Well, I'm showing you mine, so where's yours?" Brandon said as he stared at his sister and masturbated like crazy.
"Fair is fair," B'Elanna said and spread her legs to reveal a thick bush of black hair against her creamy white thighs. She was already wet from the display, and she could hardly wait to put a finger in her pussy. Her hands moved to her breasts and then started to pinch her nipples as she enjoyed Brandon jerking off like crazy.
"Man, you are hot, Brenda," Brandon said as he took all her beauty and sexuality in while he worked his cock harder and harder. Brenda quickly slipped two fingers in her cunt and started to fuck her wet cunt. It had been a long time, and B'Elanna knew that she would not last long like this. B'Elanna's hips started to buck wildly on the stool as she drove herself into a frenzy.
"Oh, Brandon, I'm cumming," B'Elanna whispered so that the other people in the store did not hear them. She arched on the stool as she peaked. Brandon's masturbation increased as "Brenda" came in front of him.
"OOOHHH," Brandon moaned as he felt his climax coming on. "Don't shoot all over the place, Brandon. Put it in my mouth," B'Elanna said and opened her mouth to take Brandon's cock in her mouth. Brandon quickly shot his load as he felt her lips on his dick, and she swallowed all of his jiz. B'Elanna then licked the sperm off Brandon's cock, and she felt that his cock was hardening again. "Oh, you are hard again. Let me suck it," B'Elanna said, and Brandon could not object, as he was lost in passion.
B'Elanna quickly swallowed Brandon's entire shaft and sucked on it like a Hoover, and his cock was harder than ever before. B'Elanna licked his cock while she started to fondle his balls, she then moved her mouth down and started to lick and suck on his balls.
Brandon had never had a blowjob before, and the fact that it was Brenda sucking his cock just made it better. B'Elanna took his cock in her mouth again and worked it over with great speed, wanting to taste his cum again.
Brandon's hips bucked to meet B'Elanna's probing mouth, and he felt another orgasm coming on. "I'm gonna shoot, Brenda," Brandon whispered to B'Elanna, and then he shot a major load down her throat. B'Elanna loved the taste of cum, and Brandon's was no different. She almost came again as she felt his jiz spraying against the back of her throat.
As Brandon's cock went limp, B'Elanna licked the remains of his cum off it and then said, "Payback time, Brandon, but not here."
They left the store (Brandon still had her panties in his possession) and went into a little restaurant where they sat down and ordered lunch.
Brenda slid her foot up Brandon's leg and pressed it against his cock. "Use your foot to return the favor, Brandon," B'Elanna said as her foot circled his cock.
Brandon said nothing but slipped off a shoe and moved it up Brenda's smooth leg, up under her skirt, and then pressed against her wet crotch. B'Elanna was incredibly turned on by the game of "footsies" they were playing under the table; she liked the fact that they were sharing a sexual experience while in plain view of everybody.
B'Elanna felt Brandon's large toe slip up her cunt and could not help but gasp. Brandon pressed deeper inside her when he felt her surprise subside. He managed to foot-fuck her with great enthusiasm while keeping a straight face. They were almost discovered when the waiter arrived with the food, but the waiter did not make any comments.
Brenda had to bite down on the pizza she had ordered to keep from moaning with joy as Brandon rubbed her clit with his foot and then resumed his foot-fucking.Brenda came suddenly and could not help but moan out loud when she came. The other guests looked at them, but nobody said anything.
After a minute, B'Elanna straightened herself, and they finished their meal.
"Well, let's end it right there, shall we?" Q said and snapped his fingers, and the screen went black. Q put his hand on Captain Janeway's ass and gave it a big squeeze.
"What the hell are you doing, Q?" Janeway said and pulled his hand off her ass.
"Just feeling the merchandise while I think over my options, my dear," Q said while he stared at her breasts. "But since I haven't decided yet what to do, why don't we sit back and enjoy another experiment, what do you say?" Q said. As he sat down, a plush couch appeared a split second before he landed in it, and Janeway found herself on the couch next to him.
So what's next?
Well, I don't really know yet (I really don't), but something will come up really soon. If you have any suggestions for further plot, please mail me at Martin4Life@yahoo. | 6 |
1,245 | Star Trek: Voyager Q-Spot Part 2 | "Answer me, Q. God damn it. Where is my crew?" Janeway yelled.
"Don't get your bra in a twist, Kathy. Oh no, I forgot you don't wear a bra, do you?" Q said and stood up. "I must admit that you do not need it - 'they' look good enough to eat."
"Q," Janeway said, mortified.
"Oh, come on, Kathy. I know what you did a few minutes ago. 'I believe that cunnilingus is appropriate at this time,' do you remember?" Q said as his ears suddenly got pointy.
"You, you, you were Tuvok," Janeway exclaimed with horror.
"Yes, I was, and thank you for the experience. I enjoyed it. You see, Kathy, I have taken an interest in sexual escapades after our last meeting." Q said as he conjured up an image of him and Captain Janeway fucking on the table. "I must say you look great and feel great. To answer your question, Kathy, your crew is involved in an experiment I have started."
"An experiment? How dare you," Janeway said with fury.
"Oh, be quiet," Q said, and a ball-gag appeared in Janeway's mouth. "That's better. Now pay attention, please, or you might miss something important."
"I have started an experiment with regards to sex. I have placed each crewmember in a different environment and placed certain, shall we say, suggestions in their minds. I have chosen environments from your past. But you know, the humans of today are so boring - you have no sense of humor or sex for that matter. I found something interesting in your database. You see, Kathy, at the end of the twentieth century, you humans had something called 'Sitcoms' - they were a form of entertainment, and I have chosen the settings for my experiments from these 'Sitcoms'."
The ball-gag disappeared, and Janeway said, "What kind of experiment are you conducting, Q?"
"Oh, no, Mon Capitán, I'm not going to tell you. Finding out is half the fun, don't you think?" Q said playfully.
"No," Janeway said sternly.
"You party pooper," Q said. "Now, watch as I check on my first experiment. I know that this is not exactly a 'Sitcom,' but it resembled one so much I could not resist it."
Q snapped his fingers, and the image of Neelix appeared on the screen. He was wearing a suit and a tie and sat behind a huge desk in a luxurious office.
"Now, watch, Kathy. Neelix knows who everybody is and who he is supposed to be, but he also retains all the knowledge he has gathered so far. Let's sit back and enjoy this," Q said as he sat back in the captain's chair, and a huge tub of popcorn and a large beverage appeared in his hands.Monica's hands moved up Chelsea's arms, and then she opened the baseball shirt to expose a pair of teenage tits in a plain white cotton bra. "Let me return the favor," Monica said and removed the baseball shirt and bra. She cupped Chelsea's average-sized breasts; they were pointy and had very small nipples. The sensation of Monica's hands on her chest sent shivers up the young girl's back, and she could hear herself moan out loud as Monica started to suck on her tits. "Oh yes, oh yes. This is fucking incredible."
Neelix felt his cock get hard again as he saw the girl who was supposed to be his daughter get it on with the intern.
"Let me show you what a woman can do to a woman," Monica said as she started to open Chelsea's jeans. "Oh yes, please," Chelsea said with a pant.
Monica gently pushed her back onto the desk and pulled the blue jeans off her. She started to kiss the thighs, moving closer to her still-covered mound. Monica could see that she was soaking wet and could not wait to taste the virgin pussy. Chelsea's hands moved to her tits, and she started to pinch her nipples.
Monica's fingers brushed lightly over Chelsea's clit, and Chelsea shivered with joy. Chelsea felt her panties being pulled down, and her lightly covered pussy being exposed to both Monica and her "Father."
"Man, she is horny. I don't care if she is my daughter; I'm getting me some of that really soon," Neelix thought, and then he put his hands on Monica's shapely ass and then pulled her dress completely off her. He was surprised to discover that she did not wear any panties but only a pair of black stockings and a garter belt. He started to fondle her firm ass and then slipped his hand over her wet slit.
Monica, turned on even more by Neelix's hand on her pussy, started to lick Chelsea's pussy; she ran her tongue up and down the entire length of the young girl's pussy. Chelsea jerked her legs together as she felt a tongue on her pussy for the first time, but Monica spread her legs again and then pushed a finger up the young girl's cunt as she felt Neelix push three fingers up her own cunt.
"Let me do her," Neelix said as he pulled Monica aside.
"Oh yes, daddy, fuck me. I want you to be my first," Chelsea said, consumed with desire.
Monica kissed Neelix and then she climbed onto the table. "You can lick my cunt while your dad fucks your tight little cunt," and then she straddled Chelsea's face and then shoved her crotch onto the teenager's face. Chelsea started to tentatively lick Monica's hairy pussy.
The sight of Chelsea licking Monica's wet cunt was too much, and he had to fuck her right now.
Neelix placed his cock at the entrance of Chelsea's cunt and then slipped it inside. "Oooooooohhh," Chelsea moaned as she felt a cock inside her for the first time. Neelix slid into her with care, waiting to feel the resistance of the hymen but felt none. Chelsea had broken her hymen when she was thirteen by using a carrot.
As there was no resistance, Neelix found himself sliding in and out the incredibly tight cunt with greater speed.
"Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh," was all he heard from both Chelsea and Monica as his thrusts into Chelsea's body were transferred to Monica's as Chelsea slammed her tongue deeper and deeper inside her.
Neelix sat back into his chair, and Chelsea quickly climbed onto his lap. She placed her pussy right over his cock and then sank down onto it slowly while she kissed him. Neelix could taste Monica's juices on Chelsea's mouth as their tongues started to dance.
She rose up and down with great force as they inter-twined their bodies in the big office chair.
As they fucked, Monica lay back on the desk, throwing the piles of paper onto the floor and started to masturbate with whatever she could find on the table. She tried a letter-opener, but it was too sharp, then she found a cigar and pushed it up her cunt. She inserted it a couple of times until it fell apart from the moisture and then she threw it away. She finally found a judge's gavel and used it with great joy.
Neelix felt Chelsea's pussy tighten and felt his own orgasm coming on as well as her ass slammed against his bucking pelvis. "Oh Daddy, Yes Daddy, Fuck me Daddy," Chelsea screamed, and Neelix was glad that the Oval Office was soundproof. Chelsea came with a bang, and she saw stars as Neelix kept slamming into her while she shook with her first full orgasm. He then threw her onto the table next to the masturbating Monica and then shot a huge load over both women.
His cum shot all the way onto Chelsea's face, and she tasted his cum and liked it.
Monica's body arced with ecstasy as she slid the handle of the gavel all the way in, and Neelix's hot sperm spurted over her body.
Chelsea started to lick the jiz off Monica's tits, as Neelix had to sit down before he fell. "Next time you feel lonely, just come to me, Chelsea," Neelix said with anticipation. She looked at him with grateful eyes as she continued to lick Monica's tits.
"And you, Monica, you are fucking incredible. Next time I'll fuck you so good you won't be able to walk straight," Neelix said as he looked at Monica's heaving body.
"I just hope Hillary doesn't learn of this or somebody else for that matter," Neelix thought. | 3 |
1,246 | Star Trek: Voyager Q-Spot Part 1 | "It's a Class 4 gas giant," Commander Tuvok stated as the bright red phenomenon was shown on the main viewer.
"Oh, really, how fascinating," Captain Janeway said, not really interested in another galactic oddity. "So, are we just enjoying the view, or can we use this for anything, Mr. Kim?"
"Yes, Captain, we can collect energy from it and convert it for use onboard," Harry Kim said.
Janeway shifted in her seat, not really paying attention, as her thoughts were elsewhere.
"Captain?" Tuvok said.
"Oh, yes, very good. Mr. Kim, see to it," Janeway said and stood up. "Chakotay, you have the bridge. I'm... going to my ready room," she said and left.
"Commander Chakotay, I believe that the Captain is preoccupied by something," Tuvok said when the door closed behind Captain Janeway.
"Yes, I noticed that too. Do you know what it is?" Chakotay said.
"I believe that I have a good idea, but I hesitate to share it with anybody but the Captain. I do believe that the optimal course of action is if I talk to the Captain. I believe I can relieve her state of mind," Tuvok said.
"Okay, Tuvok, do that. How long do you require?" Chakotay said.
"I don't know. Just leave us alone for a while, and we'll be fine," Tuvok said and entered the Captain's ready room.
"Enter," Janeway said, and Tuvok entered.
"Ah, Mr. Tuvok, what can I do for you?" Janeway said as she straightened out her uniform.
"It's more of what I can do for you," Tuvok said deadpan.
"What do you mean?" Janeway said and wiped some sweat off her brow.
"I believe that you are frustrated. This results in a lack of focus and a general uneasiness in your work," Tuvok said.
"Frustrated?? Tuvok, get to the point, please," Janeway snapped.
"Very well, Captain. You are sexually frustrated. You have only had two sexual encounters since we came to the Gamma Quadrant over four years ago, and the last one was over nine months ago. To use a vernacular, you are 'horny as a toad'," Tuvok said, still not displaying any emotions.
"Tuvok," Janeway exclaimed, horrified that Tuvok had guessed her state, "you monitor my sex life?"
"Yes, Captain, but it was just a coincidence. Captain, you will not be able to perform your duties until you get your needs satisfied," Tuvok said.
"Are you offering?" Janeway said jokingly, not sure of Tuvok.
"Yes, I am. Although I am not in the Pon Farr, I can be sexually active if I choose to be. Captain, you need to be laid, and I'm offering my discreet services if you want them," Tuvok said.
Janeway felt her cunt tingle as she listened to Tuvok. "You would..."
"Fuck you, I believe the term is. Yes, I'm at your service," Tuvok said and opened his pants.
Janeway looked on as Tuvok let his pants drop and then pulled out an 8-inch penis. Her hands slid down to her crotch, and she started to rub the already wet fabric.
"I see you approve of my, ehm, equipment," Tuvok said as he observed Janeway putting a hand down her pants, fingering herself.
"Oh, Tuvok, I can tell you how hot I am. I'm gonna burst if I don't get it right now," the Captain said and opened her tunic. She then pulled the gray shirt over her head to expose a pair of medium-sized but firm tits with dark brown nipples already hard with excitement. She stood up and said, "Let me get you hard, Tuvok. Let me suck your magnificent prick," and then fell to her knees.
"Very well, Captain. If you insist," Tuvok said and then slid his semi-erect cock into Kathryn's hungry mouth. She immediately grabbed his ball sack and started to fondle it as she licked his cock up and down. Her mouth action had the desired effect on Tuvok's dick, and it stood in its full 10-inch glory.
Kathryn tried to take it in her mouth, but she was only able to get the head inside. As she tried to take him in her mouth, her right hand slid down her pants, and she started to rub her wet and hot snatch.
"Captain," Tuvok said.
"Call me Kathryn or Kate," Janeway said and started to suck on his ball sack.
"Kate, this is for your pleasure. I believe that cunnilingus is appropriate at this time. Allow me," Tuvok said as he pushed her back onto her own table and then pulled her pants off. He saw that she did not wear any panties and then shortly lingered at the sight of her trimmed auburn cunt, wet and ready.
Tuvok spread her legs and started to kiss her thighs, working towards her cunt.
"Suck it now, dammit! That's an order," Kathryn yelled out and grabbed him by his pointy ears, pressing him into her pussy.
Tuvok immediately went to work on her pussy by licking and gently biting her clitoris."It will make an interesting addition to my sexual subroutine," Neelix answered and unzipped his pants.
Tuvok lifted Kathryn's hot, sweaty body from the floor and pushed her against the wall. She wrapped her slim legs around Tuvok's hips, and then felt his hard, throbbing cock slip inside her wet pussy and all the way in. He took her hard against the wall, with his hips slamming against her ass with a loud thud-thud-thud as they fucked each other with a fury.
"Uh, I'm gonna cum really soon, Tuvok. Harder, harder," she said as her hips slammed against his thrusting pelvis. As he felt the walls of her vagina starting to clench his cock, he could not help himself, and he felt he was about to shoot his load as well.
"Oh, Tuvok, cum inside me. I want to feel your sperm spraying inside me," she said as the onset of yet another orgasm came over her.
As he felt her cumming again, he let his jizz shoot up her cunt as he felt her coming with a vengeance.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH," she screamed out as she felt the jet of his seed inside her and then run down her legs.
After a few minutes, Janeway caught her breath again. "That was sensational, Tuvok. I really needed that."
"I appreciate your statement, Kate. You should now be able to perform your duty again. But if you ever need my services again," he said as he wiped the cream off his cock.
"Oh, you bet I'll require your services again. Maybe once or twice a day," she said with a wicked smile and started to rub her tits again.
"If you think twice a day would suffice," Tuvok said, totally deadpan, and put on his uniform again.
"It might not always be enough, but it's a start," she said, and then she got dressed again as well.
"Anytime you require my services, just ask. I'm always ready," Tuvok said as he went onto the bridge.
Janeway went onto the bridge, wondering if any of the crew heard anything. Then she stopped. She was alone! Where was the crew? She stood on the bridge all by herself, nobody else in sight.
"Computer, list crew complement," Janeway said out loud.
"Captain Kathryn Janeway," the Computer said.
"What!!!" Janeway said.
"And Rear Admiral Q," the computer finished.
"Q," Janeway yelled out.
"You called, Kathy," a voice said behind her.
She turned to see Q sitting in the captain's chair in the gala-uniform of a Rear Admiral. "You like it?" he said with a smile.
"Where the hell is my crew?" She shrieked at him. | 4 |
1,259 | Stone of the Phalanx | "Are you ready?" Q asked Frederic.
"Yes, let's go. The Continuum. Sounds endless."
"It is. It is hard to explain without you having seen it. I will take you there, and once we are inside, you can ask any questions you like."
"OK. I'm ready."
Q raised his hand and... they were inside the Continuum.
It was a strange experience. It was as if it was made of pure energy. Frederic also noticed that he hadn't materialized a body. His life force was all that remained. He could interact with everything around him, but this quickly bored him. He tried searching for Q, or another Q. Suddenly, he found a white glowing sphere. He made his force float towards it. At once, they connected. He felt a surge of power flow through him, along with knowledge. Frederic panicked. He wasn't expecting this. He tried to yell, but without a body, he found that more than difficult. In one white flash, Frederic was standing on a road, with a gas station next to it. Next to Frederic, Q appeared. Frederic literally flew towards him. "What was that? What happened? What was that white sphere?"
"Calm down. You were in the Continuum as it really is. You made contact with a fellow Q, who was curious, but who didn't know you would panic like that, and he sends his apologies for scaring you. That white sphere as you describe it, is his life force as you put it. When you made contact with it, your knowledge and experiences from your entire lives joined, making you receive his knowledge, and he receiving yours."
"First I felt like I really came home or something, but later it felt... confining. I tried to contact you, but I couldn't find you. Then that other Q came and I approached him, I didn't know what would happen."
"You're right, I should have told you. We are still in the Continuum, but I let you see it as this representation. Shall we go in again? This time, I will guide you."
"OK." Frederic's voice trembled a little.
Thanks to the guidance of Q, Frederic slowly grew accustomed to making direct contact with other Q. Because he was only part Q, and part Human, it was very difficult to see, hear and feel with only his powers. He was still used to using his body.
"Now, do you want to go on with our tour, or do you want to remain here for a while?"
"I think I'll go on with the tour," Frederic said.
In one flash, Frederic and Q reappeared in 'normal' space, just outside Training.
And, to Frederic's delight, they had bodies again!
Q pointed his arms forward, and a small blue disc appeared, slowly growing in size. After maybe 2 to 3 seconds, Frederic could see it wasn't a disc, but more of a tunnel, cutting through space and time. It took maybe half a minute, and the vortex was large enough for them to step through.
"Where are we?"
"At the same place, but in a parallel universe, where time is running faster than in your universe. We Q are the only ones who can really see what it is like in different universes. Do you see that ship?"
"Yes, I do. But... that's the Enterprise!"
"The real one, you know, Star Trek? Well, meet Picard and consorts."
They appeared on the main bridge, it was identical to the one Frederic had walked on so many times.
"Q! What are you doing here?" Picard said as they appeared. Then he noticed there was somebody with him.
"I want you to meet my protégé, Frederic. He is part human, and I am showing him around. You don't mind do you, Jean-Luc?"
Frederic had to fight to keep his chuckle down. He had seen something like this on TV, but he had no idea it was that funny when he was on the other side.
Picard had no other choice but to say he didn't mind, but Frederic could read he was annoyed, and something else was also there. Fear, fear for his ship and for what might come next.
Frederic knew Q knew the same thing, but he didn't show. He liked the idea of Picard squirming around, fearing what Q might do to him. Frederic, on the other hand, was much more compassionate. He said "Don't worry Captain, we won't harm you or do anything. Q is just showing me around. You won't harm them, do you Q?" the last was asked like a child which was asking whether Santa existed.
"I have never harmed them in any way!" Q shouted, pretending to be offended.
At that moment, Frederic noticed... Deanna Troi. Was she looking nice today! She was wearing her sexy uniform, with a deep cut in front, showing the top part of her breasts. He mentally reached out to Q. "I would like to have a piece of her!" he sends. "Go ahead, give it a try. You have control over minds, something we Q do not have, or have lost long ago. But I would recommend you wouldn't go at it immediately, since that will draw too much attention. Do it later, when she is alone in her quarters." Came the response from Q. Frederic sends back that it was OK with him.
"Now, can I have a look around Captain?" Frederic asked, trying to be polite. "There is no stopping you, so go ahead."
"Really Jean-Luc, you should try to be more friendly. My protégé has the courtesy of asking you, although he shouldn't ask for anything, and all you do is snap at him," Q said in a patronizing voice, like a parent giving a child a lecture.
"It's alright Q," Frederic said. He paced around the bridge, looking at the various stations, loading information from the different people as he went. "So Q, you have had fun with these people, huh?" he asked aloud. "Fun isn't the right word. Encounters might be a better description. And yes, I have had them. It wasn't fun because these people have no sense of humor!" Picard was getting paler as Q finished his response.
"Let's have a look around the rest of the Enterprise in operation," Frederic said. He stepped into the turbolift, and Q appeared next to him. "Why don't you use your transportation?" Q asked mentally. "I don't like that. I like the old-fashioned way better. Besides, transportation makes me itch."
After they completed the tour of the Enterprise, and Frederic was properly introduced to Q's 'friends', they went on with the tour of this galaxy. They appeared on OPS of space station Deep Space 9. Odo, who happened to be on the bridge, immediately tried to attack Q, but was restrained from doing that by Ben Sisko. "My good friend Captain Sisko," Q began. "Stop it Q. What do you want this time?" "Nothing, I just wanted to introduce my protégé, Frederic." Q gave the entire routine. After the tour of the station, Frederic promised to himself he would come back for Kira and Dax.
The next stop was the future of the universe they were currently in. They stopped on a starship named Voyager. "Kathy!" Q greeted Captain Janeway. Frederic was giving Q the same look as all the others on the bridge, Janeway not included of course, "Kathy?". Again, same routine, Q introduced Frederic, the tour of the ship and so on. Frederic also noticed that Q and Janeway had a 'special' relationship. The other commanders had greeted him like he was total evil, but Janeway greeted him as an old friend, almost like an ally. He would return for Kes and 7of9.
After the tour of the starships, Q showed Frederic around in the different galaxies that he found interesting. Q taught Frederic how to create the vortex, to set a destination and how to make the destination random, making the trip all the more fun. They returned to Frederic's home universe and he told Daphnix all about it.
Frederic returned to the Star Trek universe with Daphnix by his side. They appeared inside Deanna's room. She wasn't there yet. They didn't have to wait long.
As soon as she was inside, Frederic sealed the door with the familiar Q-grid. He reached out for her mind, but her empathic abilities disrupted him a little. He finally got total access and she was now at his mercy. Daphnix had disrobed himself, his now back to 'normal' size 40 centimeters at attention. He grabbed the 2 sides of her uniform covering her breasts. He pulled the straps down, and her lovely tits bounced into view. The contact with air made the nipples hard, making an ideal target for Daphnix to begin. He sucked on one of them, while kneading, rubbing and pinching the other. Deanna moaned in ecstasy as Frederic rubbed his now uncovered dick against her ass. She had suddenly realized that her uniform had disappeared. Frederic continued to stimulate her pleasure center of her brain. Frederic pulled her behind open, exposing her ass. In contrary to her well-stretched cunt, her ass had never been penetrated. Frederic pushed the head of his 30 centimeter long cock against her rectum. "Yes, take my ass," she purred in enhanced ecstasy. Frederic eagerly complied. He pushed the head of his 10 centimeter wide cock against her ass. The hole was very, very tight and Frederic pushed with all his strength and Deanna had a thrashing orgasm as the head popped in her ass. The girl cum shot out of her cunt with a tremendous force, coating the carpet under her feet with a pool of wet, slimy cum.Frederic pushed deeper, and Deana had continuous orgasms as his cock found its way down her bowels. Daphnix had meanwhile worked his way down to her cunt, licking it and drinking her cum as it came pouring out. Frederic had established a rapid pace in her tight anus, and Daphnix had done the same in Deana's cunt. She was thrashing in multiple orgasms at a time. After half an hour, they switched places. Frederic was careful to stop them from cumming too much, so they wouldn't get exhausted. This went on for another 5 minutes. Frederic then decided it was enough and he let them cum for the last time. As they withdrew, Deana fell to the ground, totally spent. She fell into a very deep and relaxing sleep, a sleep that had much comparison with a coma.
Frederic and Daphnix returned to their own universe. They had enough fun for the day, they decided. As Daphnix went to sleep, Frederic transported down to Earth. He decided to let his powers decide the location, and snapped his fingers.
Frederic reappeared. He was a little disoriented. He looked around, forming an image of his surroundings. Suddenly, he found himself surrounded by guerrillas. He had gotten in the middle of a small Middle American country fighting against repression by the 'government'. "Get down, with your hands behind your neck," they shouted in Spanish. Frederic replied in the same language, "I am not of the government army, I do not intend to harm you in any way." Of course, they didn't believe him at first. With a little 'encouragement' on Frederic's part, they decided he was not a threat. He walked with them towards their encampment, where Frederic had great success with his powers. He was the entertainer for tonight. One of the guerrilla's favorite tricks was making flames appear out of thin air. But Frederic had only eyes for the wounded in the camp. He went to the tent where all the sick and wounded people were. The first person he saw was a man, more a boy actually, about 18 years old, who had the bad luck of stepping on a land mine, causing him to have lost his 2 legs, along with a very dangerous wound in his abdomen. He was dying. Frederic sat down beside him and repaired the wound in the boy's abdomen. Then Frederic gave the boy both his legs back. "What's your name, soldier?" Frederic asked in Spanish. "Paolo," the boy replied. "Thank you, signor. My life belongs to you. If you ever need help or anything, let me know. I will give my life for you."
"Thank you, Paolo. But I don't think that will be necessary. But, if there is anything, I will let you know." The boy nodded and got up, testing his new legs. With one last grateful nod, he left the tent and went to tell anyone about what happened to him.
The second person he saw was a woman. She had been caught in crossfire. She had 46 bullet wounds all over her body, none of them lethal, but together, they had cost her a lethal amount of blood. Frederic repaired the wounds and replenished her blood supply. "Marina" was her reply to Frederic's question about her name. She too swore an oath to help Frederic whenever he needed it.
Frederic helped over 50 guerrillas that night, and when he left the camp, the leader said that if he ever needed anything, he could always find his friends here to count on. Frederic nodded and said he would. He then snapped his fingers and transported back to the bridge.
"Damn," Frederic said. He was scratching himself all over. "I thought I got rid of this," he said.
Frederic went to Daphnix' cabin, finding his friend having breakfast. "And," Frederic began, "what do you think about last night?" "Great!" Daphnix exclaimed. "I want to try something. I want to connect myself to you, creating a bond between us, making us share feelings, thoughts and experiences."
"Ok, sounds like fun," Daphnix responded.
They went to the holodeck. Frederic ordered two chairs, 2 meters apart. When they were seated, faces towards each other, Frederic ordered the holodeck to be black. Daphnix saw nothing, not even the chair where he was sitting. Suddenly, he fell into a coma. Frederic didn't understand it. He had entered his friend's mind and began finding the centers he wanted to connect, as his friend lost consciousness. There was nothing he could do. In despair, he cried inward, "Powers, do anything to save him, anything, I give you carte blanche."
A flash engulfed Daphnix and Frederic. As Daphnix reawakened, he said, "I can't feel you. What happened?" "I don't know. I said my powers to save, no matter what the cost. Since then, I was unable to enter your mind, to see what happened."
Daphnix suddenly got up, stretched his arms sideward, and flames appeared behind him, going at least 5 meters into the 'air' of the Holodeck. "I, I, I can't make them stop!" Daphnix yelled hysterically.
Frederic stepped in, took over and stopped the flames. "Daphnix, I want you to lower your mental shield, allowing me entrance."
"How?"
"Just think of it."
Frederic felt his obstruction was being removed. He didn't have to look very long. Daphnix' brain had evolved. Big time. "Daphnix, you have 100% use over your brain."
"Meaning what?"
"You have almost the same powers I do, except matter/anti-matter control, inter-dimensional travel, transport and control over living tissue and heightened awareness. That's about it, I think. Do you want to keep the powers, meaning you have to learn how to refrain from using them to do harm to other living beings."
"Or, I could give them up, meaning I will have to stay the same plain guy? No thank you, I'll keep them."
"Good, then I will teach you."
"Fine by me." | 3 |
1,352 | Blossom: First Date | "Sure, I understand," Nick said into the phone. "No, no hard feelings. Well, nice talking to you."
"Shot down again, huh?" His son Anthony came ambling in from the kitchen.
"Yeah," Nick said, "and thanks for the sympathy. Hey, are you doing anything Saturday night? Maybe we could rent a video, or..."
"Sorry, Dad, no dice. I've got to work." Anthony plopped down in front of the TV as Nick's other son, Joey, came through the front door. "Hey, Joey," Anthony called out. "Dad struck out with some woman again. You busy Saturday night?"
"Uh, no," Joey said. "Why?"
"To go out with Dad," Anthony explained patiently.
"Oh. Uh, I'm busy."
"But Joey," Nick broke in. "You just said you were free!"
"Uh -- something came up?"
Not waiting for the rest, Joey ducked into the kitchen.
Just then Nick's daughter, Blossom, came down the stairs. She was about 16, just on the verge of true womanhood. She hid a developing body in an agglomeration of bits and pieces of old clothes, but her growing breasts and slender legs were becoming too noticeable to be hidden. Nick had done the best he could raising her on his own these last few years since the divorce, but secretly he feared he hadn't done enough. Was she ready for adulthood -- and adult relationships? One son was a recovering addict, another was -- not to put it too bluntly -- dumb as a rock. Blossom was his last hope.
Luckily, he thought to himself, she never seemed to realize how much hope and concern he had invested in her; she was almost always cheerful, easy-going, ready for anything.
"Hi, Dad," she called out, heading for the door. "I gotta..."
"Blossom!" he cut in. "Are you..."
"Watch out," Anthony interrupted. "Dad got stiffed again. He's..."
"Again?" Blossom edged closer to the door. "Look, I've really gotta go..."
"Doing anything Saturday night?" Nick finished.
"Looking for someone to go out with him," Anthony said.
"Out to meet Six," Blossom answered as she slipped out the door. "See ya!"Blossom seemed like a pro at it, he thought; even as he went along with it, he knew she was carefully guiding their conversation, keeping it happy, trying to boost his spirits. She seemed so mature in these surroundings.
Maybe, he thought, maybe it was because seeing her outside of the house meant seeing her outside of all the accumulated memories of her childhood. In such an adult setting, he was finally able to see his daughter as an adult -- or, he reminded himself, almost an adult.
He tried to tell her that, but the words seemed to trip over themselves, and he couldn't get them out right. Trying to make his point, he reached across the table and took her slim hand in his. It started out as just a momentary gesture, but his hand lingered on hers. He felt her downy skin, the pulse beating just below the surface. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, neither spoke.
"Ahem." It was the waiter, bringing their main courses. Nick took his hand away, slowly. The conversation lagged as they ate.
Halfway through dessert, Blossom suddenly whispered to her father. "Psst. That couple to your right. Don't look now! The ones having the lasagna."
Nick lifted his napkin up to his face, using it as a shield while he snuck a peek. A middle-aged couple surrounded by a forest of empty wine bottles and glasses looked away quickly as his eyes caught theirs.
"What is it?" he whispered to his daughter. "What are they doing?"
Blossom leaned over the table, keeping her voice low. Her young breasts pressed against the top of her dress as she bent forward, and her pendant dangled just above her pasta.
"They've been staring at us all night. You know what I think?" She winked.
"What?"
"I bet they think I'm your date, not your daughter." She smiled. "From the looks on their faces now, I'm almost sure of it!"
Nick leaned back, blushing. He was a bit embarrassed, but Blossom seemed to take it as a great joke.
"You know," she said as the waiter picked up Nick's credit card, "we could really drive them crazy. You want to?"
Nick smirked. This was the Blossom he always knew, the one who loved to pull the leg of stuffy people. With only a passing thought about pulling a practical joke in such a fancy place, he nodded his assent. "What do we do?"
"Just follow my lead," she said. The waiter brought the check back then; Nick signed off with a generous tip and rose from the table.
Blossom slid out of her side. As she did, her skirt rode up, and a slit opened wide, giving the couple at the next table a clear view of her luscious legs. She tugged on Nick's shoulder as he started to turn for the door. He turned back to her, and Blossom reached up and flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.
It was no father-daughter kiss. She opened her mouth and pressed it to his lips, slipping her tongue inside. He felt her body pressed closely to his, her breasts squashed against his chest, one of her legs wrapped around his. His arms surrounded her, and his hands met on the bare, warm skin of her back. Blossom held the kiss for a full minute, her hands tangling in his hair.
At last, they broke their embrace. "Thanks for the dinner, Daddy," Blossom said in a stage whisper as they passed the obviously shocked couple.
Nick's mind was awhirl. To his own shock, he realized he now had an erection, his hard cock pressing against his pants. He hastily buttoned up his sports coat, hoping it would cover up the bulge. For a fraction of a second, he had forgotten Blossom was his daughter and had become lost in a passionate kiss with a very lovely young woman. Now, realizing what he had done, Nick was in a daze.
Somehow he made his way to the car. As he opened the door for her, Blossom pecked him on the cheek -- a very daughterly thing to do. By the time he'd gotten in on his side, he'd almost convinced himself he was exaggerating what had gone before. He felt his erection subsiding as he slipped his key into the ignition and started up the engine. Then he looked over at his daughter. She was looking out the passenger window, the light from a passing car throwing her into silhouette. Nick smiled at the familiar profile. But then his eyes went down, down to her chest, where he could see her breasts heaving. It wasn't just him, he knew then.
And as the car passed and his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw the smooth curves of Blossom's silky legs. He closed his eyes briefly. His erection was back.
Suppressing his stormy emotions, Nick opened his eyes again and pulled out of the parking spot. "Good food, don't you think?" he said, an artificial brightness making his voice brittle.
"Hmm? Oh, yes," Blossom said, still staring out her window. She seemed far away.
"Yes, good food," Nick repeated.
They didn't say another word while they drove across town to the theater, got their tickets, and settled into a back row in the crowded screening room.
The lights dimmed, but it took a few minutes, while the trailers zipped past, for the audience to quiet down. The theater was hushed by the time the feature was underway. It was a romance -- Blossom had picked it out, of course -- filled with lingering moments and tight embraces.
Nick became aware, little by little, of a subtle scent of roses. He bent closer to Blossom -- yes, it was her perfume. She noticed the movement and bent toward him, resting her head on his shoulder. Nick watched as the light from the screen cast a flickering halo around Blossom's long brown hair. Each strand seemed to catch the light a different way, lending a sultry sheen to her appearance.
A man from further down the row bumped past then. "Excuse me! Pardon me!" Nick and Blossom settled back into their seats after he passed.
On the screen, it grew cold and wintry as the lovers struggled to make a go of it. The sound of the wind rushing through the cracks in their hovel seemed to fill the theater, and soon everyone in the audience was shivering along with the actors. Nick put his arm around Blossom's shoulder and drew her close.
She burrowed into his side. He felt his heart thump loudly and was amazed that everyone else in the theater didn't turn around and tell him to shush.
Nick's hand was resting on Blossom's bare arm. Then she shifted slightly, and his hand slipped in between her arm and her side. Instinctively he flexed his fingers and felt her warm flesh give a little. The feeling was familiar. His eyes staring straight ahead, Nick realized with a thud that he was groping his daughter's breast. His cock grew harder, and he squirmed a bit.
Blossom made no move to get away. It seemed to Nick that his hand didn't belong to him anymore. Without conscious direction, it followed the sensuous curve of Blossom's firm mound. His fingers moved slowly, tenderly across the velvet. A prickle of electricity shot up Nick's arm as they strayed off the material and onto her skin in the deep valley between her breasts. Her pendant slipped over his fingers as they explored further.
"Sorry! Coming through!" The man from down the aisle worked his way back past them, a huge tub of popcorn and a vat of soda clutched to his body. This time when he passed, Nick and Blossom remained linked.
Nick's cock was rock-hard now, squeezed so tightly by his slacks that the pain was intense. Suddenly he felt the pressure ease. As he looked down, a small, pale hand was unzipping his fly.
Nick licked his lips.
A small voice within him continued to tell him it was wrong. But the memory of his daughter's hot, burning kiss was stronger. As the lopsided battle went on with his conscience, Blossom spread apart the flap of his briefs and tugged his dick free.
Nick sighed at the relief as his massive erection sprang out. While he tenderly caressed Blossom's breasts, his young daughter grasped his shaft and began to rub. Slowly, at first. He felt her fingers slide over the wide helmet and down the rod, tugging slightly at the dry skin stretched tight by his hard-on. Soon, though, a few drops of pre-cum oozed out of the tip, and she rubbed them down, lubricating his shaft as she began to speed up her ministrations.
She was using only her thumb and forefinger to circle his cock. Nick bent down and whispered in her ear. "Use your whole hand, sweetheart. Oh, yes, like that. Honey, you know I love you. You're making your father very happy now. Oh, sweetheart!"
Blossom, her head still buried in his side, murmured back, "Is it really good, Dad? Am I doing it all right?"
"You're doing it perfect, Blossom," Nick cooed. "Just ... just ... oohhhhhhhh!"
Two spurts, then a third, and the cum boiled out of him, erupting out the tip of his cock and flowing down over Blossom's hand. She continued to rub until he pushed her hand away.
Taking his arm from her side, Nick reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to his daughter.
But Blossom lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes. Then she put her hand to her mouth, the hand glistening with Nick's cum, and licked the fingers clean, one by one. After she had finished, Nick bent down and kissed her. The taste of his own salty cum in his daughter's mouth was incredibly erotic, and his cock began to stiffen slightly.
Just then the credits began to roll, and the house lights came up slowly. Nick stuffed his cock back into his pants and zipped them hastily.
Nick weaved slightly as they walked out to the parking lot; he felt unsteady and uncertain and very confused.
Blossom clung closely to him, but the crowd was everywhere, and it wasn't until they were both in the car that he felt it safe to talk.
"Blossom..." he began."You first," she said at last.
Nick began by looking at her, but found it easier to turn away and stare out the windshield. He took a deep breath.
"Blossom, I -- I'm sorry for what happened in there. I let things get out of control. It's my fault. I -- Can you forgive me? Can you ever forgive me?"
Blossom put a hand on his arm. Nick flinched.
"Dad, it's not your fault. You can't help what happened. It was me. I -- I don't know. Maybe I got caught up in the movie. All I know is that I love you and ..."
"I love you, too, Blossom. But you know we can't..."
"I know!"
Nick could hear her sobbing quietly, but Nick still kept his eyes straight ahead. His fingers were curled so tightly around the steering wheel that the knuckles were a ghostly white.
"It's wrong." Even to Nick, his words sounded cold and flat. "It's just wrong. Blossom, I'm your father. I should know better. But when I saw you tonight, so beautiful, so -- so sexy, I -- NO! No, I can't do that! I can't say that! There's no excuse!" His head fell onto the steering wheel. "Oh, God, what have I done?"
"Dad?" Blossom put her arm around him. "Dad, I -- maybe I wanted something to happen. I knew what this dress was like. And in the restaurant -- well, you know. I have to admit I've wondered for a long time what it would be like to kiss you like that. I've never kissed a boy like that -- well, except for one, once, but that was just to see what it was like. And it wasn't -- like it was with you.
"So it's my fault, Dad. Oh, please, don't hate me!"
"Hate you?" Nick turned toward her. He saw the tracks of her tears running down her smooth cheeks. "Honey, I love you. I really do. I always -- always ..."
Nick bent forward. The words were still dying on his lips when he kissed the tears from her cheeks. But then he went on, to her mouth. Their tongues met. A flame rose high within him. His arms wrapped around her, pressing her against his chest. He felt her heartbeat pounding madly. Eagerly, hungrily they kissed.
All hesitation and doubt had left him. There was room for just one emotion in his mind, and that was a deep, abiding, erotic love for this nubile goddess in his arms.
Their embrace lasted long after the other cars had left the lot. Finally they broke it off. With trembling hands, Nick put the car into gear and drove off.
What now, he thought? Now that I am madly in love with my own daughter?
It was Blossom who made the next choice.
"Turn here," she said softly. "At the light."
Nick swung the car to the right. Within a few blocks they had left the bright lights of the main road behind them. He looked around. It had been awhile since he'd been in this part of town, and he wasn't sure where they were heading. The street lights were few and far between now.
"There, off to the right. See, between those two posts?"
Dimly he made out a rutted path. The headlights picked out a narrow, rugged lane that went into the brush for a hundred feet or so and then stopped in a dark, secluded clearing.
He turned to Blossom. "Where are we?"
"The kids at school told me about this place," she said quietly. "They use it for -- well, special occasions. I've never been here myself. I guess I never had a special occasion - until now."
Blossom's fingertips brushed Nick's neck as she helped him off with his sports coat. The steering wheel jabbed him in the side as he twisted.
"Maybe we should ..." Blossom said, motioning with her eyes to the back seat.
She and Nick got out on opposite sides of the car. Blossom quickly opened the rear door on her side and slid in.
Nick, though, closed the driver's door and then let his body sag against the car's frame. The enormity of what he was about to do seemed to concentrate itself into a roar in his head like a massive wave breaking over the shore. I can't, he told himself.
There was a tap at the window. He looked in. Blossom crooked a finger at him. He got in.
The young girl slid back to her side of the car. While Nick loosened his tie and undid his belt buckle, Blossom slipped the thin straps of her dress off her shoulder and reached behind her back to pull down the short zipper.
Tugging his shirt out of his slacks, Nick found his thoughts hopelessly tangled. In his mind's eye he saw Blossom growing up -- a babe in arms, a little girl taking her first bike ride, a kid singing along with him. But when he looked up he saw something else: a lovely maiden lowering her dress, exposing a pair of exquisite breasts. The thin moonlight rippling through the branches made speckled patterns on her pale skin, revealing now and again the small, dark circles at the peak of each breast, the darker nubbins protruding from them.
Nick fumbled off his shoes and socks, then slid off his slacks and briefs. Blossom reached out, her dress still half-on, and caressed his chest.
And then she wiggled out of the dress. As it slumped to the floor, she reached down and peeled off her pantyhose.
Even in the dim light, Nick could make out the dark patch of hair, the voluptuous swell of her hips.
He moved toward her, stretching out on the bench seat. His hand fluttered above her body, tracing out every curve and hollow. They kissed, tenderly, and then he moved down, nuzzling her neck, working his way to Blossom's perfect orbs. With soft, butterfly kisses he surrounded them, until at last he reached the summit. Then greedily he suckled his daughter's nipples, taking them into his mouth, biting gently at their sensitive skin.
Blossom moaned, deeply, and writhed beneath him.
Nick's hand followed the swoop of her torso down to her thighs. He ran the back of his hand over the soft skin, moving with each pass closer and closer to her virgin treasure. Blossom opened herself to him, spreading her legs apart.
Nick savored every second, every touch, every sensation. Never in his life, he thought, had he seen such a perfect body. Never had love and lust mingled so intoxicatingly.
His fingers brushed against the crinkly hair of his daughter's pubic mound, and then slid down to her labia. He was delighted to find them already slick. Tenderly he spread them, slipping a finger inside, running it up and down her lubricated slit.
"Yesss," Blossom sighed, spreading her legs further apart.
Nick explored deeper into his daughter, pressing on until he came to the maidenhead. A frisson of joy reverberated in his head. Still a virgin! For a second some almost dead part of him called out to let her remain so. But this felt so right.
His thumb found the little button of her clitoris and Blossom shrieked for a second. Her breath was coming in gulps now as he manipulated her clitoris and extended two fingers into her opening.
"I want you," Blossom gasped. "I want you in me now, Daddy!"
Nick shifted, rolling over so that his hips rested between hers. He felt the underside of his cock rub against her pubic patch, scratching delicately at the sensitive shaft.
"We don't -- we don't have to do anything you don't want to," he whispered to her. "I want you, honey, but if we're going too fast, it's not too late."
"No! I want you!" she insisted. "Please, please, put it in me!"
Nick let the head of his cock slide down to the hot, wet entrance to his daughter's tunnel. Blossom immediately began to buck up at him.
He held back, letting his cock ride up and down the slick folds. He wanted her first time to be as special, as gentle, as perfect as he could make it. Still holding his cock outside her, Nick bent down and kissed Blossom. She kissed him back hard, inflamed with lust.
Ever so slightly, ever so cautiously he pressed his cock into her. The hot folds spread apart easily, opening -- blossoming, even -- to accept his engorged rod.
With the helmet not quite all the way in, Nick pulled back again. Blossom answered with a quiet growl. "You're teasing me," she protested.
"Love isn't something to be rush, Blossom," Nick told his daughter. "It's like a fine wine. You should approach it slowly. Explore it from every angle. Sip at it lightly, then savor the taste." As he spoke, he again slid his cockhead into her. This time he let the helmet pop all the way in, but held it there.
"What if I want to gulp it?" Blossom said. He could hear the smile in her voice.
"There will be time for that later," he said. "But now, honey, this might hurt a bit."
"I know," she said. "But I'm -- I'm ready."
Nick covered her mouth with his as he pressed his cock up to her maidenhead. The thin tissue held. He thrust once, twice, a third time, and then felt it tear away, allowing his cock to slide all the way in.
Her vagina was tight, tighter than he'd ever had before. He felt every inch inside her, and it was hard to resist the urge to begin driving his shaft in and out immediately.
But Blossom was biting her lip, and a tear or two glistened in the corners of her eyes.
She must have sensed his fear. "It wasn't too bad," she whispered.
That eased Nick's fears, but he still was afraid to move. After a few moments, Blossom moved her hips under him, urging him on. Still he didn't dare.
His daughter put her lips to his ear and whispered softly.
"Fuck me, Daddy."
With a groan, Nick eased his raging hard-on out of Blossom's cunt and plunged it back in.
"Oh, yes!" she cried, her hands clawing at his naked back. "Yes, more!"
Nick complied with her request, driving his rod in and out of her no longer virginal tunnel.On each upstroke, he would lift almost completely out, so he could get the delight of feeling her tight lips spread open before his pressure again and again.
Fucking his daughter, her hole so tight, but her body so willing, made him feel like a teenager again himself, like he was experiencing his own first fuck. He tried out different rhythms, he wiggled his cock from side to side—though there wasn't much room to maneuver—he even inserted a finger in her anus and felt the pressure of his shaft through her asshole's wall.
Through it all, Blossom kept up a running commentary, complimenting his technique, suggesting new angles, screaming her joy. Her mother had been almost silent in bed, especially toward the end; this was a new and wonderful experience for Nick. Blossom's encouragement—especially, he found, the unusual thrill of hearing her use language he never thought she knew—magnified his ecstasy.
"Fuck me harder," the young girl moaned. "I want your cock in me all the way. Please, please, push it in! Harder!"
With her vaginal secretions easing the way, Nick increased the tempo, faster, faster, pistoning his rod into her eager cunt until he felt a boiling in his loins.
"Oh, God, Blossom, I'm gonna cum," he groaned. "I'd better pull out!"
"No, no! I'm on the Pill! Put it all in me!" She was a wildcat, scratching at his sides as she bucked furiously. "I want it all!"
And then Nick felt the cum explode out of him, a hot jet of jism surging into his daughter. He pressed his mouth to hers as the cum poured out.
Blossom kept humping her hips, trying for more and more. Nick's cock quivered under her attack; it had grown so sensitive after the orgasm that every touch was a delicious agony. He pounded his fists into the car's upholstery as his daughter fought to push him into her cunt.
At last, Nick's rod began to shrink, until just the tip was still clutched in her vaginal lips. He raised himself on his arms and tried to move away.
"Oh, no, you don't," Blossom said with a smirk. She had wrapped her legs around his, holding him in place.
"I can't do any more," Nick protested. "That's it!"
"Maybe not," Blossom purred as she licked his sweaty neck. "Are you sure?"
Nick thought he was, but now his daughter was caressing his shaft with her cunt, bucking up at it in short, sharp movements. To his amazement, his cock began to grow again. A third time in one night? That was a record for him, he knew.
But Blossom seemed to take it for granted. God, what a devil he had, Nick thought.
Obeying his cock's urgings, he resumed the in-and-out motions, sliding through his daughter's pillowy tunnel. She sighed as she matched him stroke for stroke.
It didn't last long this time. Nick's cock quickly grew larger, thicker, pressing against the tight walls. "Oh, God, Dad," Blossom said. "It's even better! Oh, please, please, take it slow. That's it!"
Nick played her cunt like a violin, running his bow over the strings of his daughter's cunt. It built and built to a crashing crescendo as again he felt his cum boil up.
And this time Blossom joined in his cries. "I'm cumming," she moaned. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stooooopppppppp!" As the jism pulsed out of his cock, Nick felt Blossom stiffen and then suddenly release like a spring, and again, and again. Her wild flailing milked every drop of cum from his cock until at last she was still and he slipped his shrunken rod out of her, still cuddling her to him as the sweat cooled their bodies.
"Dad?" Blossom whispered in his ear.
"Yes, honey?"
"I'm free next Saturday." | 5 |
1,358 | HypnoTV: The X-Files | "Are they ready?"
"I'd prefer more time with them."
"We're running out of time. Are they ready?"
"I suppose so. Keywords and instructions installed."
"Tonight. Mulder first. Then Scully."
"Got it."
The office was quiet when Fox Mulder got in. Of course, the office was always quiet. Being located in the basement of the FBI building in Washington guaranteed a bit of privacy. Mulder liked it. It gave him time to think, away from all the skeptics and doubters above him. Today, he had another reason for his privacy. Her name was Dana Scully.
It had hit Mulder in the middle of the night, shortly after he'd woken up to a wrong number. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, he had come to the conclusion that he wanted Scully. Bad. It had taken a while for the attraction to come to this point, but Mulder knew he had to have Scully. The problem was how.
He had to see if Scully wanted the same thing. But Mulder's self-esteem was low to say the least. Coming right out and asking Scully if she loved him wasn't the best way to approach the situation. At the same time, he couldn't just take her and rape her on the desk. So, with the quirky intelligence that made him such a good investigator, Mulder came up with an acceptable compromise. Like many of his theories, it was pretty wild, but it made perfect sense to him.
He looked up as she came into the room. Mulder used to think it was impossible for a woman to be sexy dressed in a business suit, but Dana Scully managed it. The gray suit contrasted perfectly with her beautiful face and short red hair. Those green eyes focused on him and gave him the same thrill they always did. "So, what's on the hit parade this morning?" she asked in her cool professional tone.
Mulder smiled as he leaned back in his chair. "Skinner's sending us an assignment later," he said. "In the meantime, Forhike gave me a birthday present to give you."
Scully rolled her eyes. "I swear to God, if he superimposed my head on naked women again..."
"I had to promise him I'd show it to you," Mulder said. He pulled out a disk and slipped it into a nearby computer bank. "Now close your eyes."
Scully gazed at him doubtfully. Then, somehow suspecting she was going to regret this, she complied. His grin broader, Mulder opened the disk and hit a few keys. "Okay, now open them."
Scully opened her eyes to a dazzling multi-colored wheel spinning on the screen. Instantly captivated, she watched as the wheel turned, the spiral keeping up the pace. Any doubts she had slowly vanished as she continued to watch the wheel turn, the colors shifting at every rotation, flying into her eyes. Waves of light poured from the screen and onto her face.
Mulder had gotten his inspiration from a case in the past. He knew that Scully was resistant to voluntary hypnosis and would probably had stood up to a normal induction method of Mulder's. A year before, Scully had inadvertently become a victim of a brainwashing scheme using subminimal messages hidden in TV signals. A hypnotic effect had caused her to believe Mulder was the enemy and had almost killed him. Now, a variation of that program was working before her.
For the first time in his life outside of a crime scene, Mulder was glad he couldn't see red. His red-green color blindness had protected him from the signals in the tapes and now made him resistant to the wheel. Scully, with her regular eyesight, was easy prey. Mulder could see her facial muscles relax and her mind open to the subminimal messages that he had programmed into the disk.
*Sleep. Sleep. Obey. Sleep and obey. Mulder. Sleep and obey Mulder. Sleep. Obey. Sleep and obey Mulder. Sleep. Obey. Mulder.*
Scully's eyes shut as her head slumped forward. Mulder paused, uncertain for a moment. Then, a calm overtook him as he realized it had worked. Scully was under. Mulder shut off the computer, removing the disk. He slowly moved his chair across from Scully. "Dana?" he asked quietly. "Can you hear me?"
"..Yes.."
"Dana, will you trust me?"
"..Yes.."
"Dana, will you obey me?"
"..Yes.."
"Dana, how do you feel about Fox Mulder?"
"..Friend..He's my partner..I..I love him."
Mulder closed his eyes, trying not to cry out in joy. His suspicions confirmed, he could proceed with a much lighter load on his conscience. "Dana, do you dream of Mulder?"
"..Yes.."
"What does he do in your dreams? What would you like to have him do to you?"
"..I want him..to eat me out..Eat my pussy and squeeze my tits."
*Damn, I never knew she had it in her* Mulder thought in surprise. He looked at that gorgeous face and decided to make Scully's dreams reality. "Lift up your skirt, Dana, and dream of Mulder. Relax and dream."
Scully slowly hitched up the hem of her suit. Mulder got onto his knees and moved forward. He looked up Scully's skirt, seeing her dark panties. He moved in, his head vanishing in her dress. There was enough light for Mulder to see the hairs of Scully's pussy peeking out from her panties. *What do you know? She really is a natural redhead* He moved in, fingering aside the satin fabric and smelling Scully's lips. He took a quick stab with his tongue, tasting Scully's nectar, hearing her moan in reply. He began licking in earnest, his tongue lovingly massaging her clit. He licked harder and faster, his tongue absorbing the sweet taste of her juices. His hands moved up her body, onto her breasts. Squeezing the mounds, he used them as a handhold as he continued his licking frenzy.
Scully was moaning softly by now, her voice audible down the hall, if anyone had been there. Her breathing became more heavy as Mulder continued. Her entire body tensed as she released her juices onto Mulder's face, bringing a cry from both of them.
Mulder quickly pulled his head out, wiping Scully's juices away. He used the same handkerchief to clean Scully and hurriedly rearranged her clothes. He sat back down in his seat. "Dana, in a moment, I will snap my fingers and you will wake up. You will not remember anything that has occurred since you entered this office. You will not be able to recall anything. You will feel refreshed and relaxed. And your feelings for Fox Mulder will intensify. Remember that, but nothing else." Settling back in his chair, Mulder snapped his fingers.
Scully's eyes blinked open and focused on Mulder. "Sorry, Mulder, I must've blanked out for a minute. What did you say?"
Praying that his look of thanks wasn't evident, Mulder got up. "Skinner wants us upstairs for an assignment. Maybe we'll go somewhere dry this time."
"I hope so. Cutting up bodies is tougher when they've been soaking in a swamp.""But doesn't that take the fun out of it, Scully?"
Before she could reply, the phone rang. Mulder picked it up. He stood for a moment, then closed his eyes and opened them. He hung up without a word. "Who was that?" Scully asked.
"Hm? Oh, I don't know. They hung up as soon as I answered. Sounds kind of suspicious."
"Mulder, you're suspicious of your own shadow."
"Yes, you notice how it's always following me?"
"How'd it go?"
"His memory's been erased. Ready for Stage Two."
"Tonight. You know where."
The duo's latest case was less intense than some others. They were investigating a series of abductions in Minnesota. Four teenage girls had been taken from their homes in the same night. All four were found lying in the middle of a field the next morning. Mulder, naturally, leapt to the conclusion of alien involvement. Scully, naturally, rolled her eyes and tried looking for a more straightforward explanation.
The afternoon was filled with interviews with the abductees. At Mulder's insistence, each one was hypnotized but could offer no other information to shed light. It was as if their minds had completely shut off during their missing time.
It was late when the two finally got back to their hotel room, exhausted after a long day. Because of overbooking, the two had to get a room together, with twin beds. It was a little tough, but they managed. Mulder immediately collapsed onto his bed, fully clothed. Although he could go without sleep for irregular periods of time, he was still human. Plus, he had driven the hour-long trip from the airport to the town. He was overly exhausted, something his quiet snoring soon confirmed.
Scully was shifting through some reports when her gaze fell upon her partner. She stared at him, his handsome features quiet in sleep and bit her lip. For some time now, Scully had become aware that she harbored a major feeling for Mulder. It wasn't just sex, although god knew Scully needed that as well. She truly loved the man, but wasn't sure the feeling was mutual.
As Scully stared at her sleeping partner, an idea occurred to her. At first, she shook it off as too insane. But it stuck with her, refusing to go away. Scully wasn't sure if what she was planning would even work, but before she could talk herself out of it, she was close to Mulder's ear. "Mulder, can you hear me?"
A small grunt answered her. Mulder was in a state under sleep, where his subconscious was open to suggestion. It was that part Scully spoke to. "Mulder, you are feeling very relaxed now." Scully wasn't sure if she was doing this right, but she had seen enough hypnotic regression sessions to wing it. "Very relaxed. Your mind is open to me and you can trust me. You can always trust me. How do you feel about me, Mulder?"
Mulder's brow wrinkled, his eyes moving beneath their lids. "Scully...I love her.."
Scully leaned back and closed her eyes. Oh, god, he did love her. Now what? She moved her eyes down Mulder's body, an eyebrow coming up as she saw the slight bulge in Mulder's pants. Scully hesitated only for a moment before deciding. She moved forward, unzipping Mulder's pants, pulling them down. She quickly pulled down Mulder's skivvies, allowing his cock to pop out. She stared for a long moment at it, then slipped off her panties.
"Relax, Mulder. Just relax and let yourself go. Let yourself grow more relaxed and aroused. Just think of your favorite erotic dream and let yourself go." With a sigh, Scully sat herself onto Mulder's cock. She slowly began shifting, moving herself along the erect rod. Mulder began to answer her, shifting his pelvis to match. The two moved slowly, Scully managing to pump Mulder's cock into pleasure. The two could feel the tension rise, even though Scully was the only one aware of it. Scully pushed herself harder, trying to continue the rhythm. The ecstasy in her grew and was finally released when she felt Mulder shoot his wad into her.
Scully was still for a moment, still not believing what had occurred. She disengaged herself from Mulder, juices dripping. She quickly wiped off Mulder's cock with a towel from the bathroom and replaced his shorts and pants. She sat next to him. "Mulder, listen to me. Go back to sleep. A nice, restful sleep. When you wake up, you will not remember this occurring. It was simply a dream. Sleep now." Mulder seemed to sink deeper into the pillows as he obeyed. Scully hopped back onto her bed and shook her head. What the hell had gotten into her?
Before she could answer the personal question, the room's phone rang. Scully picked it up. She listened for a moment and shut her eyes. She put the phone back on the hook and sunk onto her bed, fast asleep.
"Phase Two successful. No memory for her."
"Should we go on to the final stage?"
"Go for it."
The next day held disappointment for Mulder. The agents learned that the girls had been abducted by the local oddball, a handyman who had chloroformed them and kept them in a state of unconsciousness while raping them. Videotapes found at the man's home showed his crimes and he was all too willing to confess, seemingly proud of what he had done. Mulder and Scully had met a lot of despicable characters throughout their careers, but this man ranked among the worst.
Once again, it was late as the two came back to the hotel. They silently packed for the morning flight to DC. Mulder was quieter than usual, a sign that he was deep in thought. Scully sat down on the bed next to him. "You really thought you had it this time, didn't you?" she said softly.
"I always hope," came Mulder's reply.
Scully bit her lip as she looked at her partner. "Do you ever worry that you won't find it?"
Mulder shook his head. "I always believe I'll find it, Scully. I just wish it'd be soon."
Scully nodded. "It's a lonely life, isn't it? Giving up everything to satisfy your quest."
"You make me sound like I'm on the Holy Crusades."
"Well, in a way you are. You have no friends, no contacts, no hobbies, nothing outside your search."
Mulder looked at her. "I have you, Scully."
An uncomfortable silence was broken by Mulder. "I've made sacrifices, sure. But so have you. And I appreciate that."
"You do?"
"Scully, you had a good career going when you got assigned to observing me. You could have refused the assignment, you could've asked for a transfer after a few months. But you didn't. You've stuck with me. That means a lot to me. It's been a long time since anyone trusted me like that."
"Well, it's cost a lot. My social life is almost on a par with yours. But I don't regret it. You need someone to keep your head on straight and bail you out."
Mulder chuckled. "We're a couple of loners, aren't we?"
Scully stared at him. "No one should be alone, Mulder."
He looked up at her, at those green eyes that carried so much beauty, intelligence, pain, happiness and more. Now he saw something in them he'd never seen before: Love.
He took her gently by the neck, pulled her in close and kissed her. She responded passionately, her tongue wrapping around his. Four years of desire came loose in seconds as they pressed against each other. Slowly, they sank onto the bed, still kissing. Eyes closed, her lips locked on Mulder's, Scully quickly disengaged Mulder's belt and began pulling down his pants. Simultaneously, Mulder started unsnapping the buttons on Scully's suit. "Scully, are you sure..?" Mulder got out of his mouth.
"Mulder, shut up and make love," was the reply.
Pants, jackets, shirts, holsters, cell phones and underwear fell to a growing pile on the floor. Naked, they embraced each other harder, Mulder feeling Scully's breasts pressed against his chest. He buried his head between them, lovingly kissing the nipples, an action that delighted Scully. After suckling the luscious mounds, Mulder moved again to kiss Scully. He couldn't get enough of her taste, her passion, her love. She felt the same way as she felt her tongue slip around his lips and mouth, touching his chin. She groaned as she felt Mulder enter her.
Contrary to opinion, there is a definite difference between having sex and making love. The few times Mulder and Scully had sex with other partners, it was energetic but somehow lacking. This wasn't. The two were consummating a relationship, letting their feelings out. Sex was secondary that night. Love was foremost.
Mulder pressed into Scully, moving his hips to form a rhythm. Scully quickly matched it as the two began building themselves up. Mulder arched his back as he pumped, feeling the juices in his erect cock grow. Scully grasped a handful of bedsheets as she felt her own juices drip around Mulder's cock, arousal on full blast. Mulder finally released himself into her, bringing out a cry in Scully. Mulder, spent, collapsed onto her. The two held each other as the aftermath hit them. It was a position they would hold when they finally drifted off to sleep...three hours later.
In a nondescript van across the street from the motel, five people were toasting each other. They were a myriad group. One had a dark beard and a business suit. Another had long blond hair, glasses and a torn T-Shirt. One also wore glasses, with a short haircut and a somewhat grungy outfit. One was a man in his fifties, with glasses and a balding plate. The last one was a dark-haired, attractive woman in her mid-forties.
"I have to hand it to you guys," Walter Skinner said. "You came through all the way."
"It wasn't that difficult," the Lone Gunman known as Byers said. "Simple subminimal messages piped into their bedrooms while they slept set up the initial code keys."The hypnotic triggers worked great too," Forhike added. "Implanted the suggestions and then removed all trace of their actions from their memories."
"Thanks again for setting up that training seminar," Langly put in. "It was a great way to test and streamline the implanted suggestions."
"All the credit can't go to me," Skinner stated. "This whole plan was due to the lady of the hour."
They all turned to Margaret Scully, who blushed. "Well, the two of them obviously belonged together. Dana's always been stubborn about things like that, so a little push was required."
"And now that they are together," Skinner said, "we can actually get on and get some lives of our own."
"Amen," four voices answered.
As one, they turned to a monitor inside the van. On the screen, transmitted via a special miniature camera, was Mulder and Scully, sleeping quietly. Together. | 4 |
1,390 | X-Men: Condition of Psylock 2-2 | "Hey, Wolvie. What took so long? I mean, if Gambit beat you back here, your age must be getting to you." She didn't dare assume anything when it came to his hidden agendas. Sitting at a small nearby table, Gambit, already in his outfit, ate the breakfast prepared earlier. Rogue sat partially on a countertop eating her share. Beast hung from a conveniently placed bar in the corner of the extended kitchen. Just down the hall came the leader of the team, struggling with each step, still quite dazed, Jean helping him along.
Gambit looked at Psylocke every few moments, turning his attention back down to his food, his eyes never meeting Rogue's all through breakfast. Scott's head always kept Betsy in view, even though Jean stood right next to him. Jubilee stepped next to Logan, and Betsy went to get her share. Wolverine glanced around nervously, wondering why no one else could smell what had just happened. Jean held his gaze, but his fear of discovery was more disconcerting than her look.
Gambit was the next to address Logan, "So, you got sum'tin' planned fo' us today, Wolverine?"
Hesitating a moment, he responded, "I spent all night working on a Danger Room sequence that should prepare us for our next mission. Charlie told me yesterday about what we have to do. It's supposed to be simple, but we have to be ready for anything. Of course, the Danger Room is only for the fighting aspects of the mission, but the opponents we might be facing would be rather unique, even for us. I'll explain it in the briefing room. Scotty, make sure you bring the mission folder Chuck left in your room yesterday."
"Yeah, sure." He was clearly out of it, still. As he looked at Psylocke, she refused to engage in eye contact. Jean nudged him, and they just dabbled in the hash browns.
Psylocke stood by herself in front of the sink, vaguely listening. Rogue approached her, saying, "Hey, Bets. You been workin' early this mornin'? Ah think you been a bit too serious, lately."
"No, Rogue. I've just been trying to sort some things out. How are you and Gambit doing?"
"As well as any couple could without kissin'. You know, you should use that body o' yours to get yourself a man. Ah think you'd feel a lot better."
At the suggestion, Beast notwithstanding, the men kept Betsy in the corner of an eye, and an ear directed straight at her, awaiting the reply.
"I'm not sure if I should. I think I've gotten through everything pretty well, just by keeping an arms distance from personal."
"Come on, I've got to have someone to live my fantasies for me."
'If only you knew' Psylocke thought, but didn't project. "Let me know sometime, then. Maybe I can get some juicy gossip for your sick libido." Psylocke made sure to smile when she said it, drawing the laugh.
Logan interjected, "Since our fearless leader doesn't seem to be quite here yet, Everyone to the War Room in fifteen minutes. Jean, you can come along, too, if you want."
"I think I will. Thank you, Logan." She let her eyes linger, just to make sure he was uncomfortable.
"Well, Rogue, I've got to shower before our big briefing here, so I'll see you there."
Beast watched everyone, silently noting the oddness.She jumped up and kissed his cheek, like a little girl.
Madrox, the Multiple Man, feeling rather stressed, decided to relieve himself, the way only he could. "Val? I've already made my dupes for mission, and I have a couple sitting monitoring the War Room. I'm going to eat now, okay?"
"Sure, Jamie. Actually, mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." As he turned from her for the slightest second, his tight grin escaped him a second until it returned as he turned back.
"So, where's the kitchen, Jamie?"
"It's down this hall, last door on the right. By the way, Val. Pick a number between one and a hundred."
"I've always hated games like that. Okay, a hundred. A hundred what?"
"Oh, you'll see."
As they arrived, he turned the knob, let Val enter the dark room first. Stepping behind her, he punched the frame of the door with both hands. As his mutant ability dictated, two Madroxes appeared on either side of her. Stepping inside, he closed the door, but left the light off.
"By the way, Val, this isn't the kitchen." The two dupes held her arms tight and her mouth covered. "Oh, and a hundred is the number of dupes you gotta empty before the night's over." Her eyes were wide, and her body was tense. As she kicked one of them, another one appeared in front of her. This one systematically began removing her clothes. First her skirt was dropped, and then her panties joined it. Next, her suit jacket reached the pile, and then her blouse was torn from her, just to shock her. Her bra was first flipped down, and then removed.
"You've always been in charge, haven't ya' babe? Well, guess who's in charge now."
She was thrown to a bed, her screams now echoing in the enclosed room. "Jamie!! How dare you! You have no idea what I can do to you, do you?"
"Maybe not, but I have a great idea as to what you can do for me."
"I mean it, Jamie. I barely lasted that last time when there were only ten of you."
"You always said, we need to grow. Don't try to excuse yourself from your own rules, now. I tell you what, I'll let you off with ten this time. Tomorrow, you get twenty, the day after, thirty, and then forty. That way, you can still make that hundred mark you set earlier."
"Jamie..."
"Val? Remember, I outnumber you. Let's see, there are four of me, right now." Two hits to each of the other three allowed six more to join the fray. "Okay. Now Val, you know how I like to start, so get to work."
Crawling off of the bed, she walked on her knees over the first one. Looking up at him, she took his partially flacid member between her lips. Once he was fully at attention, she went onto the next one. After all ten of them were sufficiently hard, she fell to her hands. The first one she sucked to firmness mounted her from behind. The next one she helped stepped in front of her to receive more oral ministrations. The others encircled the three, gently stroking themselves as she submitted to the sandwich.
Feeling their spasms increasing, she felt no need to draw them out, so she increased the pressure her tongue was delivering, and pushed back on the one behind her. Her back arched and her mouth overflowed as they each came into her.
"Two down, Val. Good job. Now,"
"Try me," another stepped forward. Pulling her to her feet, he maneuvered her to the bed, lay her down, facing up, and slid into her, missionary style. His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing gently, and his motions revealed his awareness to her body.
The others waited in the shadows. The eyes didn't move as he calmly increased his thrusts and spilled himself into her.
"After such a tender display (I'm so ashamed of me)"
"I get to chart some unexplored territory," another finished again. Gruffly picking her up, leaving her face in a pillow, and facing her down, his member found its way between her smooth, firm buttocks. Holding out a hand, he received a tube of lubricant from another, and he placed a golf ball sized load on her puckered hole. With his tip, he mashed slowly into the pile, and then slowly wedged his way in. As his hips met hers, he withdrew completely, and started over. Suddenly, he pushed his entire length into her, and found the muffled scream. Rapidly, he thrust into her rear, as her screams died down to a silent open mouth. As he neared his climax, he reached forward, grabbed her long blond hair, and pulled her up, making the angle more difficult on her, making her tighten around his spewing length.
"Oh, man. That was great. I gotta try that." The next one mimicked him, but pulled her up by grabbing her breasts from behind as he sent his load into her.
"Okay, Val. That's four of me. Now, we'll make you feel better. Guys?"
Four more stepped forward, each grabbing a limb. Facing her up, they tied her to the posts, spread-eagled, classically. One of them climbed between her knees, his face in her groin. Another straddled her stomach, and the last two stood on the side of the bed. The first one set his lips to hers, his tongue darting around her genitalia. The one on her chest rested his member between her breasts. The other two placed their lips on her nipples, their hands pressing her breasts together. Her moans were instantaneous, and deep. As she tried to twist and writhe, her frustration at the ties heightened her pleasure. The penis between her breasts now started to oscillate. In the throes of her bondage, the waves of her orgasms passed over her in rapid succession.
At the height of it, she felt herself penetrated below and another presented himself to her lips. She accepted this out of sheer gratitude, and as she fellt one spill himself between her legs, she lost track of the member between her breasts. Opening her eyes, she found another member in waiting by her mouth, and a hand stroking it. Just as one pulled back, the other touched on her lips. With the two heads touching each other right in front of her mouth, they sent simultaneous loads into her mouth.
When the flow stopped, and she came up for air, she felt her bonds being broken. Moved over in the bed, the original Madrox lay down next to her. His member resting on her thigh, she rolled over on top of him and settled down onto it. The other two stepped onto the bed. One came up behind her, settling himself between his creator's legs, he moved his member up into the rear of his superior. Val yelped as he reached full depth. As she opened her mouth for a large breath, the last one's instrument found its sheath. The indomitable triange was formed, and everyone was being more than satisfied.
Being the same person, they all found a simultaneous orgasm, filling her every orifice. Val collapsed onto the groins of Madrox, and they collapsed onto her. She drifted into a fierce slumber as she was settled into the bed more comfortably.
The War room was busy with roughly forty Madroxes running around, doing various tasks, checking monitors, scribbling down odd notes, and generally keeping the job as difficult as possible.
In the hangar, the two teams, with all thirteen mutants boarded the Blackbird and found their seats. Guido remained slightly cramped in the tail of the place. Lorna Dane, known commonly as Polaris, walked back to the compartment he was strapped into, and checked his harnesses. "Gee, thanks, Lorna. Did I ever tell you how ravishing you look when you strap me in?"
"Every chance you get, Guido." Her voice was tight, and nonchalant.
"You know, Lorn', I think you should really look into working out with bigger men. I think you're the second best looking person in the world."
"And who's supposed to be the best, Guido?" she was still checking his belt.
"Ce moi." His fingers fanned across his neckline just to imitate a commercial model.
She giggled slightly. "Oh, really, now. Guido, you should watch who you flirt with, 'cuz you might not always get what you expect."
"Oh, don't break my heart, Lorna." His lips formed a pout that melted her icy demeanor.
"Oh, come on, Guido. I'll always love you." She kissed his cheek, and left a big grin on his face.
In an coffeehouse on the outskirts of London, two faces hovered over a wooden checkerboard. Plain pieces rested on its surface as a clockhand on one of two faces moved silently.
"So tell me, Gamesmaster, exactly who are we playing against?"
"The challenge of the game is to measure the opponent, not identify him. You really must learn quicker to be a key member of the Upstarts, young Shinobi."
"But the Acolytes are just as worthy opponents as the X-Men. What use is it not to let us know who the game is with?"
"I have reasons for every move in the game. The opponents constantly change, but the game still goes on. The opening, even though non-standard, is still rather predicible in its outcome. The middle game has been played to the fullest by the X-Men in the past. Now with the Acolytes coming onto the board, the only thing changing is the perspective. The goal remains the same, only now we're looking at the board from a slightly different angle."
"Your riddles are tiresome. Why don't you speak plainly?"
"If I did that, I'd be no better than a mutant."
"So what are we up against here, Scott?"
"We're not exactly sure, but with Madrox and Val running the mansion, and hooking up with a couple contacts here, I'm sure we'll be more than enough for them."
"Who are our contacts?"
"You'll see them in a couple seconds." Before the hatch even opened, two more were among the crew on the grounded plane. The smell of brimstone marked off the presence of Nightcrawler. And the spooky phasing ability of another through the floor made everyone aware that Kitty Pryde, aka Shadowcat, was present.
After all of the pleasantries were done, eventually outside due the cramped quarters of the jet. As they headed off to the cars in waiting, Polaris heard a soft but definite cry, "Lorna..."At that moment, she forgot to let Guido out of the harness in the Blackbird, and guessed that he fell asleep. Telling everyone else just to leave a car for her, she ran back to the plane. As she entered the compartment he sat in, she found him in tears as his large fingers were unable to manipulate the harness. Seeing him like this made her maternal nature come out and she hugged him as she magnetically undid the lock.
"Oh, Guido. I'm sorry. It's just that Kitty and Kurt showed up and we all got wrapped up in greeting them."
"Don't worry about it Lorna." He sniffled quietly, his childish performance unquestioned. "I'm used to being left alone. Lila did it before. I would've just waited until nightfall to break the damn thing and go back home, wherever that is." The guilt trip worked flawlessly.
"Oh, come on, Guido. I'll never leave you like that again." She hoped he understood her. "How can I make it up to you?"
Guido understood perfectly. "Help me out of this cubicle." As he tried to get up, she pressed against the wall, trying to direct his huge body out the door. Unable to avoid contact, his chest pressed against her face as he stood. Unable to look down, she felt something push at her stomach.
"Guido, back off, you're crushing me."
"Sorry, Lorna." He pulled away, only long enough to shut the door as she looked down to see his huge penis poking her. For some reason, she didn't quite expect this from an eight-foot-tall, four-hundred-pound man. Perhaps she never thought about it.
"Guido, what are you doing?"
"Trying to be made up to." With that, he lifted her by her uniform, and let her fall out of it as though a rag doll. Her pants still on, he pulled them down to fully expose her.
"Oh, God, Guido. I don't think it's going to happen. We both already know that we shouldn't, but I just don't think it would fit in the first place."
"I think we should make it fit the first place, since the second would be even worse, Lorna."
"Guido, I'm serious."
"So am I, Ms. Dane. First, say ahhh..."
"Guido..." was all she could get out before it was at her lips. Even as she opened her mouth, only about five inches of him could fit into her straining mouth.
"Oh, Ms. Dane. I don't think your mouth was made for this," was his response after a few minutes of trying to work her tongue, just before he took himself out.
"Guido. I really don't think this is going to work."
"Work with me here, Lorna. Open 'em wide."
As she spread her legs, he noted first her absolute baldness below, and then asked her, "Do you shave, or are you normally like this?"
"It was completely removed, back in the days when the Shadow King was in control of Legion. He yanked it out hair by hair."
"I was just wondering, what color it was."
"Just like all the blondes you normally see, it was brown."
"Then?" he dawdled a finger through her green locks.
"It was a bet I made with Havok. He bet me he could make me come thirty times in an hour."
"And if he hadn've won?"
"His hair would be green."
"Oh," he sat in mild contemplation. "Climb on up, Lorna. There's only fifteen inches to take. This was the main reason Lila kept me around for so long. No one else could fill her up like I could."
"I'm trying to, Guido, but look."
Bending down slightly, the height between their groins was matched, except the shadow of the head of his penis completely covered her open lips. In wonder, he prodded against it a couple times, drawing a couple yelps from Lorna.
"Okay, then. Try my finger first." With that, his index finger slid effortlessly into her.
"Oh, God, Guido. That's thicker than Alex."
"Okay, then try this one." His middle finger, soon replaced his index.
"Christ. That's worse than the Shadow King."
"Good. Now try them both on for size." As they both penetrated her, she let forth a ghastly scream, and if not for her juices flowing down his hand, she might have projected and image of pain.
"Good, Lorna. Now, you seem ready." He lifted her onto him, her weight resting on the head.
She reached down, pulled her thighs up, and tried to pull the lips apart even further.
"Jesus Fucking Christ. Guido, it's going in. I never thought I could."
"I always knew you could, Lorna. Now, hold onto something. I want to give you a good sound fucking."
Her hands reached out and got hold of some cables, and her legs moved from his chest to around his waist. His hands held her buttocks and supported her lower body. When she settled into place, he started moving himself further into her. Even as her eyes rolled and fluttered, he kept going until reaching a barrier two inches short of complete penetration.
"Don't do it, Guido. It that's my cervix you're bumping into."
"I know, Lorna." At that, he began to withdraw himself. When his head was the only part remaining inside her, he began to thrust his length back into her. She cursed as he picked up speed. She cursed as he bumped her cervix again. She cursed as he shoved a finger into her rectum.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, and a good pint of fluid from her, Guido yelled to her, "I'm gonna cum now, Lorna. I'm gonna be in real deep, too, so hang on." As his load started to loose into her, she accepted its warmth. Still more came out, and he began to slide out of her. When he slipped free, he let her hang from the cables, and aimed his spurting member at her, each load landing on a different part. Her face was being drenched, her breasts, completely covered, her thighs, glistening. When he let it down, a string still hung from it to her, and then to the floor.
"Oh, God, Guido. I never knew you had so much."
"Anytime you want a bath, just let me know, honey." With that, he replaced himself in his pants. "We better get you cleaned up. Do you remember where we're supposed to be going?"
"Yeah, an inn just outside of London. They should have left directions in the car."
"Gee, Lorna. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Here, hand me a towel, would ya'?" She proceeded to wipe herself down. "Now Guido, you have to be careful. If Alex catches you, you'll be off the team."
"Oh, don't worry about him. I'm sure, by the time this is over, that everything should be worked out."
"Well, I just want to say that I warned you." She proceeded to get dressed, and lead them to the car. She let the rain pour on her outside. On a backstreet, she even got out and stripped, allowing the rain to wash any more evidence from her. Guido just watched. | 3 |
1,407 | The Sexual Escapades of Christina Ricci: Episode IV: At the Movies | "I'm telling you, that's her!" Bruce whispered to John.
"Why do you think it's her?" John asked.
"Because it IS her, John."
It had been two weeks since they had finished the sixth grade and school had let out for the summer. So far, John and Bruce had spent every free day at the movies. Since they had seen everything else, they were going to watch "Flipper" today. They had found themselves completely alone in the theater and sat in the front aisle. Fifteen minutes before the movie was supposed to start, though, a woman wearing a black sweatsuit and a pink headband had come into the theater and sat in the back row. Bruce could have sworn that the woman was sixteen-year-old child actress Christina Ricci.
"Okay, so what if it IS her? Then what?" John asked.
"I dunno," Bruce answered.
"Alright, Bruce, I'll tell you what. I'll give you ten bucks if you touch her boobs."
"Ten bucks! But how--"
"Just walk up to her and grab 'em. You HAVE to do it. I mean, it's a dare, so you've got to do it."
"Uh, okay. Ten bucks, right?"
"Ten bucks. Swear to God."
The movie still hadn't started when Bruce took one last quick look back to make sure it really WAS Christina Ricci. She had lit a cigarette and was puffing away like a chimney, albeit the sexiest chimney in the world. Bruce couldn't believe that she was smoking in a movie theater. The fact that she WAS smoking, though, was what cemented in Bruce's mind that it really was Christina Ricci; he figured only someone famous would try to get away with smoking in a movie theater.
Chris had been jogging and decided to catch a movie before making the run back home. She chose "Flipper" because she thought Elijah Wood was cute and also because she was going to be doing a film with him soon. And also because she knew the theater would be pretty much deserted, which it was. When she came in, there were two kids, probably age eleven or twelve, in the front row but that was it. They kept looking back and staring at her, but she didn't care. Chris figured they wouldn't mind if she smoked--chances were they probably smoked too--so she lit up a cigarette.
Chris took a drag and saw that the smaller of the boys had stood up and was walking towards the back of the auditorium. She figured he was going to leave to use the restroom, but he didn't. When he got to Chris' aisle, he started walking towards her. He stopped in front of her and just stared at her with a stupid grin on his face.
Chris took another drag and skillfully exhaled the smoke up towards the kid's face. "What?" she said, annoyed.
"Um..." The kid's stupid grin got bigger as he reached forward and groped Chris.
"You little perv!" Chris screamed at him as she pushed his hands away from her tits. She stood up, but the kid was blocking the way; she called him "LITTLE perv," but he was actually two or three inches taller than her and outweighed her by a good deal. She started to walk down the aisle in the opposite direction, but the other kid was there. He was a couple inches taller than the first kid and much heavier. Chris put the cigarette between her lips and started to push the bigger kid so she could get past him, but he grabbed her arms and easily forced her to sit back down.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Chris said. Her voice was trembling and she nervously puffed on the cigarette.
"There's no smoking in the theater, miss," the bigger kid said with a chuckle, then he stole the cigarette from Chris' lips and threw it to the ground, smashing it with his shoe.
"You little shit-heads!" Chris protested. A second later, the smaller boy slapped her right cheek and she started crying.
"Ahh, poor baby," he said.
Chris tried to curl up into a ball but the boys picked her up and placed her on the floor. She was whimpering like a little girl as they pulled her sweatshirt off and she put her hands over her sports bra-covered tits to try and stop them from advancing further. "No, no. Pleeeease don't," she begged. Both boys laughed as they removed her pants and envied her body, completely naked except for the sports bra and a pair of little cotton panties. She thought about screaming for help, but feared another slap to her face; as an actress, she couldn't afford risking her beauty.
John and Bruce had stripped Christina Ricci of her clothes and dignity, but now what? They were twelve and had no experience in matters of sex. They felt so powerful making a famous woman cry, but didn't know what should come next. They looked at each other and shrugged, then John remembered a phrase he had heard once.
John looked down and said, "Give me a blow job, whore." He didn't even know what that meant and neither did Bruce.
Christina Ricci looked up at John and stopped crying, just stared at him with a "please don't make me" face. "Now!" John shouted. She got on her knees and unzipped his pants. Her hand fished around in his underwear and grabbed hold of his flaccid dick. Her soft touch made it firm in a matter of seconds, but completely erect it was still barely three inches long.
Chris was getting over her fright, but really, really didn't want to suck this little dick. She knew she had to, though, and figured she could make him cum fast, if he even had the ability TO cum! Chris swallowed the dick whole and it was quickly covered with her saliva. Her head bobbed up and down as she worked swiftly and within sixty seconds her mouth was filled with cum. She turned her head, the little penis coming out of her mouth, and spit the cum onto the floor.
"There, asshole," Chris said while wiping her mouth. "Are you happy now?"
The big kid didn't say anything, but was obviously happy. After experiencing what Chris figured was probably his first orgasm, he had almost fallen down and was now sitting down with a huge smile on his face.
"Now me," the smaller kid said, a little nervous.
"Fuck you!" Chris shouted at him. He started to raise his hand as if he was going to slap her again and Chris started to cry again. "Okay, okay," she said, "just don't hit me again."
"That's better, whore!"
Chris couldn't control her tears as she unzipped his pants. She was so mad that no one had heard them, and that no one had come to save her. She had no choice but to continue and so she did. This time she found a completely erect cock. It was a little bigger than the other one, but not by much. These were definitely the two smallest cocks she had ever had, not that she had had very many before.
Fighting back the humiliation, Chris inserted the purple head of this 12-year-old punk's dick between her lips and licked it, moving her tongue in circular motions, tasting precum. Chris had always loved the taste of cum and precum, but she couldn't stand his', though she knew that it was all psychological, and that his cum really tasted the same as Mac's.
Chris opened her mouth wider and caressed his shaft with the tip of her tongue. Then, wanting to make quick work of him like she did his friend, Chris closed her mouth tightly around the small dick and, while slobbering all over it, moved up and down rapidly. Up and down. Up and down. This kid had more staying power than the first one, but it still took only a few minutes before cum was dripping from her lips and filled her mouth. She spat this batch onto the floor the same as she did the first and again wiped her mouth.
"Okay!" Chris said. "Are we done now? Can I leave now?" She was now wiping the tears from her eyes and neither of the boys answered, but just sat there with stupid grins on their faces. Chris saw this as an opportunity to make a break, so she stood up, quickly grabbed her sweats and started to walk away when the big kid stood up and grabbed her. He pushed her down onto one of the chairs.
"You're not leaving," he told her. He grabbed her tits and Chris tried to stop him, but it was no use. She also couldn't stop him from taking her sports bra off. She felt so humiliated as they gawked at her bare tits and tried to cover them but was physically stopped from doing so.
John and Bruce weren't sure how all of this had happened; it had started off as an innocent dare and now they were looking at real life boobs for the first time! They both had the same thought: touching's got to be even better than looking. John was determined to be the first to touch them and was about to when one of the theater's doors opened and an usher walked in.
"Heeeelp! Please help me!" Chris shouted as she saw the young man walk into the auditorium. With amazing speed, her two attackers bolted out towards another set of doors and vanished. Their pants were still unzipped.
"Oh, Lord, thank you," Christina Ricci sighed as she sat there with cum on her face, wearing only panties. As the young usher came to help her, she looked up and noticed that the movie hadn't even started yet.-------------------==== Posted via Deja News ====----------------------
http://www.dejanews.com | 5 |
1,412 | Hypno Celeb 18: Winona Ryder and Samantha Mathis | "Listen to this. 'Probably the only two people in Hollywood who are more alike than Winona Ryder and Samantha Mathis are James Coburn and Lee Marvin.'"
"Isn't Lee Marvin dead?"
"Since when has that stopped a good soundbite?"
One had to admit there was a similarity between Winona Ryder and Samantha Mathis. They were about the same height with thin bodies that appeared not to have developed too much since puberty. They both had black hair cut extremely short and attractive features that had earned both the "pixie" label. They were lounging in a suite of a Los Angeles hotel, rehearsing for an upcoming film together. Winona wore a simple pair of jeans with a white shirt. Samantha had on a pair of slacks and a red long-sleeved shirt.
Winona read more of the entertainment section of her paper as she ate the last part of her lunch at a long table. "It's got a complete rundown on us, from Christian Slater to the types of films we've worked in."
"Please tell me it doesn't mention *Super Mario Bros.*," Samantha said. She sat on the couch, finishing a hamburger.
"Don't feel bad. It also mentions *Boys*," Winona replied. She put the paper down and finished off her salad. "So, what'd you think of Christian's kissing?"
"Well, I don't have the wide range of knowledge you do, but I didn't think it was too bad."
"I place him slightly above Lukas Haas, but Daniel-Day Lewis is another story."
Before the two could continue, there was a knock on the door. Getting up, Winona walked over and opened it. Standing on the other side was a handsome young man in a biking outfit, sans helmet which allowed Winona to see his short blond hair. "Hi, I'm Chuck," he said. "I was told to deliver this to you and Ms. Mathis." He held a pair of small wrapped packages out. Curious, Winona took it and began to close the door. "Excuse me," Chuck said. "But I was told to wait until you opened them. I don't know why, but those were the instructions."
By now, Winona and Samantha's curiosity was aroused. They sat down next to each other on the couch and unwrapped the packages. Inside each was a box with a hinged top to it. Simultaneously, the two young women lifted up the lids and looked inside. Instantly, they were blinded by a light flashing right into their eyes. It came from a small disk inside the box which flashed out a multi-colored strobe light into their faces. Their attention instantly captured, Winona and Samantha stared at the disks as the colors washed over their faces.
The two were so enraptured by the disks, they didn't notice Chuck walking further into the room. He swiftly closed the blinds, darkening the room and picked up the phone. Glancing at the couch, Chuck could see the two starlets staring at the disks, their facial muscles relaxing. Sure they weren't paying attention to him, Chuck dialed a number. He didn't even have to wait before it was picked up. "Marv? It's working. Son of a bitch, it's actually working. Those drugs you put in their food really did the trick. Yeah, the subliminals in the disks are doing the trick too. I'm telling you, man, these two are already under. So, you've got the hook-up to the camera set? Great. Sit back and watch the show, buddy."
Hanging up the phone, Chuck turned back to the couch. Winona and Samantha were slightly slumped over, their gazes still fixed on the disks, the strobing lights throwing waves of color onto their blank faces. Gently, Chuck reached over and thumbed a switch on the boxes, turning them off. "Look at me, girls," he commanded. The two fixed their dulled gazes at him. "Winona, Samantha, from now on you'll do whatever I tell you to do, without hesitation. Anything I ask. Isn't that true?"
"..Yes.." The two replied softly.
"Good. Now, stand up and follow me to the bedroom." Chuck led the way as the two rose and followed him with robotic steps, their faces unwavering from his back. Chuck walked into the room and glanced toward the security camera on the wall. If Marv was doing things right, it was recording everything. Chuck quickly undressed, showing off his muscular body. Nude, he fell onto the bed, gazing at the two women who stood swaying before him. "Girls, you are both feeling so excited right now. So excited and so horny. Very horny. It's been a long time since you last fucked girls, and you need it bad. You want it bad. Now, take off all your clothes." He lay back on the bed as the two disrobed.
The similarities between the two remained even when they were nude. A teenager's body for each of them with small breasts, thin hips and nice, smooth legs. The brown patches in between their legs were as dark as the hair on their scalps and Chuck could see them both beginning to shake with excitement. "Come over here, girls. Rid yourself of all inhibitions and come over here. Indulge yourselves." The two crawled onto the bed. Chuck took one with each arm and pulled them to him. He kissed Winona first, then Samantha and was answered with ferocity.
He pulled Winona to him first, moving down her body kissing both of her pert breasts. His cock was already rock hard when he shoved it into her pussy, eliciting a moan. He started slowly, moving himself in and out of her, settling into a tempo that had her groaning. Samantha pulled herself onto Winona, placing her clit right over her mouth. Winona stuck out her tongue and began lapping at Samantha's clit. She kept her rhythm even with Chuck's, sticking her tongue in as he pushed his cock into her. With double pleasure filling her, Winona soon orgasmed, buckling as Chuck came in her. Seconds later, Samantha's cum spilled onto her face, where it was quickly licked up.
The three disengaged and moved into another position. Samantha got onto her hands and knees as Chuck moved his dripping cock into her ass. She gasped as he entered her, driving her forward. Winona lay before Samantha, her clit exposed and open. Chuck began thrusting himself into Samantha, pushing himself into her. Samantha leaned forward, intensity flowing through her. She placed her mouth over Winona's clit and began eating at it. She was pushed further in as Chuck rammed her then out as he pulled back. It was an odd rhythm, feeding the pleasure of all three of them. Chuck shot his wad into Samantha, who gasped in ecstasy. That left her mouth open just in time to catch the juices spilling out of the dark patch of her co-star.
Chuck withdrew from Samantha and reached towards Winona. He wanted to enjoy every minute of this and he knew he didn't have much time left. Marv would be up any minute for his turn. | 4 |
1,430 | Hypno Celeb 50: Gillian Anderson and Tea Leoni | "Nervous?" Tea Leoni asked David Duchovny as their limo approached the theater.
"Scared shitless," her husband replied. "'Playing God' didn't get a big premiere like this."
"Well, now you know how I felt at the 'Deep Impact' premiere," Tea replied. She had gone back to a darker color for her short hair and was wearing a nice pair of slacks, a white blouse, and a light sweater. David wore a dark suit that seemed to go well with his film and TV character. "Relax, it'll be okay. You've got a hundred million people around the world glued to that show. Half of them show up and it'll be a hit."
"I'll settle for the half," David smiled as the limo pulled up to the theater. There was a small army of photographers and newspeople there, waiting for the stars of "The X-Files" to arrive at the premiere. There were also several hundred fans who began screaming as David and Tea made their way out of the limo and down the red carpet. It was much the same as when Tea's movie had opened a month earlier. They smiled politely, gave a few soundbites to the right gossip agents and camera crews, and made their way into the theater.
"Gillian!" David called as they got inside. Gillian Anderson was surrounded by a small army of well-wishers. She wore a nice pair of brown slacks, with a light tan blouse and a brown jacket. Her red hair was nicely combed and a smile was on her face. "Thank God, I was afraid I'd be mobbed," she said as she and David had a quick hug.
"Seen Chris?"
"Not yet. Knowing him, he'll probably sneak in at the last moment and leave as soon as the last scene is done."
"David, I'll meet you at our seats," Tea said. "I have to go to the ladies' room."
"No problem," David said as his wife walked off. She smiled, happy once again that she and David had gotten together. They now each had a major summer movie and deals were coming in all the time. She was still debating whether to go back to TV or continue in movies. She entered the ladies' room, surprised to see it empty. Not questioning her fortune, she headed to the nearest toilet.
Just outside, a woman stepped out of the alcove she'd been hiding in when Tea approached. She wore jeans and a red sweatshirt and her long blonde hair reached to her shoulders. She appeared to be in her thirties, with good looks and a sly smile on her face. She placed an "Out of Order" sign on the door and slid inside.
Tea was washing her hands when the woman entered. Tea looked at her, puzzled. Something about the woman seemed familiar, like Tea should know her, but she just couldn't place it exactly. It was like a faint memory pushing at her. "Hi," she said.
"Hello, Tea," the woman smiled. "I'm Sophie."
"Do you work here?" Tea said. "You look more like a member of the public. No offense."
"None taken," Sophie said. "Actually, you invited me."
Tea furrowed her brow. "I did? Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't quite remember you."
"Oh, we've met," Sophie said, reaching into her pocket. She brought out a small tear-shaped crystal, attached to a chain and held it before Tea. "It was first at the jewelry shop."
Tea's face went blank, her eyes glazing over as she slipped into the hypnotic trance that Sophie had designed so long ago. Sophie grinned. She had taken Tea several times in the time since, but she had something special planned for tonight. Something she'd been dreaming about for a long time. "Tea, I'm going to give you some instructions. I want you to listen to them very carefully..."
Gillian sighed as she walked into her hotel room. It had been a long night, with the premiere, the party and several interviews. She was rather glad she had left Piper with a nanny for the night. She'd check back in with her tomorrow. She was still debating between a movie part and just taking a vacation during the hiatus, but a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She walked over and opened the door, surprised to see Tea standing on the other side. She had a bottle of wine in one hand and was smiling.
"Hey," Tea said. "Sorry, but David's out with a couple of buddies and I needed some company."
"Hey, no problem," Gillian said. "I could use someone to talk to." She let Tea inside, not noticing the woman who sat in a chair down the hall, near the elevator. A woman whose grin was widening by the minute.
"A stuffed cat?" Tea laughed. "You're kidding me, right?"
"I can't believe I kept a straight face," Gillian said. She took another sip from her glass. "It was unbelievable. The director kept yelling 'Fight it! Fight it! It's a killer cat!'" She lay back on the bed, laughing. "Oh, god, I think I've had too much to drink." Indeed, the empty bottle lay on the edge of the bed. A knock on the door surprised both women. Tea got to her feet and staggered to the door. Opening it, she saw Sophie there. Sophie held the pendant up to Tea's eyes. Tea closed her eyes, then opened them and let Sophie in.
"Gillian, this is my friend, Sophie," Tea announced in a low voice. If Gillian had been a little more sober, she might have seen the lack of expression in Tea's face and eyes.
"It's a pleasure," Sophie said, shaking Gillian's hand. "I'm a huge fan of the show."
"More the merrier," Gillian giggled. "Sorry, I'm not usually like this."
"No problem," Sophie said, a sly smile on her lips.
"So, how'd you meet?" Gillian asked, lying herself on the bed.
"Oh, I sold her a piece of jewelry," Sophie replied. She reached into her pocket and brought out the crystal. She hung it over Gillian's face, about a foot over her eyes, so Gillian could see directly into it. The light reflected off the dozens of small facets cut into the crystal, sending waves of light into Gillian's eyes. "You like it? I think what draws attention the most is the center of it. That nice, warm center right in the middle of the crystal. Just keep looking at it. Look deeply, very deeply. Just keep staring further into the crystal, Gillian. Keep looking deeper into it. Deeper and deeper. Try to find the center. The nice, warm center. Keep looking."
As Sophie talked, Tea took a seat on the bed and began to undress. Gillian hardly noticed. Her eyes were glued to the shining crystal spinning above her, throwing waves of light into her eyes. "It's so nice, Gillian, so warm and relaxing," Sophie continued. "Just keep staring into the crystal, at all the little windows inside it, all the lights. It feels so nice and relaxing to look at it, deeper into it, deeper, towards the center. Closer and closer you get to the center and you feel more and more relaxed. So very relaxed. So relaxed and calm and wonderful. Deeper and deeper. Very relaxed. You'd do anything to stay this relaxed, wouldn't you, Gillian?"
"Yes.." Gillian whispered.
"You'd do anything I said if it would help you stay relaxed, wouldn't you?"
"Yes..."
"Good, good. Then look into the crystal, Gillian. Find the center. And when you reach the center, you'll feel an overwhelming wave of relaxation come over you. You feel nice and warm and totally relaxed. You will feel so good to be this relaxed. Can you see the center, Gillian? Can you see the center?"
Gillian slowly nodded, her eyes half-closed. "Good. Gillian, are you totally relaxed now?"
"Yes, I am.." Gillian whispered.
"Gillian, would you do anything to stay this relaxed?"
"Yes."
"Gillian, you'll do everything I say if it makes stay this relaxed, wouldn't you?"
"Yes.."
"Gillian, you're feeling hot now. Very hot. Not just on your skin, but inside you. You can feel a rush of heat coming over you, your arms, your legs, your breasts, your pussy. You feel so very, very warm. So warm. You want to take off your clothes, you're so warm. Take off your clothes, Gillian. And as you take them off, you feel yourself growing aroused. Very aroused. The more you strip, the more aroused you feel. Go ahead, Gillian, take off your clothes." Gillian began to unbutton her blouse, fumbling with the clasps. She pulled it off, showing a white bra underneath. She unzipped her slacks and began slipping them off.
By this point, both Tea and Sophie were naked. Tea was sitting on the bed, nude, staring straight forward as she awaited her instructions. Sophie was happy to see her hand lightly touch her clit. Gillian pulled off her bra, her breasts falling free against her skin. She slipped off her panties, showing off her dark-haired pussy. Sophie leaned over Gillian and smiled."Gillian, how do you feel?"
"Relaxed," came the reply. "And I'm so hot." Her hands moved down to her pussy, the fingers tickling at the hair. "Let yourself go, Gillian," Sophie said, moving herself onto Gillian. "Let me and Tea take care of you." She leaned down and kissed Gillian on the lips. Gillian slowly returned the kiss, moving her lips over Sophie's, her tongue pushing in. They lay together for several long moments, kissing, before Sophie moved her head down Gillian's body. She buried her head in between Gillian's breasts, kissing the tight nipples. She kissed the curves long and slow, then moved herself down to the sweet-smelling patch in between Gillian's legs. She licked at it a few times, then placed her mouth over her pussy, covering the glistening patch with her lips and inserting her tongue.
Gillian moaned as she felt Sophie's tongue burrow into her. She suddenly felt another pair of lips touch hers, a tongue shoving into her mouth. Some distant part of Gillian recognized that it was Tea, but she really didn't care. She returned the kiss, wrapping her tongue around the other woman's. Tea broke off the kiss and straddled Gillian, moving her pussy down on the redhead's face. Gillian needed no encouragement to put her tongue inside Tea and begin licking with a frenzy. Her hands moved up Tea's smooth body, squeezing the pert breasts. Tea moaned and gently rocked herself on Gillian, pushing her twat closer to the other woman's face. Gillian pushed her tongue in deeper as she felt Sophie push into her. She writhed on the couch under the weight of the two women and the pleasure in her mind. She let loose, her cum quickly licked away by Sophie. Her tongue spiked into Tea's pussy and came back wet, juices falling into her mouth as Tea shuddered.
The three women moved around, getting themselves into another pleasurable position. Sophie grinned as she saw the two hypnotized stars move into a 69 position, Gillian on top. Gillian moved her face next to Tea's wet pussy and once again began to lick at it, this time with longer, slower movements. Tea returned the favor Gillian had given her just moments before, burying her tongue in Gillian's pussy, her fingers opening the hole her tongue made. Gillian's hands moved up and down Tea's thighs as she licked away. Tea's fingers moved slowly in and out of Gillian's asshole as she lapped away at her husband's co-star. Both women were too entranced and too deeply lost in ecstasy to realize exactly what they were doing. They both came at once, their bodies spasming as they ejaculated onto each other, their tongues overwhelmed with the sweet taste unleashed.
Sophie could barely hold herself. She had been stroking her pussy as the two licked at each other and she was almost ready. "Gillian, Tea, come here and eat me out." The two obediently crawled to their mistress and pushed themselves onto her. Gillian put her face right in between Sophie's legs and began to mouth her blonde patch. Tea pushed her face in and began jabbing her tongue into the glistening blond opening. Sophie moaned and lay back, running her hands over her breasts as the two ate at her. This was her dream come true and the idea of what she was going to do with both of these women under her control was enough to send her to orgasm, her two mesmerized slaves licking at the juices spreading on their faces.
"Hey," David said as he entered the room. Tea was lying on the bed, dressed in a nightgown. "Sorry if I kept you up."
"You didn't," Tea smiled. "At least not yet." She grabbed her husband and kissed him hard on the mouth, dragging him into the bed.
In a room on the floor above, Sophie gasped as she felt herself come again. Gillian was a wonder. It was a shame she had to leave the next day. Oh well, if the show did move to L.A., they'd have a lot of time to get better acquainted. | 3 |
1,437 | Cape And Cowl: The Erotic Adventures of Supergirl and Batgirl | "Mayday... Mayday... Mayday..." the pilot of the small jet said in a controlled voice as he struggled with the controls of the crippled aircraft. "This is Gotham Air Two-Zero-Niner declaring an emergency!"
Those simple words brought fear to the heart of Jim Lee. In all his twelve years of flying, including almost a hundred combat missions during the Gulf War, he'd never had to declare an emergency. Three minutes ago, just as he'd made the leisurely turn that would line his plane up for the approach into Washington's National Airport, a sudden explosion had ripped through the starboard engine.
Thousands of hours of flying time helped avert any sense of panic as he quickly increased power to the port engine and tried to keep the aircraft intact long enough to make an emergency landing.
"Brace yourself," he said to the smartly dressed young woman who occupied the co-pilot's seat. "This is going to be a little rough," Lee added, trying to be reassuring.
In the split second he had spared to look into the emerald eyes of his sole passenger, Captain Lee had been surprised to see no trace of fear in the redhead. It was as if the young woman faced life or death situations all the time, secure in her acceptance of an uncontrollable fate. In a way, it made him feel more secure as well. The last thing he needed right now was a hysterical right-seater.
Glancing up from the instrument panel and then out the window, Jim's eyes fixed on the rapidly growing image of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. Rapidly, he ran the numbers though his head, and a small smile filled his face. Once they cleared the bridge, which he judged they would be able to do, they were home free.
"Almost there..." he said as the altimeter continued to drop.
What measure of confidence he felt, evaporated in a second as the airframe suddenly rocked once again. Jerking his head to the left, a look of horror filled his face as he saw the small jagged hole that now appeared in the port engine.
"Oh shit," he whispered, all color drained from his face.
"We're not going to make it, are we?" the redhead said, no longer worried about breaking the pilot's concentration.
Jim Lee's eyes glanced down at the now spinning altimeter and the bridge before them. They were dropping like a rock. It was no longer a matter of clearing the bridge. If anything, they'd be lucky if they didn't take out a dozen cars when they crashed into it.
Resigned that there was nothing more that he could do, he turned and faced his passenger. No sound issued from his lips, but the look of resignation in his eyes was all the silent answer she needed. Just as quietly, the 26-year-old mouthed a prayer that the end would be instantaneous.
Suddenly. Incomprehensibly. The encompassing view of the bridge suddenly dropped below the horizon as the small aircraft rose once more into the sky. It took a moment for the two of them to realize they were still alive. It was a dozen more heartbeats before they dared considered asking themselves how could they be with both engines destroyed.
Before they could say a word to each other, they found themselves on the ground at National Airport. Instinct took over, and they quickly exited the aircraft, right into the arms of the emergency crews which were already surrounding it.
"I guess it's safe now to ask..." the young woman said. "Why aren't we dead?"
The answer came in the form of an athletic blonde-haired woman who walked out from under the damaged starboard wing. 5'7" and about 120 lbs, she wore a tight-fitting blue shirt which topped a red skirt and matching red boots. An equally bright red cape draped across her shoulders. Situated across her rounded breasts was an irregular red and yellow pentagon with a stylized "S" in it.
"Supergirl!" the redhead exclaimed.
"Are the two of you all right?" the Girl of Steel asked as she reached the front of the plane. "I didn't have much time to be gentle if I was going to keep you from becoming an unwelcome decoration on a National Monument."
"We're fine, and thankful beyond words," Jim said as he stepped forward and extended his hand out in welcome. "Jim Lee, pilot and from now on, your number one fan."
"That's better than any reward," Supergirl smiled as she accepted his outstretched hand.
"And let me add my own thanks," the woman in the conservative business suit said as she reached out as well. "Barbara Gordon."
Automatically, Supergirl shifted her attention to Barbara as she had done with a thousand thankful recipients before. Abruptly, the Kryptonian froze as she focused on the attractive young woman for the first time.
Barbara noticed the sudden pause, unsure what to make of it. She waited a few moments, then asked.
"Is something wrong?"
"I'm sorry," Supergirl said, snapping out of her momentary daze. "I thought you looked familiar, that's all."
"Maybe you saw me on CSPAN," Barbara replied. "Although as Gotham City's most junior Congresswoman, I usually get on opposite most of the late-night lineup."
"Congresswoman Gordon, of course," Supergirl smiled. "I've read some of your speeches. They were very impressive."
"I'm flattered," Barbara said.
"Well, I'm just glad I was able to be here when you had your accident," Supergirl said as she began her own well-rehearsed speech. "The country needs people like you."
"I'm glad you were as well," Barbara replied. "But I'm afraid it was definitely not an accident."
"I don't understand," Supergirl said.
"One engine exploding is an accident," Barbara explained. "Two is a statistical anomaly."
With that, the Girl of Steel turned and focused her amazing vision on the twisted remains under both wings. Layer by layer, inch by inch, she surveyed the mangled metal.
"I'm afraid you're right," she reported. "I'm picking up almost untraceable amounts of explosive residue. They'd be invisible under normal investigation."
"I'd expect that," Barbara said, amazingly calm for someone discussing what was supposed to be the instrument of her own death. "If we'd gone down into the Potomac, as was undoubtedly planned, it would've been written up as a tragic, inexplicable accident."
"You sound like you have a good idea who planted those explosives," Supergirl said.
"Not enough to convince the FBI," the Congresswoman replied. "Not even with two other members of Congress having had similar, more fatal accidents in the last eight months."
"Well, I'm not the FBI," Supergirl said, suddenly very interested. "Convince me."
"I'm afraid I don't have any real proof," Barbara went on. "I just find it too coincidental that both of them and I were on that fact-finding trip to Qurac last year. The one that led to Congress's resolution condemning Qurac for exporting acts of terrorism."
"Qurac, that's a nasty bunch," Supergirl noted. "But wouldn't simply blowing up your plane be more their style?"
"That's true," Barbara agreed. "But what information I've been able to come by suggests that this is a contract job. A group of mercenaries led by a woman called the Crimson Rose."
"I've heard of her," Supergirl replied. "As bad as the Quraci's are, she's worse."
"Definitely," Barbara agreed. "And this is exactly her style. She wanted us to know that we were going to die. She gets off on the fear she creates in others."
Supergirl took a few steps away, lost in thought for a few moments. She had only planned to be in Washington for a few hours, just long enough to drop off a heart for a transplant at George Washington University Hospital. Now she had a new goal.
"If you're right, you can be certain that she doesn't suffer defeat gladly," Supergirl noted.
"In other words, I should expect another attempt... and soon," Barbara agreed.
"Exactly," Supergirl said with determination. "And when they do, I'll be there."
A look of concern flashed across Barbara's face. For some reason, the prospect of having the Girl of Steel as a bodyguard seemed to bother her. A strange reaction for someone whose life was in obvious danger."I'm afraid that's not a good idea," Barbara said. "I can't really explain why, but I can't let people think I'm running away from what everyone tells me is an overactive imagination."
The Congresswoman's heart was racing, Supergirl noted. A tell-tale sign that she was hiding much more than she was telling. Still, it was her business, her life. She couldn't be forced to accept a bodyguard.
"I assume you don't have any objection to my spending a few days in Washington and taking a little look around?" Supergirl asked.
"Of course not," Barbara smiled, a smile that hid many secrets.
With that, the Maid of Might was gone.
Ten minutes later, Supergirl found herself drifting among the clouds. Barbara Gordon had made quite an impression on her for a number of reasons. Even if there hadn't been an attempt on her life, she would've wanted to find some reason to spend a little time around Washington and try to get to know her better. Kara had been taken aback when she first saw the Congresswoman. Not that Barbara would have any way of knowing it, but she was almost a twin for Supergirl's first lover. At least what the Kryptonian thought her friend Zara would have looked like if she'd had the chance to grow into womanhood.
Sadly, among all the children of Argo City, only Kara Zor-El, known to the people of Earth as Supergirl, had the chance to grow to adulthood. The children of Argo, like their parents, had died when the protective shield around their small spaceborne city had been shattered by a thousand meteor fragments some eight years past. Only her father's foresight to have constructed an escape rocket, patterned after the one that brought her cousin Superman to Earth years earlier, had enabled her to survive.
It hadn't been easy adjusting to life on Earth. Unlike her cousin who had come to this alien world as an infant, Kara had lived the first 15 of her 24 years as a normal, that is non-super girl. Although taken to heart by the people of Earth as one of their super-powered protectors, Supergirl had felt apart from them in many ways, especially in those relating to love.
Relationships are hard when you can, as the saying goes, bend steel in your bare hands. Actually, as Supergirl had corrected herself many times, it was difficult when you were a woman and had abilities far beyond those of mortal men -- or women.
It had been almost two years since Supergirl had her last serious love, Susan Wienczorkowski. An officer on Metropolis's Special Crime Units, she had died in the line of duty while Kara was halfway around the world fighting a fire that had already devastated half a town in Germany. The loss had hit Supergirl hard and for a time she blamed herself for not being there when it mattered. But with time, she finally accepted the counsel of her older and more experienced cousin. You can't save everyone, he constantly reminded her. Not even when the one you can't help is the one that matters the most.
After that, Kara had little success with either men or women -- contenting herself with a series of meaningless flings. It was funny, she sometimes considered, how many of them had occurred with fellow costumed adventurers. It had to have something to do with the lifestyle.
The most interesting of these brief relationships, she thought, had been with J'onn J'onzz. Known to the public at large as the Martian Manhunter, he was also an alien visitor to this world. With a compatible humanoid physiology, J'onn was perhaps the second most physically powerful man on the planet. Her cousin Kal occupied the first position. Unlike Superman, on whom she had once turned her x-ray vision on one night out of curiosity, J'onn had a 10" cock that was as thick as a baseball bat. That being the case, who cared if it was green.
It had been fun while it lasted. The relationship had paled, however, outside of the bedroom. By Earth calendars, Kara had been 22 years old at the time. J'onn, according to those same human measurements, was almost a century old. They just couldn't relate to each other very well once they were out from under the sheets.
Still, she ached for another relationship that would again send her heart afire with excitement. Whatever instincts she had, told her that Barbara was that type of woman who could do that. From the very first moment she saw her, she seemed the embodiment of every woman she had ever desired. Even now she could still savor the scent of her perfume, a delightful flowery aroma that conjured up images of virgin gardens and lost summer nights.
Of course, she reminded herself, there could be a dozen flaws in her thinking. On the top of the list, the very strong possibility that Barbara might not be interested in other women -- a very common trait for women of this culture. Unlike her native Krypton where gender was less important than feelings.
But those were questions for later. First, she had to find the ruthless bitch who wanted to see her new infatuation dead. After thinking about it a few minutes, she knew exactly how to track her down.
Soft as a feather, Kara set down on the top ledge of an apartment building across from the Quraci Embassy. By international law, the large red brick building just a few hundred feet away was protected by territorial sovereignty -- literally it was a piece of Qurac. Diplomatic immunity protected both the inhabitants and whatever secrets the hundreds of file cabinets within might contain. All of which meant absolutely nothing to the determined young woman standing in the warm afternoon breeze.
The Quraci Embassy had been protected from unwanted surveillance by several million dollars' worth of security precautions, both human and electronic. All of this was useless against a person with x-ray vision, super-hearing, and almost unlimited patience.
Floor by floor, office by office, Supergirl scanned each carefully guarded secret. In addition, every incoming and outgoing phone call was as clear as if Kara was an invited participant. It was only a matter of time before she found the particular secret she sought.
Barbara Gordon finally returned to her apartment in downtown Washington. With the almost crash as the lead on the evening news, the FBI finally took an interest in the case. In fact, the President himself had called to ask about her condition. But all of it had been merely political showmanship. The agents who had interviewed her and Jim showed no real interest in her theories concerning the Quraci's. After all, to them she was still only a temporary Congresswoman, appointed to fill out an unexpired term. She hadn't even been elected in her own right.
"Rest assured," the men in the dark suits and sunglasses had told her, "the entire resources of the federal government will be put behind the search for what really happened." Then they had sent her on her way, certain that their interest wouldn't last longer than the next day's evening news.
Checking in with her office, Barbara had been likewise reassured by Tim Murray, the chief of staff she had inherited from the late departed Congressman Stephen Jefferson, that everything was under control and there wasn't even any need for her to stop by. For perhaps the hundredth time, Barbara promised herself that if she did manage to get elected in her own right in November, there were going to be major changes in that office.
Right now, however, she had more important things on her mind. The people who wanted her dead were still out there. If she thought about it, she knew that any other member of Congress would've quickly gone into hiding, demanding FBI or Secret Service protection as they did.
That wasn't her style. Barbara Gordon had fought her own battles all of her life. Most of them in situations that few of her colleagues could've ever imagined.
Moving into the bedroom, the tall redhead quickly stripped off her business suit and the equally conservative undergarments beneath them. Standing in only her panties in front of the dresser mirror, the Gothamite was reminded that periods of extreme danger had always left her incredibly aroused. Today's near-fatal incident had been no different.
Gently, she ran one hand across the lightly covered red bush between her legs while her other hand laid across her breasts. The lean athletic form the 26-year-old had worked so hard to develop back in high school and college was still very much in evidence. Her breasts weren't very large, but they stood on their own without support. Many times over the years, she'd been told they were near-perfect globes. She played with the pert nipples for a few moments, smiling as they sprang to life. They had always been very sensitive, and given her current state of arousal, it took only a soft touch to bring them to erectness.
Barbara lost herself in the sensation of her own touch. Eyes tightly closed, she slid her hands down across her breasts one last time and over her flat stomach. Coming to a rest when they reached the small white triangle between her legs. Using both hands, she rubbed against the soft material. A soft sigh escaped her lips in response to her caress.
Sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, she provided a deeper touch. Now Barbara's breaths came in shorter gasps as she slid first one, then two fingers inside of herself. In due time, a third finger would follow.
Faster, deeper she rubbed, manipulating her clit and covering her long, slender fingers with her wetness. Eventually, the small cloth of her underwear became too restrictive and was also discarded. A few more minutes of play brought forth a small but enjoyable climax. Yet in the quiet aftermath of her pleasure, she knew it to be an empty reward.
She hadn't had a lover since leaving Gotham City some eleven months ago. Sure, the work she was trying to do was important, she kept telling herself.More important than anything she could accomplish back home. Yet this was a strange city where being in the public eye meant you had little or no private life. There were times she regretted taking the appointment when it was offered to her. One of the most common times was when she crawled into bed each night alone. She had grown very tired of only having a piece of plastic and a few D cells as her only company.
Not that there weren't a great deal of men around her all the time. She was, in truth, quite an attractive woman. But it hadn't taken more than a few innocent dates for her to learn that most of them were more interested in the Congresswoman in front of her name and what that title could do for them. Reluctantly, she had pushed her social life aside and concentrated instead on learning the ropes of her new job. Only to be checked at almost every turn by her own staff. "Give it time," they kept telling her. "You have to learn how to walk before you can run."
Her social life wasn't the only thing Barbara had left behind in Gotham. Unknown to all but a select few, especially those who had proposed her selection to replace Congressman Jefferson, there was quite another facet of her personality. One which would have made them reconsider their opinion that she was a safe candidate who would simply toe the party line until they could get a professional on the ballot.
"Screw them all!" Barbara shouted to the empty air as she finally lost her temper.
A fiery rage flushed through her body as she stormed into the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind as she stood under the rushing water, washing away the grime of the day's adventure. The central theme of her train of thought was that someone had tried to kill her today -- now what was she going to do about it.
Quickly drying herself once out of the shower, she concluded that there was little that Congresswoman Gordon could do. That aspect of her personality, however, was quickly being replaced by a much older one -- one a great deal more dynamic.
"I guess I wasn't making as much of a difference as I thought," the naked beauty thought as she stepped into the bedroom, realizing that she had already made her decision.
Moving to the red brick wall that the builders had left when they remodeled the old building, Barbara reached up and pressed the center brick on the top row. Silent servos came to life as the brick wall separated in two, forming an entranceway to a concealed room beyond.
When she had first made the decision to relocate to Washington, Bruce Wayne had offered her this apartment in one of the buildings owned by Wayne Enterprises. He had explained about the hidden room and how she could use it to hide that which she wanted to keep away from prying eyes. At the time, she'd laughed at the idea that she would drag her past along with her as she set out on what she termed a great adventure. Still, to humor Bruce, she had allowed him to set up the room in case she ever needed it. Now it seemed that Bruce had known her better than she knew herself.
Not that she found that thought very surprising as she stepped into the inner chamber and the entrance closed behind her. People had been underestimating Bruce Wayne for twenty years. To the world at large, he alternated between the image of a playboy and the head of one of the world's leading industrial giants. What few had ever saw, because he didn't wish them to see, was that beneath those dual guises he wore another mantle. The mantle of the bat. Bruce Wayne was the scourge of Gotham's underworld known as The Batman.
As the lights of the small antechamber grew to life, the paraphernalia around her gave testament to the fact that like Bruce, Barbara had also worn the mantle of the bat. For the last few years, Barbara Gordon had been Batgirl.
The room around her was almost an exact duplicate of the one she had designed herself in her original apartment back home. Bruce was good for that, recreating familiar surroundings. He'd even had the main rooms of his family's suburban estate recreated on the top floors of the Wayne Tower when he shifted his operations to downtown Gotham.
A small dresser contained a collection of plain white sports bras and panties. Barbara had never really checked before but discovered that both were exactly her size. That was another thing that Bruce was really good at estimating.
As she put them on, Barbara slightly regretted that she never really took the time to find out what else Bruce was really good at. Of course, that was the state of arousal talking she knew. There was no way she could've had an affair with Bruce Wayne. Not after she'd already had a somewhat brief one with the junior partner of the Dynamic Duo - Robin.
Adjusting the straps of her bra, Barbara remembered how nice it had felt to have the younger man in her bed those many mornings after they'd gone on patrol together. It was a pity that the relationship had faded after he left for college.
"Time to put all those thoughts behind you," a little voice reminded her as she shifted into what she used to call "combat mode."
With a practice that came back so naturally, Barbara quickly donned the purple and gold costume she had made what now seemed a lifetime ago. Of course, this wasn't the same one she had worn on her first night as Batgirl. Batman had long ago replaced that uniform with one that incorporated the very latest in lightweight body armor.
The soft feel of lycra against her chest brought back a rush of pleasant memories. How could she ever have thought she could leave all of this behind?
Carefully, she adjusted the gold utility belt around her waist. There was no need to check each compartment. She knew each one would contain a duplicate of what was in her original arsenal. That, or an updated improvement.
Finally, to complete the transformation, Barbara reached for the tight purple and black cowl that rested on a styrofoam head. Back in her early days of the Darknight Damsel, she'd worn a long-haired red wig underneath the cowl to hide her own short locks. Now her own natural hair was more than long enough to take the wig's place.
Once cowl and cape were securely locked in place, the transformed Congresswoman stood before the large full-sized wall mirror.
"This is what I was born to do," she said to the reflection of the crime-fighter. "I'm never going to make the mistake of leaving it behind again." | 4 |
1,442 | Batgirl and Catwoman PART 2: [Bond, Rape, Machines] | "Hoo hoo hoo" cackled Joker, "if it isn't Bat bimbo and what's this, an even lovelier Catwoman." he mocked, gawking at the reformed heroine.
"Why don't come over here Bozo and I'll shove those eyes back into your head BACKWARDS!" Catwoman said in a calm, sultry voice, raising one wicked eyebrow and cocking her hips to one side.
"You mean like this." laughed the Joker as he reached up and turned his eyelids inside out in a high schoolish attempt at humor. Both the Joker and the Riddler began laughing hysterically at the prank. The girls, however, shook their heads in disgust at their juvenility.
"Quack quack... Shut up ya mangy excuses for circus clowns." blurted out the Penguin. "We haven't got time for this. The costumed clods will be here any moment if they survived Joker's little toy... quack quack."
"Oh but they won't. The explosion was enough to blow up any vehicle, even the Batmobile." the Joker replied.
"You put a bomb in Batman's car?" exclaimed Batgirl.
"Why yes, right outside police headquarters. Bwahahahahaha." blasted the Joker.
"Quack... enough of this gabbing." interrupted Penguin, grabbing a henchmen and propelling him toward the two lovely heroines, "put the bag on them QUICK! quack quack."
With that the group of various Penguin, Riddler and Joker goons headed for the two girls. The first shoved henchmen reached the two lovelies who instinctively let out two high kicks straight to his jaw. This sent him back toward the other eight henchmen like a returned tennis ball, wiping out three goons in the process.
The other four reached their target and the first took a south paw sing at Batgirl. She easily ducked the punch and side kicked the henchman in the chest, sending him to the floor.
Catwoman managed to jump up and do a spinning kick, connecting her long leg with two of the henchmen's faces. Both men went sailing to one side of her like a broom sweeping away a pile of dust.
The third henchman got through, however, and threw a heavy punch, connecting with Catwoman's jaw which sent her staggering backward across the room separating the two girls.
The Penguin, Joker and Riddler all rushed into the fray along with the four henchmen that were knocked down in the first attack. And two groups formed, one around Batgirl and one around Catwoman.
Batgirl continued to let out punch after punch, knock henchmen and villains away with each blow. Fighting a large group was actually easier than an individual since their attacks were usually uncoordinated and they ended up running into each other most of the time. She knew how to dodge between them and around then, using her smaller weight, agile body and superior speed to crash them into each other. The one other bonus was the fact they were trying to grab her and not pummel her. This left them open to much more serious attacks from her since they had their guard down.
Catwoman was also doing quite well, flipping and kicking her attackers with expert agility and skill. Batgirl was amazed at how this woman could move about and not have that costume fall off.
Suddenly, Batgirl felt a low dull pain from her back as the Joker cracked a wooden chair over her shoulders from behind. This sent the dazed heroine staggering toward the back wall of the room. At the same time, Catwoman received a series of rapid punches to the stomach and face, sending her staggering backward toward the same wall.
Both girls hit the wall at the same time and leaned up against the cabinet that stood there. "Its just like being Batman and Robin." gleamed Batgirl with a look of fantasy fulfillment.
"If you say one "holy" anything I'll scratch your eyes OUT!" she exclaimed.
With that, both girls jumped to either side of the 12 foot cabinet and wrenched it away from the wall, sending it piling down on a group of six henchmen which were heading toward them. The cabinet buried all six, temporarily taking them out of the picture.
The Riddler easily vaulted over the downed cabinet and let loose a quick punch to Catwoman's stomach. This sent her toward one side of the room. At the same time, one of the henchmen began swinging on Batgirl who found herself dodging a series of rapid blows.
As Catwoman staggered back, the Joker plowed into her from the side. At the same time, the remaining goon grabbed her by the legs and yanked them out from under her, sending her to the floor. The Penguin rushed in and all four began pummeling the helpless heroine.
Batgirl dispensed with the under trained goon and saw Catwoman's predicament. Thinking quickly, she ran across to the other side of the room and climbed on top of a cabinet. Making an acrobatic lunge, she jumped onto a low hanging chandelier and swung across the room toward the pile of men. Her muscular legs shot out and connect with the group sending all four men in several directions. She then dropped down and in the same motion grabbed Catwoman's arm and pulled her to her feet.
"Wow!" exclaimed Catwoman shaking her head, "It was a lot easier being villainess."
The two girls backed toward a tapestry that hung from the nearby wall and readied themselves for the next attack. The Penguin, Joker and Riddler slowly got up and staggered toward the middle of the room. Looking about, the Penguin's eyes shot out in amazement.
"Quack... I don't believe this. Our feathers plucked by a couple of chick-a-dees. Quack- Quack... Get your heads outta your pants and get THEM!" he ordered kicking a goon who lay half dazed on the floor.
"I see you still hire inferior help Penguin." Batgirl said arrogantly as she put her hands on her hips and took her usual cocky Batgirl stance.
Looking at Batgirl, Catwoman also took the same stance. "Well boys, are you going to come peacefully or do we have to get... TOUGH!" taking the same arrogant attitude. On her however, the look was way more sultry and wicked.
The Riddler let out a blast of rapid, convulsive giggling. "huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu Riddle me this ladies. What do you get when you combine a tap dancer and a pastry?"
Batgirl immediately went to work solving the riddle, dipping her head in intense thought. Seeing this, Catwoman gave her a slight shove and rolled her eyes. "What kind of stupid riddle is that?" she asked shaking her head in disbelief at the nerdiness of the whole situation.
"No, wait!" Batgirl said putting her hand on Catwoman's shoulder. "I know... a tap dancer... and a pastry... a tapestry?" she said with a tone of semi sureness.
"That's right Bat slut!" giggled the Riddler. Suddenly, shooting from the hip he fired a small laser gun over the two girls' heads. The beam hit a large hook that suspended the heavy tapestry hanging from the wall behind them. The massive cloth came tumbling down on both girls engulfing them both and forcing them to the floor.
At the same time, the dazed goons, who were recovering, got up and piled on top of the tapestry, pummeling the two lumps that were once Catwoman and Batgirl.
"Quack Quack... Good work Riddler but ya almost botched it with that stupid riddle." exclaimed the Penguin as the three raced toward the helpless heroines. "Hoo Hoo get them up, pull them to their feet." ordered the Joker.
The henchmen grabbed the two forms and pulled them up. They then pulled back just enough of the tapestry to reveal their heads but kept the rest of their struggling bodies cocooned in the giant cloth. The girls both surfaced from under the cloth, letting in a gasp of fresh air.
"Quack Quack... Let me in there!" said the Penguin as he forced a few goons aside and approached the girls.
"Quack... cover your faces...." and with that he raised his umbrella and pointed the tip at the two dazed heroines. Blue gas billowed from the tip and sprayed into their faces. The two girls gasped and coughed but the anesthetic was designed to be quick and potent. Catwoman and Batgirl's fiery spirits were stilled as both girls fell unconscious.
"Quack... Joker, take care of Catwoman and Batgirl. We can't have either of them running about mucking up our plans, especially Catwoman." ordered Penguin.
"Huhuhuhuhuhuhu That's right Penguin. That was sheer brilliance committing cat related crimes so the police and the dynamic dimwits would go after jug queen here instead of us." added the Riddler.
"Hoo Hoo I know just what to do with our little feminine guests." ecstatically replied the Joker, "Quickly men, tie and gag them both. We want them packaged nicely for the trip."
"Just make it permanent and despicable. Quack" replied the Penguin. "and don't foul it up..." he added, swatting the Joker with his umbrella and waddling out the door with the Riddler and their goons.
The Joker's henchmen unraveled the tapestry and pulled the two unconscious girls out, laying them on the floor. Rolling Catwoman on her stomach, they pulled her arms behind her back and securely tied them together, first at the wrists and then at the elbows.
They then tied her legs together, wrapping several coils of rope around her knees and then her ankles, securing them together with a series of very tight knots. They then rolled her on her back and sat her up. Wrapping several coils of rope around her upper arms, they secured her arms so she could not slid her tied hands over her legs when she woke.
A bandanna was balled up and stuffed in her mouth with another one wrapped and tied around her mouth to secure it in place. Finally a third bandanna was wrapped around her eyes, blindfolding Catwoman.
The same was done to Batgirl. When they were done, all four men stood up and loomed over the two bound and gagged heroines sleeping on the floor. "Hoo Hoo quickly, lets get them into the truck. I know just where to take them."and with that the whole band of men began to laugh loudly. A grinding, mechanical noise came to life from the whole machine and the two odd mechanical devices between their legs rose up and into position.
"You see, this device was originally made to test various vibrators for their effectiveness," the Joker explained. "Originally, where you two ladies are now secured, there were two test dummies designed to simulate female responses and to feed the data back to the computer," the Joker continued as he and the henchmen began to tape small circular white tapes with sampling electrodes to the heroines' bodies.
"Now, of course, you're the dummies," he said mockingly, letting out a horrendous laugh.
"You see, I modified the machine. Before it would just try a dildo and record the response. Now, it will monitor your bodies' responses and continue to 'test' the same dildo until you climax. At that point, the machine will change vibrators and try a new one, each time exacting a climax," he explained with a demonic chortle.
"Hoo Hoo the beauty of it is the more you fight and resist, the more it will try to make you both come, however, the more you climax, the more your minds will go insane," he continued. "You will both be total vegetables when it's done. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
With that, the Joker clapped his hands in joy and continued to press buttons. "OK Joker, fun is fun... ha ha... I forgive you. Untie me," Catwoman said, pulling at her bonds.
"I'm afraid not my feline friend, I can't do that," replied the Joker.
"JOKER! THIS IS INSANE!" Selena screamed. "Do you know what that thing's going to do to us!"
"Actually, I'm not quite sure. The machine was never made to be used by people and there are numerous warning labels everywhere. I really have no idea what will actually happen hoo hoo hoo," he responded laughingly. "You changed sides remember. Now you're going to get the lesson you deserve."
"This is too insidious Joker!" exclaimed Batgirl. "Do you know what the penalty for rape is in this city! You're going to be in big trouble MISTER!" she blared defiantly.
All four men looked at her and wiggled their fingers making an "oooo I'm so threatened" gesture.
"Great going sister," Selena said to Batgirl out of the corner of her mouth. "That's got them really shaking in their boots."
The Joker then turned to face Selena and slowly walked up to the bound heroine. His grin left his face and he now took on a sinister, almost perverse expression as he leaned over her. Glaring down at her large breasts, he reached up and grabbed the sides of her white suit, pulling the fabric up and over her breasts. Her bare breasts rolled to her sides as they were exposed. Selena surged and arched her back in horror as this disgusting man bared her breasts. His right hand then reached across and firmly cupped her left tit, squeezing and massaging the large gland with utter enjoyment. Catwoman let out an animalistic hiss of resistance as he continued to accost her.
At the same time, one of the goons grabbed Batgirl's top and pulled it up over her breasts and her head. Her panicked eyes darted around in desperation as the man reached for the clasp that held the cups of her support bra together. Then, with a small yell, Batgirl surged as the clasp was undone and the cups popped apart, exposing her plump breasts. The henchman then grabbed both tits firmly with each hand, squeezing and massaging them with incredible delight. Batgirl screamed and gyrated in futile resistance as her chest was molested by the Joker's henchman.
The Joker then lunged down at Selena, grabbing her tit and plunging the nipple into his mouth. He began sucking hard and long, squeezing the helpless breast in a frantic attempt to suck it dry. At the same time, his left hand grabbed her right breast and he forcefully massaged both breasts, moving his mouth from one unprotected nipple to the other in a fanatic feeding frenzy. Every once in a while he would bury his face deep in her cleavage and squeeze her tits to the sides of his face, letting himself become buried in an almost heavenly sea of tanned breasts.
Batgirl was no better off as the goon sucked and sucked on her perky breasts. He grabbed the bare nipple of her other, exposed breast and pulled it, pinching and squeezing it in an erotically teasing fashion. Barbara continued to struggle and cry out as he sucked harder and harder, almost engulfing her ripe tit in his mouth.
Selena also cried in protest, but her shouts were more like a cat hissing in defiance. She would let out deep, heavy moans and sprays of hisses as she struggled in vain. One of the other goons came up next to the Joker and tapped him on the shoulder, giving him an eager look. "Yes, YES there's plenty for all. It's milking time!" the Joker exclaimed as both men grabbed a large breast and began massaging and sucking Selena dry. The other goon joined the one accosting Batgirl and all four men enjoyed a feast of breasts with the two struggling heroines fighting in vain to escape violation.
After about 20 minutes, the four were satiated and they backed away with satisfied looks on their faces. "MMMMM that was so yummy," the Joker mused. "I didn't know you were so juicy my dear Catwoman."
"Go to hell!" cried Catwoman as she continued to struggle. Both girls' breasts were covered with sweat and saliva from the ruthless mammary onslaught they both just went through. "Yeah, You'll never get away with this!" cried Batgirl. "Good always triumph over evil!"
"Honey, I'm gonna have to teach you some better lines," said Catwoman out of the corner of her mouth to Batgirl.
"Hoo Hoo, I don't think you'll get the chance," and with that Joker and the goons grabbed both girls' lower outfits and forcefully pulled them down. Batgirl's spandex shorts slid down around her gyrating hips and down to her feet. Her one leg was unclasped and the pants were removed. Her leg was then secured back in place. Catwoman's outfit was also pulled off and both girls now lay naked and defenseless on the cold steel beds.
The Joker then reached over and flipped the final switch, activating the demonic machine. Lights and pistons came to life as the conveyor belt started up. A dildo moved along the belt and into each of the odd machines that sat between the two girls' legs. After a second or two, the dildo appeared from the front of the machine, pre-lubricated and ready to go. A robotic arm assembly then moved it toward its unprotected target.
"NO NO!" cried Barbara. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"
"I'LL SWITCH BACK TO A LIFE OF CRIME!" Selena pleaded. "THIS IS INSANE JOKER!"
Their cries fell on deaf ears as the first dildo found its mark and plunged slowly into Selena Kyle's defenseless vagina. The dark-haired amazon reeled back, surging her wide hips upward in defiance as the phallic force itself past her tightened vaginal muscles and deep into her womb.
Barbara screamed in sheer panic as her dildo forced itself between her lips and entered deeply inside her. Her hips thrust and pounded frantically as the dildo gained each inch. Apparently the machines were randomly selecting sex toys as both girls experienced different devices. Barbara's dildo was a long, curved implement with several ridges and ripples.
Selena's was a long, fat white phallic that filled her completely and was too large to allow her any time to resist or think. Her situation was compounded by the fact that the machine began sliding the device in and out of her in an attempt to make her come.
Barbara was experiencing the same ordeal as her curved phallic slid back and forth in a forcefully rhythmic fashion. The sheer act of being stripped and molested, coupled with the forced penetration she was now experiencing, brought on her first climax which sent her reeling upward in ecstasy.
Hearing Barbara's erotic cries and moans and listening to another woman being forced to climax, drove Selena over the edge and the large-breasted heroine also caved in, surging in an uncontrollable climax.
"Boy they're real screamers boss," one of the goons said as he gaped at the fantastic spectacle before him. "Yeah, a couple of real moaners," drooled another one.
"Gag them, gag them both," the Joker ordered, waving his finger at them, "we don't want any passersby to hear them and rescue them."
"Right boss," and with that the henchmen reinserted the bandannas into each girl's mouth and secured the rags in place, gagging them both.
"Tata ladies," chortled the Joker. "I'd love to stay and watch you both suffer but I've got pressing business to attend to," and with that the Joker and his men left the two bound and gagged heroines as the machine ruthlessly continued to rape them both.
Sensing Batgirl's defeat, her machine withdrew the first phallic and a new one rolled down the conveyor belt. This one was fat and shaped like several large balls packed together in a row. The new phallic plunged deep inside her struggling hips and reached her defenseless womb. It too began to pump in and out, forcing Batgirl to thrust wildly in defiance. Barbara had used vibrators before but never like this. Nothing sexual had ever happened to her before at the hands of these villains and now the act of being forcefully raped fed her erotic fantasies. She began to lose herself in the overwhelming experience as another climax claimed her and a new dildo moved into place.
Selena's was narrower and long. "A small one," she thought in relief, "at least I can ride this one out..." but before she could finish her thought, her hips surged in desperate panic. Another, fatter smooth phallic came up and inserted itself under the first, forcing itself deep into her. The new combination of two dildos penetrating her was bigger than the first dildo and this sent her surging in uncontrollable ecstasy as they both reached her womb. They then began to slide in and out but in opposite directions.
"JOKER YOU INCIDEOUS BASTARD!" Selena cried out under her gag as the pumping drove her wild with sensation. Both ladies gyrated frantically as climax after climax stripped them of their wills and their minds. The Joker was right, at this rate they would both end up vegetables if they couldn't escape. | 3 |
1,456 | Batgirl And Robin | "Look at that, he's still got half a hard-on," Mary Beth noted as she pointed to Robin's cum-covered cock. "I bet he's all ready to go at it again."
"That's why I like them young," Ma replied.
"I'm next!" Betty Sue called out.
"No way!" Mary Beth responded. "You always get to go next. Besides, I can tell that he wants me. Don't you, Robin honey? I bet you can't wait to taste those pussy juices for real."
"Bullshit, if he hadn't been looking at my tits while I was changing, he wouldn't have even gotten caught," Betty Sue countered.
Pulling her T-shirt up and over her bra-less mounds, she bounced them in front of the captive Robin. Batgirl figured the girl had to at least be a 38DD.
"This is what you want, isn't it, Robin baby?" she said.
"This could get ugly real fast," Batgirl thought. "If one of them decided to end it with a bullet. I might not be able to wait for daughter number three."
Part of Batgirl's decision to rush into what might be a precipitous action was the realization that despite the fact that the scene that had just occurred could be classified as rape, she had enjoyed watching it. In fact, it had turned her on immensely.
A handful of small glass capsules filled her gloved hand, taken from one of the compartments in her belt. Any advantage of surprise had to be pressed as hard as possible. If daughter three appeared out of the woodwork, it could all go so very wrong, so very fast.
Batgirl's body tensed as she slowly began to rise and counted off the seconds until she would spring into action. If she could just get them a little closer together.
"Maybe I should just put a bullet in his head and that'll settle it," said a strong voice from the other side of the room.
Batgirl quickly dropped flat as the third daughter walked into the room. Peering carefully over the edge, she took stock of the new arrival.
"Oh shit!" she gasped. "She must be at least six feet tall."
That was only where her astonishment over Ma Parker's baby daughter began. She was six one to be exact, with a body that was a cross between a movie star and body builder. With the best of both, the result was a powerful muscular form. Her platinum blond hair was razor-cut in an almost military style. She was wearing cut-off shorts and a tank top that seemed two sizes too small. Firm hard breasts pressed against the too-thin material, the nipples visible even to Batgirl. Despite all of her training, Batgirl looked like a skinny school girl next to her.
Watching the professional, no-nonsense manner in which she walked across the dirty stone floor, Batgirl quickly sized her up as the most dangerous of the three daughters. The black Uzi was slung over her shoulder, hanging within easy reach.
"If you're through playing around, you might like to know that I checked the upper floors and the building's clear," she said as she neared the rest of the group.
"You worry too much, Debbie Jo," Betty said.
"One of us should," Debbie Jo replied. "The little asshole here had a transmitter in his hand when I caught him. He might've gotten off a signal before I smashed it."
"If he did, this place would've already been crawling with cops," was Betty Sue's retort. "Do you see any cops?"
The exchange just reinforced Batgirl's original assessment that next to Ma Parker, Debbie was the most dangerous of the foursome. The other two daughters were just muscle.
Batgirl couldn't get over how physically different Debbie was from her sisters. Then she recalled an item on the bottom of Ma Parker's file.
It had been one of the most sensational crimes of twenty-two years ago. Harold Swartzenberger, the rage of Hollywood action films, had disappeared during a morning exercise run. For two weeks, the bulk of Gotham's Finest had turned the underside of the city inside and out without finding a clue as to the whereabouts of the former Mr. Universe. For all their efforts, all they had to go on was an expended tranquilizer dart at the scene. No ransom note, no demands, no communications of any kind.
Then, following a lead turned up by then Lieutenant James Gordon, they had finally found Swartzenberger. The star had been found nude, tied spread-eagle on a bed in one of the seedier hotels outside the city limits.
The actor was somewhat reluctant to say what had happened during the twelve days since he'd vanished. Sarah May Parker, on the other hand, was more than willing to proclaim to the world how she'd sucked and fucked the former weight lifter all that time.
"Hell, sometimes we'd do it three or four times a day," she yelled out before they slammed the door of the paddy wagon on her.
Unwilling to risk the damage to his career once the Hollywood tabloids got hold of the story, Swartzenberger refused to press charges. Hopefully, most people would just assume it was all a publicity stunt and ignore Parker's story.
Unfortunately, those dozen days of passion had left Sarah May pregnant, giving credence to her story. Sarah got child support, and Swartzenberger's career never reached its potential. In all that time, he had never seen his daughter.
"Hey Debbie, want a taste?" Mary Beth asked as she ran her finger along the length of Robin's cock and scooped up the remnant that Ma Parker had missed.
"I'll pass," was Debbie Jo's curt reply.
"Don't know what you're missing," Mary Beth said as she slipped her finger into her mouth and sucked it clean.
"I'll bet if it was the Bat-Bitch hanging there, dripping pussy juice you'd be quick to lap it up."
Betty Jo snickered.
"Maybe..." Debbie purred with a smile. "But I can think of a lot better place to do it than a filthy dump like this."
The dual thought that such a phenomenal beauty such as Debbie was both into women and as such was also interested in Batgirl brought mixed feelings. The thought of her being in Robin's predicament caused a cold chill, contrasting with the rich warm rush radiating between her legs. The thought of a sexual encounter with the likes of Debbie Jo was almost enough to cause her to consider expanding her sexuality. Of course, that would be if she could separate that perfect body from the person it contained.
Dismissing all this from her mind, Batgirl again jumped to her feet. In a single fluid movement, she bounded over the railing and into the air. As she flew, her hand swung around and sent the half dozen glass capsules ahead of her.
"Robin... Starburst!" she yelled out as she dropped over the railing, a split second before the capsules detonated into an all-encompassing whiteness.
Controlling her leap off the balcony, Batgirl was able to deliver the full force of her 110-pound frame in one single blow. The impact point being the center of Debbie's chest. The amazon hadn't been blinded like her sisters. Unlike them, she had looked down, not upward when she heard Batgirl's shout, preserving her vision. Even now, she was swinging the Uzi on her shoulder into play.
Knocked backward into a support beam by the sudden blow, Debbie lost her grip on the Uzi and watched helpless as it flew across the floor. Her head banged into the beam as well, causing a few moments of disorientation. Moments Batgirl put to all too good use.
No sooner did she hit the ground, Batgirl dropped to what looked like a push-up position. Pivoting on her open palms, she spun her muscular legs around in a wide arc, sweeping Mary Beth off her feet.A partially blinded Ma Parker had pulled her pistol from its holster and was trying to take aim at the rapidly moving intruder. Try as she could, she still couldn't differentiate between Batgirl and her daughters.
No such concern entered Betty Sue's mind. Although as visually handicapped as her mother, she wasted no time in bringing her shotgun into play. Aiming in the general direction of the blurry forms, she let off first one, then both barrels.
A cry of pain filled the air as the spray of pellets found a target.
"I got them!" Betty cried out in triumph.
"You got me, you stupid bitch!" came the reply.
Betty recognized the voice as belonging to Mary Beth. Her sister had just leapt to her feet after being knocked over by Batgirl, only to step right into the line of fire.
Even as Mary Beth again fell to the ground, this time clutching her left leg in agony, Batgirl moved against Ma Parker and Betty. A hard-tossed batarang slammed against the side of Ma's head, bringing unconsciousness with it. Betty joined her a few heartbeats later, the result of a devastating right hook and left cross combination.
Batgirl took a moment to breathe, only to have it cut short as a strong arm wrapped around her neck. Debbie hadn't been as stunned as she thought, and was already pressing the attack. It was only a muffled warning from the still-bound Robin that gave her the precious second to protect her breathing passage.
Locked in a choke hold, Batgirl pressed back with all of her strength. She could tell it wouldn't be enough. Ma Parker's youngest was just too much bigger and stronger. If only she could get a little more leverage. All she needed was a small opening.
"I'm going to rip your fucking head off, bitch!" Debbie said as she pulled Batgirl backward.
She took another step back and then suddenly loosed her hold. Batgirl immediately took advantage of her unexplained error and sent her right elbow as hard as she could into the larger woman's chest. The blow was enough to free her, and she pulled out of the killer grip.
Spinning around to an attack position, Batgirl suddenly understood the cause of her assailant's distraction. As they had moved closer to him, Robin had swung up and wrapped his legs around Debbie's neck. He didn't have the leverage to hold her, but as he pulled himself against her from the left side, Debbie found her face pressed against his exposed crotch. The strong, pungent smell of his manhood and the taste of his cum-stained cock against her lips sent her into a panic. Instinctively, her only thought was to pull away, ignoring the need to keep a tight hold on Batgirl.
Debbie grabbed one of Robin's legs with each hand and pulled them from around her neck. She was spitting the awful taste from her mouth when she suddenly remembered Batgirl. Too late, she turned her attention back to her captive, only to be met by a flurry of fists.
A brilliantly executed judo move sent the larger woman to the ground, face first. Before she could rise, Batgirl was on top of her and pinning her arms behind her as she slammed on a pair of strong steel handcuffs.
"You fucking cocksucking bitch!" Debbie called out over her shoulder.
A smile crossed Batgirl's face as she let out a deep breath of relief and made sure that all four of her adversaries were indeed down for the count. She found Debbie's curse somewhat amusing.
"Don't knock it unless you've tried it, honey," she said just loud enough for Debbie to hear her.
"You're going to pay for this!" Debbie again cursed out as she struggled helplessly against the bonds.
"Maybe, but not today!" was Batgirl's reply.
Checking Mary Beth, Batgirl was relieved to find that she had only superficial leg injuries. A few inches to the left and she'd have caught a lot more than the edge of the shotgun blast. She pinned her hands behind her with the same plastic restraints she'd used on Ma Parker and Betty Sue.
Using the handcuff key she'd found on Ma, Batgirl freed Robin from the overhead beam. She tried not to watch as he composed himself, but she had to sneak one last look. The young man certainly was impressive.
Ten minutes later, a phone call for assistance caused the old warehouse to indeed be swarming with members of the GCPD. Led by a cigar-chomping Sgt. Bullock, they quickly led an infuriated Parker Mob to waiting Police vans.
"We found the Batmobile out back," Bullock said to Robin. "Looks like one of the harpies put a few rounds into the tires for laughs."
"Great," Robin muttered. "This night is getting better and better."
"Don't sweat it, kid," Bullock growled. "I've already talked to Chief O'Hara, and he's sending a flatbed truck over to take it to the Police garage over on Barnaby Street. Batman left two sets of those special tires you use over there just in case he ever needed them. They'll have you back on the road in about an hour or two."
"Thanks," said Robin.
"Meanwhile, we'll be glad to give you a lift over there or down to Police Headquarters," added Bullock.
"Nah, I'll get there on my own," Robin said in a tone that said he really didn't want to be around the men of Bullock's Strike Force right now.
From the funny looks they had all given him, and the sly smiles on more than a few faces, he knew Ma Parker had told them all about the blowjob she had given him.
"Suit yourself, kid," Bullock said as he turned and followed the rest of the Task Force out the door.
Robin stood there for a few moments, watching them leave. It had been one screwed-up night. And it wasn't going to be any better tomorrow night when Batman got back and heard all about it. No one would have to tell him, it would be the butt of a dozen jokes in every police bar by midnight.
"I'd offer you a ride, but where could I take you," Batgirl said as she stepped up to him.
"I guess we could always go out for Pizza," he quipped, trying to put his worries behind him. "I haven't eaten since this morning."
"I do think we'd be more than a little conspicuous in these outfits," Batgirl smiled, remembering that she too had missed dinner. "I guess there's always takeout."
"I've got a better idea," Robin responded in a burst of sudden inspiration. "Come on," he added as he headed for the Bat-Cycle.
"All right, where to?" Batgirl asked as she slid behind the handlebars and motioned for Robin to squeeze in behind her.
"1939 Kane St.," Robin said as he slid in behind her and put his arms around her waist.
Again speeding through the night, Batgirl noticed that the vibration of the cycle between his legs had the same effect on Robin that it usually had on her. She could feel his erect cock pressed up against her ass as he pressed tight against her. She had to admit, as she smiled under her cowl, it was a nice feeling.
Pulling up to a long row of brownstones on Kane Street, Batgirl slowed in front of 1939. It was only a half-mile to her own apartment, a section of old Gotham that had seen a new life with an influx of young urban professionals during the last decade. A four-story walkup, a sign in the front yard identified it as being renovated by Waynecorp, a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises.
"Do you live here?" Batgirl asked in a confused tone.
"Not exactly," came the reply from behind her. "It's sort of a safe house. Better take the cycle around back."
Parking the gold and blue motorbike in the empty alley behind the building, Batgirl watched as Robin covered it with a large gray tarp hidden behind the garbage cans.
"That should hide it," he said, satisfied that it was hidden from casual observers.
"I suppose there's a back door," Batgirl said as she looked up and down the alleyway.
"Not exactly," Robin said as he pointed up to the overhead fire escape. "But there is a back window."
"Right," Batgirl replied. "The story of my life."
It only took a minute for them to reach the third-floor landing. Robin paused at the large high window and reached into his utility belt for a small electronic device. Batgirl watched as he activated it and then ran it along the outside of the window frame. An audible click filled the night air as it passed over the lock.
"It also deactivated the alarms," the Teen Wonder said by way of explanation as he returned the small unit to his belt. "After you," he said as he pulled open the window.
Batgirl's first impression upon entering the small three-room apartment was that she'd been there before. It was impossible, of course, but it was all so familiar.
"Well, what do you think?" Robin said as he closed the window behind him. "A lot better than eating off the back of your bike."
"It's nice," Batgirl said. "You might find this funny, but I feel like I've seen this place before."
"Déjà vu, huh," Robin laughed, as if he was enjoying some little joke.
With that, he walked over to a small coffee table and picked up a small neighborhood phone book. Opening it to the restaurant section, he scanned a few ads.
"What do you feel like having?" he asked. "Italian? Mexican? There's a really great seafood place about two blocks over."
"That'd be fine," Batgirl said as she picked up a small stack of mail by the front door and examined it. Mostly it consisted of bills and such.
"B. Ward," she said as she read the name on the phone bill. "A friend of yours?"
"Actually, that's the name of some second-rate actor that was on this really lame superhero show when I was a kid," he said as he began to dial the phone. "I found the name in an old TV Guide and put all the utilities in his name. Couldn't really put it under Batman or Robin, could I?"
"I guess not," Batgirl mused.
Her attention was then caught by an R.J. Nickels catalog resting next to the mail. An identical mail-order book had been delivered to her apartment last month.In fact, she'd been flipping through it just the other day, looking for a new sofa.
"That's it," she said to herself as she quickly flipped through the pages until she came to the one she was looking for. "I don't believe it, you bought the whole room."
Robin grinned as he looked at the two-page photo in the catalog, identical in every way to the room they were now standing in, right down to the framed pictures on the wall.
"It was easier that way. We have twelve apartments like this scattered across the six boroughs," Robin explained. "Really didn't have time to shop around and decorate them all."
Without realizing it, Robin had confirmed Batgirl's long-standing belief that Batman had to have a great deal of money behind him. A quick addition of the prices in the glossy photo put the cost of just this room at almost six thousand dollars, and they had twelve apartments like this. As Barbara Gordon, Batgirl could just about afford the rent on her apartment, much less pay for apartments that were empty most of the time.
The buzz of the intercom interrupted anything Batgirl might have wanted to say. Robin walked over to the wall and pressed it.
"Seafood Delight," said the voice over the speaker.
"Come on up," Robin said.
"That was fast," Batgirl commented as Robin pushed the buzzer that unlocked the front door.
"I've ordered from there before," he explained. "They know the tip increases the faster they get the food here."
"Another casual reference to being used to have money to burn," Batgirl thought.
"If you'll wait in the other room, I'll pay for the food," Robin said as he pulled a bathrobe over his costume and tightened the sash.
"Sure, no problem," she replied as she stepped into the adjacent bedroom.
Closing the door halfway behind her, she watched from behind as Robin removed his mask and answered the door. If she stood where she was, she'd see his face as he turned around. As simple as it would be to explain as an accident, it wasn't something she could bring herself to do. Instead, she stepped back into the room and awaited Robin's call.
"Dinner's ready," the Teen Wonder called out.
"Page 215, I see," Batgirl said as she walked back into the living room.
"What?" a confused Robin said.
"The bedroom, page 215 of the catalog," she said.
"Oh yeah, right."
The two made themselves as comfortable as they could. Capes and gloves were draped across the couch, utility belts piled on top of them. Sitting on the floor, the food-covered coffee table between them, they ate and discussed the life of a crimefighter.
"Has anything like this evening ever happened to you before?" Batgirl asked as she took a bite of her broiled shrimp.
Robin stopped mid-bite. The expression on his face told her that she might've made a big mistake asking that question. It was obvious that tonight hadn't been the first time.
"I'm sorry, I really had no right to ask something like that. I was just curious. I apologize."
Wiping the food residue from his face, Robin looked across the table into her rich green eyes. He sat silent for a few moments and then said, "Do you really want to know?"
Batgirl nodded in agreement.
Once he began, it was hard for him to stop. Batgirl was sure that this was the first time he had ever really talked to anyone about this aspect of his career.
He told her of his loss of virginity to The Catwoman. Of his encounter with Jessica Taylor, an encounter that had been repeated several times before she moved to San Diego. He even admitted to a male experience he'd had when a young thug had performed oral sex on him while guarding him, an act he had reciprocated.
Batgirl listened intently as Robin talked. She wasn't put off by his story, not even his revelation of a same-sex act. After all, more than a few times lately she'd been wondering to herself that perhaps she was missing something by not at least trying the charms of a sapphic relationship.
What she found interesting was that in all his experiences, tonight included, there was an aspect of submissiveness, of a helplessness that increased his sexual satisfaction. The look on his face as he talked mirrored that he showed while tied up back in the warehouse being serviced by Ma Parker.
Batgirl could feel a renewed wetness between her legs as she visualized the stories he had just told. She could only guess at what Jessica or his male lover had looked like. The Catwoman, on the other hand, was a known criminal. Batgirl had even encountered Selina Kyle after her return to Gotham and a life of crime. In her skin-tight catsuit, it wasn't hard to imagine what she would look like naked. The image of that naked body atop Robin, riding him, taking his cherry - fucking him - was almost too much to bear. She suddenly realized that her breathing had become labored.
"Has anything like that happened to you?"
"What?" Batgirl said, her mind suddenly dismissing the sexual images that had occupied it.
"I asked if anything like that had ever happened to you," Robin repeated.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Batgirl was relieved to realize that Robin hadn't noticed her state of arousal over his tale. If her costume weren't so reinforced, she'd be afraid to stand up, sure that her pants would be covered with a large stain.
"Once, in the very beginning," she began.
It wasn't a story she liked remembering, much less telling someone. But Robin had bared his soul, and she could do no less. It was funny, but she'd never considered the idea that a male hero could suffer sexual assault. Up until this moment, she thought it was something that only heroines had to worry about.
It was only a few months after becoming Batgirl. She'd tried tracking down The Joker, not realizing in her youthful exuberance how far out of her league she was. Of course, she easily fell into his trap.
Bound to a gurney, rape was the furthest concern from her mind. The Joker had a reputation as a homicidal maniac, and Batgirl feared for the worst. It was only when he dismissed his gang and climbed atop her helpless body that she feared she'd be raped before anything else.
In her worst nightmares, she could still see the small, chalky white cock, surrounded by green pubic hair that Joker removed from his purple pants. Straddling her waist, he had proceeded to play with it, masturbating it to its full five inches. Barbara sometimes found it astonishing that at that moment, on the verge of being ravaged and perhaps worse, she wondered if his smallness was the result of the chemical bath that had transformed him into The Joker. If so, that might've been enough to have driven him mad.
Bracing for the worst, she was confused when the tall man suddenly shot his load, all over her large yellow bat-insignia. A chilling, echoing laugh filled the air as he smeared the small residue across her lycra-covered breasts. Then, without so much as another word, he jumped off her and left.
After she freed herself, a still-trembling Batgirl had made her way home and burned that particular costume in her fireplace. It was almost a month before she could bring herself to put on her spare and venture out once more into the night.
"Damn," was the only response Robin could think of.
Batgirl decided to change the subject. Reaching behind her into a small pocket of her cape, she removed the handcuffs she'd freed Robin from earlier. They were a real old pair, over sixty years old. She'd saved them to give to her father as a present. He had a large collection of police memorabilia in his house. There'd been a Gordon on at least one police force somewhere for the last four generations. Barbara had broken the tradition, but somehow she felt she was doing something better.
"Those cuffs gave me a lot of trouble," Robin said, taking her cue to change the subject. "I tried everything I could remember Batman ever teaching me, but I couldn't get them loose. They're impossible to get out of."
"Click!"
Batgirl grinned in embarrassment as she held the opened cuff in her hand. It had taken her less than thirty seconds to open them. The key was still in her cape.
"I don't believe it!" Robin said in a shocked tone. "How'd you do that?"
Batgirl smiled a little brighter. Her little ruse had worked. Robin's mind was now totally on the old handcuffs.
"Don't feel bad," she offered by way of apology. "There's a trick to it."
"What kind of trick?"
"Well, here, I'll show you," she continued as she again manipulated the old metal joints until they again popped open. "See, it's not all that hard once you know how to do it."
Robin looked closely at the restraints as Batgirl went through it again, this time a little more slowly. As before, they opened easily. | 4 |
1,529 | Class Project | "Was it worth it, Young Man?" The judge stared down at me from his raised desk, his gaunt face reminding me of some of the monsters on the old Friday night creature features.
I knew what I had to do.
Lord knows, I'd had enough practice.
Just let my face go slack and slowly drop my head until I was looking at my toes. Fidget a little, scuff my right foot a couple times, then say "No, sir," letting my voice break a little between words.
* * *
It had been a pretty normal day. But then, almost nothing ever happens at Barkin Middle School.
Fifth period: my least favorite class, but also the one I looked forward to the most. It was enough to give me one of those split personalities they're always talking about on the crime shows.
It was my least favorite because it was reading.
I looked forward to it because it was my only class with Kimmy.
You see, Kimmy's a sixth grader. And reading is a sixth-grade class, but I'm in seventh. I know I have some trouble reading, but I still couldn't believe my parents and Mr. Ball, the principal, stuck me in this class.
Like usual, I waited till just before the bell rang, then slipped into the room. Chad was right behind me. It's worse for him. He's in eighth.
Mr. McCoy wasn't in the room yet, so as I got to Kimmy I stopped and kissed her. I would have given her thigh a squeeze--I usually do--but she was sitting in a desk chair that made that awkward.
DJ was in the desk next to her and giggled. She usually did. She stopped when Chad leaned down and kissed her.
Chad and I grinned at each other, then continued to the back of the room. At least there weren't enough desk chairs and we got to sit in regular seats.
The bell rang, and the eleven sixth graders, Chad, and I all tried to look like we wanted to be here.
Mr. McCoy still didn't come in.
He was usually late. He taught most of his classes in the high school. The middle school was at one end of the building and the high school at the other, separated by the main gymnasium. But he usually beat the bell.
"I'm sorry I'm late, I got stuck..." Timmy Gibler was saying as he walked in. "Nobody's here," he said, slipping into a desk in the front of the classroom.
I would have been insulted if I hadn't known he meant a teacher.
"Mr. McCoy's late again," Janice Rand said unnecessarily.
Timmy turned in his seat to look at Janice, who was sitting in front of me. "I saw Mr. McCoy going into the assembly with the high school. I figured we had a sub."
"Maybe they forgot about us," Bobby Reavers said.
"Maybe they did," Kimmy said with a huge grin. She got up and walked back to me. "Any idea how we can pass the time?" she said, standing over me.
"We could read our next chapter."
"Like that's going to happen." She sat across my legs and kissed me, hard.
"You just going to sit there and let me do all the work?" she asked when she broke away a minute later.
"Sounds good to me." Sometime during the kiss Chad had gained a lap ornament of his own, and his hand roamed DJ's ass as she planted kisses around his face.
I glanced at the door. Timmy had closed it when he came in. I figured we'd hear the knob and Kimmy could jump up in time. I kissed her, my hand going to the soft but firm mound over her heart.
"Get a room," Janice complained a minute later.
"Better yet, move to the front. I'm getting a crick in my neck," Mark Lester added.
I started to make a sarcastic comment about what Mark could do with his neck when Kimmy stood, grabbed my hand, and pulled me to my feet. "Timmy, be a lookout," she said as she led me to the teacher's desk.
"Not me."
"Do a good job and I'll let you feel me up."
'Why the hell isn't someone that fast on the track team?' I thought as Timmy looked out the window. Like all the classrooms in the middle school, ours had a window about the size of a paperback book. The doors in the high school were solid wood, though I wasn't sure what the school meant by that.
"Clear."
Kimmy leaned me back against the desk, then molded herself to me. My hands found natural resting places on the cheeks of her ass. The denim of her jeans would have left a lot to my imagination if my memory didn't know her soft skin so well.
Our lookout was watching us more than the hall, but I figured, what the hell? At most, if I got caught, I'd get suspended a couple of days for making out. Mom would have a cow, but Dad would give me an attaboy when he thought she wasn't listening.
I became aware of heavy breathing, and from the corner of my eye I saw that Chad and DJ had joined us. Then Kimmy's hand moved between our bodies and cupped the crotch of my jeans. Damn! I was getting a hand job in class in the middle of the day. I love school.
Kimmy's fingers found my zipper and started pulling it down.
In the back of my mind I knew I should worry about something, but Kimmy's hand wormed into my fly, wrapped around the big guy through my underwear, and squeezed. I had trouble thinking.
Kimmy's tongue slipped from my mouth, and she glanced at our lookout.
Timmy blushed, then looked out the window. "Clear. Hall's empty."
Kimmy kissed my chin, then my Adam's apple. Her hand released the Big Guy. She kissed the top of my chest. Her hand wormed back out of my jeans. I realized that Kimmy was getting smaller, but couldn't remember why that was significant.
Kimmy was kissing the top of my stomach, teasing it with her tongue. I didn't even remember her unbuttoning my shirt. Her hands were fumbling with my belt and the snap of my jeans. I tried to think. There was a reason I should stop her, but I couldn't remember why. Next to me, I could see Chad's tongue as it moved in DJ's mouth.
Kimmy licked my belly button as her hand plunged into both the top of my pants and my underwear. One cupped my balls while the other encircled the Big Guy. I moaned and someone giggled.
I knew that was an important clue, someone giggling, but then Kimmy dropped to her knees, pulling my jeans and underwear down with her. I could feel her warm breath on my cock and the Big Guy, freed of its confinement, stood up straight and proud.
For several seconds we stayed like that, Kimmy just breathing on my rod. She knew I loved that. Then her tongue flashed out and teased my pisshole. "Oh, God," I groaned, looking down at her. She smiled up at me, then her mouth engulfed the Big Guy.
"Fuck yes." I looked next to me. Chad was pushing DJ down to her knees. DJ wasn't as aggressive as Kimmy, but she got the idea and was working his fly.
I grinned and enjoyed the sensations that were building in my cock.
"Go, Kimmy, go!"
Hailey's shout brought me back to the real world. I looked around. Twenty eyes stared at us. Timmy had his cock out and was stroking it. The other five guys in class were rubbing themselves through their pants. I noticed that Hailey's hand was busy under her short skirt, then I exploded.
I'd been stroking the back of Kimmy's head, but now I reached back for the edge of the desk to steady myself as rope after rope of hot cum pumped out of my balls and down Kimmy's throat.
"Oh, God." I didn't know who said it, or even if it was a boy or a girl.
Kimmy sucked my shrinking cock as she pulled her head back and released it. "My turn," she said huskily as she stood and reached for her own zipper.
I couldn't believe it as she pushed her jeans and my favorite pair of candy cane panties down her legs, exposing herself to the whole class. I mean, I had an excuse. By the time her hand was on my cock, I didn't have a working brain cell in my head.
She pulled me forward until I was standing upright again, then pushed me down to my knees.
What the hell? I'd just gotten a blow job. How many more days can they suspend me for muff diving? I pressed my face forward into her pussy, my tongue pushing past her lips as soon as it made contact.
Chad had grabbed DJ's ears and was pulling her forward as he came in her mouth.I'm not an exhibitionist or anything, but the idea of all those eyes watching excited me as I ran my tongue the length of her slit. I felt Kimmy shudder. I knew how much she loved the feeling of a tongue.
"Oh fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk..."
I pulled back and looked for the source of the interruption. Hailey was bucking in her chair, the front of her skirt fluttering as her hand moved faster and faster. My cock hardened as I watched, then Kimmy pulled me back to her crotch. I kissed her several times and then stood, turning her so that she leaned against the desk. My cock had come back to full attention, and I leaned forward, kissing her and guiding it into her tight wet pussy.
"He's in her!"
I always liked Janice. She had a talent for stating the obvious.
I drove forward, hard. I knew I wouldn't last and wanted to get Kimmy off quickly. Her hands grabbed my ass and pulled me forward, deeper and deeper. I thrust again and again, forgetting all about our audience, about school, about everything. There was just my cock and her cunt.
I felt the explosion building.
"I'm close," she whispered, and I willed myself to hold on, to last until she was over the edge.
I thrust again, the desk rocking under my assault.
"Yeah. I'm... I'm..."
I never learned what she was 'cause I exploded. The feelings from my cock blotted out everything.
It must have been a couple of minutes when I realized that Hailey and the girl next to her, Felicia, were clapping.
Oh fuck! I'd just gotten it on with Kimmy right in front of the whole class, and somebody could have come in any time. Especially with Timmy, our world-class lookout who was watching us with a stupid grin on his face, a limp dick in his hand and a small pool of cream at his feet.
I pulled up my underwear, then my jeans and fastened my belt. Then I dressed Kimmy. She was a little wobbly, but she always was after a good orgasm. As I fastened her jeans, she whispered, "You and me after school, stud."
I grinned and nodded.
"Maybe DJ too. Chad's got basketball."
My cock jerked, even after two cums. The thought of Kimmy and her best friend together.
I guided Kimmy back to her desk, not looking anyone in the eye. Except Hailey. Her, I'd have to get to know better.
DJ was already back in her desk, and as I sat down in the back, Chad and Timmy seemed to realize they were standing in front of the class with their dicks hanging out. Both of them stuffed their goodies back in their pants, and Timmy wiped the pool of cum with his shoe. They were heading back toward their desks when the bell rang.
I breathed a sigh of relief. We'd gotten away with it.
Too bad this wasn't sex ed. I could have gotten extra credit for a class project.
I thought we were free and clear. But Bobby Reavers told his big brother about it. He told his friends, and within a day, the story was all over school. I kept expecting the P.A. to come alive and summon me to Mr. Ball's office. But when the sheriff walked into reading three days later, I couldn't believe it. He ordered me to stand, then quoted me my rights just like on Law and Order while he fastened handcuffs behind my back. He did the same to Chad, Kimmy, and DJ. Even Timmy, something about being an accomplice.
"Wellll?" the judge prompted, impatiently.
I looked him straight in the eye and grinned. "Hell, yes. | 4 |
1,593 | Sharing a Bed for the Night | "Are you sure you can't go, Honey?"
"I'd love to, Rocky, but I have two clients scheduled for today. I should have left the day open."
"No, it's not your fault, Ron. Denny's birthday isn't until Thursday. I didn't know until last night that he has something planned for next weekend. He was so cute on the phone. He was acting like a pouting child about getting his birthday presents early, and when he asked us to come up today, I didn't have the heart to say no."
"Well, I'm going to miss you. Give Denny my love and tell him not to drink all that beer at one sitting!"
"I'll miss you, too. Have a fire going when I get home tonight. I'll need it after six hours on the road today."
"And a glass of wine or two?" Ron smiled and raised an eyebrow with the question.
"At least two glasses!" I finished pulling on my gloves and circled around the kitchen table to whisper in Ron's ear, "and you know how I get after two glasses of wine!"
His hand crept up my leg and under my skirt as we kissed. His fingers pressed against my warm mons -- they felt strong and exciting through my panties and pantyhose.
I pulled myself away with great reluctance, "Oh, my! What you do to me! You better not be too tired tonight! I've been super-horny for over a week and you haven't been able to stay awake! It's been a long time!"
Ron affectionately smacked my buns, "Tax season, Rocky. You know what that's like! Don't worry, Baby, I'll be plenty awake tonight -- even if it *IS* tax season."
With a final wave, I made my way outside into the crisp, cold air. I got into the "Z," all gassed up and loaded down with goodies for Denny, and headed down the road. The car warmed up quickly so I stopped before I entered the Interstate and removed my jacket and gloves, making for an even more comfortable drive.
There's something so relaxing about speeding along an Interstate. I was in our new 300ZX, the road was dry, traffic light. It was the perfect drive to just let the mind wander."Well, if you're headed anywhere east of here, you won't have a choice -- they're supposed to be getting snow up ahead pretty soon."
Just what I needed! I hadn't checked the weather for Philadelphia before I left, and Denny didn't warn me about an impending snowstorm, but he would only hear about the weather if they broadcast it on ESPN.
"Well, thanks for the warning, officer... and the warning... about the snow."
With one last glance at my legs, then my breasts, and a smile right at me, Officer Boyd moved away from my window. "Sure. Just drive careful, now."
Back on the road with just a warning. YES!
I didn't hit any snow until I was only about a half hour outside of Philly; but, when I did hit it, it was one hell of a storm. I was too close to Denny's and too far from home to turn back, but it took me well over an hour to get to the campus. The "Z" was slipping and sliding, and I did two thrilling "one-eighties" on the very slick streets.
I exhaled with relief as I crept onto a campus parking lot near Denny's apartment and turned the ignition off. Here at last, and safe. The last hour had been a real bitch!
I stepped out of the car and into at least four inches of icy, wet, cold snow. Counting my shoes as ruined, I grabbed my purse, gloves and jacket and ran, sliding and slipping my way to the front entrance of Denny's high-rise dormitory. I grabbed the house phone on the wall and dialed Denny's number.
"Yeah?"
"Is Denny there?"
"Yeah, hold on." Whoever answered, dropped the phone on something hard, and it clattered in my ear. Then I heard in the background, "Hey, butt-face, there's a cunt on the phone for you."
"Who is it, asshole?" It was Denny's voice.
"How the fuck should I know? You're the big pussy-hound."
"Fuck off!" Then into the phone, "Hello?"
"Denny!"
"Mom!? Uh... Where are you?"
"I'm downstairs. I need you to get me past the security desk."
"Oh, sure. I called Ron to tell him about the weather and to tell you guys to stay home."
"Denny, can we talk about this up in your apartment? I'm wet and freezing my buns off out here."
"Oh! Sure, mom. Sorry. I'll be right down."
"Bring some strong backs, Dear, the car's loaded with stuff."
I stepped inside the double doors and waited for Denny to come down on the elevator and sign me in. The college made sure their residences were secure, and since the campus wasn't in the best neighborhood, I didn't mind the inconvenience if it helped keep the students (including my baby) safer.
The dorm I was standing in was one of four high-rise apartment buildings. Denny had lived on campus all four years; but, this year, his accommodations were in the most coveted dorms, reserved for jocks and lucky upperclassmen. Denny's apartment had a large living room-dining room combination, a kitchen, three bedrooms and two baths. He had three roommates -- Brian was another senior, and Steve and Tom bunked together and were juniors. They were all in the same fraternity together and seemed to get along well.
The elevator opened, and Denny and two boys I didn't recognize got off. He signed me in at the desk, and when I passed through the gate, I was finally able to hug my little boy. "Hi, Baby. How are you?"
"Great, Mom. I can't believe you got here through this stuff -- especially in the `Z'."
"Well, it wasn't easy. Honey, can I go up to your apartment and get a pair of dry socks on? My feet are freezing! Here are the keys. The car is about 20 spaces over to the left and 2 or 3 rows back. Make sure it's locked."
"No problem, Mom. We're right behind you."
And they were. By the time I caught the next elevator and got my bearings, I had just knocked and was getting the apartment door opened when the three of them came banging and thudding off the elevator and down the hall.
It was just after noon on a Saturday, but it looked like Denny and his roommates had a small party going, already. There was a basketball game on the TV, but the volume was turned down so as not to interfere with the stereo, blasting music I didn't recognize. But the real entertainment was the snow. With the curtains drawn back, the view from the fifteenth floor was spectacular -- it was snowing and blowing, and you could barely see the ground.
I followed Denny into his bedroom, and he handed me two mismatched white socks -- after smelling them! As we talked, I reached up under my skirt and wiggled my wet pantyhose off my hips and peeled them down my legs. The dry socks felt warm and wonderful.
Denny and his friends were happy to see two cases of Sam Adams beer and a couple bottles of wine disappear into the refrigerator. From the kitchen, I called Ron to tell him I was safe, then I asked if anyone was hungry. When I got all affirmative responses, I opened the contents of a Tupperware container I'd brought into a pot and turned on the oven.
"I brought it all, guys -- spaghetti, meatballs and homemade bread. Ready in about a half-hour," I announced.
The smells of home cooking must have permeated the halls, because kids kept arriving, and soon I figured I better put on a second pot of sauce and more pasta. As the crowd got bigger and bigger, I was trapped in the kitchen, serving plates of food and slicing the bread. Denny's friend, Brian, fought his way through the crowd, handed me my second glass of wine, and began to help me with the starving herd.
The stereo was blasting, and people were talking, and it was fun to be a part of it. Brian stayed to help me with the dishes, and we talked about music and school, and the snow. My third glass of wine was history, and I knew I was buzzed as I accepted my fourth. I was giddy, and my skin felt super-sensitive as Brian inadvertently brushed against my hip or breast as we worked together.
I pushed my way through the crowd, holding Denny's birthday cake with the lit candles on it. I could feel Brian's hands holding my hips as I bent over to place the cake on a low coffee table in front of the birthday-boy. Brian and I made our way back into the kitchen and opened another bottle of wine as the cake disappeared in the living room.
The afternoon passed into evening, and we sat and talked and played drinking games and looked out the window at the snowstorm. Occasionally, Brian would ask me to dance, and as he pressed me close, I could feel his hardness between us. We ran out of wine, but, by then, I was too drunk to care, and switched to beer. When I finally noticed how tired and blitzed I was, almost everyone had moved on to another party somewhere, and the apartment was empty and looked like what Times Square on New Year's morning must look like.
Still sober enough to realize that I hadn't expected to spend the night and had no other clothes, I asked Denny if I could borrow a large t-shirt or sweatshirt.
"Sure, Mom. Second drawer down. Take your pick."
I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth with my finger, then went into Denny's room. I carefully took off my skirt and blouse and hung them on hangers. I debated leaving my bra on, but decided on comfort over modesty -- it always feels so damn good to take it off.
I picked out what looked like Denny's cleanest sweatshirt, and dropped it over my hands and head. I stood there in Denny's old sweatshirt, tugging it down over my hips and checking how short it was on me -- it barely came down to my crotch, and I could see a tiny sliver of my white panties between my thighs in his mirror. I was just shrugging and figuring I was only going to sleep in it anyway, when there was a light knock and the door opened. It was Brian.
"Hi, Rocky. I was just wondering if there was anything you needed that I could provide for you."
I couldn't remember exactly when we had moved from "Mrs. Chase" to "Rocky," but I let it slide. I stood very still. I figured with that short sweatshirt on, if I moved at all, he'd see even more of me exposed.
He was leaning against the door jamb, smiling. He was bare-chested and was wearing only blue, silky-looking pajama bottoms. His shoulders were broad, his chest was smooth and hairless, and his stomach was rippled and hard-looking. Quite a package.
"Where's Denny?"
"He passed out on the sofa. Dead to the world. It's just the two of us left. Well?"
"`Well' what, Brian?"
"Is there something you need?"
There was no doubt in my mind that he was hitting on me. I guess all those brushes against my buns and breasts and the slow dancing weren't inadvertent, after all. I was old enough to be his mother and I was his best friend's mom! He was supremely confident in his masculinity and appeal, but I didn't know how I would ever be able to look him or Denny in the eyes the next morning if I accepted his blatant offer.
"No, thanks, Brian, there's nothing I need."
"How about want? Is there anything you want, Rocky?"
"No, Brian. There's nothing I want. Now, goodnight, Dear, and thanks for the offer."
He smiled and shrugged, "Okay. Goodnight, Rocky. See you in the morning."
Don't ask me why, but as I laid in bed, I couldn't sleep. The long drive, the snow, the pasta, all the booze -- instead of knocking me out as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was antsy and restless and wide awake. Maybe trying to sleep in Denny's lumpy mattress on the floor had something to do with it. Maybe being horny and feeling more than a little tingly had something to do with it, too.
A little while later, as I laid there, I heard the apartment door open and close, and then noise in the next bedroom. It was just what I needed in my already-aroused state! Through the thin wall, next to my bed, I heard a couple getting it on, loudly.They were humping away, and she was a real moaner. It seemed to go on and on, and I felt myself sweating as I listened. My panties grew warm and wet as I placed my ear against the wall, secretly listening to their climax. Then they were through, and I was left alone and hanging!
I must have drifted off into a light sleep after that, because I awoke to the sound of the toilet flushing and, next, the bedroom door opening. Assuming it was Brian making another attack on my virtue, I feigned sleep, staying still and quiet, facing the wall away from the door. The door closed, and I listened to someone undress and then collapse onto the mattress.
It was Denny, and he was immediately asleep. In his drunken state, he must have forgotten about me and reflexively returned to his bed after going to the bathroom. I rearranged the covers over the both of us. There was nowhere else in the apartment for me to sleep (except maybe Brian's bed!), and there was no way I was going to wake Denny to get him to move, so I told myself I would be out of bed long before he woke up, rolled over, and tried to get back to sleep.
Before I could drift off, Denny moved closer to me in the narrow bed, and I felt the lump of an erection pressed against my back. Then he rolled over on his back. There was enough light in the room from the small reading light on Denny's desk. Tempted beyond behaving, I rolled over and, giggling to myself, lifted the covers.
My God! Denny's boxers were tented up and straining against what had to be the largest penis I had ever seen. My son! Feeling like a naughty girl, I folded back the covers. His erection was standing straight up, and the material in his shorts had to be near its tolerance for ripping. At first hesitating, and then giving in totally to the urge, I reached to the slit opening in his shorts. I just had to see!
Denny's penis exploded through the opening, standing even taller. Not only was his penis long, it was almost as thick as my wrist. The head was deep pink, shiny, and huge. I had never seen another cock like that in my life. I snickered, thinking back to all the times I had given my little baby a bath, never dreaming he would grow something like this.
The cooler air must have gotten to Denny, because he pulled on the covers and began to roll over. I scrambled back into the blankets, still thinking in wonder about the prodigious penis on my son.
Denny moved again, and we were arranged like two spoons -- his front to my back. His erection was still there, and no longer hidden in his shorts, I could feel its warmth pressed against me.
Telling myself I was readjusting my position to get more comfortable, I squirmed and wiggled, and when I stopped, my son's huge, hard penis was pressed between my thighs.
I was getting very wet. I'd had a sex-buzz all day, from the state trooper fantasy to Brian's not-so-subtle feels, his blatant offer, the wine, and the couple in the next bedroom -- Goddammit! I was horny!
I was playing a game with myself. I was as curious as I was horny. As I moved away from Denny to slide my panties down my legs, I knew I was going to blame whatever happened on the wine.
When I moved back into position, I let the cock press between my thighs, again. Another slight movement, and it was at my wet slit! I could feel its heat and hardness in my wetness, touching, but not yet penetrating me. I was gasping for breath with excitement.
I lifted my right leg, opening myself. I pressed my hips back, and the cockhead began to enter me. I was so near cumming! A little more, and I can feel the huge knob slip all the way into me.
Denny was still asleep, but his reflexes took over for him. His arm fell across my shoulder and breasts. His hips thrust at me forcefully, ramming more of that superprick deeper into my pussy. He began to hump me. My son was fucking me in his sleep, and I was loving it!
My climax began with an explosion and took off from there. Denny humped me a few more times, and then he came inside me with a grunt. After just a few more soft thrusts, he rolled over and began to snore, again.
Finally, I fell asleep.
I was far away. I wasn't sure where I was, and the weather was confusing. It was snowing, but the sky was a bright blue, and I wasn't cold. I was laying on my back, on the trunk of a Pennsylvania State Police car. I couldn't see the markings, but I knew it was a State Police car. The lights were flashing. I was naked and spread open.
There was something or someone between my spread legs, and I was aroused. I looked down my body and saw the brown "Smokey" police hat jerking at my crotch, and I knew it was Officer Boyd wearing his hat as he ate my pussy!
I wasn't going to get a ticket! I put my head back on the trunk and watched the snow fall from the blue sky as I concentrate on what he's doing to me. His strong tongue penetrates me, and then his mouth moves to my clit and gently sucks it between his lips and teeth. I was quickly nearing an orgasm and was anxious to surrender to it.
Officer Boyd stopped eating me and moved up my body. I whimpered when his mouth left my pussy. The hat still hid his face as he lowered his mouth to my nipple. I missed his mouth on my pussy. His hips pushed forward, and I felt his penis seeking my cunt. I moved to help it, and I gasped as its head found my wet slit.
Officer Boyd grunted. Then he grunted again as he thrust his cock between my labia and deep into my pussy. It was good. It was very, very good. Officer Boyd felt so big, so filling. In and out, his cock pounded into my greedy pussy. Each plunge crashed my ass cheeks into the trunk of the car, but the trunk was soft and comfortable.
"Make me come, Officer Boyd! Make me come!" I begged.
"Who's 'Officer Boyd?'"
My eyes popped open. It was Denny! His face looked up at me from under the covers. I must have been dreaming the setting, but the sex was real! My son was fucking me!
"Denny! Stop! Get off me!"
"Come on, mom. You didn't want me to stop last night."
"Ohhh..." His cock was still pistoning in and out of me, and like last night, I knew I had never felt a monster-cock like his before! "Please, stop, Dear. It's not right. We can't do this."
"Mom, please don't make me stop, now. Please." Denny was pumping faster and faster. He was going to cum inside me.
I reached to his face and held it between my hands. "Alright, Dear. You can finish."
But he wasn't the only one nearing a finish. Involuntarily, I felt my hips rising to meet his thrusts, my arms moved around his neck, my legs wrapped around his waist, and I felt him slip even deeper inside me, if that was possible.
I was cumming! I was cumming, and I didn't know if I would live through it! The pleasure was going to kill me! I had never, never felt an orgasm like that! I bit into my son's tender shoulder to keep from screaming, and as I did, I tasted his blood in my mouth and his semen in my cunt.
I passed out.
I opened my eyes. The dark room was spinning, and I was having trouble taking deep breaths.
Denny was sitting on the mattress, smiling down at me, pressing one warm washcloth to my forehead and another to his shoulder.
"Wow!" he said.
I reached to touch his hand, "Yeah, wow. This was never supposed to happen, you know."
He nodded.
"I'm sorry I let it happen, Dear. It was wrong, and I shouldn't have done this to you."
"Are you kidding? I wanted it to happen, mom. I've *ALWAYS* wanted to do what we've just done -- for as long as I can remember."
I was touched and felt a tear form in each eye. "But a boy's teenage fantasy is just a fantasy, Denny. Normal mothers and sons don't do this. I'm scared I've harmed you."
"I'm not harmed. I've never felt happier in my life. Is that a harm? Will you get pregnant?" <I shook my head no.> "Well there's no harm there, either. Mom, I love you, and I want to do what we've done over and over and over again."
"No, Denny, we can never let this happen again. Never."
"But, mom-"
I placed my finger to his lips and shook my head. It must never happen again.
Who did I think I was I kidding?
I called Ron and told him the roads wouldn't be clear of the snow for another day. That day and the next, Denny and I rutted together like two dogs in heat. Denny told his roommates that I had caught a cold and was staying in bed. I was staying in bed, alright -- wrapped around my son's hard body with his even-harder prick shoved up my cunt to the hilt. I'm sure his roommates were curious (and maybe Brian even had an idea what was going on), but neither of us cared.
We fucked on that mattress until neither of us could fuck anymore, then we would nap and start all over again. I sucked his big, beautiful cock until my jaw was sore. He sucked my tits and licked my cunt until his mouth was tired. And, always, that monster cock was there -- ready, again and again.
This old lady wasn't used to fucking a young stud, but I was more than willing to adjust.
When I finally dressed to leave, I couldn't go without one more mouthful of Denny's cum. I dropped to the floor, took his dick out of his pants, and blew him until he came yet again.
On the long drive home, I thought about what had happened. I didn't know *WHY* it had happened, it just did. I thought I'd be all twisted up with guilt, but I wasn't.I felt such a deep and intense passion for Denny, I couldn't believe it. My only twinge of guilt was for Ron.
That twinge didn't slow me down. Instead of going to the islands with his Frat brothers over Spring Break, Denny came home, and the two of us spent every second that Ron was out of the house fucking and sucking each other into exhaustion.
Denny graduated in May and wasn't leaving for Grad school until September. All summer, I urged him to go out with his friends and to date girls his own age. Of course, when he did date, I was terribly jealous -- until the next morning, after Ron left for the office, Denny would crawl into bed with me, and we would go off to our own little world of sex.
Denny left Labor Day weekend, and I missed him terribly.
Now, the Monday after Thanksgiving, after seeing Denny off at the airport, I'm thrilled that the turkey wasn't the only thing that got stuffed this weekend! | 3 |
1,657 | A Brother's Love | "Jamie, come on, wake up!" David's voice was soft and warm in her ear.
"Mmmmmm..." Slowly Jamie drifted into awareness; her brother's strong arm around her waist as he gently nuzzled the back of her neck.
"Wanna do it?" he asked. "I mean, you've been running around all evening in nothing but those stupid leotards and I'm...kinda all worked up, you know?"
"Tough shit," Jamie mumbled, pulling the stiff hotel sheets back over her shoulder, "use your hand."
Silence -- for the moment.
"Bet you want it just as bad as I do," David whispered again, voice soft and persistent.
"Yeah, and how do you know?" Jamie asked. The question conveyed both irritation and curiosity.
"'Cause," David replied, utterly sure of himself.
Jamie sighed.
Sometimes her brother acted as if he could read her mind, as if he possessed some magic that allowed him to look right through whatever she said or did into her deep, personal core. It could be kind of scary sometimes, other times (like right at that moment) it was almost...comforting. And the fact was, now that David had her awake -and especially after the shit they had both gone through that day -Jamie wanted some lovin'. Yes, she mused, one of her brother's long, gentle fuckings was just the way to put things right again. Still, she didn't want to appear *too* eager.
"Well...maybe," Jamie said. "What about you-know-who?" She nodded her head in the direction of the folding bed in the corner. A young girl, the daughter of their father's latest girlfriend, lay curled up in it, sleeping soundly.
"I'll be really quiet," David whispered. Almost immediately, his hand began to trail down her stomach.
"Uh-uh." Jamie rolled over onto her back. Taking her brother's hand in hers, she carefully placed it over the firm mound of her developing breast. "Start here..." she sighed.Curiosity finally got the best of Jamie, and she opened her eyes, just a slit, then tilted her head so slightly and so slowly that David would not detect that she was awake. She could see down the length of his body as he lay next to her.
Jamie almost gasped at the sight, but checked herself. Her brother lay on his back, wearing a white T-shirt and nothing else. His underpants were down at his ankles, and David was doing the oddest thing Jamie had ever seen anyone do in her life. He was holding his fleshy dick in his hand and was quickly rubbing the hand opposite Jamie up and down the rigid shaft.
Jamie didn't know what to do. She didn't know what she WANTED to do. At once, she was repulsed by the sight, but oddly, at the same time, the sight of what her brother was doing made her curious and excited.
She watched through the slits of her eyelids, wondering just what David was doing, wondering WHY he was doing it, and wondering how it felt to him. Oddly, as she watched, she became excited in a strange new sort of way. She could feel a stirring between her own legs, and it seemed to be caused by what she could see her brother doing between his.
David's movements quickened on the bed next to his sister. Jamie thought she could hear him make a sound, an odd, excited, moaning sort of a sound. She wanted to lift her head and open her eyes so that she could better see what he was doing.
Then she felt something. David had taken the hand closest to Jamie and suddenly placed it lightly over the mound of her pussy, between her slightly parted thighs.
Jamie could not contain her gasp of shock and surprise, but David seemed not to notice. He continued his rapid cock stroking, skinning the loose foreskin across the large, purplish head of his dick even as he tightened his grip on his sister's pussy mound. Jamie scrambled to her elbows, abandoning all pretense of sleep.
"Wha -- wha --" Jamie tried to form the words, but just then her brother's cock erupted.
"AAHHhhhhhhhh" David gasped as the first wad of cum arched over his bare stomach to impact high on his chest. The second went even farther, a drop of it splattering on his chin, then he loosed a long, steady stream of jizm, covering his T-shirt and stomach with thick ropes of pearly white. "Oh...God...yea..." he moaned, hips undulating, lost in orgasmic pleasure. Jamie was totally speechless, staring in wonder at the sight of her brother's cum spurting penis. Gradually the streams of teenaged sperm slowed to a stop. David gave his cock a few last strokes, then raised his arm and draped it over his face, covering his eyes.
"Ohhhh..." he said, exhaling with a long, quiet sigh, "I needed that."
Jamie finally understood what her brother was doing -- `jacking off' is what her girlfriends called it -- and now that she had seen the act, she didn't quite know what to make of it. She was amazed that David would do something so personal, so intimate in front of her. She was also amazed (and a bit frightened) at how hard her brother had come; the male orgasm seemed so...*powerful*. Could I come that hard, Jamie wondered? And with that thought came the realization that watching her brother masturbate had gotten her really, truly aroused. Oh, she knew about the pleasant, tingly sensation she got when she touched herself between the legs -- but that was NOTHING compared to what she was feeling now; hot and flushed, butterflies in the pit of her stomach, and a sharp, sweet ache where her brother's fingers lay curled around her denim-covered pussy.
"Oh man," Jamie whispered, "are you...all right?"
David slowly uncovered his eyes and grinned. It seems so natural to him, Jamie thought. Does he jack off in front of girls all the time?
"Yeah, I'm all right!" David answered enthusiastically. Then, seeing the look of confusion and uncertainty on his sister's face, added softly, almost apologetically, "Oh, uh -- I'm sorry sis. I didn't mean to wake you, but sometimes I get hard in the morning and I just gotta....you know, take care of myself." He tilted his head, looking at his sister with curiosity, "I mean, you do it too, don't you?" he asked.
"Well, uh...yeah, sometimes. Like in the shower."
"Feels good afterwards, doesn't it?"
Jamie nodded, returning her brother's good-natured grin in spite of herself. God, he really WAS comfortable discussing this.
"Uh, Davie..." Jamie asked, voice soft and hesitant.
"Yeah?"
"Why are you touching me?"
David glanced down the length of his sister's body. His hand was still resting comfortably on Jamie's sex mound, the fingers trailing into the area between her thighs, and Jamie had the distinct impression that David had put his hand there without even really thinking about it. For a long time, he was silent.
"Uh, well..." he finally answered, "I guess I thought that...uh, you know, you'd want to get off too."
More silence. Slowly, tentatively, Jamie pushed her crotch towards her brother's enveloping hand.
"Jamie, I'm a mess. Let me take a showe --"
"No." Jamie was scared, excited, and very, very determined to experience what her brother had. "Do me!" she hissed.
David turned to Jamie and raised his body, supporting himself on one arm as he lay on his side. He smiled into her eager, curious expression for a moment and then looked down her warm, budding body to where his hand cupped his sister's pussy mound.
Jamie felt a thrill as he squeezed her there, the pressure and electric feeling causing her to open her legs a little for him.
"Ohhh," the sound whistled out between her lips.
"Jamie, I..." he hesitated, a look of odd embarrassment on his face.
"What?"
David looked down at the strip of mattress between them. "I don't really know how to get a girl off," he admitted.
Jamie sighed in excited exasperation.
"You don't know how?"
"Well," he started, "I never really...touched a girl...down there before."
"Well, you were touching ME."
"Yeah, I know," he replied sheepishly.
Jamie sat up and looked into her brother's face for a moment, and then with both hands, reached down and grasped the waistband of her shorts. Lifting her ass from the mattress, she pulled her pants down and off of her. David saw the alluring, newly grown, tuft of dark pubic hair at his sister's crotch as she pulled her white pants down over her rounded hips and then worked them off her legs and lay back.
Jamie looked up into his astonished expression for a moment and then said, "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Do me. Do me like you did yourself."
"How? There's nothing to jack on," he said as he looked down at the fuzzy mound of his young sister's naked pussy.
Jamie snorted impatiently. "Look," she said, laying back and placing her middle finger gently down into the cleft between her pussy lips.
David watched as the tip of her finger sank down between the soft-looking, down-covered pillows of her sex.
"You just do this," she explained as her brother watched her begin to gently move the tip of her finger around between the soft pillows of pussy in a slow, circular motion, as if she were rubbing some special spot in there.
David watched her diddle herself for a few moments, seeing the muscles of her legs tense as her finger worked in the crack of her sex, the same way his leg muscles tensed when he jacked on his cock. He looked up at her pretty face and saw that her eyes were closed and she had an odd look of concentration on her features.
"How does that feel?" he whispered to her.
"Good," she dreamily answered and then opened her eyes, "but it would feel better having another person do it to me."
Jamie stopped her masturbating and reached over and took her brother's hand, pulling it down to the soft hair between her open legs.
"You do it," she instructed.
David gently worked his middle finger into the tight space between his sister's soft pussy lips. He was surprised that it was so wet and slick between the dainty mounds as he felt his finger slide easily around.
Jamie gasped and closed her eyes as David's finger made contact with the hard little knot, just down inside her slit, and he watched her legs tense again and her toes curl. He knew that he had found her sensation spot. It must be the same thing as that receptive, sexually ticklish place he had just under the head of his penis.
"Yes!" he heard her whisper and saw the muscles of her flat stomach tighten. "That's it. Rub me there, David. Gently though."
David began to swirl his slickened fingertip around on that soft knot of flesh, watching his sister work her pussy back up to meet his finger and hearing the breath whoosh from her lips and nose as he did it. He could hear a nasty, slick, wet sound coming from her pussy as he worked his finger in it. "Ohhhh, yes!" she whispered loudly.
In spite of her excitement, David pulled his finger from his sister's warm, furry crotch and looked at it. It was moist with clear, thick sexual fluid. He put it to his nose and sniffed it excitedly. It smelled like a spicy mixture of old pee and feminine sweat, but there was something else about the heady odor of his sister's most intimate area. Something about the enticing fragrance of girlish pussy that made his spent cock go suddenly strong and rigid as a pipe again.
"What are you doing?" Jamie asked, looking up at him, red-faced, her voice a mixture of both impatience and embarrassment.
"I wanna see it," David answered as he hastily scrambled to his knees. Leaning low over Jamie's stomach, he planted an awkward kiss just above her pubic fuzz (once again catching the enticing aroma of his sister's sexual scent) then, reversing himself on the narrow bed, pressed his feet against the far wall. David wrapped one strong arm around his sister's leg, holding it still as he lay his head gently on the exposed thigh, then with trembling fingers, reached over and spread the lips of his sister's pubescent pussy.David was transfixed, gazing in awe at the moist, pink flesh of Jamie's vulva. Her clitoris was clearly exposed; the small bud poking out from its fleshy hood. Further down, David could make out his sister's vaginal opening, then the skirt of flesh that widened into her ass cheeks, then finally, almost lost in the shadow, the dark red rosebud of her anus.
"David!" Jamie moaned impatiently.
"Oh...uh, yeah." David suddenly remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He hunched over a bit more, bringing his face within inches of his sister's sex, then hurriedly placed his middle finger between her parted lips and resumed stroking.
"Mmmmmmmm...doitdoitdoit" Jamie groaned, her thigh muscles tightening against his cheek as she rotated her hips. The spicy sex-scent of Jamie's pussy was deep in his nostrils, and as his fingertip circled her clitoris, he opened his mouth, exhaling onto her ultra-sensitive flesh.
"Oh Davie, I'm almost there..." Jamie whined.
David could no longer control himself; pulling his finger from her furrow, he wrapped both hands firmly around Jamie's ass cheeks and dragged her pussy to his waiting, hungry mouth.
"DAAAVVVVIIIIIDDDDDDDD!!!!"
Jamie screamed in ecstasy, clutching her brother's thighs as she came. The orgasm was overwhelming -- it was as if her insides were being slowly shattered. David kept his mouth glued to Jamie's frantically bucking crotch, sucking her pussy lips, flicking his tongue rapidly against her clitoris, prolonging as best he could his sister's sweet agony. His mouth was filled with Jamie's tangy secretions, but David didn't care; in his passion he was willing to drink his sister dry, slurp up every last drop of her juices. He pushed his tongue-tip hard against her vaginal entrance, wanting desperately to enter the core of his sister's sex. The opening was clamped shut, however, and as Jamie uttered her last feeble gasps of pleasure, David gave up. Slowly, reluctantly, he released his grip on his sister's ass then allowed his head to fall backwards onto the bed.
For a long while both kids lay still, panting heavily, not saying a word. It was only the sound of their father, flushing the toilet in the bathroom, that caused them to jump from the bed and pull up their underwear. Wordlessly, they went about the morning routine of getting dressed for the day.
That evening, Jamie went to bed early. She didn't wear her usual shorts and T-shirt. She put on her lacy, black panties and a short, sexy, red camisole top that used to be her mother's. Looking in the mirror, Jamie could plainly see the evident curves of her budding body. The slight space between the lacy top and her bikini panties revealed the roundness of her hips and the narrowness of her waist where she had looked so boyish before. She also noticed that her breasts almost (but not quite) filled the sexy bra she wore. Heartened by the sight of her body, Jamie spent even more time in front of the mirror, brushing her hair and pinching her cheeks to give them a red blush. She then scampered into bed and lay waiting for David, her heart beating fast and a strange yearning in her vulva that she had never experienced before.
An hour went by, as she lay in the dark, but David didn't come.
When she had gone up to bed, her father and David were watching a movie on TV. She was sure that she had let her brother know she was going to bed.
Where was he? Wasn't she obvious enough?
Jamie suddenly felt an odd ache in her chest.
She got up from her bed and walked, in the darkness, to David's room. She could tell from the silence that everyone had gone to bed.
Why had David rejected her? she wondered as she reached for the doorknob to his room. She could feel the wet trickle of a tear as it dripped down her left cheek.
Jamie slowly opened the door to her brother's room.
The dim light from the window lit the figure of her brother as he lay in his bed, on his back, with his underpants off and his legs apart. She could hear him pant and see the blur of his hand as he masturbated urgently on his large, hard penis. For a long while Jamie stood there, wide-eyed and silent, watching her brother masturbate.
"David?" she whispered, trying desperately to keep the ache out of her voice. Jamie had never, ever felt so utterly worthless -- or alone.
For a split second David froze, then he became a flurry of motion as he grabbed the bedsheet and frantically yanked it over his exposed crotch. "Hey! Ever hear of knock--" he yelled, but then he suddenly realized that the negligee-clad figure standing in the doorway was his sister. "Huh?" he voiced in confusion, and then for the longest time David just stared; bedsheet in one hand, penis in the other, his eyes glued to his sister's ripe, young body.
"Oh, Jamie..." he whispered in awe, "you're gorgeous."
Never in all her life had Jamie heard such sweet words. She wanted to yell, jump up and down, scream at the top of her lungs. HE STILL WANTS ME!!! The rush of emotion was so intense her legs started buckling; she grabbed the doorjamb for support.
"Why...why didn't you come!?" Jamie cried at last, her voice echoing both joy and puzzlement.
David propped himself up onto his elbows. "Jamie, I...I..." he stopped, then shook his head. "C'mere," he growled.
Jamie stumbled to the side of the bed then dropped to her knees. David rolled onto his side and Jamie, having laid her head on the mattress, found herself staring straight into her brother's big, dark eyes.
"Jamie," David's voice was soft, almost pleading, "look. We can't be doing this -- it's not right. I mean...you're my *sister* for cryin' out loud. I'll get us both in trouble or--"
"Why?" Jamie interrupted.
"Huh?"
"Why ain't it right?" Jamie asked, voice soft and defiant.
David stared at his sister in disbelief. "Dammit, Jamie!" he exploded, "I'm supposed to take care of you and protect you, not--"
"But I liked it," she interrupted again. Then, softly: "and you did too, didn't you?"
Silence.
"Ahhhhh, Jamie!" David groaned, putting his hands over his face.
A part of Jamie wanted to make her brother pay for not coming to her bed, but even as she wished that she realized that David was feeling just as miserable as she had earlier -- maybe even more so. Jamie knew, without question, that he wanted to fuck her. Well...maybe not fuck, but he certainly wanted a repeat of that morning; but instead of jumping her bones David was trying to talk himself (and her) out of it! He was trying to do what he thought was right, trying to be the best brother he could be -- and it only made Jamie want him even more. Slowly Jamie got to her feet, standing over her brother as he lay curled in the bed.
"I turn you on, right?" she asked.
Slowly, hesitantly David dropped the hand covering his face and looked up at his sister. "Uh, well, I...uh...yes," he finally admitted. "I mean, ever since you got your ti-- I mean your breasts."
"That's okay. So you like my boobs, huh?" Jamie smiled seductively.
David nodded his head.
With deliberate slowness, Jamie peeled the camisole top over her head, dropped it on the bed, then reached one hand behind her back. David heard a muffled 'snap', then watched open-mouthed as the loose-fitting bra fell away from his sister's chest. Jamie shook her shoulders, allowing the straps to fall down her arms. Grabbing the flimsy material, she casually tossed the bra aside, then with open palms Jamie cupped her firm, luscious, teenage breasts; one in each hand.
"There, all yours," she said quietly.
David pushed his face to his sister's chest, feeling the soft, fleshy mounds against his cheek as he kissed her chest and then her hard left and then right nipple.
"Ohhh," Jamie gasped as she gripped his shoulders.
As her brother suckled her breasts, Jamie felt his hand push down into her panties and down to her vulva.
She didn't hesitate to open her legs a little and give him room to explore her most private area as she thrilled to the sexual effects of his mouth on her nipples.
David seemed to be overtaken by a lustful frenzy as he sucked his little sister's sweet breasts and pushed his finger deep into her dripping vagina, feeling her soft hair against his knuckles.
He wrapped his free arm around her soft, thin waistline and hauled her onto the bed so that she was laying in front of him with her crotch in front of his face.
Removing his finger, and smelling the sharp spiciness of her female fragrance, David pulled her silken panties down her legs and pushed his face between her thighs, thrilling to her sexual scent as he mashed his mouth against her soft vulva and thrust his tongue between her labia to taste her sweet, syrupy juices.
Jamie gasped loudly again as her brother took her sexually with his mouth and tongue. It was the most thrilling sensation she had ever experienced; her brother's face between her thighs and that hot tongue lapping at her clitoris. She wanted to think about how dirty it was... the thing that David was doing to her. But the immense, sexual urge in her was too great and she pushed her upper body to his, feeling his warm, lower belly on her breasts and the tickle of his pubic hair on her cheek.
Opening her eyes, Jamie could see her brother's erect penis and hairy balls right in front of her face while, all the while, she felt the thrills that his mouth was generating in her throbbing vulva.
Dreamily, Jamie began to kiss her brother's hard, warm shaft; she heard his gasp (and felt it at her crotch) as she kissed the sensation-charged head of his penis.
Propelled by her lust, Jamie licked the head of David's penis and felt it lurch against her lips as she did so. Then, without thinking about anything except the sensations of David licking her vulva, Jamie opened her mouth and took David's penis between her lips and began to suck.
"Awwww!"David squealed into his sister's wet pussy as he felt the warmth of her mouth engulf his rod. He began to lick and suck her with a fury even as he felt her return the sexual favors with her lips and tongue.
As the tempo of their sexual activity increased, Jamie sensed David's penis releasing a sweet, slippery fluid into her mouth. She delighted in its taste as she licked and sucked him more urgently and wrapped her arms around his buttocks to hold him to her. She could feel herself at the edge of climax and she felt she had to hold onto him to keep from losing herself in the feeling.
As his tongue motions took her to the brink and just before he made her body tumble into the abyss of total pleasure, Jamie felt her brother stiffen against her and hold her tightly as his penis began to forcefully spurt a thick, bitter-tasting, milky liquid into her mouth.
Jamie didn't care because, just after the first spurt, she began to climax herself.
It was the strongest orgasm she had ever experienced, and she was propelled through it by her brother's licking tongue and the tempo of the throbs of his rigid cock as it shot streams of sperm into her sucking mouth. Jamie, in the throes of her climax, swallowed each spurt greedily until both she and her brother were totally spent and laying together, panting on the bed.
It was Jamie who finally broke their mutual embrace, letting her brother's gradually softening cock slip from between her lips as she rolled over. The orgasm had left her weak and drained, and apparently David was the same way -- he was flat on his back beside her, completely motionless, eyes closed. Slowly Jamie sat up, then awkwardly (her legs didn't feel like working at all) she scooted around so she could lay next to him, resting her head on his pillow.
"Davie?" she asked quietly.
David opened his eyes and stared into his sister's face. Jamie's lips glistened, shiny with his cum, and a line of semen trailed from one corner of her mouth down to her jawline. He watched, completely mesmerized, as his sister scraped the last of his jizm from her face. Jamie stared in fascination at her cum-slicked fingers then, slowly and hesitantly, she wiped the sperm off onto her chest.
"Oh Jamie, I'm so sorry," David pleaded.
"Huh?" Jamie's voice was slow and thick.
"I came...you know...in your mouth. I'm sorry."
"No, no -- it's all right," Jamie replied, soothing her brother's agitation.
"But..."
"Hush." Jamie cut him off with a shake of her head. "It doesn't taste all that bad -- honest. Besides...I *wanted* you to cum. It makes me feel...I don't know...like a woman, I guess."
David looked questioningly at his sister. "Even in your mouth!?"
Jamie managed a smile. "Well, I hadn't exactly planned on that part, but so what? In fact..." Jamie paused, and David watched as her smile turned into a shy grin, "...I, uh...well, I kinda like this sex stuff."
"Oh Jezzzz," David's mouth hung open in disbelief.
"Well, what's wrong with it, huh? I mean, can't we have fun and love each other and maybe even make each other cum?"
David shook his head. "Jamie, I can't! I mean, what am I supposed to do -- go around all the time asking you for blow jobs?!"
"Well..." Jamie reasoned, "...how 'bout some of the time. Pick your night of the week. I'm available."
"Jamie, I'm serious!"
"So am I."
The two siblings stared at each other; Jamie with her playful, yet serious grin, David in shock and bewilderment. Yes, Jamie knew that her brother was very uncomfortable with the idea, but she also knew that he was a male. Specifically, a horny teenage male whom (at that moment, at least) she had total control over. Quickly Jamie shifted position; draping her leg over her brother's pelvis, she rolled over, trapping David's left leg between her thigh as she lay half on, half off of him. David's cock was resting beneath her hip, and as she started rotating her hips, her brother's sex began to stiffen.
Jamie's smile widened.
"Hey, let's do it," she breathed.
"Oh shit," David moaned, soft and low.
"C'mon, big brother," Jamie urged. The playfulness in her voice was gone. She had meant just to tease him, get him ready for another round of oral sex, but as soon as she felt David's leg pressing hard against her pussy and clit she knew that she wanted -- no, *needed* -- more than that. She needed her brother's long, hard dick as deep inside her as she could get it.
"I'm ready," she half groaned, half whined the words into David's ear. The ache in her pussy was intense, overwhelming. "I'm ready...!"
"NO!"
"Pleeeeeeessssee..."
David did the only thing he could think of. Reaching down, he jammed his hand between his leg and his sister's gyrating crotch; clutching at his sister's tender pussy mound, he covered her wet, open slit with his fingers, then slid the middle one into her tight tunnel, running it up to the palm. Jamie gasped. Rocking herself back onto her brother's pussy-clutching hand, she straddled her brother's hips, spreading herself as wide as she could; in response she felt a second finger sink far into her vagina.
"OhMyGod...fuckme...ohfuck," Jamie babbled into the side of her brother's face as David pounded his twin digits deep into her body, stretching her cuntal walls. Jamie bucked wildly -- at first grinding her pussy mound against his palm then, when she felt David's erection brush against her stomach, trying to pull herself off. David wouldn't let her go though, he kept grabbing her by the ass to pull her back down! She was trapped, impaled on her brother's fingers! Again she tried, but now his thumb was in the act, circling just above her mons. She knew she couldn't hold out much longer, the sensation of her brother's fingers wiggling back and forth deep inside her vagina was simply too much, and when David's thumb finally connected with her clit, it drove her over the edge.
"Oh FUCK!" Jamie cried as her orgasm hit -- full force.
David felt pain -- the pain of his sister's fingernails digging into his shoulders. Stifling his own cries, he braced himself against the bed and let Jamie cum long and hard on his hand, shrieking and yelling. She practically bucked herself off of his body. Finally, with a long wail into his ear, Jamie collapsed, spread eagle over his body, utterly exhausted.
It must have been a good five minutes before Jamie stirred, lifting her head from her brother's chest. Her eyes were small slits of lust and anger.
"Damn you," she pleaded, "will you *please* take my cherry."
"I won't -- not without some protection."
"Davie, I don't care, I just gotta--"
"No. I love you too much to get you pregnant."
Jamie dropped her forehead to his chest. For a long while she was silent.
"I get it," she replied at last, her voice a mixture of sarcasm and resignation, "I hate you now, but feel really grateful in the morning, right?"
"Somethin' like that," he replied, gently.
"OK. I hate you." Jamie said, but even as she spoke David was wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close, enveloping her body in a tight, loving embrace. With a long, ragged sigh, Jamie buried her face into the crook of David's neck.
"You're hard again, aren't you?" she finally asked. David stared down at his erection. It was throbbing in time to his heartbeat.
"Yes."
"Uhhh...should I do something about it?"
"If you still want to."
For a long while Jamie did not move. Then, with a small, sad smile (to herself, mostly) she slithered down her brother's body, pulled his cock to her face, and opened her mouth...
In the three years since that night, David had been true to his word. Although he had made love to his sister many, many times, not once had he done it without a condom. | 4 |
1,852 | Why, to Kay? | "So there I am, right? Three hours late to the fucking hearing because the first one ran long. HesterCon's counsel is sitting there like he wants to slit my throat, and I can tell the judge isn't any happier."
Jack nodded vaguely as he listened to Bill's story about a hearing he'd gone to the previous week, some attempt to lift a bankruptcy stay so their client could file suit against a co-defendant who was in Chapter 11, and thereby get at their liability insurance.
"Never mind that I've been calling all damn morning telling them I was going to be late," Bill droned on. "Never mind that it's not my damn fault Phillip made me attend two hearings thirty miles apart on the same morning. Nothing I could do but stand there and let the judge rip me a new asshole."
Jack took a sip of his beer. Something else had caught his attention. Over Bill's shoulder, beyond another clump of attorneys, he saw a pretty young woman he didn't recognize. She was mid-twenties maybe, shoulder-length blonde hair, athletic figure, standing by herself in a knee-length black cocktail dress, nursing a mixed drink.
The woman saw him staring and smiled at him, very briefly, before looking away again.
"...so then--"
Bill stopped talking and turned around.
"What are you looking at?"
"Who is that girl?"
"Oh. She came with Ray."
Ray was one of the junior partners, a holy terror who enjoyed lording it over new associates like Bill and Jack.
"Girlfriend?"
"Beats me. Probably."
"Why's she by herself then?"
"Ray probably dropped her there to tell everyone about his new Porsche."
"I'm going to go talk to her."
Bill's eyebrows went up.
"Are you nuts? You can't hit on Ray's girlfriend."
"I'm not going to hit on her."
Jack broke away from Bill and got himself a fresh beer from the kitchen. He drifted back toward where the woman was standing until she looked over at him again.
"Hi."
"Hi," she said. She had a smooth, silky voice.
"I've only been with Richards, Bellgarden a few months, but I'm fairly sure you don't work here."
The corners of her mouth curled upwards.
"You gonna throw me out?"
"It's New Year's. I guess not."
"I came with Ray Mitchell. I'm not sure where he is."
"I thought so. How long have you guys been together?"
She smiled again.
"From my perspective, twenty-six years."
Jack's forehead creased in confusion, and she laughed.
"I'm his sister."
Jack relaxed for a moment, exhaling, before considering that hitting on Ray's sister was probably no safer than hitting on his girlfriend.
He extended his hand anyway.
"I'm Jack."
She took it lightly. Her hands were long and slim, her nails unpainted.
"Kay."
"Ray and Kay?"
She smiled again.
"Our parents thought it was cute."
"What brings you here? No other parties to go to?"
"No. I'm a staff writer for 'National Geographic'. I'm only in town for the holidays. Monday morning, I'm getting a flight to Irian Jaya."
"Wow. Where is that?"
"New Guinea. They changed the name a few years ago."
"And you're doing an article for them?"
"About vanishing rain forests and all that. The highlands of Irian Jaya are seriously threatened because of all the logging that goes on there." She paused for a moment, smiling again. "I'm sure you find all this fascinating."
"No, it's all right. I have a subscription to 'National Geographic' myself. Would I have seen anything else of yours?"
"No. This is going to be my first real byline."
Jack checked his watch. Twenty minutes to midnight. Kay saw him do it and stopped in the middle of her story about a trip to Denali National Park in Alaska.
"How much longer?" she asked.
"Twenty 'til."
They had drifted away from the other guests, though Jack had been checking on Ray's location every few minutes.
Kay cocked her head slightly, and an odd look came into her eyes.
"What?" he asked.
"Did you ever spend any time thinking about Y2K when you were a kid, like where you'd be and what you'd be doing?"
"Now and then. What I remember most is thinking how old twenty-eight would be and how far off it seemed."
"Me too. Up until I was a teenager, I imagined myself being married with kids. Then I started thinking about being a travel writer, and I thought I would be somewhere exotic tonight."
She paused, then lowered her voice before continuing.
"And when I was in college, I got this idea about having sex at the precise stroke of midnight. Ringing in the new millennium with a bang and all that, you know?"
Jack tried to nod without betraying the shock and thrill that had just shot down his spine.
"Uh-huh."
"But I broke up with my last boyfriend about six months ago. So it looks like I'm going to be 0-3."
Jack looked into her eyes, seeing that she was just waiting for some comment like "I could help with the last one if you wanted," but he held his tongue.
"I guess a law office is not the most exotic locale for New Years'" he forced himself to say.
She stared at him for a few seconds before laughing, hard enough that she had to lean down onto one knee.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. But that isn't what you really wanted to say, is it?"
"Uh."
"I've had too much to drink if I'm telling you things like that."
She took a deep breath and exhaled, folding one arm under her breasts and propping her other elbow on it, then looking away from him.
"You know, I've been bouncing around this idea of seducing someone tonight. It's completely out of character for me, but I keep telling myself that this is the only turn of the millennium I'm going to see."
Jack glanced around, trying to see if anyone was overhearing this conversation. He saw Ray near the far end of the office, blathering on about something Jack was too far away to hear. He looked back at Kay, who was staring at him expectantly.
"Are you listening to me?"
"Um, yeah, sorry. This is just probably not the best place to be talking about something like this."
She bit her lower lip for a second or two, fighting a grin.
"I bet we could find someplace better."
Jack glanced behind them again.
"Uh, it's just that Ray--"
He felt her take his hand.
"Oh, fuck Ray. He hasn't said five words to me since we got here. I was standing by myself for fifteen minutes before you came over."
Jack walked gingerly up to the edge of the roof, looking out at the rest of downtown Los Angeles. The city had blocked off some of the streets, and there was a big party going on near the new Staples Center, with searchlights spinning through the nighttime haze and a band playing some tune he couldn't quite place. Was that Ricky Martin up on stage?
He glanced to his side, where Kay had come up to watch the performance.
"I don't know if we're supposed to be up here," he said.
She leaned against him, reaching down to pinch his butt lightly.
"You have no sense of adventure."
She finished off her drink, then tossed the ice into the sky.Jack watched the cubes tumbling through the air until they disappeared.
He took a nervous breath.
"Um, just so we're clear here, you're very attractive, but this isn't something I usually do."
She grinned at him.
"And you think it's something I do?"
"I didn't mean it that way. I mean, you said it was out of character."
"It is. But 'carpe diem,' you know?"
She took his hand, pulling him away from the edge.
"Come on."
She led him back to the center of the roof, then stopped.
"Where do you think?"
Jack glanced around them. Nothing looked remotely suitable. Then Kay pointed to one of the huge AC compressors next to the stairway they had emerged from, a big gray metal block in the center of the roof.
"There. On top. That should work."
The compressor was about five feet high, and he had to help her up on top of it. She extended her hand and pulled him up.
The compressor was running, and the vibrations coursed through his body. Kay laughed.
"Ooo. I like this. Do you feel that?"
"Yeah."
Kay spread out the tablecloth she had filched from the firm kitchen and lay down, propping her head up on her hand. Jack lay on his stomach beside her, facing the concert. He could hear the strains of the music now: "Shake your bon-bon, shake your bon-bon... shake your bon-bon, shake your bon-bon." That made it Ricky Martin.
"How much time do we have?" Kay asked.
Jack glanced at his watch.
"Ten minutes. But I have a feeling we'll know from whatever is going on over there."
She reached over and began playing with the hair behind his ear.
"We'd better get started then."
He turned to her, and they kissed softly. He put his arm on her shoulder, and she rolled slowly on her back. He could taste the liquor from her drink as he probed around her mouth with his tongue. She pulled him closer, pressing her body against his. The night wind was cool (though not too cold), and their legs intertwined, seeking mutual warmth.
The music stopped, and the crowd cheered as Jack moved his hand to Kay's breast. Ricky began another song.
She was firm and round under his touch, and he could feel her nipple erecting through the fabric. He reached around, and Kay rolled over a bit to let him at the zipper on her dress. He pulled it down, then reached inside to unsnap her bra.
She let him pull down one strap from her shoulder as he sought her breasts, kissing him harder. He took the warm flesh in his hand, not quite a handful but well shaped. He tweaked the nipple a few times, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.
Kay's hands sought his butt, squeezing and pinching. One hand slipped between them and found his zipper. It snaked in through his fly and was soon gently caressing his erection.
"How much time?" she gasped.
He lifted his head just long enough to check his watch.
"Four minutes."
She pushed him away, rolling him on his back, and sat up beside him. She dug his cock out of his pants and bent to take him in her mouth. He gasped as she bottomed out, sucking hard, then withdrew, bobbing slowly. His hand groped at her thighs, and she spread herself open a little as he reached under her dress. He found the tops of stockings and probed further as she licked and sucked his erection.
She had no panties on, and she giggled around his cock as he found her crinkly nest of pubic hair.
"I came prepared."
Then she swallowed him up again, shivering as he found her clitoris, slick with her fluids. He stroked it gently, slipping a thumb between her lips. She bobbed faster on him, sucking so hard that he began to ache.
Ricky finished his next song, and they could hear the crowd cheering the impending stroke of midnight. Someone took the mike from Ricky and began revving them up further. Kay sat up.
"Come on."
She threw her leg over his waist, hiking her dress up over her hips. He groped at her as she took his erection in her hand, bending it backward as she sank down.
"Oh, shit," she moaned.
The vibrations of the compressor shivered through both of them, and Kay bent all the way down. She kissed him vigorously as he pushed up into her. Her hips began to roll against him.
"Midnight," she gasped, "I want to come at midnight, okay?"
He nodded rapidly, pulling his head up to seek her breasts. She pulled the other strap down and pressed her nipples against his mouth. He sucked on them hard, biting every so lightly, and Kay groaned, grinding herself against the base of his cock.
The cheering crowd grew louder and louder. Jack strained through the fog of his arousal to hear what they were saying.
They began the countdown: "...fifty-six...fifty-five...fifty-four..."
Kay rode him faster, hands digging at his shoulders like claws. He began to doubt his ability to hold out long enough and groped at her to slow down. She laughed huskily and tried to comply. He pulled her down and they kissed roughly for a few seconds, crushing their mouths together.
"...forty-nine...forty-eight...forty-seven..." Whistles and car horns were beginning to split the night air around them.
Kay began to move again, more slowly this time. Jack pushed her back to resume sucking her breasts. He groped at her buttocks, squeezing them, feeling tense and relax and tense again as she rode his cock.
"...thirty-six...thirty-five...thirty-four..."
She began to squeeze him inside her, gripping and releasing rhythmically. She felt like a slick glove around him. His semen began rising in him again, aching at the base of his cock like molten lead. One of her back garter straps popped loose under his fingers.
Kay whimpered softly, pushing him away from her breasts. He lay flat, still holding her butt as she humped against him.
"Midnight...with me, at midnight..."
"...twenty-two...twenty-one...twenty...nineteen..."
The cheers grew louder. The M.C. was howling various banal exhortations about the end of the Twentieth Century. Jack was suddenly distracted at that, wondering why it was so hard for people to understand about when the millennium really ended. It was enough to restrain his impending climax for a few more seconds.
Kay cried out, bouncing eagerly on his cock, hands gone to claws on his shoulders. He matched her thrust for thrust, trying to guide the movements of her butt. The other garter strap gave way a moment later.
"...ten...nine...eight...seven..."
She convulsed, pounding herself down at him. It was too late for either of them to stop now.
"Oh, God! Oh!"
Jack grunted, humping up at her as if she were riding a carnival attraction.
"...three...two...one...Happy New Year!"
Kay let out a shriek as the fireworks went off behind them, shuddering with the vibrations of the compressor. Jack stabbed up at her with everything he had, coming so hard it almost hurt. They shook and quivered together, Kay falling forward on to his chest, as the crowd cheered and howled and began singing "Auld Lang Syne."
Still shaking in the last vestiges of climax, they lay together, trying to catch their breath. Kay rolled her hips slowly against his deflating cock, luxuriating in the giant vibrator they lay on top of. Jack began to laugh at what they had done.
Kay lifted up a bit and kissed his nose.
"Happy New Year."
"You too."
She sat up a bit further, looking around downtown.
"The lights are still on."
"So is the air conditioning."
She laughed.
"But maybe not for much longer," she said.
"It's only eleven o'clock in Alaska."
She leaned back down, letting her hair fall into his face.
"And only ten o'clock in Hawaii."
"Will Ray notice you're gone?"
She kissed him.
"I'll tell him I went over to watch Ricky because he was ignoring me."
He laughed.
"'Shake your bon-bon.'"
She did. | 5 |
1,854 | Non Compliant | "Come here, babe."
I loved it when my wife would give me her best come-hither look, asking me to join her in bed.
"Give me a minute, I just want to check the doors."
"Hurry up, I'm getting lonely," she purred.
I didn't need much more encouragement than that. I think I set a land speed record going downstairs to make sure the doors were locked before sprinting back upstairs three at a time to join my wife in bed.
I got to the bedroom door and had to stop when I looked at her. She was still beautiful after over ten years of marriage and three kids. Sure, she had gained a little weight in the past decade; having children tends to do that. But that didn't take away from how she still looked. If anything, I thought she was even more sexy now than when we were first married. I couldn't identify what it was, maybe she looked more womanly, more curvy. Whatever the reason, I knew I still got as turned on by her as I ever had. And seeing her in her silk maroon negligee, with her breasts pressing their fullness against the diaphanous material, made me lust for her as much as I had on the day we met.
To add to her still sexy charms, this woman, sprawled out seductively across our king-size bed, was just about the best wife and mother any family could hope for. Ignoring any of her physical assets, I could easily, and incredibly happily, spend the rest of my life with her based on her warmth, kindness, and caring. Not to mention that with her wit and intelligence, she always managed to keep me on my toes and very much in line.
"Doors are locked, kids are asleep, and you're all mine." Yes, it was a dumb thing to say. I never could think straight when I was horny.
"Get to bed," she mocked a stern countenance. "Hurry up, and we can see the ball drop, it's quarter of twelve."
"That's nothing. Once I get my jockeys off, you'll get to see two balls drop."
She scrunched her nose up in the disapproving way she sometimes does when I make some of my stupid little jokes.
I finished getting undressed and lay down next to my wife, feeling the silky smoothness of her body against mine. We kissed passionately, and I began fondling her ample breasts. I nuzzled at her neck and lost myself in her silky blond hair. Cupping her breasts, my fingers found her nipples, already stiff from anticipation, and pulled on them roughly, in the way I knew she liked. I pulled the negligee's thin strap down, freeing that breast, and clamped my lips to the stiff peak. Karen sighed at the feelings my tongue was giving her nipple, and she hiked the material up to her waist to give me better access to her pussy. As I inserted my middle finger into her moist slit, she thrust her hips up wantonly to meet my fingers.
With her free hand, she firmly grabbed my cock and stroked it to match the rhythm of my finger fuck. I added a second finger and increased my speed, and she began to shudder with her first orgasm of the evening.
"Oh, baby," she whispered. "Get up here and give it to me now."
I maneuvered myself between her legs and rubbed myself against her moist vulva before lowering myself into her. She grunted as I bottomed out, and when she started licking my neck, I thought that my orgasm was near as well. Fortunately for me, the annoying drone of the New Year's Eve Times Square broadcast helped me focus my concentration so I could last more than a few minutes.
We established a nice rhythm with Karen lifting herself upward to meet my thrusts, followed by me withdrawing almost all the way, only to bottom out again. I alternated sucking and nibbling each of her taut nipples as we continued our metered fuck. When I brought my right hand down to Karen's clit, she began to convulse in orgasm almost immediately.
I continued plundering my wife's pussy as the announcer on the TV was counting down. 10...9...8...I withdrew almost all the way ...7...6... I drove myself all the way back in ...5...4... Karen started panting and was coming for the third time this evening ...3...2... I could feel myself getting nearer to my own release, as well ...1... Happy new year!
I continued to pound myself into her as she was coming down from her orgasm.
She looked up at me and smiled. "Happy new year."
"Happy new year, hon." I kissed her tenderly.
"Actually, happy new century and millennium," her eyes sparkled as she smiled at me.
"Well, actually, it isn't really the new century or millennium -- that's going to be next year. The year 2001 is actually the..."
"John, just shut up and fuck me."
Who was I to argue.
I stopped my ramblings about the actual turn of the millennium when I noticed that I was losing my erection. I tried to speed things up to get it back, but that was to no avail. I was in the middle of fucking my sexy and incredibly turned on wife, and I was losing wood. How the fuck did something like that happen? I had thought that my little speech about the year 2001 had made me lose my focus, but now I was fully concentrating on any lustful and dirty thought that popped into my mind, and I was losing the battle. For the first time in the history of man, the big head was winning the battle with the little head -- and at the most inopportune time, too.
"Honey, is something wrong?" Karen looked into my eyes with a concerned glance.
"I don't know...I just..." I was really at a loss for words.
"Well, did you come?" she asked hesitantly.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm *sure*," I snapped. "I'd know it if I came. There would be a puddle of semen somewhere right about at the junction of our genitals. Not to mention the intense feeling that accompanies the whole process. I'd *know* if I came. I think I just...I just lost my erection." I rolled off of her and sighed deeply.
"Let me do something about that," she looked up seductively as she rolled over and grabbed my now flaccid penis and ran her tongue around the glans. She enveloped it all with her mouth and began to suck from the base with the tip just the way she knew I liked it. Usually, this sort of thing would have had me erect within seconds, but today there was nothing; not a twitch, not a movement -- nothing. After about five minutes of no response, I tapped her shoulders to come up to lay with me.
Karen scooted up and brushed her hand against my cheek. "It's ok, honey. That happens to everyone at one point or another."
"Well, it doesn't happen to me. At least it didn't, or never had." I shook my head in self-disgust. "But this is nuts. This isn't supposed to happen in the middle of sex. Guys don't lose their erections while they're fucking. If some temporary impotence sets in, it happens before they even get hard -- not in the middle."
"It's probably nothing, honey. Let's not worry about it." Then she looked at me coyly. "There's still something you can do for me, if you're up...er, if you want to."
Figuring that there wasn't much I could do about my situation, I concentrated solely on Karen's pleasure. I slid my body down hers and licked my way from her breasts to her vulva. I first placed one, then two fingers within her vagina and began a slow finger fuck while I licked and sucked on her engorged lips. As she started rolling her hips, I took the cue and teased her by licking all around her clit without making contact. After tormenting her for a couple of minutes, she started thrusting her pussy up into my face, trying to get me to make some -- any -- contact with her clit. Seeing that she was needing release, I concentrated my attentions on her sensitive hooded pearl and fairly attacked it with my tongue. In less than a minute, she was squeezing my head with her thighs and screaming out her orgasm.
And throughout all of that, I had no reaction whatsoever from my penis. Usually, eating pussy was enough to give me a raging hard-on, but tonight, it just sat there like a wet noodle. I didn't want to let on to Karen how concerned I was, but I think she read it in my eyes.
We just held each other, silently, for the longest time afterward. We both were afraid to say anything to each other. I know I really didn't know what to say about the situation. I was really embarrassed about it, and was just hoping that it was a one-time event.As wonderful and caring as my wife was, I still felt a little awkward facing her after this.
With these thoughts and worries, I managed to fall asleep, insecure with the knowledge that I'd greeted the new millennium impotent.
Several days passed and nothing had happened. There was no sign of life at all in my penis. No twitch when my wife would walk up behind my chair in my office and kiss me hotly on the back of my neck. No rush of blood to my shaft when she'd stroke me under the covers at night or snuggle her back to me in the 'spoon' position. Even my morning erection, ever the faithful companion since I was about ten years old, had deserted me. It was gone like a puppy that had run away from home -- and I was the poor child who sat by the window day after day hoping, praying, that he'd come back to me.
It's funny, but I think I missed my morning erection the most. It was the ever-present faithful companion that would say, "Wake up, John. You have a happy and fully functioning pecker, now get out of bed, take a big piss, and greet the day." Now what did it say, "Think of it this way, your appendix and tonsils have company now." All I wanted to do was roll over and go back to sleep. Wake me when they back the hearse up to the house.
"Babe, it's been five days. I think you should call the doctor," Karen suggested one morning sympathetically as I was getting ready for work.
"Maybe it'll get better," I hated going to the doctor, and I'd do anything I could do to forestall a visit.
"John, it's *not* getting better. There's been nothing for five days. I'm getting worried." Then she smirked, "besides, if you don't go to the doctor, I'm going to have to join the battery-a-month club."
"Ok. Ok. Call up the office and make an appointment for me...God, this is so embarrassing. I feel like Bob Dole." I knew in my heart of hearts that I needed to go; I was truly getting unnerved that nothing had happened over the past five days. Thirty-four was way too young for Viagra (TM).
The doctor prodded, poked, had blood drawn, had me pee in a cup and topped the whole pleasant experience off by shoving his finger up my ass. The least he could have done was buy me a couple of drinks first.
But the utter embarrassment of his examination was actually eclipsed by the questions that he asked me afterward.
-- How often do you masturbate?
-- Rarely...well, maybe a couple of times a week. Ok, sometimes more than that.
-- Do you have any vacuum tube devices that you use on your penis?
-- I don't even know what those are.
I felt like saying, "That's not my bag, baby," in a smarmy fake British accent but figured the doctor's office wasn't the place for Austin Powers humor.
-- Are you a heavy drinker or drug user?
-- I don't take drugs. I drink a little, maybe a glass of wine or two with dinner occasionally. Oh, yeah, I drink a fifth of bourbon before I get dressed in the morning, just to get the blood flowing -- just kidding.
He looked at me with derision. Some people just have no sense of humor -- either that or that's how he started his days and I struck a raw nerve.
-- How often do you have sex?
-- Maybe once or twice a week. More if we can get a babysitter.
That's not to imply that I was having sex with the babysitter.
-- Do you only have sex with your wife or do you have multiple partners?
-- No, I'm as monogamous as you can get.
-- Do you only have vaginal sex or do you have sex orally and anally as well?
-- Mostly vaginal and oral, but once in a while we have anal.
When were these questions going to end? This was mortifying.
-- Do you ever stick anything up your urethra?
--*What?!?*
What the hell kind of a question was that? Was this guy serious?
-- Do you ever stick anything up the urethra?
-- No, doc. That's an exit, not an entrance.
-- Have you ever had unprotected sex with a high-risk person?
-- No, I haven't had sex with anyone but my wife for the past 13 years.
The questions were almost as embarrassing as my reason for being at the doctor.
"Well, John. I see nothing wrong with any of your tests at all. I can't figure it out. You're in great shape. Good sugar levels, blood pressure is perfect. I don't get it."
It was always refreshing to hear your doctor say he didn't know what was wrong with you. I made a mental note to check his diploma on the way out. With my luck, this guy was a proud graduate of the University of Margaritaville somewhere in the Abacos Islands.
"Do you have any guesses?" I was fishing for anything.
"Well, let me get your records. Maybe there's something in there that will help." He opened the door to the exam room and addressed his nurse, "Amy, can you get Mr. Adams's records from the file room please. Thanks."
Then he turned back to me and gave me an apologetic look.
"This is going to take a while. Amy has to go downstairs to our record room. We had all of our medical records on computer, but it turns out that the computers weren't Y2K compliant. $13,000 for an entire office system and we can't even get it up."
The nurse returned with my records, and the doctor looked them over with a furrowed brow. I was not encouraged.
"John, I can't find anything in your history that would indicate to me what the problem is. I'm going to refer you to a urologist for a complete workup. If he comes up with nothing, then I suppose it could be psychological. It's not uncommon for men your age. High-pressure jobs. Lots of stress. Burning the candle at both ends... The urologist I'm referring you to is one of the best there is in the nation, if he can't find the problem, then it can't be found."
As I got dressed, I wasn't sure if I was encouraged or scared shitless by his last statement.
I left the office and headed home, blowing off the rest of the day of work. I wasn't in the mood to go to the office and be nice to all of those guys with their functioning penises. Besides, the world wasn't going to stop spinning if another stripmall or planned community was a day late in being designed.
I called my wife from my car as I worked my way through midday traffic. While I listened to the phone ringing, I thought that if only my problem were as easy to diagnose as my doctor's computer system, I'd be a much happier person. That's it, I laughed, he can't get his computers up -- just like me. Maybe I wasn't Y2K compliant either, I chuckled to myself. If it only could be that simple.
"Hello."
"Hi, hon. How're you doing?" I asked, really not sure how to broach the subject of the test results.
"Never mind about me. What did the doctor say?"
"He said I should buy you lots of batteries," I tried to ease the tension. "Actually, he couldn't find anything wrong. He's setting me up with a world-class urologist at Mass. General. He said if he can't find the problem, nobody can. Which may or may not be a good thing."
"Oh, John..." she sighed sympathetically and then tried to sound cheerful. "I'm sure everything will work out and you'll be fine."
"Well, I hope so....Say, hon, do you know where my birth certificate is?"
"Your birth certificate? Probably in the safe deposit box down at the bank. Why?"
"Just a crazy idea I just had. Get the key and be waiting for me. I'll run by and pick you up in about ten minutes."
"What are we going to do?" she sounded apprehensive.
"I'll explain when I pick you up. Bye."
I drove through town, listening to the strains of the Beatles' "A Day in the Life" on the radio. I shook my head as I sang along with the song, feeling sorry for myself. "Woke up, got out of bed, and my prick is almost dead."
Karen was waiting at the door as I pulled up. We didn't say anything for the first couple of minutes as I drove to our local branch, where we had our safe deposit box.
"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?"
"You're going to think I'm nuts."
"Trust me, it wouldn't be the first time," she grinned.
"Just tell me."
"Well, as crazy as this seems. I think I'm not Y2K compliant?" I didn't dare glance in her direction.
"*What?!?* Have you been drinking?" She edged over and pretended to smell my breath.
"No. I'm perfectly lucid...well, as lucid as *I* get."
"Babe, this is nuts. People can't be Y2K compliant...or non-compliant...or whatever it is. That's computers, and based on your memory lately, you're no computer." She looked at me with the same pathetic glance that one reserves for the mentally imbalanced.
"Honey. I know it sounds crazy, but I was thinking that this all started right at midnight -- right at the new year. It's probably nothing, but I have to check this out."
She sighed deeply and stared out the window, probably thinking that in addition to her husband being impotent, he was also losing his mind.
We retrieved our safe deposit box, and the teller ushered us to one of those private rooms that looked just like a public toilet. The door didn't go all the way to the floor, and the walls didn't rise to the ceiling.
"Is it in there?" Karen asked anxiously.
I flipped through some papers. "Here it is...look. Just like I thought." I replied excitedly -- perhaps a little too loudly.
"What?"
"Look at the birth date. 5/15/65. Not 1965, just 65."
"I still don't see how this is affecting your...problem."
"It doesn't make any sense to me either. But I think we need to get down to the town hall and have a duplicate birth certificate made."
She put all of the papers back into the box, and we called the teller over to put it in the safe. "John, honey. I think you need to talk to someone...a professional."
"Karen, I don't need a hooker to solve my problems. You've always been *more* than enough woman for me." The last thing I was going to allow her to do was patronize me."I was talking about a therapist. Smartass."
"Listen. I'm not nuts. I might be grasping at straws, but I'm not crazy. When this doesn't work, I'll go to the urologist on Friday. I just have to eliminate this as a possibility."
Karen sighed and shook her head as we left the bank to go to the town hall. The clerk's office was crowded as usual -- but most of the people were waiting in the line for the building permits. There was only one person ahead of us in the birth certificate/marriage license line.
When we got to the clerk, I asked for a replacement birth certificate. I handed over two pieces of identification and paid the clerk the five dollars. I made sure that the year 1965 was written on it clearly. She prepared the paperwork, and a few minutes later, returned with my brand new birth certificate.
"So, do you feel any different?" Karen asked, somewhat sarcastically, as we left the clerk's office.
"No. Nothing. But wait a minute. Let me go to the bathroom just to make sure."
"*John*," she whispered insistently. "You can't be serious. You're going to go and play with yourself in the middle of town hall?"
"No. I said I was going to do it in the bathroom," I snickered. "Just wait out here for me. I should find out quickly one way or the other."
Karen just shook her head derisively as I entered the men's room. I walked into one of the stalls and locked the door. Despite treating this nonchalantly with Karen, I felt awkward and conspicuous as hell jerking off in a public restroom. I'm glad I was the only one in there.
I took a deep breath and unzipped my fly and fished my flaccid penis out. Trying to think up the most erotic imagery that I could muster, I began playing with myself. I pulled, stroked, tugged, and did everything short of pleading and praying before I gave up and realized that I was just fooling myself into thinking that my problem was so simple as to be solved by getting another birth certificate.
I sat down on the toilet in resignation and pulled the two documents from my pocket and looked at them in disgust. I shook my head at my foolishness. What the hell was I thinking? Maybe Karen was right, maybe I *was* crazy. Out of frustration, I took the old one and ripped it into several pieces. I laughed at myself as I flushed the remnants of it down the toilet.
I stood and started pulling my pants up. I adjusted my limp member in my jockeys when, for the first time in almost a week, I felt a twitch. I quickly pulled down my underwear and started stroking myself. As if it were a miracle, my once and future erection began to grow, hardening with each stroke.
"Karen," I yelled. "Can you come in here for a minute?"
"John," she peeked her head in the door just enough to avoid yelling. "You're in a men's room. Just hurry up. I know you're upset, but we'll talk about it at home."
"Just come in here," I repeated. "Lock the outer door if you want."
I could hear an exaggerated sigh as she walked into the men's room and quickly came over to my stall. "This better be good."
I opened the door and stood directly in front of her, my manhood pointing proudly in her direction. "Get in here before anyone comes in."
"It worked John? I can't believe this."
"Well, believe it. Mrs. Adams, congratulations, your husband's just given birth to a seven and a half inch erection."
I sat back on the toilet and started to lift up her skirt. Before she realized what was happening, I had her pantyhose down to her knees. "John, what are you doing?" she shrieked.
"No time like the present," I grinned at her lasciviously as she decided that she had better get it while the getting was good and kicked off her shoes and pulled down her pantyhose and panties.
I pulled her on top of me, and she eased herself down on my prick. She moaned as she enveloped me fully and started rocking herself against me. There was something so sexy -- so risque -- about the way her skirt was bunched up around her waist as she rode me in the stall.
We had never been a couple who was into public sex, but the entire situation was an incredible turn-on.
As she bobbed her hips up and down on my newfound erection, her breathing became very ragged. She sped her pace on my lap, and the quickened movement combined with my pent-up frustration of the past week hastened my release as well. Karen stiffened and tried to muffle a squeal as her orgasm came, and the contractions that her pussy made on my cock sent me over the edge as well. I erupted powerfully into her spasming vagina, releasing a week's worth of frustration in one powerful shot.
Spent, we just sat together without speaking for the next several minutes, enjoying the wonderful afterglow that we felt as my softening penis fell from her pussy.
I kissed her tenderly on the lips as she tried to stand without making her skirt a come-soaked mess. She was only partially successful. "Oh God, that was incredible," Karen panted as she picked up her pantyhose from the floor and threw them into her purse.
"Amazing," I puffed in agreement. "Well, I guess I can cancel that appointment with the urologist on Friday."
"Yeah, but take the day off of work just the same," she leaned over and gently bit my earlobe. "I have plans for you." | 4 |
1,855 | The Y2K Bet | "You're full of shit, James," the redheaded computer programmer sighed wearily, "You really ought to take some time out and learn something. All that Art Bell drivel is rotting your brain. I told you already Y2K is just a bunch of hype. Give it up!"
For the fifth time this month, Tricia was arguing with her neighbor from across the hall. James wasn't always an idiot, he just obsessed about the little things. Trish had been making big bucks fixing the minor glitches in software for hysterical business owners with old systems. If James were to take the word of anyone, why not hers?
"How do you know, Trish? I mean what if something does happen, and civilization collapses, you won't be prepared!" James rattled on his usual litany of plagues, terrors, and computer malfunctions which made that Pharaoh guy's problems look like a head cold. It was a shame too, he was a pretty normal-looking guy. He just read too many conspiracy magazines, or something similar.
She looked him over subtly while he waved his arms and capered around; he looked rather handsome. Well, if you overlook the crazed terror his eyes always got when he went on about the end of the world. He had a swimmer's body, trim and lithe, and she knew how strong he was. She still remembered when he playfully picked her up in one arm and effortlessly carried her down the stairs. She felt herself getting a little warmer actually, his proximity and strength had been very arousing.
She was startled out of her reverie when he touched her arm, leaning in to emphasize his point. "Is that a risk you're willing to take, to be totally unprepared for the end of the world?" He shook his head in a disapproving manner, her obvious reluctance to join in the mob's frenzy frustrated him to no end.
She laughed, hoping he wouldn't notice how red her face had become at his touch. She said flippantly, "I think that it IS a risk I'm willing to take, I do after all have a little information on my side. I'm not a gambling girl, but I know nothing's going to happen."
"You really want to bet on that though," said James with surprise, "After all if you're right then you haven't won anything, and if I'm right you'll be begging me for food and fresh water!" She really wanted to shut him up, the argument had never gone anywhere yet, and wouldn't until it was all over. Her eyes lit up with an idea, sometimes James was more helpful than he could imagine!
"If you're so sure, then yes! Let's bet," Trish said with a sadistic undertone to her voice. After all, the phrase 'never bet on a sure thing' was meant for gentlemen, not for her. "If I win, you have to get me into that exclusive health club you go to. I know the waiting list takes months but I want to be working out right after my resolutions are finished!" She finished with a flair; it was something he could get her with only a little trouble, but she'd rather force it out of him than ask him.
"Wait a second, it's all well and good for you to talk about what you get when you win," James sputtered, "But what do I get if I win? After all, civilization will collapse and it's not like you can write me a check!"
Trish grinned slightly, nobody said he wasn't a bright boy. "All right then James, I tell you what. I don't have time to quibble with you now, you give it some thought tonight and call me tomorrow and let me know, okay?" With a schoolgirl flounce she turned and marched her petite form back to the door of her apartment. As she closed the door behind her, she heard James call out one last time. "You've got a bet, hon!""I see you're prepared, James," Trish said with a chuckle, "but how will you know if the world ends?" She looked around the apartment; it really was a nice place. Candles graced every horizontal surface except his coffee table, which was set with fine silver and dishes of something that looked very complicated.
"I thought we'd watch the ball drop actually, the shows should be something. I hope you don't mind I made some dinner," James said as he played host. He was dressed very nicely, a form-fitting button-up shirt that looked silk and a pair of pants that showed off his ass to great effect. He looked very polished, handsome. He put on the TV to a local channel that had Times Square on, and sat down to eat.
The dinner was delicious, some French dish she couldn't try to pronounce. They sat and talked for a while, watching the muted capering of various artists and party-goers on the TV. The clock read one minute to eleven, the countdown beamed live from the East Coast where they were inches from the crisis moment. The partying got rough, very rough, and the police around the stage were working hard just to protect themselves.
The countdown began, and Trish decided to be a bit early. With a shout of "Happy New Year," she leaned over and kissed him on the lips, with perhaps a little more passion than she intended. Their lips wrestled gently, and she slipped her tongue in his mouth. Her breasts pressed against him; she could feel her pulse in her chest and throat. One of his hands moved up to stroke her side as the other stroked the back of her neck gently. She pulled back and leaned against his side a little. The countdown was just reaching ten.
"A little early are we," asked James, short of breath though he was. Trish just smiled, watching the ball get closer and closer. The crowd victoriously shouted and cheered as the guy with the mike announced the dawning of the new millennium. His words were barely out of his mouth when the TV picture abruptly disappeared. Silence descended on the apartment, not even the heater was working.
"Shit," Trish almost shouted, "What the fuck?" James put his arm around her, more to calm her than out of predatory instinct. She took a few deep breaths. The candles kept the room flickering in a warm rosy light. They sat for a moment, listening to the silence and shouts of dismay from the neighbors. Trish felt his hand gently stroking her shoulder, letting her know in an almost brotherly way that he was still here for her. After a few minutes, Trish got up the courage to speak.
"James, do you remember the bet we made?" she asked with a quivering voice. When he mumbled his attention, she continued, "I guess you did win after all. So, well, do you think we should just..."
"Trish, I know what we said," interrupted James, "But if you're uncomfortable with this or if you have changed your mind, then we can forget the..." She turned back towards him and silenced him with a kiss, caressing his neck and chest with her nails. After the initial surprise, he melted into her arms, stroking her back feebly as he lay beneath her.
She took his hand, and placed it on the thin material covering her breast. Taking the hint, he began to knead with his hand, stroking the exposed top with his fingertips and rubbing his palms in little circles over the nipple. She moaned into his mouth as the warmth ran through, sucking his tongue fiercely. His hand moved down her side, cupping her ass and lightly drawing the fabric over her bare skin. Trish spread her legs slightly, allowing him access to her thighs.
Moving to his neck, Trish began to lick and suck gently behind his ear. His strong hand kneaded the flesh of her bare thigh above her stocking, tickling the skin at the hem of her skirt. She moaned again, plaintively, pushing her hips forward against his hand. James ran his hand over the smooth flesh of her thigh, stroking slowly towards the heat he felt radiating from her sex.
When his fingers found the bare moist lips and light fur of her mound, his cock twitched in his pants. She gasped in his ear, legs stiffening as he lightly brushed his fingers between her lips and the length of her slit. He settled into a steady rhythm, stroking the outer and inner lips ever so lightly with his fingertips. Her hands flew to his belt, caressing his now erect penis through the material before unbuckling and unzipping. Her slim warm hand wrapped around his shaft and stroked gently, circling the head and teasing the little opening at the top.
He started to slide down the couch, leaning towards her sex. She stopped him with a hand on his chest, forcing him to lay back. He caught her eye curiously, his hips unconsciously thrusting every so slightly up at the cold air. She lifted her knee over him and straddled him, leaning against him and pressing her tongue deeply into his mouth. The head of his penis rubbed gently at the top of her slit, tickling the trim hair of her soft mons and grazing her inner lips. She reached beneath herself and grabbed his already wet shaft. She groaned as she felt him enter her, pressing herself down over him as she slowly pulled him deep inside her.
She felt the bone above his penis finally pressing against her clit. Nestled against him with her hips lewdly spread around his, Trish watched her watery shadow on the wall. Her shadow's arms slipped the straps of the dress off its shoulders, and her skin felt hot to the touch as she ran her hands over her chest and breasts, pushing the skirt to her waist. James leaned forward, his hot lips closed around her breast. His teeth found her hard nipple and she gasped. She squirmed her hips, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone and feeling his penis throb inside her.
She started to buck, her vaginal muscles clenching and stretching in time with her thrusting hips. She felt filled, his hands caressing her warm back and cupping her bare ass, riding him for her own pleasure. She looked down, noticing with amusement how lewd her splayed lips looked around his penis; the flimsy skirt had ridden up her hips and only hung gently over her ass. She leaned into him, feeling her excitement rise as he started to thrust up against her. She could feel his urgent need, and his breath was coming in gasps.
She began to grind herself against him, feeling his strokes deeper and deeper as she moaned into his ear. She shivered, the warmth spreading from her vagina and nipples cascaded over her in waves, crashing through her and exploding in the back of her head. She flung herself down on his rippling penis and clung to him as the waves of pleasure made her whole body tremble.
She clenched her muscles around him, feeling his climax as he grunted over her shoulder. His hands grabbed her ass roughly, pushing her down on his lap as he came. She felt him pulsing inside, the image of his semen spraying deep inside her caused her whole body to tremble, a mini orgasm fluttered through her in the wake of the first. They lay together for several minutes, catching their breath.
Rolling off of him, she felt their joined fluids running down her thighs and pooling on the couch against her ass. She ran a hand over his sweat-soaked shirt, murmuring appreciatively into his ear. Resting her head on his shoulder, she checked her watch. Twenty minutes, on the nose. The heater sputtered and came to life, followed quickly by the bluish light from the TV. Shouts of joy and revelry came from other apartments, and stereos began blasting party music once more. James looked at her wild-eyed and confused, but she shushed him with a finger. "Right on time!" | 4 |
1,892 | Larry's Got a Girlfriend | "My dad's a union man, and he's going to vote for Kennedy," argued Randy.
"Baloney!" Mike always had an answer. "My old man showed me a book where it says Kennedy's a communist! If Nixon doesn't win, the whole army will kill Kennedy and all the communists and everybody, and he'll be President, anyway! What do you know! You're only in sixth grade!"
"Well, I'm in eighth, and..." Larry started.
"Aw, shut up, sissy!" yelled Mike, and the others quickly chimed in, Randy loudest of all. Larry just stopped and turned his back to them. They left after a minute, laughing as they walked. He tried to remember what his mom had told him, that they just called him a sissy because they knew it made him cry. He knew he wasn't a sissy! Why did they keep saying it?
Larry chose to take the short cut home, the one through the little three-story professional office building, to avoid further teasing from his classmates. He knew the path through the lobby, out the back, and over the fence to his own block.
As he passed under the lobby stairs, he looked up at the sounds of footsteps in the otherwise empty room. An attractive woman had stopped about five steps from the top, going through her purse and mumbling to herself. That's one reason he liked this short cut; there were plenty of "real pretty ladies" there, ladies who wore stylish dresses and high-heeled shoes and lots of makeup, just like on TV.
He approached the stairs quietly, and more than a little fearfully. She was standing right by the rail, and the lad realized that his every step closer to her let him see further up her dress!
The awestruck boy just stood there, staring up. Her lightweight wool circle skirt swished and swayed around her legs with her least movement. Larry could see her slip beneath it, and was surprised that it wasn't white, like his mom's slips, but beige, with a frilly lace hem. Her shoes were remarkably tall, with narrow spike heels more than four inches high. They were the highest heels he'd ever seen! They were exactly the same yellow color as her sweater. Her hair was blond and long, and flowed in counterpoint to her skirt when she'd turn her head.
When she bent over to pick up a box, he thought for a second she'd seen him. He ducked under the stairs and held his breath as long as he could. He knew he shouldn't be peeking like this, but it really was an accident, and anyway, it wasn't his fault if he just stood there, was it?
After a few more agonizing seconds without hearing anything from above him, he stuck his head tentatively out from the shadows, scanned the empty room, and looked up, again. This time, he was really surprised.
The woman had put one foot up on the next higher step, resting the box on her knee to look through it. Larry could see farther than ever up her skirt!
The boy was entranced with the feminine vision thus displayed. The long curve of her sheerly clad leg was visible right up to the darker shade of her stocking tops. He didn't really understand why, but looking up into the inviting lace and nylon cavern somehow made his penis crawl inside his shorts, like when his dad drove over a bump in the car when he wasn't expecting it.
When the woman turned and walked down the stairs, he suddenly started walking too, as if he'd just come in. He was blushing bright red, afraid he'd been discovered, but she gave no indication. She walked straight back to the door, about three steps ahead of him. As he followed her, Larry studied her magnificent derriere, appreciating it on a subliminal level. The enticing roll of her hips was pretty, not lewd, to a boy who still didn't fully comprehend the facts of life. He attributed it to her high heels. Thinking about the slip and stockings under those swaying globes kept his "bug" feeling "funny."
They got to the door, and she stopped. She looked right at him, and smiled her warmest, biggest smile. "Could I persuade a handsome gentleman like you to help me get this box of music out to my car?" she asked. Somehow, she sounded like she really meant the "gentleman" part; she wasn't making fun of him, like the boys had been.
"Sure, Ma'am!" he said, trying to use a real deep voice so he'd sound older. He took the box and backed through the door, holding it open for her.
"It's Miss, and thank you!" she nodded. She sidled through the door with her breasts pointing right at him, almost grazing his chest! She was as old as his mother, but her carefully painted face mesmerized the boy. Her eyebrows were sculpted to perfection, her pouty lips painted bright red, and the dose of perfume she'd added on the stairs overwhelmed his senses.
He dropped the box in her trunk and then ran around to open her car door. He wasn't at all prepared for her next move -- she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead! As she swept past to climb into her car, her sweater-covered breast brushed his shoulder, and when she sat, her skirt slid up to reveal her tawny stocking tops.
Larry's whole body "felt funny" now, not just his penis!
He just stood there, looking at her legs. He didn't want her to leave, or even move, not for ever and ever! "Uh, that was a box of music?" he mumbled, praying she'd stay for just a second more.
"Yes," she smiled, and opened her purse. "I teach piano. Do you play?"
"No, Ma'am ... I mean, Miss. I used to, but ..." He trailed off as he recognized the little round black and silver garter doohickie that held up her stockings. He'd seen his mom's a few times.
The door closed without her ever pulling down her skirt.
She reached out the window. "Here's my card. Perhaps your parents will let you take lessons." Larry watched her all the way out the driveway. She waved at him before she pulled out into the street! He waved back, numbly.
When he turned around, there were Mike and Randy and the other boys. They started sing-songing, "Larry's got a girlfriend! Larry's got a girlfriend!" and laughing and pointing at him. That's when he figured out that she'd left a lipstick mark on his forehead! He turned and ran away, jumping over the fence. He took a moment to catch his breath, determined to remember every single instant of his rapturous encounter with the most beautiful woman in the world!
He floated all the way home, stopping to touch his forehead every few steps. He could see a little bit of pink on his fingertip. Sure, the boys' teasing had hurt him. But, it was worth it!
CHAPTER: II
"Miss Dorothy Glamis, private piano lessons," the card said. All of a sudden, music was the most important thing in Larry's world!
His mom had arranged piano lessons when he was younger, but "the stupid teacher got mad at me for no reason," and suspended the lessons, which was just fine with Larry. She was skeptical when he suddenly wanted to become a young Van Cliburn, but a thirteen-year-old can be pretty persuasive to a mother who loves him. "I know a lots better teacher than old Mrs. Moore," he told her. It took two weeks, but he got his way. Larry could hardly wait for his first lesson.
Dorothy was equally excited! She'd stopped on those office stairs hoping to catch a man, preferably in the vulnerable 45-55 range, and one with money, to boot. The real estate offices downstairs were well-stocked with them. Instead, she had found an exquisitely beautiful boy peeking up her dress, and on the spur of the moment, had vamped him.
Until his mother had called her to arrange lessons, she hadn't given the boy any further thought. She had never tried to mix her music with The Cause. The Cause she'd devoted her life to.
Revenge on the world of men!
It suddenly dawned upon her the day after she'd agreed to take him on as another student. She had here a chance to make up for some of the jerks who had used her talent and her desire for success as nothing more than a tool to get into her pants. She had it well within her power to save the world from one more selfish, domineering, insensitive, arrogant male beast.
She could transform the little snot into a woman!
When she opened her front door for his first lesson, he almost peed his pants! It was just a shirtdress, but it was made of shiny red nylon, belted around a waist so tiny he could have closed his hands around it. More importantly, though, the shirt front was open, displaying a cleavage that would have stunned any man!
The dress wrapped around her globes like slick red gloves, squeezing her heavy breasts until they bulged from between her lapels. Her skirt flowed outward from her tiny waist over layers of petticoats that swished loudly as she walked.
He just stood there, staring at her bodice. She spoke gently, inviting him in, then asked him about school and home. Before long, he relaxed enough to respond. He'd never met a woman so pretty, nor one so nice to him!
She led him to the piano -- a big, shiny black upright with a mirror across the front. She set out the same beginner's book Mrs. Moore had used, and had him show her what he'd learned. It wasn't much."This is the beginner's method I like to teach from," she said, and put down a short little green book in front of his old tall one.
He tried the first couple of exercises, but they were too hard.
"Maybe the old book is distracting you," she said, and took it away. Over the top of the little book, he could see himself in the mirror. And next to him, he could see Miss Glamis -- just from her chin down. She was standing behind him, and her breasts were hanging right over his shoulder!
It was several long seconds before she stepped aside so he could no longer see her, and several more before he recovered enough to try the piano again.
He couldn't get enough of her as she moved in and out of his line of sight! At first, he tried not to look, but then he realized that, since the mirror cut off his view of her face, she couldn't see his either, so he experimented more boldly with his stares. As she gave no sign of noticing his interest in her breasts, he concluded that she didn't know he was ogling her almost constantly between exercises.
The book was really tough, but he was absolutely determined to play his best. He didn't even consciously realize why he was suddenly trying so hard, but Dorothy knew! Whenever he'd make mistakes or let his attention wander, she would step out of his view. When he did it right, she'd snuggle up close, so that he could feel her big fluffy skirt pressing against his elbow, and see her enormous bust line filling the mirror.
With that incentive, she was confident the boy would make rapid progress, indeed!
And when it was finally time to go, she bestowed upon him the grandest prize he could imagine -- another kiss!
III
Dorothy watched him carefully as she opened the door for his second lesson, noting that his eyes were much more interested in her silky white blouse than in the way her pencil-slim skirt hugged her full thighs.
"We're going to duet today," she announced, and sat right next to him on the bench. Her cool sleeve constantly tickled his arm as they played. With her body so close, he couldn't help but look right down into the deep V of her décolletage, where he caught occasional glimpses of the delicate white lace that cupped her warm treasures.
The lad honestly didn't associate the sight of her flesh with sex, per se; he just knew that Dorothy was beautiful, and that he felt really funny every time her bra showed. Pretty soon, he was so worked up he couldn't function any longer. He just sat there, his wide eyes drowning in the depths of her bosom.
She cleared her throat, causing her breast flesh to jiggle, but also shaking Larry from his reverie. He looked up into Dorothy's eyes, and saw immediately that she knew he'd been staring at her breasts.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" he cried, quickly turning white, then red, as he dropped his head in shame. "I'm stupid! stupid! stupid!" he thought to himself. "I shouldn't stare at her like a maniac! She'll throw me out, or have me arrested!"
"What's wrong, Larry," she solicited, reaching down and taking his sweaty hand between hers.
"I'm sorry, Miss Glamis," he said, the tears starting to flow. "I was staring at your breasts... I mean... Oh, jeez! I'm sorry! I..."
"Calm down, sweetheart!" she cooed, smoothing his hair. "It's all right, I understand!"
Between sobs, he managed to look up again. Her friendly smile reassured him. "You mean, you're not mad at me?"
"Just because you think I'm pretty? You can't help looking at me when I wear something this nice. I wore this just for you, Larry. It makes me feel very feminine when a young man admires my appearance. Do you think I'm pretty, Larry?"
"Oh, God, Miss Glamis! You're the prettiest woman in the world!" She smiled disbelievingly, coaxing another compliment from him. "No, really! You're the prettiest woman I ever knew. Ever! You're even prettier than Mrs. Hampton, that used to teach seventh-grade math, and all the guys said she musta been a movie star, once!"
"I'm sorry if it disturbs you when my arm touches yours, but that always happens when we play duets."
"No, that's OK!" he protested. "I think it feels neat."
"Really?"
"Really!" he enthused. "It's so soft, and slippery, and... you know!"
"I certainly do! It's wonderful to be a girl and feel pretty clothes against your skin all day." She said, stroking her own arm. "I'm very lucky."
"Yeah." Larry suddenly looked sad. "It's not fair."
It was fortunate that Larry had dropped his dejected gaze, for even he would have noticed the slow blinking of Dorothy's big, brown eyes as she struggled to control herself.
"Perhaps... No, it wouldn't work."
"What?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing. I was just trying to think of something so my blouse wouldn't bother you, but I couldn't very well take it off, could I?"
"Oh, no!" he responded quickly. He honestly had not imagined her without her clothes.
"Of course, I couldn't! But I just thought that maybe, if you had something similar to wear, then mine wouldn't bother you so much. I'd change to something rough, like your shirt, but I just don't have anything like that! Oh, well, you wouldn't want to wear something soft and feminine like this, anyway, even if it was really a boy's shirt."
"You mean you've got a boy's shirt made out of this kind of stuff?" he asked, pointing to her sleeve.
Within another minute, both of them were shivering as Larry slid his naked torso into a cool, slick white silk blouse. Dorothy fastened the buttons down his chest so he wouldn't notice they were on the wrong side.
Suddenly all business, Dorothy led him back to the keyboard. It was all she could do to finish the lesson without grabbing him and smothering his face in her bosom! For Larry, the hour seemed to be over before it had started. He stalled as long as possible until she pulled the lovely blouse from his narrow shoulders.
"See you next week," she smiled after planting a longer and wetter kiss than before upon his forehead.
He almost forgot to wipe it off before he got home.
IV
She had not anticipated the rapidity of the child's enslavement to her beauty, and it made her all the hungrier. She suspected correctly from his obvious innocence that he had never even masturbated, much less experimented with girls his own age. That very innocence would have tickled her sense of decency enough for her to release him, had it not also tickled her sexuality. She was as much trapped by her passions as he was.
Larry heard her playing when he rang the bell. "Come on in and sit down," he heard her shout.
He didn't recognize the Debussy, but the sensual strains could not help but relax him as he admired her skill. He saw immediately that she was wearing the same blouse as last time, and dared to hope she would loan him the matching boy's one, again. His penis started stirring as his wandering gaze picked up the silky white garment on a hanger over the door to the kitchen. He wished he could see her pretty face in the piano mirror, but the music was in the way.
She held down the last soft, delicious chord for several long seconds after the sound stopped, anticipating the pleasure to come. A wooden "thunk" sounded as she released the ivories and spun to face her prey.
His open-jawed stare was everything she had hoped for. She had applied full stage makeup today, as if ready for the Hollywood Bowl! Her brows were penciled in an upswept arc, her cheeks ruddy, and her features emphasized with unsubtle shading. Her eyes were resplendent with heavy blue shadow and white highlights, black liner, and enormous false lashes. Her lips had been enlarged with the careful application of several shades of liner and paint, with a film of glycerin to keep them sparkling-moist. Knowing that nothing was too outrageous for the inexperienced boy, she had even indulged in a beauty mark!
"Are you ready for duet practice?" she asked while retrieving the spare blouse.
"I said, are you ready?" she repeated, holding it open for him.
"Uh, yeah... I'm sorry," he mumbled. It took him some time to unfasten his own shirt, as he was unable to tear his eyes away from his inamorata. She simply smiled, and let him drink his fill while she buttoned up his blouse.
Of course, he could not begin to concentrate after they sat down. Try as he might, he could not lower his eyes from the mirror to the lesson book.
"You're beautiful!" he sighed.
"You haven't seen stage makeup before, have you Larry?"
"Huh?"
She suppressed a giggle, then explained. "I've got a performance tonight, after your lesson, so I put on my stage makeup early. Everyone who performs has to put on lots of makeup. Otherwise, the bright lights make you look like a blob of dough."
She was lying about the performance, of course. Her career in this city had ended the moment she had landed her pointed toe in the crotch of the unashamed lech who presided over the Symphonic Association.
She repeated herself. He had not picked up her suggestion the first time. "Even the men and boys have to wear makeup on stage, Larry."
"You're beautiful!" he repeated.
"Why, thank you, you're very sweet!" Undaunted, she tried once again. "You know, a pianist has to wear makeup on stage when she performs. You'll be up there, some day, too."
He looked momentarily puzzled. Was he...
"You mean I'll have to wear makeup, too?"
SHE HAD HIM!
"Of course, you will, sweetheart." She forced herself to stay calm. "It's not a sissy thing at all. You know, Roy Rogers and Gene Autry wear makeup when they make their films."
"Really?"
"Come on with me, I'll show you." She arose, took his hand, and led him into her bedroom.
He hardly noticed the frilly pink lace decor of her boudoir, intent as he was on her overwhelming presence. The whole time she worked on his face, she kept a monologue running to distract him.He was perfectly happy to sit passively while she applied the contents of one mysterious bottle or jar after another. The shiny little black mole glued to her cheek was the sun around which his eyes orbited. They watched her glistening lips work and wondered at her fluttering lashes, but always returned home to the artificial beauty spot.
"There!" she announced as she pinned a chignon to the back of his head and applied a final heavy dose of hairspray. That broke his attention from her face.
"What are you doing?" he finally questioned.
"Thank God he didn't have it in a butch!" she thought to herself. "I don't know if I could have gotten a wig on him!"
"All done!" she said aloud and spun him to face the mirror before he could realize that she had been doing more than he imagined.
She leaned over slightly so she could support his suddenly-weak shoulders. Her smile was radiant, and his totally blank.
"Isn't it wonderful?" she gushed. "We're twins!"
In the mirror, Larry saw not one, but two incredibly beautiful women. He realized that one of them was himself.
And he liked it!
"I'm beautiful, too!" he whispered.
"Even more beautiful than me!" she cooed. She thought she was lying, but an impartial witness might well have agreed.
His hand reached up to touch his face, but she stopped him. "Careful, you mustn't smear it."
His mouth finally closed. "Do you think you can try a smile?" she said playfully. He tried.
His soft, brown eyes got suddenly bigger. He spun to face her and almost shouted! "Miss Glamis, I'm beautiful! I'm beautiful!"
Dorothy pulled herself back suddenly and shot a look to the ceiling, trying desperately to hold herself together. Larry hardly noticed. He had jumped up to put his face up close to the mirror. "I'm even prettier than Linda Perry, and she's the prettiest girl in the eighth grade!" he squealed.
It was better than she had planned, better than she could have imagined. Her program for the boy suddenly expanded tenfold!
"Let's go back to the piano, Larry." She tried to take his hand.
"No!" he pulled away, returning to the mirror. "I want to look some more!"
"You can look in the piano, sweetheart! Now come on, and let's get some lessons in!" She maintained her cheerful disposition and didn't show a trace of impatience.
And now, to her astonishment, Larry tackled the lessons vigorously, instead of lolling and staring at the mirror. He accomplished more in the next twenty minutes than he normally would have in the whole hour!
Larry's glowing face glanced upwards frequently, basking in their reflections, but his primary focus was on the music. She could only shake her head and defer her planning for his future while she scrambled to keep ahead of him in the music lesson. It was not until the alarm clock signaled the end of his time that she remembered it would take at least fifteen minutes to cleanse the child's face.
"Promise we'll do this again, next time!" he pleaded as she flushed the cold cream off with the water gun from the kitchen sink. She called his mother to apologize for the lesson running over while he toweled off. She was startled when she turned around to find him wearing the blouse!
"Can I wear this home?" he asked hopefully. That took her aback, but just for a moment.
"Certainly, Larry," she smiled, thinking frantically. What were his friends' names? The ones he talked about who had teased him?
"I'm so happy for you, Larry! Mike and Randy will really be surprised when they see how pretty you are!"
In an instant, his face matched the show-white blouse perfectly. "Um... Maybe I better not wear this home, Miss Glamis. I better just wear my shirt, you know?"
"Certainly, darling, whatever you want. Let me help you with your boy-things."
He wouldn't be telling!
After he left, she pondered the speed of his transformation. It had literally taken her breath away! "Damn it, Dorothy!" she chuckled. "You're a genius!"
She was too proud of herself, too full of dreams of revenge, and too much a slave to ignorance, to realize the truth. On his very next visit, she decided, she would have him in frilly undies, hose, heels, falsies, and skirt. And on the visit after that -- anything!
The woman was so wrapped up in her plans, she couldn't see the truth. She thought she was weaving an evil net around the boy to drag him into degradation.
And while it was true that she was starting inexcusably early, tampering where she didn't belong, it was also true that she was liberating him. She was saving him.
For all the wrong reasons, Dorothy was giving Larry a chance that very few of his generation received. A chance at an adolescence and adulthood that would bypass a mountain of confusion, self-loathing, physical and mental abuse -- and possibly, suicide.
A chance to become the woman that God had intended! | 4 |
2,068 | The Execution of Kim Cho | "Kim Cho, you have been found guilty of the crime of drug smuggling. The law provides only one sentence for this crime, but allows me wide latitude in the way the sentence is carried out. Therefore, it is my judgment that you be taken from this court and transported to whatever place of execution the proper authorities deem proper, and there you be put to death by strangulation while naked. Such is the law, let it be enforced as soon as possible. May whatever god you worship have mercy upon you. Take her away."
With these words, Kim's doom was sealed. She was stripped before leaving the court and, wearing only chains, she was led out the front entrance of the building. The people in the street stared at the nude girl, and a few made comments supporting her sentence without knowing even what crime she had been found guilty of. A naked person in chains could only be a condemned criminal. Instead of being given a ride to wherever she was going to be killed, she was led staggering across the street to a small park. As a crowd gathered, she was seated in a low-backed wooden chair that was firmly staked to the ground.
Her arms were tightly bound to the arms of the chair, and her chains were removed. Tied as she was, the only thing Kim could do to salvage a small amount of modesty was to keep her legs firmly together and close her eyes. Somewhere, there was a rustle of paper. Then a loud voice-
"This person is named Kim Cho. She has been found guilty of the crime of drug smuggling. For this crime, she has been sentenced to death by strangulation. Now witness the carrying out of the sentence. See the results of committing such a crime and know that all who commit crimes will earn a similar fate."
Kim could feel all the eyes upon her. There was a sound behind her, steps. Then a cord was placed around her neck. She winced away from the deadly touch, but there was nowhere to go. However, instead of the killing pressure on her neck, there was more words and a wait. Whoever was speaking to the crowd was urging more people to stop and watch. It was quite a tableau - a young woman not even out of her teens, tied naked in a chair in the middle of a city park. She was good-looking, pretty even with small proud breasts, tiny waist, slender hips topping shapely legs. Then, all of a sudden, it was quiet.
At a signal she missed, the killing began. The cord was drawn tightly around her slim throat. The fight for life had started. Straining for any air at all, she was rewarded with small amounts of it. The pain was terrible, but she could still breathe. Forgotten was her concern over modesty. Her legs kicked and lifted her ass from the seat of the chair as she battled for her life. Those watching were getting one hell of a show. With the frantic movements of her legs, her pussy was being exposed to any who were in a place to see it. It was winking open and shut as her ass bounced in the chair. Her legs would pull her ass up and out, and then slam it back into the chair. The small tits heaved and shook with each try for air. Unable to scream in her agony, she instead gasped and gurgled. The man pulling on the cord was following his orders to make her suffer as much and as long as he could.
Blood dripped from her arms as the bonds cut into her flesh, restraining her. More blood leaked from her mouth and nose. She was dying and knew it. Still, she fought the inevitable, but she was weakening. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and the frantic movements slowed. Finally, she went limp, the cord had won. Now it was pulled tighter, forever closing her throat. She lost control of her bladder and bowels. Her body no longer had the firmness it had in life. Although her heart still beat, she was dead. Once more, the deadly cord was pulled still tighter and was then tied off to finish the killing. Those close to her could see the pulse in her neck as the blood tried to find a way to get past the closed-off vessels. Then it too slowed and stopped as the heart stopped beating and started just quivering as it too died.
The body was untied from the chair and left on the ground until darkness came. Left to the crowd with just a single bored guard watching over it. That night, she was taken away to be disposed of, just like so much garbage. | 5 |
2,210 | Clayton's Children - Moving Pictures | "Daddy?" My little girl's voice interrupts my attempts to get the characters in my current novel to behave and follow the plot I've mapped out for them.
"Yes, honey?" I say, turning my chair to face the door.
"Can I borrow the video camera so I can tape my party?" she pleads winsomely. "I promise I'll be real careful with it."
"Well, I don't know," I reply. "It's very expensive. Maybe I should tape it for you."
"But you promised me no boys," she says, "And you've let me use it before."
"That was different, I was with you then."
"But I'm older now," she argues. "I promise we'll be real, real careful."
"Okay, honey," I say, relenting. Rising from my seat, I get the camera in its case out of the cupboard and quickly run through the do's and don'ts before handing it over to her.
With a squealed "Thank you" and a bubble gum-flavored kiss, she starts to scamper off, and then abruptly slows to a sedate walk as she remembers her burden.
Smiling to myself, I watch her leave my office. Tonight was the night of my little girl's first official slumber party. She'd turned eight two days earlier, and I'd finally agreed, after two weeks of begging, that she could have her three best friends sleep over for the entire weekend in lieu of a party. Two hours earlier, three mothers had deposited three little girls on my doorstep, and with mocking references to my bravery, they'd departed for a kid-free weekend of ski slopes and ski instructors named Lars and Sven.
I too questioned my sanity in allowing the weekend-long sleepover. On her own, Cindy often proved to be more than a handful for me. One little girl multiplied by four had the potential to be very interesting in the same sense as the Arabic curse, "May you live in interesting times." Still, I felt that I had them more or less committed to reasonably good behavior, with my threat to camp in their midst for the remainder of the weekend if they let themselves get too far out of control.
Listening to the distant sounds of their childish Hollywood aspirations, I turn back to my computer and immerse myself in dragging my recalcitrant novel back on track.
***
I don't know what time their party broke up during the night, because after my daughter's departure with the camera, my muse smiled upon me, and I was only peripherally aware of the occasional squeals, shrieks, and peals of laughter coming from the other end of the house as I pounded out nearly fifteen thousand words of prose over the next eight hours or so. When exhaustion finally drove me to seek my bed, there was only silence, and when I looked in on them, they were fast asleep, cocooned in their sleeping bags.
When I finally awaken late the next morning, I'm greeted by a continuation of the same silence, and when I make my way to the kitchen for a badly needed caffeine hit, I discover a note telling me that they have gone down to the beach to collect shells and that they would be back in time for lunch.
I guess there's still a bit of naughty little boy left in me, because instead of returning to the parts of the house not ruled off-limits to my male presence, I tiptoe into their inner sanctum, feeling much the same guilty thrill I'd felt as a small boy when I'd ventured into the girls' toilets at school on a dare. The room more commonly known as the rumpus room currently bears a strong resemblance to the girls' wear department of a chain store, *after* being struck by a cyclone. What appears to be at least twenty complete changes of clothing is strewn in piles about the room. Just as it had been when I'd looked in a few hours earlier, all of the furniture is pushed back against the walls, leaving a large cleared area in the middle of the room. Two blue, a red, and a green sleeping bag are screwed up in balls on the sofa, and nearby are four collapsed bags with various items of intimate apparel spilling out of them.
Near the TV is a small table, and on top of it is my camera, connected by cables to the back of the television. Immediately, I start wondering what images of childhood innocence might be on the tape inside it.
The first thing that I discover is that they have completely drained both battery packs, but it doesn't take me long to connect up the AC adapter. I also plug in the charger and put the spare pack on charge as well. I then settle back with the detachable remote and my cup of coffee for a voyeuristic peek at an epochal event in my little girl's childhood.
The beginning of the tape is much as anyone might expect. Three giggling little girls clowning around before the camera: assuming exaggeratedly sexy poses, pushing and shoving each other, and singing along and dancing to a raucous selection of popular CDs.
I'm not exactly pleased to discover that possession of the camera is fairly evenly shared amongst all four girls. However, they all seem to handle it reasonably competently, and as they say: 'The proof is in the pudding,' and the camera had obviously survived the evening unscathed.
After about five minutes of general tomfoolery, their activity changes to a fashion show. With the girls one by one parading down the middle of the room in the various outfits now strewn around me. My little girl Zoe leads the parade, dressed in a short pleated wrap-around skirt and a simple white t-shirt.
Tiny seven-and-a-half-year-old Mary follows her, wearing one of Zoe's old 'Sunday best' outfits from two years ago, a pink and white confection of frills and lace, lacking only a huge lollipop to complete her ensemble.
Then Sally, or Stretch as her friends have taken to calling her since a recent growth spurt left her towering over the tallest of the other three, Zoe, by more than half a head, and head and shoulders over Mary. Her outfit is a floor-length black sheath dress, with enormous flowing sleeves. Her long black hair and winter pallor makes her a dead ringer for a young Morticia Addams.
The last girl, Samantha, self-consciously walks towards the camera wearing a pair of tight white shorts and a tight purple crop top that leaves her slightly bulging midriff bare. Much to my surprise, I see that the little girl, barely three months older than my own little one, is sporting a well-developed pair of boobs, easily large enough to each fill an eggcup. Much of their prominence is, I suspect, due to her somewhat plump figure, but I can't help but imagine that some of it is real.
More outfits follow, many of them totally unsuited to the season: little sundresses; short skirts; t-shirts and thin blouses; shorts and the like, and where their attire is more suited to the cold weather, it tends towards skin-tight. All in all, a slightly naughty display of preteen pulchritude which has me smiling with paternal indulgence, even as I make a mental note to pay more attention to what my little girl is wearing when she next leaves the house.
Gradually the outfits get a little tighter and more revealing. Sally, it turns out, also has the beginnings of a tiny set of boobs, and given her utter lack of fat anywhere else on her body, there is no doubting that they are the real thing. With a fatherly sigh, I wonder at the speed with which little girls seem to develop these days.At around their third or fourth change of clothing, the first bathing suit appears, and I realize that they had planned their little fashion parade as an integral part of their weekend. Again, my little birthday girl is first, wearing last year's bathing suit. I notice that they are starting to get a little tight on her, showing off the shape of her little cunny mound with just a little too much definition to be quite decent. I add another mental note to buy her a replacement when the warmer weather rolls around.
Mary's suit still fits her well enough, though it is of a surprisingly mature cut for such a little girl. It is a one-piece, pure white in color, with leg openings that rise to where her waist would be if she had one at the sides, and with a deeply plunging neckline.
Sally's suit is a fairly modest and unremarkable green and blue bikini, though something strikes me as odd. The top is very much like a crop top, the bottom edge crossing her chest and passing under her arms only a little above the bottom of her breastbone, and the bottoms cut across her tummy just a few centimeters below the slit of her belly button. However, it does fit her tightly enough to reveal a very prominent cunny mound that bulges well forward of the flat plane of her tummy, and I suddenly realize what it was that I found odd about her suit. With the waistband as high as it is, there are several centimeters of fabric covering her tummy above her jutting mons, and that causes it to be accentuated far more than if she'd been wearing a briefer suit that cut across her body at hip level. And the broad expanses of stretch fabric covering her chest have much the same effect, making it very clear that a pair of tiny boobies have begun to sprout underneath. If she'd been older, I would have thought it deliberate, but given her age, I just assumed her mother had made a poor choice, even as I mentally thanked her for that poor choice.
Samantha's suit proves to be entirely unremarkable, but to my eyes, it is still delightfully sexy. It is made of rather heavy fabric and cut in the style called boy leg, the bottoms like tight shorts that cover her from just below her navel to a few centimeters below her crotch. The top is like Sally's but more so, covering her chest from the hollow at the base of her throat to the bottom of her ribs, leaving just a few centimeters of bare skin exposed around her middle, and it fits her snugly enough to all but flatten her baby fat boobs.
From bathing suits, they return to everyday clothing, but they are far more aggressive in their presentation, twirling and lifting their skirts high enough to reveal flashes of pink, white, and yellow beneath. Sally struts towards the camera in a skirt so short that it barely covers her pink knickers, and occasionally it fails to do so. I hear my daughter's naughty giggle, and the viewpoint of the camera drops to below the level of the bottom of Sally's skirt, and zooms in to capture a tight shot of her well-filled pink knickers. "I can see right up your skirt," I hear my daughter naughtily announce.
Instead of being embarrassed as she might have been in mixed company, Sally just laughs and lifts the front of her skirt to show off the entire bulging front of her knickers. "Can you see them better now?" she asks naughtily. She then turns her back to the camera and bends over to look back between her knees, the hem of her skirt rising so high as to reveal almost all of her skinny rump. "How about this?" she giggles.
Suddenly, the picture on the screen jounces and whirls as Zoe stands and moves towards her friend. I hear a short shriek from Sally, and when the picture stabilizes, I see that my naughty daughter has given her friend a wedgie. Now most of the back of Sally's knickers are hidden inside her butt crack, and her bony backside fills most of the screen before me. What isn't bony is the thick sausage-like bulge of her cunny lips that protrudes between the tops of her skinny thighs.
"Jeez, your cunny really sticks out," Samantha giggles from off-camera with an edge of nervousness.
"You're telling me," I chuckle to myself as I adjust my rapidly hardening member to a more comfortable position.
Giggling Sally stands up, and the view cuts to Samantha in a daffodil yellow pleated wrap-around skirt over a pair of day-glo green pedal pushers. However, it would appear that the skirt belongs to little Mary, as there is so little overlap that the green of her bike shorts repeatedly flashes through. On top, she is wearing a tiny bikini top that last graced my daughter's torso some two years ago. I wonder how on Earth she had managed to get it tied around her body. A moment later, the secret is revealed when she turns, and I see the glint of a safety pin joining the two ends of the strap across her back.
Like Sally, she bends at the waist, causing the back of her skirt to lift up over her bottom. However, very much unlike Sally's bottom, Sam's is very full and round. Her pedal pushers have also ridden deep into her butt crack, forcing her buns apart and showing them off in stark relief. From the lack of lines beneath the fabric, it is obvious that nothing lies beneath her shorts but a deliciously plump little girl.
I'm somewhat surprised to discover, though, that given the amount of body fat elsewhere on her body, her cunny is all but invisible when viewed from behind like this, with only the faintest hint of a depression in the fabric continuing below the very obvious crease between her buttocks.
As Sam straightens, a hand which I presume to be Sally's appears, and I hear the sound of ripping Velcro as she whips the skirt from around Sam's hips. Sam whirls with a laughing shriek, and two cute little rolls of tummy fat come into view above the tight waistband of her bike shorts, which cuts across her belly just below her navel. And starting just a few centimeters below the waistband, I discover the reason for her lack of rearward-facing cunny. Almost all of it is right out in front. It doesn't bulge outwards like Sally's, but more or less follows the lines of her tummy. However, running down the middle is a deep and very well-defined crease that begins at about the same height as her hips. Less prominent, but still well-defined, are a pair of matching creases that angle inwards from the same height, all three creases coming together and joining with the line where her thighs are pressed together, giving a strong impression of the peace symbol of the flower power era without its surrounding circle.
Sally pushes in beside her friend and again lifts the front of her skirt to show off her bulging cunny mound. "Mine might stick out," she says, "but yours isn't exactly tiny."
"I know," Sam says, sounding rueful. "That's why my mum makes me wear those dorky bathers and undies. I can't even wear a proper one-piece because the lining doesn't come up far enough."
"Yeah, your mum is so twentieth century," Sally says. "My mum's pretty cool. She even helped me pick out my bathers so I could really show off my cunny. And the top's just as good now that I'm getting boobs."
"Well, well, well," I muse quietly. "So it wasn't a poor choice after all, but a deliberate one."
"Come on," Sally says. "Let's see how you look in my bathers."
The screen flickers, and re-stabilizes on Sam now in Sally's suit. Of course, it's somewhat too small for her thicker frame, and a fairly large roll of fat billows over the waistband, but at the same time, the tightness of the fabric ensures that her cunny is well displayed. Very well displayed. I ease my hand into the waistband of my sweats and slowly stroke my throbbing meat.
"That top looks pretty dorky," I hear Sam say in a slightly strained voice. "Take it off."
"No way!" Sam squeaks.
"Aw, come on," Sally giggles, again sounding a little funny. "No one's gonna see except us. I think you'll look cool topless, and you're the only one that's got something to show off."
"You have too," Sam says.
"Only if I'm wearing something," Sally says. "Otherwise you can hardly see them. Mum reckons they don't even count as bee stings yet. Come on, Sam, show us your tits."
"Yeah, show us your tits," my daughter says, her giggling making the picture shake.
"Show us your tits. Show us your tits," Sally, Zoe, and Mary chant in unison.
"Oh, all right," Sam giggles embarrassedly and turns her back to the camera. Struggling a little, she reaches behind her back and releases the safety pin holding her top in place, and she pulls the top over her head and throws it aside.
"Show us your tits. Show us your tits," her friends continue to chant.
With her flush extending well below her shoulders, Sam turns back to face the camera, her hands cupped protectively over her young titty mounds. As her friends continue to chant, she quickly lifts the fingers of one hand, revealing a fleeting glimpse of a little pink-capped cone, and then as she covers herself on that side, she uncovers the other for a brief moment. Back and forth, she flashes one tiny titty and then the other, and then she flashes them in unison several times before finally dropping her hands away.
Finally, I can get a proper look at them, and I have to readjust my earlier estimation that they were only baby fat boobs.For sure, a fair amount of their prominence is due to baby fat, but by no means all. Her areolae, whilst still childishly pink, are a good three centimetres across and have a slightly rounded profile in addition to the conical mounds rising beneath them. The nipples centered in them have also expanded proportionately to about half of their full adult size.
"Come on, Sally," Sam says. "It's your turn to strut your stuff."
The moment Sally appears on screen, the reason for the strain in her voice becomes painfully evident. Somehow or other, she has managed to shoehorn her long, lanky body into Mary's little white bathing suit, and the result is a sight to behold. The shoulder straps cut deep into the minimal amount of flesh above her collarbones, and her hard little titties have met their match beneath the suit's super-tight fabric, with only the tiniest of bumps to indicate the location of her nipples. I can count every one of her ribs beneath the strained cloth, and at the side, the leg openings rise well above the level of her waist.
But what really draws my eyes is her oversized cunny. Even beneath the overstrained cloth of Mary's suit, it manages to jut out defiantly, though even it cannot entirely resist the forces upon it. Stretched as it is, about half of the suit's crotch has forced its way into Sally's cunny slit, pushing the lips apart and leaving a broad strip of flushed pink labia visible on either side. As I continue to take in the details of her eight-and-a-half-year-old cunny, I realise that a semi-cylindrical ridge fills much of the top half of the wide gap between her half-crushed cunny lips. "God!" I breathe, "Is that a clit or a bloody cock?"
"Jeez, this bloody thing's cutting me in half," Sally complains, forcing a finger beneath the suit's gusset and tugging on it in a basically futile attempt to relieve some of the strain. All that she achieves is to cause the rest of the cloth to bunch up in her slit. For a few moments, the flesh of her labia is stark white where the suit has pressed on them, but they quickly darken as her blood makes its way back to the surface.
"Shit, it's no good," she says, removing her finger. Her hands struggle to work the straps over the points of her shoulders and down her arms. When she has worked her arms free, she pauses to vigorously rub her little titties. "God, my tits are itchy," she cries. A few moments later, she takes her hands away and resumes peeling the too-tight suit from her body.
Her newly budded titties are perhaps a fraction smaller than Sam's, but due to her colouration, are far darker and are already the colour of milk chocolate, despite her youth.
Suddenly, she pauses with the suit bunched up around her waist and looks up into the camera. "Are you going to point that thing somewhere else?" she asks acerbically.
"Nope," my daughter giggles. "Would you?"
"Probably not," Sally admits with a grin and pushes the suit down her legs to the floor.
Straightening, she puts her hands on her hips and thrusts her cunny towards the camera. Faint red lines bisect each of her cunny lips, showing where the legbands of the suit had pressed into them. Even though they appear to have returned to their normal shape, there is still a significant gap between her labia where they are forced apart by the thick ridge of her incredible clit.
"God, is that your magic button?" I hear Zoe ask in awed tones as she zooms in until her friend's cunny fills the screen.
"My clit, you mean?" Sally asks, her fingers appearing to peel her cunny lips apart to better show it off to the camera. And with her fingers in the picture, I'm able to see that her clitoral ridge is very nearly as thick as her little finger and almost as long as the first two joints.
"Is that what it's called?" Zoe asks, "How come I've never seen it before?"
"Actually, the proper name is clitoris," Sally says, "Clit's just for short." She giggles. "And it's definitely magic. And you've never seen it before, because I don't usually have something two sizes too small rubbing on it and making it big. But this is nothing, you should see it when it gets really riled up."
"How come it's magic?" Mary asks, the back of her head suddenly filling the screen as she leans in to take a look.
The camera draws back to encompass all three girls.
"Because it is," Sally says. "Don't you ever touch your cunny?"
"Only when I wash it and stuff," Mary admits, "Mummy says it's dirty."
"That's rich coming from a world champion rug muncher like her," Sally says.
"What?"
'WHAT!!!!?' my thought echoes Mary's, though in my case it's incredulity rather than confusion. Suddenly, I wonder if Lars and Sven figured much at all in their mothers' weekend plans.
"Uh, never mind," Sally says hastily, "Anyway, she's wrong. It's only dirty if you let it get dirty, same as anyplace else. Come on, I'll show you."
Sally leads the way over to the couch and shoves clothing and bags aside to clear a space for her to sit. However, she does not sit in any approved ladylike fashion. She sits with her bum almost on the edge of the cushion and reclines with her shoulders against the back of her couch just above where it meets the cushions. She then lifts her feet so that her heels are almost touching her bottom on either side, presenting her cunny in almost the lewdest fashion possible. A moment later, she disposes of the 'almost'.
Reaching between her ankles and her bum, she uses her fingers to pull her cunny wide open, revealing the somewhat diminished, but still remarkable length of her clitoral ridge, two thin inner lips, and a wide, dark hole that has obviously played host to more than her finger.
Recklessly, I push my sweats down my legs to expose my cock and slowly pump my fist up and down its length as I feast my eyes on the mouthwatering image filling my TV screen.
"Damn," Sally suddenly says, "I don't have enough hands. Sam, will you help me?"
"Me?" Sam asks, "What do you want me to do?"
"Just hold one side so I can point," Sally replies.
"Uh, I'm not sure I want to," Sam mumbles uncomfortably.
"Sheesh! It's not like I'm not asking you to lick it or anything," Sally says exasperatedly.
"I'll do it," my little girl volunteers, "Here, Sam, you hold the camera."
The view jiggles as the camera changes hands, and a moment later, my little girl crouches on the floor in front of Sally's left foot. "Show me where to hold it," she asks.
"Just like I'm doing," Sally replies, taking away her left hand. A trifle hesitantly, Zoe's takes its place, but her grip is so tentative that Sally's fat cunny lip barely moves as Zoe pulls her fingers back. "Sheesh, it's not going to bite you," Sally says, grabbing her wrist and pushing, "Get a proper grip."
"It's all wet," Mary says distastefully, "Is it pee?"
"Nah," Sally laughs, "That's cunny juice. It makes everything slippery so a bloke can stick his cock in there when he fucks you."
"Have you done that already?" Zoe asks incredulously. "Your hole's heaps bigger than mine."
"Not yet," Sally says, "But I've been practicing." She suddenly grins broadly, "Maybe I'll crawl in bed with your dad later and give the real thing a try."
"WHAT!!!!?" I explode, letting go of my prick, which suddenly threatens to go off like a roman candle.
"YOU WOULDN'T!" my little girl cries out.
"Only because he's so straight," Sally says, "If I was sure he'd go for it and not kick up a stink, I'd be in like a shot." She giggles, "Maybe that should be the other way around. He'd be in me like a shot."
Obviously, I'd been more successful than I'd dared hope in concealing my predilections. Shit, if she only knew. I dreamed of girls as willing and eager as Sally appeared to be, However, dreams were one thing, reality was another. Tonight I would be locking my door.
"Maybe you'd be surprised," my little girl says, "He looks at my undies all the time when it's just me and him." Oops, obviously I hadn't been as careful there.
"Really?" Sally asks, "Maybe I will pay him that visit after all."
"Not without me you won't," Zoe declares. I'll definitely be locking my door tonight, and every night from now on.
"Now that idea has possibilities," Sally giggles, "But I think we'd better concentrate on showing Mary what's what. Now open up my cunny again."
"Wow, it's a lot smaller now," Sam mumbles.
"My clit?" Sally asks, and goes on without waiting for an answer, "Don't worry, it'll soon wake up when I give it a tickle. First though, I'd better give you the thrupenny tour."
"What's that?" Sam asks.
"Something mummy reckons gran used to say, though not about this," Sally finishes with a giggle.
"Now the whole thing is usually called a cunny, or fanny, or pussy, but the real name is vulva. And these bits me and Zoe have got hold of are called labia majora, which is just a fancy way of saying big lips. I've already told you this thing here in the middle at the front is called a clitoris or clit."
"I don't think I've got one," Mary says.
"How would you know if you've never looked?" Sally teases. "Don't worry, it's there. All girls have got one. It's just that they come in all different sizes, and I'm a sort of Sally Holmes when it comes to clits."
"Interesting," I grin at the joke, which obviously passes right over everyone else's heads.
"Actually, this isn't really my clit, that's sort of inside, and I can't show it to you just yet. These here are my labia minora or little lips, or if you want to be crude, piss flaps, though mine really aren't big enough yet to do much flapping. And here-"
"Hang on," Sam interrupts, "How come you know so much stuff?"
"Mum told me," The 'of course' is silent, but nonetheless very audible, "She's a cunny doctor, remember. She spends half her day looking where you're looking at me."She figured since I was going to overhear stuff anyway, she might as well tell me everything to begin with. But don't tell anyone I told you, okay, especially your mum Mary. A lot of grownups are pretty stupid about this sort of stuff.
"Now where was I? Oh yeah, in here somewhere is my urethra, in cunny doctor talk. Everyone else calls it a pee hole or piss hole, and Mum does too when she's not doing doctor stuff. Can you see it? Sometimes it's pretty hard to find if I'm not peeing, and I don't think your dad would appreciate that here, would he, Zoe?"
"I'm not sure I would either, considering where I'm sitting," Zoe giggles. "I think I can see it. Is it that little bump with a slit in it?"
"Yeah, that's it," Sally says. "Last bit now." She curls all but her middle finger into a fist and slides that inside herself with a happy little sigh, "This hole here is where the cock goes in and the baby comes out."
"Ouch, that's gotta hurt," Sam giggles.
"Well, the coming out part always hurts, but the going in part mostly only hurts the first time," Sally says. "And I already took care of that by busting my cherry with my finger."
"What's that?" Mary asks, leaning in to peer at where Sally slowly slides her finger in and out of her vagina.
"A bit of skin that blocks your hole to keep crap out when you're a baby," Sally explains. "After that, it's just a bloody nuisance, Mum reckons. But some women have real weird ideas about keeping theirs until they get married, and guys do too, because that way they know they were the first to fuck her. But Mum reckons that's just a load of macho crap. Why should a girl let some clumsy bloke hurt her just so he can brag about fucking a virgin to his mates? She reckons it might be different if the guy knows what he's doing, but there's not many guys who do, especially younger guys. I reckon your dad might know how, considering all those books he writes."
"Huh?"
"Oh shit!"
"Oops," Sally giggles. "I guess you didn't know your dad writes dirty stories as well as kids' books. Except they don't call them that. They're true life romances," she simpers. "Mum reckons for a bloke, he's a pretty convincing woman."
"Huh?"
"He doesn't use his own name, dummy," Sally says. "Only women write true life romances. Except Mum reckons a lot are really written by men pretending to be women, like your dad."
"Why?"
"Well, it's sorta got to do with that stupid virgin stuff I just told you about," Sally explains. "A lotta girls dream about having some dumb Prince Charming for their first fuck, and when they end up with a 'shove it in and wipe it off' sorta guy like they usually do, they end up reading books about how it should have been. And they're not going to read a story about that if they know it was written by a man, because how can he possibly know what it's like."
"Then how can a man write a story like that?"
"That's easy," Sally grins. "Because he doesn't *have* to know what it's like. He just writes a lot of gooey bullshit around the sorta stuff a bloke's got to do if he's going to do it right. Sort of rub here, kiss and suck and lick there, do it gentle, go slow, go fast, and bam, fireworks. Then he wraps it all up in a 'boy meets girl' story that's a bit different from the last one, and voila, another true life romance confession."
The little shit sure has me (and every other writer of the genre) pegged to a T. However, I do wonder where she picked up so many trade secrets (not that they're really secrets) and more importantly, how did she know *I* wrote stories like that. As far as I knew, since my wife's death, only my publisher knew who Patty Dent really was, and I'd like to keep it that way, because if it became too widely known, I'd have to reestablish myself under a new name, and until I rebuilt my body of loyal readers, my royalty cheques would be a lot slimmer.
"How come you know all of this stuff about my dad and you don't?" Zoe asks.
"Your mum told my mum," Sally replies, "And she told me when she was telling me about sex and cunnies and stuff. And I guess, your dad didn't want you trying to read his stuff," she grins. "They're *real* steamy. Totally bullshit according to Mum, but really juicy anyway."
"Have you read any of my dad's books?"
"You know I have," Sally grins teasingly. "Remember you gave me a whole signed set for my birthday."
"His other books," my little girl growls her infuriation.
"Yeah, I've read most of them too," Sally giggles. "The juicy bits anyway. They're sorta fun to read when I play with my cunny sometimes."
Oh shit. My cock lurches at the thought of a little eight-year-old girl using my books for whack-off material. Not that they're anything else, but I'd always imagined my readers to be at least in their teens. And if this ever got out, I could kiss goodbye to a few more royalty cheques.
"Now don't tell anyone," Sally cautions the other girls, which has me breathing a little easier. "If people found out, they'd stop buying *all* of his books."
"Can I read the ones you've got?" Zoe asks.
"Me too," Sam and Mary declare simultaneously.
"I guess," Sally replies. "But you'd have to be real careful. Little girls like us aren't supposed to read things like that. This thing I'm playing with here is just supposed to be for peeing with."
Oh shit! This was exactly the sort of thing I wanted to avoid. I was always extremely careful to keep anything to do with my 'other' line of business locked away on heavily encrypted virtual disks, where curious little eyes couldn't see them. I wish I didn't have to write them at all, but kids' books just didn't pay the bills.
"It didn't matter when Sarah was still with us. My authoring was a nice supplement to her income, but not critical. And when I'd keyed my first 'confession' on a bet from her and had it accepted, we just had a good giggle and upgraded our holiday. After that, I pounded out a few more, and we used the money to knock a big hole in the mortgage. But since her death, they were what put food on the table.
Every now and then I had a shot at something more mainstream, but if the truth is to be told, I just didn't have the ability to turn out the sort of fully fleshed adult novel that sold well. I was good at writing for kids, but unless I managed to come up with the next 'Harry Potter,' it just wasn't enough. And if I had to be a hack writer for the adult market to make ends meet, I'd do it in an area where I could get away with the least amount of work possible so I could devote my time to what I actually enjoyed, even if the cash return was dismal."
"Wow! Look at it grow," my daughter's excited cry pulls my attention back to the screen.
Still centered in the screen is Sally's cunny, with the backs of Mary's and Zoe's heads visible to either side, while Sally's face looks down the length of her body. From one side, Sally is slowly sliding two glistening fingers of her left hand in and out of her cunny hole, whilst the thumb and forefinger of the other hand work her clitoral sheath back and forth like a small cock. In just a few moments, it has grown to the size it had been when she'd first stripped off, and as I watch incredulously, it continues to thicken until it is very nearly as thick as the forefinger manipulating it. And now, as she draws the fleshy hood upwards, a shiny pink bulb the size of a small grape appears at the tip.
"There, that's my clit," Sally says, pulling a finger out of her vagina to anoint the distended pink dome with her slimy juices. "Oh Shit!" she gasps at her touch. "It's real sensitive and feels real good when I touch it."
She slides her fingers back into the slimy depths of her pre-pubescent fuck hole, and within moments, a third finger joins the two fingers already plunging in and out with a clearly audible slurping noise. At the same time, she continues to roll her prepuce back and forth over the gleaming clit. Every few strokes, she pulls her prepuce back hard to completely expose her clit, and she slides her fingers out of her vagina to smear more of her juices over the gleaming pink bulb. The whole while, she lets out little obscenity-filled cries of pleasure.
As I watch, I slowly stroke my cock, holding myself right on the verge of what promises to be a massive orgasm. And faster than I would have thought possible, Sally works herself towards her own peak, her cries becoming shriller, more incoherent, and more obscenity-laden with every passing second. Now her fingers don't just smear her juices over her massively swollen clit. They pinch it and rub furiously for whole seconds at a time.
And with a final long drawn out cry of "MAAAAAAMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaa!" she pushes her heels into the cushions and lifts her bottom from the couch, as she reaches her climax.
Frantically, I pound away at my prick, my eyes glued to the screen as she hangs there in mid-air, her hips jouncing madly as she tortures her gigantic clit. Suddenly, to my astonishment, a stream of liquid shoots out from beneath her frenzied fingers. A second later, another follows, and then a third.
"Oh shit!" I cry out as my own climax hits me with the force of a runaway freight train. Boiling ejaculate sears from my prick, as I join the ejaculating girl child on the screen, screaming out my release, as jet after burning jet of molten lava shoots from my aching member, splattering across my face, chest, and stomach.
Long after my balls are drained of all they have to give, muscles deep within my loins continue to pulse, pumping furiously, though there is nothing left to pump. Finally, I collapse, my semen cooling on my body as I continue to stare almost mindlessly at the television screen.
For some time, there is silence.Sally has subsided back to the couch, her cunny slime-smeared left hand on the cushion in front of her arse, her right resting on her stomach, the fingers curled loosely over her gleaming, swollen cunny.
"What happened?" Zoe finally asks, half fearfully.
For several seconds longer, Sally lies unresponsive. Eventually, she works her mouth for a few seconds to moisten it. "That, my friends, was the big O," she says breathlessly. "Le petite morte; a rip-roaring climax, an orgasm; I just came my tits off. It's the best fucking feeling in the world."
Just then, a small noise from behind me catches my attention, and I turn to find myself face-to-face with all four girls standing just inside the doorway. "Oh shit!" I cry, jerking at my sweats in a frantic attempt to cover my now shriveled manhood. | 3 |
2,218 | Babysitter - Jenny | "Okay. Where to?" I ask, starting the car and pulling out from the curb.
Vanessa starts giving me directions that I follow, until after about ten minutes or so she says, "Stop here."
Obeying, I pull over to the side of the road and turn towards her. "Okay, what's this all about?" I ask. "You obviously don't live here, there's nothing here but trees."
"I know," she says quietly. "It's not far though, I just wanted to talk to you without my big brother seeing."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I say. "People might get the wrong idea if they see you alone in a car with a strange man."
"It's okay. Nobody ever comes down here on weekends," she says, trying to reassure me.
"I'm not sure that doesn't make it worse if somebody does come," I mutter, then to her I say, "Okay, but you'd better make it quick, your mom's going to start wondering where you got to."
"No, she won't. She's at the football with Daddy, and that doesn't finish till past five o'clock. That's why she would have been mad if I called her on the mobile and got her to come and get me."
"Okay," I say, "your big brother isn't looking and your mom isn't wondering where you got to, so what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"
Lifting her right leg up onto the seat, she twists around to face me and says, "Promise you won't tell anybody."
'Uh-oh,' little warning bells start to ring, and I think about it for a few seconds before replying, "Well, I can't promise outright, but I won't say anything unless I really think somebody needs to be told, and I'll tell you why I think so before I do. Is that okay?"
"Oh, it's nothing bad," she avows, "or at least not really, but it's embarrassing and I don't want everybody to talk about it."
"In that case, I shouldn't have to say anything," I reply. "So what's on your mind?"
Blushing, she squirms into a more comfortable position, leaning back against the door, and for the first time, I notice that with her right knee pressed into the back of the seat and her left foot still on the floor, her skirt has been pulled tight across her lap, exposing her nylon-encased pudenda. This time, however, the thin fabric is all but transparent, having been soaked by the sweat raised during our strenuous table tennis game.
Every detail of her little pussy is open to my interested gaze, the only effect of the damp gauzy fabric stretched tightly across her young mound being to tinge the pale flesh with pink, giving it a look of heightened arousal. Within my pants, my cock begins to stir, and to hide my beginning arousal, I match her posture and turn to face her.
"Um, it's real 'barrassing. Promise you won't laugh or anything," Vanessa murmurs quietly, blissfully unaware of just how "'barrassing' it would be if she was aware of her exposure. But since no harm was being done, I say nothing, vicariously enjoying her unconscious display.
Trying to keep her unaware of the direction of my gaze, I reply, "I promise, and I've often noticed that things aren't always as bad as they first seem, especially if you share them with a sympathetic listener."
"Well, you know how you said I was sexy?" she begins, adding as an aside, "Is it true, do you really think I'm sexy?"
"Vanessa," I reply, "I think that you are one of the most beautiful girls I've ever had the good fortune to meet, and in a few years, you will be the sexiest thing on two legs. But that's not really what you dragged me out here into the middle of nowhere to ask, is it?"
"No, but it happened then," she replies with a deepening flush.
"What happened?" I ask in confusion.
"What I wanted to ask you about," she continues, still skirting the real issue.
Sensing her hesitation, I lower my eyes from hers, incidentally getting another look at her beautiful little pussy, which for some reason seems to be a little fuller than a minute or so earlier.
With eye contact broken, she seems to gain courage, and she continues, "When you said we was sexy, I sort of felt funny, and it happens at other times too."
I immediately see where she is headed, and I wonder whether I should cut it off now or take the risk of letting it develop further. A slight shift in her posture, however, calls my attention back between her legs, and I find myself prompting her. "What do you mean 'funny'?"
"Sort of squirmy. Like butterflies in my tummy, but lower," she admits, her flush deepening as she all but whispers the last two words.
"Between your legs you mean?" I ask.
"Uh-huh," she whispers, her face burning a bright crimson. "Is that normal? I mean, I'm not sick or anything, am I?"
"Don't worry," I smile, "it's perfectly normal, and I bet you're feeling it right now, right?" I don't even have to see her nod to know this is true, as the dark patch of moisture - no larger than a five-cent piece - staining her undies attests.
"Uh-huh, it's real strong right now," she admits, "and it was even stronger the time I saw my brother rubbing his thing. Is that bad?"
"Well, it depends on how you look at it," I reply, getting a nervous giggle in response to my inadvertent pun.
"No, not like that silly," I smile, "I mean your brother would probably be upset if he knew you'd been spying on him, and your parents wouldn't like it either, because they probably think you're a bit young to know about sex yet. But so long as nobody got hurt and you don't make a habit of it, I don't think that it's anything to worry about."
"Oh, good," she says in relieved tones, "b'cause I didn't really mean to spy, I just heard him making noises like he was hurt or something. So I looked to see if he was okay, and he was rubbin' his hand up and down his thing, and it didn't look like it did when we were little. It was all swollen and red, like it was sore. Then pus came out of it, and I felt scared, so I ran away. I thought he was going to die or something, but he was all right later.
"Then after I went to bed, I heard him making those noises again, and I felt that scary feeling again, but it wasn't really like being scared. It was sort of like the good scared you get on the rides at the show, but it was different 'cause it wasn't in my tummy, it was in my privates."
"Did you touch yourself there?" I ask.
"No, Mum says it's nasty," Vanessa replies. "Does that mean Geoff was doing something bad?"
"No, it's something perfectly natural," I reply. "It's just that some grownups were told that it was bad when they were kids, so they still think it is, but nearly everybody does it sometimes."
"Why?"
"Because it feels good," I reply. "How much do you know about sex?"
"I sort of know that it's how babies are made," she replies, "Mum says I'll find out all about it when I get married."
"That's a pretty silly attitude," I say without thinking.
"Huh, why?"
"Because it can get you into a lot of trouble if you're not careful," I reply."Look, I really shouldn't be telling you this. If your mum found out, I could get into a lot of trouble."
"Oh, I won't tell," she promises quickly. "How come I can get into trouble?"
"Well, it's like this," I say. "Your mum thinks that if you don't know about something, you won't be tempted to try it. On the other hand, I think it's pretty stupid, because if you don't know what something is, you might not be able to stop it in time if somebody else tries to make it happen."
"What if you're at a party and this really cute boy tells you he knows a way to make you feel really good and he asks if you want to try it? At first, he just wants to cuddle and kiss, and since some others are doing it, you go along. Then he starts to touch you in a certain way, and that feels good, so you let him keep doing it. Then a bit later, he does something else, and that feels good, so you don't stop him, and before you know it, he's trying to make a baby inside you. All because you didn't know what he was doing, so you didn't know you should stop him."
"But wouldn't he stop if he knew he was making a baby in me?" she asks.
"It's highly unlikely. Boys don't have to carry the baby, so they don't worry about it. Also, there are ways to keep from having a baby, so even if they do think about it, they'll probably think that since you aren't stopping them, it's all right to do it."
"Do you know what an instinct is?" I ask.
"Yeah, it's like how a dog turns around a few times to flatten the grass before he lies down, even when he's on carpet," she replies.
"Exactly," I say. "It's something you can't help doing, unless you are thinking about it and make a conscious effort to control it. Now, every living thing has an instinct to make babies, and since a boy doesn't have to make much effort to make a baby, his instinct is to try and make as many as he can."
"What about girls?"
"Girls feel the same thing too. A girl, however, has to put quite a lot of effort into making a baby. First, to grow it inside her body for nine months, and then to look after it until it grows up. So they're a bit more choosy about who they do it with. The problem is that if a boy can get her feeling good enough, her instinct to make a baby can take over. Then, if it's the right time and everything goes exactly right, they start a baby growing."
"Doesn't a girl always have a baby when she does sex with a boy?"
"Has sex," I correct automatically before replying, "No, most of the time it just feels great, and that's to make you keep on doing it until you do have a baby."
"Was that why Geoff was rubbing his thing?" she asks.
"That's right," I reply. "It feels a lot like having sex does, but not as good, because nature wants people to do it together so that they make more babies."
"What about my feeling funny?"
"That's your body getting ready, just in case you might have sex," I answer. "If you see something like your brother pretending to have sex, or something happens that makes sex more likely, your body starts to send signals that feel good, just in case."
"Like when you saw us in our knickers?" she asks. Then, noticing the direction of my gaze, which had been drawn back between her legs by her mention of the word 'knickers', she yelps, "Hey, you're peeking!"
"I'm sorry," I apologize, as she hastily pushes her skirt down to cover herself.
"It's O.K. I guess," she replies, blushing. "It's like what we were talking about, isn't it? I was showing you my knickers by accident, and when I said it, you had to look, because it made you think about sex."
"Pretty much," I admit, "but I'd better confess, I've been sneaking peeks at you ever since we stopped and you turned around to face me."
Blushing furiously, Vanessa turns to face the windscreen and stares off down the road for a few seconds before saying, "And you didn't tell me because it was making you feel good, just in case, right?"
"Yeah," I confess, "but I'm old enough to know better, and I should have told you."
"But it's an instinct, so you couldn't help it, could you?" she asks, giving me an opportunity to weasel out.
However, honesty makes me say, "Well, it was, but I wasn't at the stage where I'd stopped thinking about it, so I could have stopped at any time. I just didn't want to."
"I'll bet I'd feel even more squirmy if I let you see them on purpose," she says with a sudden mischievous grin.
"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea, Vanessa," I say.
"Why not?" she asks seriously. "Would it make you try to have sex with me?"
"No, I just don't think it's a very good idea," I repeat. "You're a lot younger than I am, and it could get me into a lot of trouble."
"But only if somebody found out, right?" she asks. "Well, I'm not going to tell anybody. I won't even tell Jenny. I bet you'd like it if I showed you my knickers."
"Yes, I would," I admit. "I'd like it a lot. But if you do, it's got to be because you want to do it, not just to please me."
"Here goes," she says, blushing. Locking her eyes challengingly with mine, she lifts her leg back onto the seat and pulls the hem of her skirt above the waistband of her low-cut knickers.
Breaking contact with her eyes, I look down between her legs at her perfect little nylon-encased pussy. The visibly swollen lips are tinted pink by the fabric of her knickers, but even without that covering, they would be glowing faintly pink, as attested by the narrow strip of labial flesh exposed by her movements. Splitting her protuberant mound, a slight indentation of the fabric delineates her slit.
"Oh wow!" she gasps, "It really does make me feel squirmier."
"Me too," I breathe softly, "you have a beautiful pussy."
"But it's just a little crack," she objects.
"Not at the moment," I say, "look."
"Oh wow! It's all swelled up," she cries. "Sort of like Geoff's thing was. Is your thing like that?"
"Yes," I reply, "my penis is just like your brother's was."
"Is that what it's called?" She asks. "The boys at school call it a dick."
"Well, penis is the proper name for it, but it's also called a dick, cock, prick, and a whole lot of other names. Just like your pussy is also called a vagina, or more properly a vulva, because your vagina is actually just the hole that goes up inside you. It's also called a cunt, twat, quim, beaver, and a lot more."
"That's a bad word though, isn't it?" she asks.
"You mean cunt?" I ask in return, and when she nods, I continue, "Most of the time it is, because that's the way people mean it when they say it, but you can also use words like it to make the squirmy feeling better. Personally though, I prefer pussy, because it makes a girl purr when you pet it."
"Would it feel good if you touched my pussy?" she asks, her voice almost inaudible.
"Again, that's probably not a good idea," I say, before admitting, "but yes, it would feel good, and if I did it for long enough, it would feel very good. But I think it would be best if you did it yourself when you get home."
"But you'd like to do it, wouldn't you?" she asks, again putting me on the spot. "And you said, doing it yourself doesn't feel as good."
"Yeah, I'd like to do it, but I shouldn't," I admit. "And this is definitely not the place to do it."
"There's a fire track just up the road," she tells me. "You could drive up there, and we'd be really private."
"Are you sure?" I ask. "This is a pretty special thing, and you need to be really sure before you have sex with someone."
"Would we have to have sex if you touched my pussy?" she asks in surprise.
"Not baby-making sex," I explain, "which is when a boy puts his penis inside a girl's vagina, but there are a lot of other ways to have sex, and touching each other's sex parts is one of them."
"Would I have to touch your penis too?" she asks.
"No, you wouldn't even have to see it if you didn't want to," I reassure her.
"Oh, I want to see it," she tells me, "but I'm not sure that I want to touch it."
"That's all right," I reply, "you don't have to do anything that you don't want to."
"Can we go then?"
"Well, Stanley," I address my joyfully twitching cock, "this is another fine mess you've gotten us into."
"What?" Vanessa asks in confusion.
"Joke, Hon," I reply, while starting the engine. "I was telling my cock off for getting me into trouble."
"How come?"
"Because most people think little girls like you aren't supposed to have sex, especially with a man," I explain. "And they think that men like me who like to show little girls about sex are bad."
"Even when I want you to?" she asks in surprise.
"Even then," I confirm. "They'd say I forced you into it, and you were too young to know what you were asking."
"That's silly," she says. "I really do want you to do it, and you wouldn't force me to do anything I didn't want to, would you?"
"Never," I reply. "I'd never do anything you or anyone else didn't want me to do. All you ever have to say is stop, and that will be the end of it."
"Well, let's go then," she says impatiently, flapping her skirt to get my attention.
Grinning, I pop the clutch and take off, leaving a rooster tail of road dust and gravel behind us as I head for the fire track half a mile down the road.
Less than five minutes later, I pull up under an enormous ghost gum and kill the engine. For another minute, both of us stare silently through the windscreen, neither of us wanting to be the first to speak.
Finally, though, Vanessa breaks the silence, saying, "I've got to ask you, don't I?"
"It'd be better if you tell me exactly what you want me to do," I reply. "I want you to feel like you're in total control the whole time."
Blushing furiously, Vanessa fumbles with her seatbelt, giggling nervously as she fails twice before finally succeeding.Released, she shuffles across the seat until her thigh touches mine. "I want you to do it," she mumbles quietly.
"Do what?" I ask, wanting her to express herself exactly.
"Lift up my skirt and look at my knickers again," she replies almost inaudibly.
"Okay," I say, "tell me when you want me to go further."
Moving slowly so as not to startle her, I turn to face her and reach across to place my right hand on her leg, just above her knee. She shudders slightly at the touch, and I pause, waiting for her jerky nod before continuing.
Caressing her thigh softly, I slowly move my hand upwards until my fingers brush against the hem of her short, pleated skirt. Once more I pause, waiting for a signal to continue, and when I receive it - again a slight nod - I take hold of the soft fabric and carefully lift it upwards until I can tuck it into the waistband. Taking my hand away, I lower it to her knee and tarry to gaze upon her sweet innocent charms.
With her legs pressed together, the tension has been taken out of the fabric of her knickers, and the cloth sags slightly, leaving her hairless little quim visible as only a vague shadowy indentation at the juncture of her thighs.
Waiting for her to become accustomed to my extreme proximity, I let my hand rest where it is, gently rubbing my thumb back and forth over the exquisitely soft skin of her leg. Then as she relaxes, I apply a gentle outward pressure to her leg. She offers no resistance to my touch, allowing me to guide her leg until the edge of the seat prevents further movement, then without any additional urging on my part, she lifts her other leg to rest on top of mine.
"Beautiful," I murmur, as once again the sheer fabric of her knickers is molded to the smooth, soft curves of her delightful young pudendum.
For several seconds nothing more is said as I drink in the enchanting vision. Her quiet, "Touch me," gives me the permission that I have been waiting for. However, rather than moving directly to her vulva the way she seems to expect, as indicated by the slight tensing beneath my hand, I gently rub my hand up and down her leg, approaching the juncture of her thighs a centimeter at a time.
Finally, as the inside of my thumb brushes against the delicate, yielding softness of her nylon-encased pudenda, a strong shudder ripples through her slight frame and a quiet moan escapes her slightly parted lips. Then as I slide my hand away, another moan emerges, and she pushes upwards with her hips, sliding a little toward the edge of the seat.
Encouraged, I press more firmly against the resilient flesh of her precious, pre-teen mound, drawing another murmuring sound of pleasure from her throat. With my hand encircling her upper thigh, I softly trace the elasticized leg band of her skimpy knickers with the ball of my thumb.
"Mmmmm, that's nice," she tells me, smiling happily.
I press a little harder, angling my thumb so that the elastic of her leg band begins to ride over the top, and with each pass, move a fractional inch closer to her waiting slit. As I close on her cleft, Vanessa begins to respond to my touch, her hips rocking in gentle counterpoint to the motions of my thumb.
At the base of her cloven mons, my ultimate goal makes itself apparent, her juvenile juices staining the fabric of her knickers in an ever-widening circle. The sweet, delicate aroma of childish arousal fills the air of the car.
Finally, my thumb slips into the soft, warm crease separating her smooth, hairless pussy lips, and my thumb brushes over the extended tip of her sensitive clit. The sudden heightening of sensation causes her to suck in her stomach with a sharply indrawn breath.
Released from the waistband, her skirt slides down over my hand, concealing her sweet charms from my gaze. Uncharacteristically irked, I make a sharp abortive motion to flick it aside with my hand, only to be brought up short by my thumb caught in the front of her knickers.
My sudden motion breaks the spell holding Vanessa, making her giggle, and reach down to take hold of the hem of her skirt, but instead of lifting it back up, she pulls it down hard over my wrist, trapping my hand against her leg.
Afraid that I have scared her, I look up into her face only to be met by a cheeky grin. "I didn't say you could touch *inside* my knickers," she teases me.
Matching her tone, I respond, "Well, I'd better take it out then."
"Don't. You. Dare," she enunciates forcefully.
Although able to move my hand beneath her skirt, I hold it still, saying, "Well, we seem to be at something of an impasse. What next?"
"Hmm," she murmurs with mock thoughtfulness, "my skirt seems to be in the way. Do you think I should do something about it?"
"I guess we could wait until my hand drops off," I reply.
"Nah," she grins, "I think something else should come off instead."
The flatulent rip of parting Velcro rends the air as she lifts her bottom clear of the seat and tosses her skirt over the back of the seat with a flourish. "Ta da!"
Presented with the slightly rounded, eight-inch-wide expanse of clear, pale skin between the low waistband of her knickers and the ragged edge of her hacked-off tank top, it is my turn to express my pleasure with a sharply indrawn breath. My eyes, however, are inexorably drawn lower by the sight of one bare, hairless labium, exposed by my earlier attempt to rid myself of the now-absent skirt.
"Do you like my pussy?" she giggles, half wickedly, half nervously.
"It's a very pretty pussy," I reply, stroking the ball of my thumb over the soft, hairless ridge of flesh.
For a few seconds, she all but purrs at my soft, gentle touch, then without warning, she lightly slaps my wrist. "Stop that!" she giggles, "I want to ask you something."
"Yes?" I ask, pausing with my thumb still touching the soft, flawless skin of her bulging pre-teen mound.
"It felt real good when you were rubbing my pussy," she says, "then when you touched the middle, it felt like an electric shock. How come?"
"Have you ever tried to look inside your crack?" I ask.
"When I was a little kid," she replies, "but Mum told me it was bad and I shouldn't do it."
"Well, just inside your crack, up near the top, there is a little knob of flesh called your clitoris or clit for short. It's full of nerves, and when you get excited, it swells up and sticks out a bit," I explain.
"Show me," she commands.
Lifting my hand from her leg, I use my left hand to pull her knickers to the side, fully exposing her jutting mons to my gaze. For more than a few seconds, I simply stare at her perfect, hairless mound, cleft in twain by a thin vertical slit. Toward the very top, at the apex of her prominent mound, the slit widens slightly, parting to make way for the small, pink nodule of her clit.
Suddenly, I am brought back to earth as, with the impatience of youth, Vanessa verbally prods me, "Well, hurry up and show me."
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I use my thumb and middle finger to part her soft, resilient labia. Again, I pause to take in her sweet charms. Bounded on either side by her partially flattened pussy lips, a glistening coral-pink crease stretches from her stiff little clit down to the rose-pink dimple surrounding the dark, centimeter-diameter entrance to her young vagina.
Placing my index finger within this flushed, rosy groove at the base of her clit, I push upwards, forcing it to stand clear of its protective hood. Indicating the glistening little pearl, I ask, "There, can you see it?"
"Sort of," she replies, straining her neck to see better, "but not very well."
"Damn, I wish I had a mirror," I mutter.
"I've got one in my makeup case," she offers helpfully. Even as she speaks, she twists from beneath my hands and climbs up onto the seat.
Leaning over the back of the seat, she reaches for her bag, which is just out of reach. Not lifting a finger to help, I watch her little bum wriggle delightfully beneath its totally inadequate covering as she pushes herself back until she finally overbalances, her hands on the seat behind me, and the middle of her thighs resting on the back of the seat.
Unable to resist the temptation, I reach back and playfully slap her tight little bottom, once on each cheek. She lets out a sound that is half outraged squeal and half giggle. Trapped as she is, she can do little to stop me, so I repeat my mischievous abuse of her quivering little derriere. Again, she squeaks her indignity and tries to escape by pulling herself the rest of the way into the back seat. However, I'm not yet finished with my delicious little target; restraining her by one ankle, I slide my hand up the back of her leg and over the taut mounds of her buttocks. Gripping the waistband of her knickers, I draw them down to the tops of her thighs and lay a rapid volley of light taps on her wriggling bum, continuing until her giggles become too much for her and she slithers helplessly into the back seat.
Scrambling out of my reach, she jerks her knickers back up over her hips and glares unconvincingly at me for a few seconds before succumbing to another fit of giggles. When she recovers, she informs me in a pouting voice, "You're bad. You touched my botty."
Then, having delivered her accusation, she climbs up onto the seat and points her 'botty' at me as she crouches over her bag. For a few seconds, I stare at it and the pouting split mound beneath it as she rummages through the contents of her bag. Then, as her delving continues beyond the point where she could have emptied her bag several times over, I realize that she is waiting for me to be 'bad' again.
Twisting in my seat, I catch her watching me out of the corner of her eye as I reach toward her upthrust rear end. Cupping my hand for maximum auditory effect, I bring it down with a satisfying ringing crack.
"Ouch!""she squeals unconvincingly and rises up onto her hands and toes as I lift my hand.
I apply another nine noisy but painless blows to her slowly swaying bottom, watching in amazement as the dark patch marking the entrance to her vagina blooms rapidly. Within seconds, the entire area covering the twin ridges of her pouting labia becomes all but transparent, revealing every detail of her young sex in exquisite detail.
The look she throws me when I stop is frankly disappointed. Then when I make no move to resume, she digs into her bag, immediately coming up with a compact.
Standing on the back seat, she keeps her back to me as she throws her leg over the back of the front seat, presenting me with a perfect view of her nylon-clad, pre-teen pudenda, and filling my nostrils with her irresistible scent. Lifting her other foot from the seat, she lies along the back of the front seat, straddling it with her pussy less than a foot from my face.
Prompted by some wicked demon within me, I blow a stream of air onto the saturated scrap of cloth covering her hairless little pussy. Shocked by the sudden chill between her legs, she squeals and tumbles the rest of the way into the front seat, her heel narrowly missing my jaw as she lands half in my lap.
However, my laughter dies before it begins as I see the scared look on her face as she tentatively reaches down to touch herself between her legs. The moment her finger touches the damp fabric, she jerks it back with a look of immense distaste on her face.
Looking at me accusingly, her almost tearful lament, "You made me wet myself," brings the laughter back to my lips.
One look at her face, though, makes me choke it back and hasten to reassure her, "Hey, it's okay. You haven't peed your pants."
"Well, what is it then?" she asks, struggling to sit up.
"You know how I told you about your body getting ready to have sex?" I ask. When she nods, I continue, "Well, part of getting ready is to make some slippery stuff so that it doesn't hurt when a boy's penis goes into your vagina, and so that it slides in and out easily."
"Here," I say, taking hold of her hand and folding three of her fingers into a fist, leaving her index finger extended. "Drag your finger over your belly."
Guiding her hand, I press her finger hard enough against her belly to make her grimace a little as the skin catches and wrinkles. Still holding onto her hand, I push her finger against the fabric covering the entrance to her vagina, grinning at her distasteful expression. "Now try it again," I say, releasing her hand.
She does as I instruct, her eyes widening in surprise as her finger slides almost frictionlessly across her abdomen. "Hey, it's really slippery," she cries, then remembering what I'd said a few moments earlier, she asks, "Does a boy's penis really go inside a girl's vagina? Is that how they have sex?"
"That's right," I reply, "it's called sexual intercourse, or to use naughty words, fucking, screwing or rooting."
Like the little girl she is, she giggles embarrassedly at the rude words, and reminded of a preschool toilet humor joke I'd heard once, I go on, "Poo poo, pee pee, booby booby, bum."
Totally out of proportion to the joke, she doubles up, holding her belly as gales of laughter leave her totally helpless. Then as she begins to recover, I dig my fingers into her side, renewing her giggles and making her squirm in an attempt to protect her vulnerable ribs. A minute later, I desist as she cries out, "Stop or I really am going to pee."
With heaving ribs, she regains her composure, eying me warily as she slowly straightens. Then without warning, she launches herself at me, her hooked fingers reaching for my ribs. Laughing, I let her tickle me for a few seconds, then retaliate in kind, causing her to become wedged between me and the steering wheel.
"Stop, stop!" she gasps.
"And if I don't?" I ask, pausing with my fingers still touching her ribs.
"No, please," she pleads, "I really gotta pee bad."
"Can I watch?" I ask, grinning.
"God no!" she yelps, jerking upright with a rosy flush on her cheeks. Seconds later, the flush deepens, and almost wonderingly, she says, "Oh wow, thinking about you watching me pee is making me feel all squirmy again."
"So can I watch?" I ask.
Avoiding my eyes and blushing furiously, she whispers, "Okay."
Opening the door, she clambers out of the car and waits as I crawl across the seat and follow her. Then, even though there is nobody within sight, she moves behind the trunk of the tree I'd parked under. When I join her a moment later, I pause, struck dumb by the mythical sight that greets me.
Her hair shimmers like spun gold in the dappled sunlight streaming through the canopy above, and the little clothing that she still wears blends almost imperceptibly with her pale skin, leaving her as if naked before my sun-dazzled eyes. This, coupled with her slight frame and elfin features, leaves me with an otherworldly image of a hamadryad caught in the process of merging with her tree.
Suddenly, the spell is broken by her giggling, "You'll catch a fly if you're not careful."
"Huh?" I ask dumbly.
"Shut your mouth, silly," she giggles.
"Oh," I say, shaking my head, "I couldn't help it, you looked like a goddess standing there beside your tree."
"Really?" she squeals, "Did I really?"
"Honey, I wish I'd had a camera," I say softly, "you looked like something out of this world."
"That's naughty," she giggles, "I bet you just want to take pictures of me with hardly any clothes on."
"No clothes'd be better," I whisper, making her blush and giggle nervously.
She seems to think about my words for a few seconds, then, reaching a decision, asks quietly, "Want me to take them all off now?"
"Honey, I'd love it, but only if you want to do it," I reply.
"Uh-huh," she nods, "Thinking about it is making my tummy do real big flip-flops."
Still possessed of a small vestige of modesty, she turns her back to me and, crossing her arms across her chest, draws her top off with a smooth economy of motion that is in its own way more erotic than any ecdysiastic performance. Hanging the scrap of cloth on a broken branch stub, she glances back at me, catching me adjusting my prick into a more comfortable position.
A sudden grin flits across her features, and she puts a sensuous sway into her hips as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of her knickers. Pausing for effect, she glances back over her shoulder, then begins to slowly inch first one side, then the other, of her knickers downward. With the top half of her buttocks revealed, and the fabric of her knickers beginning to sag, she turns to face me.
Slipping her fingers around toward the front, she gives me a brief, split-second, flash of her rounded pudendum, before once again turning her back to me. Then, bending forward, she pulls them down to her knees and reaches back to pull her buttocks apart, exposing the pale pink rosette of her anus and, below it, the split-out thrust mound of her swollen, glistening labia.
My cock twitches at the obscene sight presented to me, and she grins a wicked upside-down grin when she sees me adjust it once again. Then I spoil it for her by saying, "I can see what you had for breakfast."
Snorting loudly, she loses her balance and tries to take a step forward, only to be brought up short by the knickers about her knees. Two or three hobbling steps later, she manages to regain her balance and stand, uttering disgustedly, "Eew, gross!" as she wipes her arm across under her nose, then again, "Yuck!" as she surveys the gooey ribbon of snot adorning the back of her forearm.
I can't help laughing at her revolted expression, and the glare I get in return would melt battle steel. Still chuckling, I take my handkerchief from my pocket and offer it to her. "Here."
She rudely snatches at it, first scrubbing under her nose and blowing into it with excessive noisiness, then wipes down the length of her arm before throwing the sodden wad of cotton back at me. Handling it with mock distaste, I shove it back in my pocket and grin at her. "Better?"
"No!" she yells, stamping her foot. However, her knickers are still about her knees, and she stumbles once again, falling against my chest with an involuntary giggle. "Stupid undies."
"Here, let me," I say. Dropping to my knees on the hard clay, I find myself looking down on her pussy from just a few inches above it. A dusting of fine, almost invisible hairs coats her bulging mound and pale, puffy lips, juvenile precursors to the coarser mat of hair that will come with advancing maturity. But for now, her prepubescent genitals lie revealed in all their perfect, unsullied glory.
"Hey, you're supposed to be getting these bloody stupid knickers off," she admonishes.
"Oh, yeah, so I am," I briefly grin up at her, then go back to staring at her outstretched mound. "But it's such a pretty pussy."
I take hold of the sides of her knickers and draw them down to her ankles, holding the leg holes open so that she can pull her sneakers through and step out of them. Now totally naked except for her shoes, she takes a step backwards and assumes a slightly aggressive stance, her hands on hips thrust slightly forward, and her feet about eighteen inches apart.
"You better move," she warns, "I'm gonna do it standing up like a boy."
Wanting to get the best view possible, I shuffle sideways until I am outside the splash zone and drop back onto my heels, putting her sweet little cleft just below my eye level. Grinning up at her, I say, "Okay, fire away, m'laddo."
Giggling, she makes a tunnel of her thumb and fingers, holding them at the top of her mound as if taking aim with, what would be for someone of her size, a monster cock.She pushes her hips a little further forward, and her forehead furrows a little in concentration. Then, a few seconds later, she lets out a little sigh of relief as a small spurt of pale yellow pee squirts from between her puffy pussy lips, just beneath her curled little finger. That first spurt quickly slows to a dribble that splashes into the dust between her toes, then rapidly gains force, emerging in a strong parabolic stream that impacts a good two feet in front of her.
My cock, which had been about three-quarters hard since we had left the car, suddenly springs painfully to full rigidity at the incredible, erotic sight of this ten-year-old enchanted creature peeing for me. Unwilling to miss a single second, I endure the discomfort of my achingly folded member as I watch the golden stream slowly lose strength, until the last dribble splashes once more between her toes, leaving a final shimmering droplet of urine clinging to the right-hand lip of her vulva.
"Your turn," she announces with a glance toward my groin.
"Don't need to," I say as I rise to my feet with a groan.
The disappointed look that passes across her face lets me know what she really wants, even if I hadn't already known. I chuckle, saying, "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't anyway."
"Why not?"
"I'd be pissing up my nose if I tried. And why didn't you just ask for what you really wanted?"
Blushing, she remains silent, but her eyes, fixed as they are on the bulge in my trousers, are as eloquent as any words she might utter.
"You want to see my cock, don't you?" I ask her.
"Uh-huh," she nods, her flush extending down her tiny erect nipples.
"Here or do you want to wait until we get back to the car?"
"Back in the car, I guess," she says, lifting her top off its hook, "I gotta wipe up."
Keeping her feet just far enough apart to lend an unnatural roll to her gait, she passes in front of me, which lets me watch the rhythmic clenching of her tight boyish buttocks. Taking a couple of tissues from her bag in the back, she carefully dries her hairless, little mound, then looks around for a place to dispose of the soiled wad.
"Put 'em in the ashtray," I tell her, "I'll get rid of them when I get home."
"Thanks," she says while doing as I'd suggested, then, still naked, slams the back door and waits for me to crawl back into the front before slipping in beside me.
"O.K., big boy," she says in sultry tones spoiled by the giggle that follows, "show me what you got."
Starting at the top, I slowly unbutton my shirt, tugging it out of my waistband to get at the last button. Then, when I fold it back to either side, she giggles, "Wow, you look like a gorilla. Can I touch it?"
"If you like," I reply.
Reaching out with one hand, Vanessa pats at the dense mat of hair covering my chest and abdomen, then combs her fingers through it, her delicate touch sending deliciously icy fingers crawling up my spine. "It's softer than it looks," she says wonderingly. A few seconds later, she withdraws her hand and waits expectantly for me to continue.
The rattle of my belt buckle sounds unnaturally loud in the still silence of the bush. Then, as I reach for the button fastening my trousers, I hear Vanessa's sharp intake of breath. With my fingers on the tab of my zipper, I pause teasingly, then slowly lower it, each rifle-like crack of the parting teeth sounding distinctly in the charged atmosphere.
Finally, the zip is low enough for me to take hold of the waistband of my slacks. Lifting my hips, I push them down to mid-thigh, leaving the outline of my rigid prick clearly visible through the tightly stretched fabric of my jocks.
"Would you like to do the rest?" I ask, looking to Vanessa's eyes.
She responds with a frightened shake of her head, so I ask, "Are you sure about this? We can stop if you want."
"No, I want to see it," she says hurriedly.
"O.K., here goes then." Seizing the last scrap of cloth covering me, I push them down to my trousers and lean back.
Vanessa gazes with rapt fascination at the rigid shaft of flesh rising up from the curly thatch of hair covering my groin to lie against my belly. Surmounting the shaft, the shining purple glans flares out over the wrinkled collar of my foreskin, with a glistening drop of precum beginning to weep from the open slit at the tip.
Several tense seconds pass, then Vanessa breaks the spell by saying, "You *do* have a hairy bum."
The incongruity of her words cracks me up, causing me to laugh uproariously for a considerable amount of time. Vanessa's higher-pitched giggle joins with my laughter as she falls against me. Then, as our mirth turns to gasping pants punctuated by the occasional snort, she suddenly goes stiff in my arms. At the same time, I realize that her hand is resting on my now limp member, pressing it into my leg.
Her hand jerks back as if she had been scalded, and both of us begin to apologize at the same moment, stopping and starting again simultaneously until we once more break out in fits of the giggles. For two or three minutes, we dare not look at each other until Vanessa says, "It wasn't like I thought it'd be."
"And how was that?" I ask.
"Sort of slimy and gross, I guess," she replies, "but it was just sort of warm."
"Well, is your curiosity satisfied?"
"Yeah," she says, "How come it's got small like that?"
"You don't think we blokes walk around like we've got a hunk of salami in our pockets all the time, do you?" I ask with a smile.
"I dunno," she says, "I never seen one properly before, except for babies and my brother's when we was little."
"Well, most of the time, it's small and soft like this," I explain, "it only gets big and hard when I think about sex."
"Can you make it get big and hard?" she asks, "I want to see what it feels like then."
My cock twitches at the thought of my tiny ten-year-old companion's fingers on it.
"Did I do that?" she asks in amazement, her eyes fixed on my slowly expanding member.
"What do you think?" I respond.
"I think that you want me to rub it with my hand like my brother was," she replies.
Another twitch of my cock signals my agreement, and she giggles, "I think that you want to put it here." She slips her hand between her legs and drags her slim fingers over her full labia, stopping with her middle fingertip nestled at the very top of her slit.
Instant hardon. My cock impacts on my lower belly with a meaty slap, causing Vanessa to squeal with surprise. "Oh wow, you want to fuck me," she says, her voice containing a mixture of fear and carnal hunger.
"I don't suppose there's any point in trying to deny that particular charge," I chuckle, then continue more seriously, "But I promise you that if it ever happens, it won't be until you are absolutely sure that you are ready, and it won't be some hurried quickie in the back seat of a car."
"Will you really do it when I want to?" she asks, the fear receding from her voice.
"Only if it's possible for us to do it without causing any trouble," I reply.
"Of course," she agrees in matter-of-fact tones. "How do I keep from having a baby?"
"Well, in your case, you don't have to worry until you after you start having periods," I reply, "Do you know what they are?"
"Yeah," she replies in tones reserved for brussels sprouts and maiden great aunts, "that's when girls start bleeding down there. I think it's gross."
"It's not that bad," I say, "at least you don't have to stuff a bloody great hunk of sponge between your legs like your grandmothers had to do."
"Yecch!"
"Or how about a nice dry cow patty," I continue with a grin.
"No way!" she exclaims, "I don't believe you."
"It's the truth," I say, "some primitive tribes used to use dried animal dung, and they used it instead of nappies too. Look it up if you don't believe me."
"I'm glad I didn't live back then, then," Vanessa says with some relief, adding with morbid curiosity, "What else did they do?"
"Let's see, they chewed up food for babies and old people without any teeth. They made white leather by soaking it in buckets of piddle. To this very day, there are people in Africa who eat nothing but milk mixed with the blood of their cattle. People used to use spices to hide the taste of rotten meat because they didn't have refrigerators."
"How come people talk about the good old days, then?" Vanessa asks.
"Because everybody prefers to remember the good things that happen to them and they forget about the bad," I explain.
She nods thoughtfully for a few seconds, then picks up her compact from where she'd dropped it on the floor. Handing it to me with a broad grin, she says, "I want you to do something *bad* to me now."
"O.K., bad girl," I say, kicking my shoes off and pushing my pants down onto the floor. I lift her across me and lean back into the corner formed by the back of the seat and the door, then pull her back against my chest. "Lean back against me and put your foot up on the seat."
She does as I ask, resting her head in the hollow of my left shoulder. I examine the compact, discovering that the lid easily detaches from the base and that the mirror itself is of the magnifying variety.
Handing the mirror back to Vanessa, I say, "O.K., hold this so you can see between your legs properly, and I'll show you what's what."
"Oh wow!" she exclaims, "I can see everything."
"Well, that was the general idea," I respond dryly.
"Oh yeah," she giggles. Grabbing my hand, she pulls it against her mound, commanding, "Hurry up, I want to feel good again."
"O.K., O.K.," I say, "don't get your knickers in a knot."
"Haven't got any," she giggles, "Hurry up."Insinuating my right arm between her and the seat, I trace her outer labia, saying, "These are your labia majora, which means 'big lips.' They protect the rest of your pussy and help to keep it clean."
Gently prying them apart, I continue, "Okay, inside you should be able to see two little strips of skin." I feel her nod against my chest. "They're your labia minora, or 'little lips,' or if you want to be really crude, your 'piss flaps.'" She giggles at the appellation, causing my fingers to slip deeper into the soft folds of her preteen vulva.
"Ooh," she murmurs with a delightful squirm. "Do that again."
"We'll get to that in a minute, little Miss Impatience," I reply chidingly. "Your little lips do pretty much the same job as the big ones, but do you see the little knob at the top where they join together?"
"Uh-huh," she nods, "that's my clit thingy, isn't it?"
"That's right," I say approvingly. "That's your clit, clitoris, clitty, love button, 'little man in a boat,' plus a few more names besides. Well, your inner lips stop it from chafing between the big ones and making you squirmy all the time."
"'Little man in a boat'?" she inquires.
"Well, don't you think it looks a bit like a canoe?"
"Oh yeah," she giggles. "What's that little hole just underneath him?"
"That's your pee hole," I reply, "and down here at the bottom," I cover her vaginal entrance with the tip of my finger and press gently, "is your vagina."
"Your penis wouldn't fit in there," she says disbelievingly, "it's way too small."
"You'd be surprised just how much it stretches," I reply. "How do you think the baby comes out?"
"It comes out of there?" she asks incredulously. "Wouldn't that hurt?"
"That's right, the baby comes out the same way it goes in," I say. "And yes, it does hurt. Quite a lot sometimes, but these days, doctors can make it so you don't feel it if you don't want to."
"Can you make your finger go in like a penis? I want to feel what it's like," she asks.
"Yes, but not just yet," I reply. "Remember how your finger dragged before? Well, you wouldn't want a Chinese burn in your pussy, would you?"
"No way!" she yelps, her hands snatching at my wrists.
"Don't worry," I chuckle. "You just need to be wet and slippery again."
She relaxes her death grip on my wrists and snuggles back against my chest. "Okay, you can make me feel good now."
Grinning at her matter-of-fact tone, and knowing it won't last, I begin to gently caress her upper thighs, lightly running my fingertips up her legs, stopping within millimeters of her waiting pussy lips, then dragging my fingernails back down to her knees. Almost immediately, tiny shudders begin to course through her body as she gives herself completely over to my touch.
By the third pass up and down her soft legs, I begin to smell the incredible scent of her rising arousal. Teasingly, I add brief, fleeting touches along her swelling labia, each flickering caress drawing a tiny moan from her slightly parted lips. Leaving my right hand to gently frolic over her warming mons, I trail the fingers of the other upwards over her belly, making the soft flesh quake with the new sensations that I am introducing into her responsive young body.
Arriving at my goal, I gently circle each tiny pink nipple once, then gently pinch one of these minute protuberances, receiving a sharp gasp for my troubles as her lithe young body arches with reaction.
Between her tender young thighs, her juices are beginning to flow freely, allowing me to begin a series of long, firm strokes from the base of her mons to the apex. My fingers, cushioned by her plump labia, gently crush her turgid clitoris, bringing a long, shuddering groan from her flushed throat.
Returning to the bottom of her tight little slit, I insinuate a finger between the slick, hairless lips of her pussy, gently probing at the entrance to her vagina. Like the tiny mouth of a suckling baby, it almost seems to draw my finger inwards, enveloping the first joint in a slick little tube of rippling flesh.
"Oh!" She finds voice, uttering a girlish squeak of pleasure as, for the very first time, she feels something penetrate her tiny elfin body. Keeping my finger curled to avoid damaging the fragile membrane of her hymen, I gently finger her tight, gripping sheath.
Each short stroke within her swollen pussy brings another throaty cry to her lips, her head lolling feebly from side to side. "Oh. Oh. Oh. OH!" She expels her breath almost explosively as I strum my thumb over the distended bulb of her clit. Within my arms, she writhes weakly, her entire being caught up in the powerful sensations radiating out from between her legs.
"Oh, something's happening!" she cries weakly. "Oh no, what is it? Oh. Ah. Please. Yes! No! Yes! No! More! Don't stop. Please. Oh God. Yesssss! Ah-ah-ah-ah-AH-AH-AH-AHHHhhhhh...." She gives voice to her orgasm with a long, shuddering, breathy cry.
Caught up in the throes of her climax, she thrashes her head from side to side as her tight, silken sheath rhythmically squeezes the tip of my finger. As her orgasm passes its peak, I slow, then stop my gentle finger-fucking, leaving my finger within her as I gently massage the top of her mound, where it curves back to meet her belly, with my thumb. Lifting my left hand to her forehead, I gently smooth her hair back, soothing her, letting her know that someone is there to hold her as she comes down from the most intense experience she has undergone in her young life.
"Oh boy," she finally breathes, "that was awesome."
"Something else, huh?" I whisper into her hair.
"And then some," she replies. "No wonder Mum doesn't want me to know about it. If I was a little kid, I'd be doing it all the time."
"And now?" I ask with a smile.
"Oh, probably only ten or twenty times a day," she giggles.
"Hedonist," I accuse, giving her clit and right nipple a flick with my thumbs.
She emits a little yelp in response to the impertinent touch, her hand sliding down to cover and protect the more sensitive point of attack. "Hey, you've only got a little bit of your finger in me," she cries in surprise.
"I didn't want to break your cherry," I explain.
"What's that?"
"A little piece of skin that blocks off most of your vagina to help keep it clean when you are young," I say. "It gets torn away the first time something is put deep into your vagina."
"Does it hurt?" she asks a little fearfully.
"That's difficult to say," I reply. "Some girls hardly feel it when it goes, others find it pretty bad, and some never notice it at all. A lot of it's got to do with how ready you are. If you're all dry and scared, it'll almost certainly hurt like hell. On the other hand, if you're really juicy and just about to pop off like you did a couple of minutes ago, you shouldn't have any trouble."
"My advice is to wait until you have plenty of time alone, and break it with the handle of a hairbrush or something similar while you're masturbating."
"What's that?"
"Playing with your pussy, so that you have an orgasm," I explain.
"Wha-"
"That really good feeling you got at the end," I interrupt the inevitable inquiry.
"A boy can do it with his penis, can't he?" she asks.
"Some girls like to do it that way," I reply. "To them, it's a symbol of becoming a woman. But if their lover isn't caring and gentle, it can turn what should be a beautiful experience into something filled with nothing but blood, pain, and disappointment."
"Does it bleed much?"
"There's always some blood, so you should be ready for it and not get it all over the sheets," I reply. "At least if you want to avoid any awkward questions from your mother."
"Yeah, that would be sort of hard to explain," she giggles. Then, with one of the mercurial changes of tack common to youth, she asks, "Do boys get that orgasm thingy too? Is that when the pus stuff comes out?"
"Yeah, boys get to feel good too," I chuckle. "But what you saw is not pus. It's nothing at all like it. What you saw come out of your brother's penis is called semen, and it has millions of tiny little cells in it called sperm. When one of them joins up with an egg cell inside a woman, it becomes what grows into a baby."
"And I start making eggs after I have my periods, right?" Vanessa asks.
"Exactly, your periods happen when your body is discarding the old lining of your womb, which is where the baby grows in your tummy. Every four weeks or so, a fresh lining grows inside it, and if your egg isn't fertilized, it gets rid of the old lining and starts making a new one."
"Can I look at your penis now?" she asks, having disposed of the subject of conception to her satisfaction.
"I don't see why not," I reply.
"I do," she giggles. "You gotta take your finger out. Hang on a sec, I wanna see what it looks like." She scrabbles around beneath herself for a second, looking for the mirror.
When she finds it, she angles it so that she can peer between her legs. After a few seconds of silent scrutiny, she asks, "Are you sure it stretches enough for a penis? It looks pretty full."
"Yep," I reply, "you just have to take it slow and gentle. My penis fits in my seven-year-old niece's pussy just fine. She loves it so much that her mum just about has to drag her off my lap when it's time to go home."
"Her mum knows about it?" Vanessa asks incredulously, twisting about to look into my face for any sign of duplicity. "Doesn't she get mad?"
"It's a special case," I grin. "My big sister's been fucking me since I was six and she was twelve, so when Christine caught us a couple of years ago, we let her join in the fun."
"Wow, you've been fucking her since she was five."
"Not quite," I reply. "That didn't happen till her sixth birthday. Before that, we just did things to help her get ready."You fucked your sister," she muses, and I can almost hear the wheels clicking in her head, "That means I could do it with my brother."
"Yes, you could. It gives you a convenient partner who nobody would suspect, so long as you both were careful. And you do have to be careful that nobody finds out, because people think brothers and sisters having sex together is almost as bad as children and grownups doing it."
"How come?"
"Because there's an increased risk that any baby they might have will be deformed. It's not a very great risk to start with, but if it goes on for a couple of generations, it does become very real. These days, however, the availability of safe and effective birth control makes it possible to have sex for fun without the risk of having a baby."
"Well, I don't have to worry about that yet," she says complacently.
Without warning, she suddenly reaches between us and secures a firm grip on my half-hard, but now rapidly growing member, saying, "Besides, he only gets to fuck me after you do, so I can tell him how to do it properly."
Her words finish the process that her touch began, leaving her with a fistful of throbbing, rock-solid prick. "You could have a long wait," I warn, "We won't get many chances to be alone together. Besides, you might meet a real spunk in the meantime."
"No way," she avows, "I know you'll do it right."
"I'd certainly do my best," I reply softly, "just don't cut yourself off from other options."
"Well, all right," she says, sounding unconvinced, "Now show me what to do to make you feel good."
"Well, to start with," I reply, "I'd like you to sit so I can look at your pussy."
"O.K.," she says, "but you can't touch it, 'cause I don't want to be distracted."
Assuming the posture that had gotten the whole situation under way in the first place - one leg drawn up onto the seat, the other on the floor - she shifts her grip to her right hand. "O.K. What next?"
Closing my hand over hers, I begin a slow up-and-down motion, saying, "Start off slowly like this. Relax your hand a little as you go down, and squeeze as you pull up. That's it, just like that."
Concentrating intently on her task, she quickly picks up on my instructions, the fingers of her small fist not quite able to meet as she rolls the foreskin back and forth over the shining crown of my prick. Within a very few strokes, as delightful shivers begin to course through my system, a dewy bead of precum begins to ooze from the tip.
"See that drop of moisture?" I say a little unsteadily, "It helps make things slippery like the juices your pussy makes. Use your thumb to smear it over my knob, especially that wrinkled bit. Oh, fuck, yes!" I gasp as her thumb makes contact with my frenulum.
A grin begins to spread across her features as she starts to realize the sort of power that she has over me. Leaning close to observe, she falls into a steady rhythm: Down, squeeze, pull, swipe with her thumb from the tiny slit in the end of my cock, down over the frenulum as she begins the next downstroke.
After half a minute or so, she looks up at me and says, "I'm running out of the slippery stuff," as the supply of precum begins to dry up.
"Dribble some spit on it," I gasp, leaning back with my eyes closed, "And start to go a little faster."
"Oh, fuck!" I cry, a few seconds later. Adlibbing on my instructions, she drools her spit into her left hand and cups it over the bloated knob of my prick. She begins to repeatedly squeeze my glans as if playing with a bar of soft soap, while she continues to pump on the shaft of my prick with the other hand.
Half a minute later, her right hand ceases pumping and instead scrubs the head of my cock in a tight circle in the palm of her left hand. "Oh, shit!" I yelp.
Seconds later, the meaning of the squelching sound that had been tickling at the edge of my consciousness becomes apparent. A veritable torrent of saliva cascades over my prick, and she works her hands, one after the other, down the length of my prick. For all the world, it feels almost as if I were entering a vagina, over and over again.
"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Fuck me. Fuck, that's good!" I cry, as the cum begins to boil up from my balls. "Rub it fast!" I cry, fumbling to close my hand over hers and guide it in a simple up-and-down motion, "I'm gonna cum."
Pushing my hand aside, she closes both fists around my shaft just behind the head, milking my prick as the first scalding blast of cum sears a path through my prick to erupt in a fountaining geyser of sperm.
"Oh!" I hear her half-disgusted cry of surprise through the orgasmic pounding in my ears.
Opening my eyes, I see that in her eagerness, she'd placed herself in the line of fire. A thick, gooey ribbon of jism runs from just below her right eye, across the bridge of her nose and left cheek to her ear.
"Keep going," I beg, as her hand begins to falter, the second burning gout of cum falling with a wet splat on the back of her hand and my thigh. "Don't stop, please."
Her grip tightens on my prick, and she resumes pumping her fist up and down. Then, as she discovers how slippery my cum is, she brings her left hand back to my prick, smearing the viscous white paste over the head, squeezing and swirling her fist in a way that makes me let out a howl of pure pleasure. "OH, FUCK, YES!"
Some unknowable time later, the mild chill of the jism cooling in my lap brings me back to earth. In front of me, Vanessa plays with the gooey film of cum coating her hands, a mixture of fascination and distaste on her sperm-beribboned face.
Seeing that I'm looking at her, she pulls a face and declares, "That was gross."
"Well, you were the one who got in the way," I chuckle, "Besides, I think you look pretty sexy with my cum all over your face."
"It's still gross," she giggles.
"Sexy, gross," I do my best Yiddish accent, "It's got to go, your mother'd have kittens if she saw you now."
"Kittens, shmittens," Vanessa throws back, "She'd have a whole bloody zoo. Can you get my tissues?" she asks, holding her sticky hands up by way of explanation.
While I work on getting enough of the sticky cum out of my body hair to dress, Vanessa scrubs her hands clean, following my example of tossing the damp tissues on the floor. Then, as I'm working on a particularly matted section, Vanessa remarks, "You're right, it is pretty sexy."
I look up to see her scrutinizing her face in the little hand mirror, tilting it from side to side to observe the full extent of her inadvertent facial. Feeling my eyes on her, she looks up, "You can do it all on me next time if you like."
The thought sends a certain thrill through my groin, but the flesh is weak, and apart from a slight stirring, my prick remains quiescent. Which, as it turns out, is for the best. As I reach into the back for Vanessa's clothes, I catch sight of my watch.
"Shit, it's a quarter to five, we've got to get a move on," I yelp, tossing her knickers at her, while scrabbling after her top and skirt. Turning back with them in hand, I find that she has made no move to put them on, instead, she is twirling them on a finger.
"Wanna souvenir?"
"God, yes," I breathe, thinking of future masturbatory delights, "but how are you going to explain coming home with no knickers to your mum?"
"No problem," she says, throwing them to me, "I got the ones Jenny was wearing in my bag."
"Thanks," I say, lifting them to my nose, "they'll help me have a really good wank tonight."
"Yuck!" she cries, "They're stinky."
"Mmmm, stinky, sexy little girl," I say, taking a deep breath of her incredible scent. "Speaking of stinky little girls," I go on, "you're still leaking."
Giving her no time to object, I wipe the scrap of cloth in my hand through her crotch, soaking up the residue of her earlier orgasm.
"Eew, gross!" she giggles, while lying back to present me with an even more obscene spread.
I take one last swipe from the base of her cleft to the top, then lightly slap her rounded, upthrust mound, "Enough, we've got to get you home now."
Pouting, she starts to scramble into her clothes, while I struggle to pull my pants back on. As I'm buttoning my shirt, I have to work with the distraction of her fragrant little pussy mere inches from my nose as she delves into the back for her knickers. Unable to resist, I turn and plant a quick kiss on the pouting lips, caught between her thighs.
"Eew, gross," she cries, slithering back into the front seat, fortunately with the knickers in hand. "How could you do that?"
"You'd be surprised what I could do if we had the time," I return with an unabashed grin, and lick my lips. "You're pretty tasty, stinky girl."
"You're gross," she accuses me.
"You bet," I grin, "Put your seatbelt on. Oh, and those too," I point at the knickers still in her hand.
"How?" she asks, "Or am I supposed to drive?"
As I shuffle across the seat, and she crawls over my lap, I take the opportunity to flip up the back of her skirt and deliver one final penny whack to her cute little behind.
"What's a hedonist?" she asks out of the blue, as she clicks her seatbelt into place.
"Someone who lives for pleasure," I explain, "so much so that they go out of their way to look for it."
Following her directions, we quickly cover the final kilometer to her house. As I pull up in front of her house and turn to say goodbye, she gives me a wicked grin, and demonstrates quite comprehensively that she is still not wearing her knickers. Flipping up the front of her skirt, she holds it against her belly with her arms, and pulls her pussy wide open. With the light of the setting sun streaming in through my window to illuminate it, I can see all the way up to the delicate membrane of her hymen glistening with the juices of her continued arousal."Look at me, I'm a hedonist," she giggles, her finger twirling around the stiff little bulb of her clit.
"And an exhibitionist too," I growl. "Now get, stinky girl, before I grab you and we end up rooting on the front lawn like a couple of dogs."
"Sounds like fun," she giggles. "We'll have to try that sometime."
"Get!" I growl, taking her bag from the back seat and holding it out to her.
With a final giggle, she pushes her skirt back over her lap and takes it from me. "Here, keep these too," she says, stuffing a pale blue scrap of nylon into my hand. "And you can smell Jenny too."
Taking care to keep herself covered, she slides out of the car, and with a backward wave goodbye, she scampers up to the front door of her house.
Though I know I should be going, I wait to see her through the front door, receiving one final treat as she drops her bag on the porch. With a quick glance around to be sure that the coast is clear, she points her rear at me and bends with straight legs to retrieve her keys from her bag, revealing the bottom half of her tiny pussy to my frightened gaze.
As she straightens, she gives me a final wave, and I, with my heart in my throat, return it weakly. However, as I look around as I pull out, I realize that my fears had been groundless, with nothing but the gap between two houses opposite her front porch, and shrubs to either side, there was no one but myself to see her little exhibition.
One final heart palpitation remains, though, as I continue down the street a car turns a corner behind me and pulls into her drive. We'd beaten her parents home by less than five minutes. | 4 |
2,223 | The New York Jamboree: Best View in the House | "I'm sure you know Steve Brand, Sir. He's managing this attraction now," the Mayor's pretty executive assistant told him.
"I certainly do, Liz," he answered with a smile. "It's nice to see you again, Steve. Congratulations on the way the ride turned out. It's great to watch it in operation at last. Those girls seem to be really enjoying themselves . . . ." He paused.
Steve laughed. "Judging by the screams, I'd have to agree! The packing plant will be working overtime as well, filling all those export orders. You had a great idea, Sir, putting the two together like that."
The Mayor smiled modestly. "I just wish I could stay longer and watch the fun. But some of my young assistants can't wait to get rid of me, so they can try some of those things out for themselves. Isn't that right, Liz?"
Liz blushed. "Yes, Sir." She fidgeted prettily, obviously more than a little excited.
"And what about you, Nancy? Are you one of the lucky ones?" Nancy needed to catch her breath after watching yet another girl being transformed instantly into two very separate sides of meat. Her heart was pounding. That roller-coaster was exactly the thing of her dreams. She imagined herself riding it again and again until . . . but it might even happen the first time round! The thought of that blade slicing right through her body was incredible. She could barely conceal her excitement. If she watched any more of this, she was going to explode. Would she feel the touch of the blade against her clitoris? It happened so fast, and then there was only meat that would feel nothing at all. But they said time stood still at moments like that. Maybe it would all seem to happen in slow motion, and she would feel everything! The Mayor was looking at her, smiling. Did he know what she was thinking?
"Y-yes, Sir. I hope so, Sir."
"Well done, Nancy. I always knew you'd be perfect for an occasion like this."
"Oh, thank you, Sir," Nancy breathed, remembering several occasions when his generously proportioned cock had given her pussy a very good workout indeed, after which he had often enjoyed complimenting her on the quality of her cunt fillet.
"And me, Sir," Gina injected. Gina wanted desperately to be included with her friends. They did everything together, even if what they did was never her idea. She didn't like to think about becoming meat, but then meat didn't think, did it! So there was really nothing to worry about. At least, that's what Liz said. She said the excitement would make you come, and after that you wouldn't feel anything. Especially what happened to your meat. She was probably right. It looked awfully scary though.
"You too, Gina? You are hardly old enough."
"I know, Sir. It's just, the three of us decided, I mean . . . ." The way she looked at him with her doe-like hazel eyes was almost as much as a man could stand. Where did all these marvelous creatures appear from! No sooner had one of them managed to get herself harvested, than there seemed always to be three more clamoring to take her place.
"I know, my dear. It's just how it is. Never mind," He said with a sigh. You couldn't afford to get too attached to the meat, however delectable it seemed at the time. In the end, it was all for roasting. Or grilling. Or whatever.
"If you'll come this way, Sir, I'll show you where we handle the meat from the Wall," Steve told him. "You girls can come along too. I'm sure you'll enjoy the special Viewing Gallery." The walkway went directly from the main roller-coaster viewing platform to just past the right corner of the Wall of Death, then turned to enter the meat processing building, which was like a large warehouse attached to the back of the Wall. They found themselves on a large platform inside the building. It was high above the process floor, just in front of them was a fenced-off area rather like a cattle enclosure, full of chattering, giggling naked girls. Each of the girls wore a numbered meat processing tag through the ring in her cunt lip. As the Mayor and his entourage entered, six of the human cattle were herded out of the enclosure and up a steel staircase to the left, towards a partitioned-off walkway that ran along the inside of the Wall. Liz felt extremely self-conscious, with her own meat processing tag hidden beneath her elegant business outfit. She wished she was naked like the other human cattle in the enclosure. It was hard to resist the temptation to strip and join them.
Without her clothes, nobody could distinguish her from the common cattle. She was proud of her body. Every day she looked at herself in the mirror and imagined how she would look on a barbecue spit, her skin browning beautifully as she roasted over the flames, her erect nipples crisping in the searing heat, while the heat of the spit cooked her cunt fillet to perfection. She felt an irresistible urge to reach that inevitable moment when she would simply be delicious, wonderful, well-cooked meat. Unconsciously her hands brushed her breasts, feeling the sensuous white silk of her blouse caress the firmness of her nipples.
Steve was pointing to the right, where another steel staircase ran down from the platform, under the steeply sloping, transparent-walled meat conveyor, to the floor of the process area, where butchers sawed and chopped noisily at the large sides of still-warm meat, reducing them to familiar-looking, hygienically packaged cuts. "That's where we keep the extra stock for the viewing gallery," Steve told them, indicating the enclosure. "We will see the gallery in a moment." He pointed up to the left. "As you see, the meat conveyors are boxed in for hygiene reasons, and there's a constant stream of water under each conveyor to flush the blood away. It's very clean and efficient."
"Yes, I remember the discussion about that, Steve." The Mayor paused for a moment. "And I suppose the meat from the viewing gallery gets fed in to the same conveyors, at the top?" "That's right, Sir. We'll go up now, and I'll show you it working." They watched for a moment as another side of meat was carried slowly down by the conveyor towards the process floor, with its arm dangling loosely, and a very pretty looking breast. Definitely a C cup, Liz decided, as she reflected that moments ago this had actually been a girl. Curious, the girls followed Steve and the Mayor up the steel staircase to the viewing gallery. From below it had looked quite narrow, but actually it was at least twelve feet across. An attendant was helping the last of the batch of girls into position. They all lay face down with their heads through circular ports in the wall, holding grab bars under each of the windows, their bare bottoms forming a delightfully tempting row. The attendant pressed a button and a clamp locked the last girl's ankles to a kind of carriage, fixed to a vertical post.
Liz saw that the ankle carriage was mounted on a kind of vertical rail, which curved to join an overhead conveyor that ran the length of the gallery. She got the idea. Those girls were going to be meat, and the conveyor was to take the meat down to the processing area. But she couldn't quite work out how it was going to happen. The six helpless girls fidgeted excitedly, holding the vertical grab bars below their viewing ports. Everybody could hear the extraordinary 'ssssnick' of the blade each time a girl was carried up the wall and sliced, and seconds later the bang as the bloody sides of meat entered the building on the conveyor. Liz shuddered with excitement every time she heard the terrible sounds of another girl becoming meat. "Now if you look carefully, you will notice that each girl has been prepared in an identical manner. They all have a perfect view as each girl is carried up to the blade and sliced. It's what we like to call the Best View in the House!"
Just then they heard another terrible 'sniiiick' and loud screams on the other side of the wall. Suddenly one of the motorized runners started moving upward, carrying the headless body of the third girl along. Liz watched, fascinated as her still twitching meat was carried away by its ankles towards the side of the building, and then into the boxed-in conveyor leading down to the process area. "H-h-how did you do that?" Liz asked, trembling.
"There's a random setting," Steve told her cheerfully. "It makes it more exciting for the girls. Every few times a girl gets sliced on the wall, a guillotine blade comes down in one of the viewing ports. It gives us more meat to work with in the process area, and of course we get an intact cunt fillet every time."
"Oh, I see," she answered, squirming nervously as she imagined what it must be like to be clamped into one of those ports and look down the wall, knowing that every time a girl was sliced by that awful blade, she was barely a second away from the fall of a guillotine blade. A frisson of pleasure ran through her as another girl's headless body moved smoothly away, dripping blood from its neatly severed neck. "So what are the chances for the girls up here," she insisted curiously.
"Oh, one girl per batch for every two or three we harvest on the Wall of Death," he answered."That's about one for every eighteen girls who take the roller-coaster ride."
"But you aren't letting the others go!" Liz protested. "That's true, but those are all from reserve stock. They are all due for processing, and we need the meat to fill our order books. We just leave them in place and bring up more stock to fill the empty positions. It's different when we get volunteers from the Jamboree. Then we release the rest of the batch each time." The girls watched, fascinated, as another headless nude was hauled up and away. Liz looked at Nancy, who could hardly conceal her own excitement. Her cunt was obviously dripping with it. "Er, Steve, there are three places free, and there are three of us. Can we try it?" Liz asked.
Gina wished Liz hadn't suggested that. She was always the one who got them into trouble. But her own pussy was so wet that she hardly felt like protesting. That was why they were here, after all. "I don't see why not. I will stop the run while you get ready." He pulled a lever. "Just leave your clothes on the floor, and the attendants will tidy them up later." Nancy was the first to be ready, and Steve beckoned her forward. The Mayor smiled at the trio of nude girls. Each had lovely firm breasts. Any one of them would look perfect on a spit, he thought. With their meat processing tags dangling from their cunt rings and their smooth shaved lips glistening with cunt juice, they looked exactly like the rest of the stock cattle. But when you had fucked a girl as often as he had fucked these three, you could imagine how she probably felt.
He grew hard at the thought of their delightful cunts. Gina was the most timid, but she had the silkiest cunt he could remember, and as for her inner muscles! Her cunt fillet was going to be something very special indeed. "Just lie down there, and I'll get you fixed up in a moment. Hold the grab bars under your window," Steve told her. Nancy shivered as he pressed the button that closed the clamps around her ankles. She gripped the grab bars tightly. Liz was next, and then Gina. Padded clamps closed over their pretty necks. Liz could barely move, but it was true. She had a perfect view down the wall. The Mayor viewed the row of six pretty, nude and quivering bottoms, wishing he had a cane. Nancy gasped as girls hurtled down the roller coaster towards the wall. It was amazing to watch from above as they disappeared into the tunnel. She wondered when she was going to see one get sliced. Suddenly she yelled with excitement as one of the girls was carried up the wall at incredibly speed, she saw right between her parted legs where the pink flesh of her open cunt was presented to the blade.
As it went straight through the girl without pausing, Nancy's hair stood on end. It was incredible to watch from just a few feet away! She had never felt so scared in her life as the blade below snicked through the girl's neck, and it fell into the chute opening below, while the two sides of meat that were all that was left of her swung from side to side as they disappeared through the wall on the conveyor. Liz screamed as the girl was sliced into two parts; or rather three, counting her previously pretty head. Gina was screaming as wildly as if she was heading for the blade herself, submerged in thundering waves of pleasure. It was utterly fantastic. She had never experienced anything like this! Steve smiled at the Mayor. "Are you ready, Sir?"
"Go ahead, Steve. I've been looking forward to this."
"If it's all right with you, Sir, I'll leave your girls there until we have harvested one of them." "Of course, Steve. I wouldn't deprive them of the pleasure."
"Oh my God!" Liz gasped. This was not one in six, it was suddenly one in three! Even if one of the common cattle was guillotined first, they would have to stay until one of them was guillotined.
"No, please, not like this!" Gina exclaimed, struggling fiercely as she realized that one of them was going to be meat in a few moments' time. It wasn't fair. But she felt another climax coming at any moment.
"Right girls, we are starting now." Steve returned the lever to the 'go' position. Nancy shivered with excitement. Liz struggled tentatively, gripping the bars as tightly as she could. The girls on the roller coaster seemed unaware of what was happening on the wall as first one, then another screaming girl met the blade and separated into two dripping halves. A scoop appeared from the wall beneath her, but she was relieved to see that there were also scoops under all six of the girls. Another girl hurtled up the wall, her body met the blade and parted. Gina exploded in the wildest orgasm yet when she saw the scoop appear below her head while the separated halves of the luckless girl were carried up and away. There was an odd, unfamiliar sound above her. She was suddenly looking up at blood gushing from someone's neck. She was falling! Oh no! That was her own body gushing blood up there, even if she was still in the middle of a climax, then everything faded. She heard a 'thunk' as her head landed on the pile down below.
Liz screamed as she climaxed instantly and suddenly she saw something fall out of the corner of her eye - oh no! it was Gina's head. Her neck was gushing like a fountain! The padded collar released Liz and the clamps opened. Shaking and barely able to stand, she got to her feet while Gina's headless body, suspended by her ankles and still twitching, moved steadily on the overhead conveyor towards the nearest meat conveyor. "Well girls, what do you think?" The Mayor asked cheerily. "Was that exciting enough?"
Uncomprehending for a moment, Liz stared at him. "Uh, exciting, Sir?" Her eyes lit up. "It was fantastic. I'm still coming down from the climax I had."
"Excellent, girls," the Mayor beamed. "That's just what I wanted to hear." Just then the attendant escorted three more girls into the gallery and began to fasten them in position. The Mayor watched for a moment, then turned to Steve. "What's next, Steve?"
"I thought you'd like to see the processing area, and maybe you'd like a sample or two for your freezer?"
"That will be great." The two remaining members of the Mayor's entourage followed him and Steve towards the butchering area, where expert workers were busy slicing the sides of meat into familiar looking cuts, except Gina's of course. They gathered round and watched, while a butcher cut neatly around Gina's cunt fillet and removed it. He presented it on greaseproof paper to the Mayor. "Would you care for a souvenir, Sir? I believe you knew the young lady."
"That's very good of you, young man. I would appreciate that very much." The butcher wrapped the meat again in a transparent pack, and made a show of marking it with the batch number from Gina's cunt lip ring. Then he added a small leaflet and packed them into a cardboard box with a convenient carrying handle. "Right you are, Sir. I've enclosed some recipe suggestions. Very spicy, if you like that kind of thing."
The Mayor noticed his name tag. "I appreciate that, Graham. That was very neat work."
"Thank you, Sir." Steve escorted them out the back of the process area to where the Mayor's car was waiting. Liz couldn't take her mind off how quickly it had all happened. Minutes ago they were talking to Gina, and now the Mayor was walking out with her cunt fillet. Liz's heart pounded at the thought of how easily it might have been hers. She felt a fierce tingling between her legs. Her own cunt fillet was not in a box. Not yet. | 3 |
2,280 | A short interlude with nieces III | "Uh, is Uncle Fred really going to do it to me?" I asked; looking down at where the enormous member of my uncle was about to slide into my crack. Somehow, even after watching my handsome uncle impregnate both of my sisters, and even getting on the bed so he could climb between *my* legs an hour later, I just couldn't quite believe my mother would let me do it too. After all, for most of my life I've watched my two big sisters repeatedly get to do things that I was shut out of because I was, "Too young." That Momma would let me actually fuck her brother and even have his baby, was almost unbelievable.
Yes, I know what happens when a man ejaculates his sperm in a woman, like it looked like my uncle was about to do to me ... she gets a baby in her tummy. I'd wanted a baby in mine, ever since I learned about such things from Mrs Galloway in Sex Ed, about a month before I had my first period and knew it was possible. That Momma would actually *allow* me to have one, (and with Uncle Fred too!) was mind-blowing ... but if you think I said anything to make her think twice about letting me, then you're crazier than I am.
Mom started to answer at about the same time it became obvious that Uncle Fred WAS. I groaned as the enormous member started inside me. It HURT a little, in spite of my practice with the toothbrush holder. Uncle Fred's prick is bigger than anything I've ever had in me down there. But I somehow managed to grit my teeth and not say a word. I didn't want Momma stopping me from finally getting in on the adult things like my two big sisters were. Thankfully, Uncle Fred isn't as big as those porno stars I'd seen him and Momma watching on TV that night ... I'd have been ripped open for sure. It STILL hurt a little though, each time my uncle inched another tiny bit of his penis into my body, where it would (hopefully) soon be squirting my womb full of his sperm, like that diagram Mrs. Galloway showed us. God, I couldn't wait. Thank Goodness, Momma had Uncle Fred promise to impregnate me as often as he can, in case I don't catch the first time.
"Oh God! I can't help it ... she's too TIGHT," groaned Uncle Fred; suddenly jamming himself in HARD into me, before I could worry that he might decide to pull out. I couldn't help letting out a small yelp, as I felt my uncle's prick swell, then flex, then swell again, as an almost painful look twisted his face. I figured from watching him do my two sisters that he was probably squirting his sperm in my tummy right then. God, what a disappointment! I wanted to FEEL each thick white squirt of my uncle's sperm jetting into my body, as we worked together to make a baby. Just the thought that he WAS doing just that though, was enough to make my cunny clamp and squeeze on my uncle's prick, like I hadn't known it could; milking each precious drop of his potent seed into my womb where it belonged.
When we finished, I looked down in satisfaction at the gooey mess Uncle Fred had made in my crotch, while I knew that millions of his sperm were even then squirming up inside my tummy, getting me pregnant with my own uncle's baby (or, delicious thought, babies). With any luck, We not only could have this kid together, but two or three more, as long as Momma doesn't mind.
No, older kids may think that a nine-year-old girl like me is just too young to fuck my uncle, take his baby-making sperm right up in my tummy like an adult, and even have my own uncle's babies ....
.... But that doesn't (and didn't) stop me from doing it anyway.
Feeling your own handsome uncle's thick prick swelling and jerking his life-giving sperm into your hole, while he spasms your tummy full of his babies, is a sensation that every girl should be allowed to feel at least once, before she starts high-school and is too old for such things. Thank Goodness Momma and Uncle Frank both appreciate what this sort of thing means to a girl like me. | 4 |
2,292 | Gee Daddy! | "Gee, Daddy, that feels good," I said, as my father rubbed his prick up and down my horny little slit. It did, too. What felt even better, though, was when he centered his swollen cock at the entrance to my vagina and started inching it inside. Daddy always did know the things that made me feel good. Still, he kept denying me that greatest of pleasures. Tonight I was going to pull out all the stops to get what I wanted.
"Ooh, I bet you like that," I said, as I milked Daddy's penis with my tight little hole. By now, I knew how to squeeze my father's prick and make it feel good without even moving.
Daddy groaned. I guess he must have agreed with me, because the next thing I knew, he said, "You'd better ease up, Tammy, or I'll have to pull out. You don't want that yet, do you?"
Shit! The LAST thing I wanted was for my father to pull out. "Do you HAVE to, Daddy?" I whined, working even harder. Once before, I had been lucky and caught Daddy by surprise, milking him off inside me before he even realized he was about to cum. Daddy wasn't going to be caught so easily tonight, though.
"Tammy," he said firmly, "you know the rules. I only cum in your mouth, asshole, or hands. We're NOT taking any chances on you getting pregnant. I'm taking too big a chance already, just fucking you like this. I don't want to accidentally knock you up."
"Why not, Daddy?" I grumbled. "Marcia's already had three kids, and she's younger than I am." I could tell I was getting to Daddy, as his prick swelled even bigger inside me. Perhaps, if I kept talking, Daddy would forget and squirt inside me before he realized he was doing it.
"Your cousin isn't fucking her own father," Daddy pointed out. He paused in his sliding in and out to push up hard inside me while he tried to keep from spasming my body full of his precious seed. I knew he would be annoyed if I moved, trying to get him off, but that didn't mean I couldn't keep squeezing him with my vagina, hoping he lost control.
Sadly, he didn't. I felt my father's prick swell a little, then subside in me. I don't know if Daddy squirted more pre-cum or sperm inside me, but he was once again able to slide in and out without feeling like he was going to splatter my insides full of baby-making cum. I was a little disappointed, but not completely. Maybe that WAS a squirt of cum that Daddy had just left inside me while he gained control of himself. I knew enough about biology, so I was pretty sure there were at least SOME of Daddy's sperm wriggling in whatever it was, even if it only WAS pre-cum. Such a delicious thought.
"But Daddy," I said, talking about my best friend while sliding back and forth once more as my father's urge to cum inside me declined enough to make him feel a bit safer, "Darlene tells me she's had TWO babies by HER father already, and she hopes he's made a third in her."Feeling me going into spasms around him was the last straw for Daddy. I felt my father's penis get abruptly bigger inside me as he jammed it as far up in my belly as he could. With a bellow that almost matched my screech, Daddy suddenly began filling my tight little slit with load after load of thick, greasy cum. He didn't try to pull out this time like he usually did, either. Instead, he kept forcing his penis as far up inside me with each incestuous squirt as he could.
I couldn't help myself. My arms and legs automatically wrapped themselves around my father's body and legs until he couldn't have gotten away if he had tried. Which he didn't.
Each time my vagina would clench and squeeze on my father's thick penis, Daddy would respond by sending yet another healthy squirt of sperm jetting against my cervix. On and on it went, with neither one of us wanting it to stop, until my legs were aching with cramps and Daddy was aching with dry squirts of sperm he no longer had, trying to send one last surge of baby-making cum into his daughter's womb.
"Oh gee Daddy," I said as I felt the last sticky drops of my father's precious sperm oozing into my receptive young womb, "that was... that was wonderful. Thank you."
"Whoooo! Thank YOU," he replied, trying to catch his breath while keeping his penis buried in my snatch. It's so nice to feel your lover still inside you after you get your rocks off. Knowing Daddy's sperm was still inside me too was icing on the cake... which reminded me:
"I hope I'm pregnant now," I said, hoping Daddy didn't get another attack of conscience and get mad at me for "enticing" him on. He didn't.
"Well," he chuckled, "if not, I'm sure your mother will see to it that I keep on fucking you until you are."
"Daddee!" I objected. But you know what? He was right. | 3 |
2,305 | Mommy Juice | "Mom?"
"Hnnnh?"
"Are you going to have a baby?"
"Huh? <Hak!> <Splut!> WHAT?!"
"I said, 'Are you going to have a baby?'"
"Yeah, Mom, we want to know."
"NO! I am NOT! What brought THIS on, anyway. I didn't think I looked THAT fat."
"You're not fat at all, Mom."
"Then what brought THIS up?"
"Well... Uh."
"You see..."
"C'mon now, spit it out. When a woman's daughters start asking questions like that, she wants to know what's going on."
"Well... Uh... we were just over at Cindy's house, and she's got a new baby sister."
"Yeah, and we wanted one too."
"No way! After I had you, Julie, I told your father that was it. No more. It's too much pain."
"Aw, PLEASE Mom?"
"Yeah... Ginny's SO cute!"
"Besides, I thought you LIKED babies, Mom. You practically slobber every time Aunt Joan is over with little Mikey."
"Yeah. Please Mom. I want to have a little sister like Cindy does."
"We'll both help you take care of it... it won't be a bother... really."
"Please Mom. Please, please, please?"
"No! If you kids want to have babies, then YOU have them. I'm not going to."
"Huh?"
"I thought only mommies could have babies."
"Well, you're both getting old enough to almost be mommies yourselves. All you need is the right man."
"Really Mom?"
"Really?"
"Oh God. Open mouth, insert foot. Yeah, really."
"But how do we do it?"
"YOU don't."
"But you said..."
"But MOM!"
"I said YOU don't. A man does. He squirts the stuff that makes little girls into mommies in you, and then after a while you have a baby. Surely you both learned all this in 'Sex Education' Class?"
"Uh..."
"Well..."
"Well, didn't they?"
"The talked about diseases and massy... master... mister..."
"Masturbating?"
"Yeah, that... and other weird stuff. It was boring.""So I did. So I did. Look at it this way, girls: How would you like to have to pass a croquet ball?"
<Silence.>
"Oh, come on, Mom, it can't be THAT bad."
"No, it's worse. Think of it. When your father squirts his 'mommy juice' in you, it goes up your vagina and into your tummy to make a baby. Now, how big is your vagina?"
"I don't know, big enough, I guess."
"Big enough... right. Have you girls ever seen your father's penis when it was hard?"
"Hard?"
"I have, Mom! It was... I don't know, about as long as my hand and about as big around as my arm."
"Well, not quite THAT big, honey. Your father's penis is about average size, about 6 inches long and a little over 1 1/4 inches thick. Let me see your hand... well, maybe you're right. Your hand and arm ARE pretty small. Anyway, the question is, how would you like something THAT big shoved up your asshole?"
"Ooouuuch!"
"Ow. Makes me wince to think about it. Why, Mom?"
"Just wait; I'll get there. Now, how would you like that thing going up your 'hole,' as you call it, your 'crack' or vagina?"
"You're kidding, right? I remember once taking a shit that wasn't near as big as Dad's 'thing,' and it hurt like heck."
"Me too."
"And my hole is even smaller than that. No way. It wouldn't go in."
"Well, that's the point. It WOULD go in. In the first place, it would HAVE to, if you were going to have your father's baby. In the second, women's vaginas stretch. Even yours, Julie, will easily stretch to accept a bigger penis than your father's. It HAS to, if the man is going to squirt his sperm inside you and get you pregnant."
"So what's the point, Mom?"
"Well, think of this: While it might be a little painful the first time or two you get fucked, your vagina gets used to that, and after a while, it even starts to feel good."
"Like Leanne said it does?"
"Uh-huh, or even better. As I said earlier, it's FUN making a baby."
"If that's the case, then where's the trouble?"
"Marie, Julie, I want you to THINK. Daddy squirts his 'mommy juice' inside you, so you become a mommy. Where does it go?"
"In my tummy?"
"Close enough. So, if you're a 'Big Girl,' a baby starts to grow in your tummy, and after a few months, you get fat, like Aunt Joan did. Got that much?"
<Silence.>
"So now for the BIG question... You've got a baby in your tummy... How does it get out? Remember how big Mikey's head was."
"You don't mean..."
"I shit it out?"
"No, idiot... oops, sorry. No, the baby comes out the same way it went in. Stretching you all the way. If you think your vagina is too tight to take your father's penis, then think of what it will be like to feel a baby's head at almost four inches across forcing its way out of you. And like a big hard turd, it WILL come. You have no choice. NOW do you see what I meant about 'shitting a croquet ball'?"
"Ooooh."
"Yeah. Ouch."
<Silence.>
"So let's not hear any more about this, OK?"
"Uh, Mom?"
<Sigh.> "What, Julie?"
"It only hurts for a while, doesn't it? I mean, like when I take that shit, I get over it, don't I?"
"Well, yes, but... It hurts a LOT more than that."
"People do it all the time, don't they?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"And they aren't sorry they have kids, are they?"
"Well..."
"YOU aren't sorry you had US, are you?"
"Of COURSE not, honey. You're worth every bit of the pain."
"That's what I thought. When can I do it?"
"Huh?"
"When can I have Dad teach me how to be a mommy, by squirting that stuff that makes girls into mommies in me?"
"Hey! That's not fair! I want Dad to squirt 'mommy juice' in me too!"
"What?! After all that discussion about how painful it is, you STILL want to get pregnant?"
"I TOLD you over half an hour ago that I wanted another brother or sister."
"Me too! I want to be a mommy to my little sister too!"
"Oh, shit.""That ought to get him up!"
"Uh... Please Daddy? I want you to teach me how to make a baby, like you did Julie... Please Dad? Mom says when a baby gets big, you can feel it moving around inside you, and I want to feel what it's like to have my own little brother squirming inside my tummy. Please Dad? It isn't fair if Julie gets to feel you making a baby in her, when I don't. Mom says you could have been squirting mommy-juice in my tummy for years now. If you had, maybe I could have been a mommy two or three times already. It's not fair that Julie gets to go first. Please Dad? I want a baby too!"
"Mmmpthpt! Hey! Ease up Marie! If you keep that up, your father's going to be squirting THIS load of `mommy-juice' down my throat, instead of up your tummy, like it belongs! Now quick! Get around here, before your father loses it again!"
"OK, Mom... Daddy I... Oooooh. Oh, that feels good. Put some more in Dad, please? Oooh. Thanks Dad."
"Oh shit, that feels good. Omigosh, here it... Oh. Oh God, that feels good. Now slide down a little Hon, so Dad can slide it in and out."
"What are they doing Mom?"
"They're fucking, Honey. Sliding in and out like that makes your father and sister feel real good. In a minute or two, your father is going to squirt his sperm inside your big sister, just like he did in you. OK?"
"OK Mom... I guess. How come Dad didn't do that with me, and how come it didn't hurt Marie, like it did me?"
"Well, as to the first, it's probably because being smaller, tighter, and being first, you were too sexy for your own good; so your father got too excited to NEED to fuck you like this. He couldn't help cumming in you. Sometimes you see, being first isn't necessarily being best."
"Oh."
"Second, your big sister is bigger inside, older, more developed, and quite possibly had already lost her hymen for one reason or another."
"Oh. What's a hymen?"
"That's a little piece of skin inside your vagina. Dad had to break it to get all the way up inside you. This only happens the first time. Remember how I said it would hurt?"
"You didn't tell me it would hurt like THAT. You said it was like taking a shit. Still, it wasn't all THAT bad. You said he tore it. Does that mean I'm bleeding inside?"
"Probably... in fact, almost certainly. I see a tinge of red on your father's penis right now. It's nothing to worry about... we'll take care of it later... after you let it soak in for a while."
"OK Mom, if you say so."
"Now hush. I think your father's about to squirt his `mommy-juice' inside your big sister."
"Squeak. Squeak. Squeak."
"Oh Marie! Daddy loves you so."
"Squeak. Squeak. Squeak."
"I love you too, Dad."
"Squeak. Squeak. Squeak."
"Oh!... Oh God, I'm gonna..."
"Squeak, squeak, squeak."
"Oh Daddy!"
"Squeak-squeak-squeak."
"OOOoooouuugghhhh! Oh God."
"Oh Daddy."
"Oh."
"Oh Daddy!!! Don't stop!"
"I... I can't help it, Hon... I'm beat! Ooohh Sheeit!"
"Daddeeeee!"
"Oh get out of the way!... Stupid incompetent males! Here Honey, let me help."
"But Mom! That's NASTY! That's where I PEE out of. I mean Daddy just..."
"Sluuurp! Lap, lap."
"Oh Momma. Oh Mom. Oh."
"Slobbbber."
"OH! Oh MommmmeeeeEEEEEEKKK! Ah. Ah! AAAuughh! Oh! Oh... oh. Thanks Mom, I needed that."
"I could tell."
"Wow! That was awesome! Mom?"
"Puff. Yes, Hon?"
"When can Dad fuck ME like that?"
"Oh shit... I'm dead."
"Sorry Dear, but your father is pretty much `used up', for right now. Even when he DOES recover, it'll be my turn. So why don't you kids go get washed-up, and ready for bed. Try not to wash ALL of the cum out of your holes, but try not to make a mess of the bed, either. OK?"
"OK, Mom."
"Clatter... SLAM!... Click."
"Uh, Dan?..."
"Yuh?"
"I have a confession to make."
"What's that?"
"I DID set the girls up on this. They don't know it, but I sent them over to visit the baby next-door, just to get them thinking about having a little brother of their own."
"I FIGURED it was something like this."
"Hush. They say confession is good for the soul, and I need to get this one off mine."
"It's YOUR conscience."
"Uhuh. Anyway, after I tricked Marie into asking me if I was going to have a baby, I steered the subject into where they were telling me how they wanted a baby-sister or baby-brother."
"You already knew that."
"Uhuh. But THEN I got REALLY sneaky. I slowly led them from the idea of ME having a baby, to THEM having a baby, and from there to their having YOUR baby, so it would be their own brother or sister... neat, huh?"
"Well, if you think *I* am going to object..."
"Snicker."
"Anyway, that cute scene about having you pump `mommy-juice' in their tummies so they could get to be big-girls and be mommies themselves, was kind of a bonus. I think it's real cute, don't you?"
"Groan."
"Yep, I think you do. Just think... If you keep on squirting `mommy-juice' in those little girls' cute little tummies, you might just be able to father three, four, or even five kids on each of our daughters before they get out of high-school."
"You don't REALLY expect me to get them pregnant that many times do you? I mean, Julie's only..."
"Old enough to bleed, is old enough to breed. Besides, that just gives you that many MORE chances to get her pregnant before she even gets out of grade-school, let alone high-school."
"Ooooh! You really DO expect me to get them pregnant. And here I thought I was the `dirty old man'!"
"Well... actually I just expect you to TRY. As long as you make sure they both get lots of your `mommy-juice' in their tummies, then when or if they get pregnant will take care of itself. We only have to wait. So we'll just worry about that little thing, when their panties start to get tight, OK?"
"OK, I guess."
"Good. Now I want a little of this myself; so remember: I promised the girls that from now on you'd see to it that they both got lots of the white stuff that makes mommies out of little girls in their tummies from now on. So I don't want you to neglect either one of them."
"Groan."
"Ooohhh, good! I thought that would get you. | 5 |
2,327 | Now kids ... | "Now kids," I said, "it's time you learned some of the facts of life." I glanced around at the three naked children. Mike at 15 was the oldest, followed by Denny at 13, and their not-so-little-sister Jennifer at 12 years old. Mindy was with their mother visiting the children's grandfather; while she left the sex-education to me.
"Your sister is now twelve years old," I continued, stating the obvious, "and has just started her period a little over a week ago. So it's time you kids knew a little more about sex and babies, other than the stuff you get in 'human sexuality' at school."
All three kids looked up at me with big grins.
"First of all," I said, spreading Jenny's legs, "sex and having babies isn't really all that complicated. (A little wider, Honey, while I... Ah, that's better.) A man puts his penis (also called a penis, prick, cock, or baby-maker) in a girl's vagina (also called a cunt, cunny, or baby-hole)." This was said, while suiting action to words; sliding my pre-cum slick cock around my little girl's tight little cunny, and then SLIDING it ooooooh so comfortably up inside her. The tight little crack split, then stretched oh so nicely around my swollen member, before a tight ring snapped over the head and inched down towards the base until I had all seven inches of fatherly prick inside my little girl, and Jennifer's almost-bare cunny was rubbing against the fur at the base of my penis, while the head was bumping against the knob of her cervix. I almost let my daughter have every drop of incestuous cum I had right then.
Still, this WAS a lesson; so I fought down the urge to fill my little girl's womb with baby-juice until I finished.
"Then the man slides in and out," I continued, "until the stimulation of the girl's baby-hole sliding up and down on his prick gets to be too exciting, and he cums inside her." Again, I suited action to words; sliding in and out of Jenny's tight little slit until I felt the familiar tingling once again in my prick, and knew I was about to fill my own daughter's tight little tummy full of thick white baby-juice.
"When he does," I groaned, "he squirts a thick white liquid inside the girl's womb. This thick white stuff is what makes babies. If the girl is lucky, and it's the right time of month for her, then nine months later she has a baby." With almost every word it seemed as if another thick jet of baby-making cum rippled through the base of my penis and into the welcoming, squeezing, and thoroughly erotic vagina of my own daughter.
"Here it comes, Jenny," I told her. "Daddy's squirting the thick white stuff that makes babies in your tummy. Feel it? Feels real good, doesn't it?""Yes, Momma," replied Jennifer, barely able to talk, as the sensation of my prick filling her tight little baby-hole was too excruciatingly pleasure/painful to think of much else.
"Well... As long as you know," replied Miranda, heading back to the kitchen.
Two minutes later, in spite of my wanting to remain mated to my daughter for hours (or at least a half-hour anyway) while we watched TV through the news, I once again felt my seed rising in my prick and then squirting in thick white satisfying jets into the squirming little girl on my lap. The thought that I was ejaculating my seed so far up in the child that it almost was directly injected into my daughter's womb was so erotic I came even heavier inside her than the night before. Something about knowing your sperm is squirming up inside the tight little belly of the girl you fathered on her mother, raised from a baby with stinky diapers through toddlerhood and little girl to real woman able to take your engorged prick in her tight little hole and milk it for the sperm that would create new life inside her tummy... just like her mother... was too exciting and yet far more satisfying than even my wife could do. I love my little girl.
All the while, Jenny's little sister lay on the floor, staring up wide-eyed at the two of us mating, until my spasms slowed and stopped. Then, once I had pulled out, and she watched my limp penis flop down, while her big sister's hole slowly closed, forcing a thick dollop of white goo to ooze out, Mindy turned back over to watch TV again... Seeming to ignore the fact that the cartoons were over and the NEWS was on.
By the time the boys arrived, Jenny had cleaned up and was sitting on the couch, legs-spread, and obviously waiting for them. A hurried dash was made to the bedroom... not to change clothes, but to strip naked... and back to the living-room where for once Denny beat out his big brother. I watched with some interest as the barely teenaged boy slid into his little sister.
"Now you be careful Mike," instructed Miranda, poking her head around the corner, then being surprised to see the younger of the two boys porking their little sister, instead of the older one she expected to chastise.
"Yes. You boys be careful," I took over for my wife. Miranda headed back to the kitchen, whether embarrassed or just satisfied that I would take care of things.
"Jennifer's not on the Pill," I explained, "and she just finished her period a little over a week ago." I could almost feel the satisfaction radiating from the kitchen. "So you boys be careful when you cum in your little sister; as this is probably the best time of month to get her pregnant."
I permitted myself a small smile at the sudden silence from the kitchen, as I continued, "So make SURE you ejaculate your sperm as far up in your sister's tummy as you can. There's probably only a few days left, if you boys plan on getting Jenny pregnant in time for her birthday. OK?"
There was a loud "Clank!" and clatter from the kitchen as a pot hit the floor... but no sign of breaking dishes or any comment from my wife.
"Like I said earlier," I finished up, "I'll help out if I can... but it's mainly up to you boys to keep your little sisters' wombs full of babies. So your mother and I expect you both to help your little sisters as often as you can. We don't want you neglecting them when they need it most."
"Yes Dad," from Mike.
Denny just groaned and jerked his body into his little sister's crotch. We all knew the boy WAS doing his best to father a child on his little sister, as he finally collapsed with his prick still buried to the hilt in the child; still leaking glob after thick glob of incestuous seed in the little girl's womb.
"AFTER dinner," said Miranda, stopping Mike from repeating his little brother's action. "Mindy, you go get cleaned up." She glared up at me. "And I'm talking to YOU right after supper," she added, in a tone that brooked no arguments.
I just grinned back at her.
At dinner (Pot roast with potatoes, carrots, and onions) hardly a word was said except, "Pass the milk," and other such mundane dinner-eating standards. However, looking around the table was quite an experience in contrasts. Jennifer was still sweating from her workout, both with me and Denny. Her expression was almost unreadable... but I guess the closest would be... well, maybe "satisfied." Danny was grinning like a Cheshire cat... the smile stuck on his face like it was glued on. The boy practically oozed happiness and satiation. Mindy was wide-eyed and kept sneaking amazed looks at her big sister. Mike? Well, he was constantly shifting in his seat; obviously NOT really interested in meat and potatoes. The only meat HE was interested in was the slab he wanted to sink into his little sister's tight little hole. Looking at him, you could almost ache in sexual frustration yourself. (Have you ever been so frustratingly horny, that your hard-on WILTED, instead of stayed up? I suspect that Mike was THAT frustrated.) My wife sat in stony silence... but I knew I wasn't in as deep a mess as it seemed; because I kept catching twitches at the corner of Miranda's mouth as she looked first at me, and then at the kids.
Me? I just grinned and acted like nothing special was going on. After dinner, however...
"Denny, YOU clean up and wash the dishes tonight," Miranda announced when the final fork clattered down.
"But Mom, I...."
"Mindy, you help him," My wife's firm voice cut off the boy's reasonable objection like a knife would cut butter. It wasn't the younger boy's turn... but they all knew better than to argue when she was in that mood. "Your father and I have something to *discuss* in the other room; and don't want you kids interrupting. If you finish up in a hurry, you MIGHT be in time to watch Mike and Jennifer... though I doubt it." With this, Miranda grabbed me by the arm and led me towards the bedroom. I FELT like an errant boy caught by a nun, and led by the ear to the principal's office. (You can tell how *I* was raised.)
"Please, Mike?" I heard an impassioned request come from back in the kitchen from the younger boy, followed by a disgusted, "Oh, I guess!" and frantic noises of FOUR kids working together to clean up after supper. Damn... if it was always so easy to get the kids to work together....
"You.... You...." Miranda practically slammed the door behind us. "You realize what you've done?" she accused me.
"Uhuh." I grinned back.
"You... slut... no... you bloody SATYR! That poor little girl in the other room is GOING to get pregnant, you know that."
Once again, I admitted the obvious. "Sure," I agreed. "So does she... know, I mean."
"And YOU are responsible."
"Well...," I looked down at my flaccid prick... limp and soft after emptying itself into my little girl. "... I can't be sure of that. After all, the boys...." A little-girl squeal of delight in the other room filtered through the door to make my point.
"You know what I mean," she responded. Miranda's eyes were smoky with repressed passion. I just hoped I was right and it wasn't anger. "You set it up so our little girl would get pregnant... and by damn you're going to PAY for that, you pervert!"
"Uh...." For a moment I backed off, as Miranda's eyes blazed even brighter.
"GET those pants off, you incestuous, daughter-raping pervert!" My wife's voice hadn't raised one decibel... but was as firm and threatening as a knife.
"But I...."
Miranda attacked me. Before I could raise a hand to defend myself, my wife had both hands on my belt, and yanked my pants down. (One of the disadvantages of being a man with small hips.) For a second, I thought she was going to rip my balls off as my underpants followed so quickly it they almost hit the floor in the same motion. "So," she said, accusingly, "you like to stick this big thing in little girls, do you?"
Well... how could I deny it? Both daughters had been giving me "hard attacks" for the past few years... and once Jenny reached puberty, well I was a goner. When my wife had opted out of "The talk" with the kids and let ME do it... well, you know what happened.
"Well," she smoldered, "you'd better STILL like to stick this big old baby-maker up in MY baby-hole, and squirt baby-juice in MY tummy... or I'll cut the damned thing off! I don't mind you fucking the girls... but you'd DAMNED well better have some for me too, or I'll...." She didn't finish.
The rising wails of, "Oh, oh, Oh, OH!" making a rhythm felt throughout the house just joined the two of us, as I slid balls deep into my wife. I don't remember getting an erection at all. After that session with Jennifer, it's a wonder I could get it up at all. Only the erotic sensation of Miranda almost attacking me sexually, the sex-charged noises coming from the living-room, the knowledge that the younger boy and girl were watching their older brother and sister mating like minks, and finally the knowledge that Miranda wasn't so much mad as aroused like a mink herself at the thought of her little girl getting knocked up by me, or by one of our sons, was too much. Ten seconds later we were rutting fully as frantically as the sounds gave evidence was going on in the other part of the house.
"Ugn, Uh, Ugh, Come in me, you bastard. Knock me up. Make a baby in me, you child-raping incestuous SOB. Fill my tummy with your baby, just like you did to that poor innocent little girl in the other... OOoooooh SHIIitt!"My wife's pussy clamped down around my prick in a vice-like grip that felt incredibly twice as tight as her daughter had the night before.
"God, here it comes!" I groaned, trying (but not quite succeeding) to force my erupting penis even deeper into her belly. "I'm going to fill your cute little tummy so full of baby-juice, you'll be having my kids for the next twenty years!" I groaned, my spurting and jerking inside my sexy wife almost echoed and duplicated by what I knew and to some extent could hear going on down the hall, where I knew my eldest son was emptying his prostate in his little sister's tight little baby-hole. The knowledge that the other two kids were watching him do it, just added to the erotic message that slammed into my brain as I emptied MY prostate into the still sexy young belly of the woman whom I loved almost as much as the little girls we had made together.
"Damn," commented Miranda, as we lay cuddled together, basking in the after-sex glow of completion. The house was once again quiet for a few minutes, before the ever-present sound of the babble-box came back on. "It's a good thing I'm on the pill," she added. "If not, I'd probably be pregnant too. ONE pregnant little girl in the house is enough, don't you think?"
I didn't answer, I knew better than to lie.
Surprisingly, that night, after about three hours of vegging on the sofa watching TV, Miranda snuggled up to me and managed to get me erect AGAIN! Three times in one day, while not a record for me, was quite something for me these days. Then, instead of sliding me inside her incredibly hot little hole (I knew it was hot, tight, and slippery from the feel of it squeezing my finger), Miranda gave me one of the best blow-jobs of my life, getting me up, then letting it die down, then arousing me again until my balls ached. When I was finally about to let her have a gallon or two of saved-up sperm down her hard-working throat, she stopped me!
"Hadn't you better give this to Jennifer?" she asked. "That poor little girl in the other room is probably just ACHING to feel her father's fat baby-maker sliding up inside her tight little baby-hole, and filling her tummy full of baby-juice. Are you going to torture that poor little girl, and not give her what she needs?"
"You mean, you WANT me to ...."
"Fuck our little girl and get her pregnant."
"Well ... If that's what you want ...."
"That's what I want. Now don't come back in here until Jenny's belly is as full of baby-juice as you squirted in me after dinner." Miranda looked at me for a second, then added, "In fact, don't come back at all tonight. Tomorrow, I'm moving her in with the boys. Tonight though, she's spending with you. Now git!"
I "got" before my wife changed her mind.
Tiptoeing down the hall (Why tiptoe?) I came to the girls' room and looked inside. Both girls sleeping, from the quiet. I slipped off my socks, and then slid inside my eldest daughter's bed.
"Wha? Who?" Jenny mumbled, and almost fought.
"Shhhhh. It's me ... Daddy," I calmed her. "Now spread your legs."
"But Daddy I ...."
Silencing my daughter's objections, I climbed over her and forced my knee between hers. After a second, Jenny relaxed and spread her legs even wider. "But Daddy," she still objected, "What if Mom...? Oh ... OOooooh that feels good."
"It's OK," I reassured her. "Your mother sent me down here. I'll be sleeping here tonight, Tomorrow, your mother's moving you in with the boys. OK?"
By this time, I had slid halfway into the little girl. The sucking wet heat of the child, while not as muscular-tight as her mother, still grabbed my penis with a fresh and different tightness that her mother couldn't duplicate after four children.
"Oh. Thanks, Daddy."
"Thank your mother ... later," I responded, while I slid the rest of the way inside her.
This time, without the frantic excitement of our first fuck, or the maddeningly full balls of a day at work, I managed to hold off against the sucking, jerking, and finally spasming of my little girl's vagina on my swollen prick. Not NEEDING sex like the previous two times (in fact, being almost satiated with sex) I was able to keep on fucking through one, two, and even THREE climaxes of my horny little girl. For sure, she hadn't done this the first time we fucked! I revised my estimate of my daughter's tightness. When she came, the little girl's muscles clamped down on my prick in vice-like grip that for a second was actually painful! Even Miranda at her best, before the kids, had never clamped down on me like that.
Each time, Jenny grew looser and wetter inside, then clamped down even harder on me when she came. "Oh, Daddy," she panted hotly in my ear. "It feels so good."
"Daddy's going to cum, if you keep that up," I warned her.
"Oh Daddy."
"If I cum in you, I could get you pregnant," I added to the warning. Previous to this, I had just DONE it ... and (shamefully) pressured the boys into doing the same. This time, not being QUITE so overruled by the pressure in my penis, I would let my daughter decide. It wasn't as if I really NEEDED to get my rocks off a third time. Heck, during the wild gyrations we had been doing, I figured I might have leaked a teaspoon or two of sperm in the child's belly anyway. No real need to ejaculate the full load.
"Oh, Daddy, please?"
"You want me to pull out?" Somehow, if she asked, I would.
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," panted in my ear.
"You want me to cum inside you?"
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, please .... Please, Daddy?"
"I'll get you pregnant," I warned again. Looking to one side, I caught a glimpse of Jenny's little sister looking wide-eyed at her sibling and father. I don't think she was aware that I noticed her.
"Please, Daddy?"
I did it.
"Here it cums," I warned, just before I felt the first satisfying surge of potent sperm ripple through the bottom of my prick, on through the tube on the bottom of my penis, through the head, and on into the welcoming entrance to my daughter's body, while her tight little sleeve milked and squeezed each precious drop into her vagina where it belonged. No, I don't THINK Jennifer climaxed that time ... but she certainly seemed to enjoy feeling me spasm inside her; stroking my back, cuddling my body, wrapping her legs around me, and working against me to get each thick white gob of incestuous seed into her body.
"Mmmmm. Thanks, Daddy," she murmured into my ear.
"Thank you," I added in return. What ELSE could I say to my daughter for the most incredible fuck of my life?
"You're heavy, Daddy," she finally complained, after our breathing had subsided a little.
"Ooooh." I don't know for sure which of us moaned as I pulled away. Maybe it was both of us. I motioned Jennifer to turn over on her side, and then slid my still 3/4 hard penis back inside her from the rear. As I did so, I glanced over at her little sister's bed. Mindy was asleep ... back turned to us ... a little TOO pointedly asleep, if you ask me. Nobody did.
"Mmmm," I groaned in satisfaction as my prick slid back inside my little girl. Even going soft, it felt so GOOD, and yes so RIGHT to be inside her. "Thanks, Dear," I said.
"Thanks, Daddy," she replied, snuggling back at me so the last half-inch of fatherly prick slid and then jerked inside her.
"You're welcome," I responded.
For a minute or two we lay there, enjoying the closeness. Then a nagging question came to mind.
"Jenny?" I asked, hoping she hadn't gone to sleep yet.
"Nnnh?"
"Did the boys ... uh, 'do their job' this afternoon?"
Jennifer giggled. "Uhuh," she said. "They each helped me 'practice making a baby' three times today. Twice this morning, and once this afternoon. Mike promised to help me practice until I got it right."
"Oh." The girl's giggling had almost given me another erection. Almost.
"Well," I finally said, "I'll help out too ... whenever I can. There's still your mother, you know."
Jenny gave a half-giggle, and a squeeze around the now-flaccid prick that was trapped inside her. "Thanks, Daddy," she murmured. "Promise?"
"Promise."
And that was that. | 6 |
2,330 | In Your Sister | "ALL the way up in your little sister," Momma insisted.
Momma had caught the two of us "making out." We weren't really fucking or anything like that, just feeling each other up, and kissing, and stuff like that. Momma caught us.
Boy, was she mad! After yelling and screaming, calling Lori a slut, and me even more unmentionable names, Momma finally calmed down. Or at least, she seemed to. What she did next, I still find hard to believe. At first, I figured that Momma had cracked. You know, gone over the edge. Loony-bin. That stuff.
Well, I guess Momma cracked all right. Cracked right out of her shell. Inside, Momma is a very kinky lady, and I guess she had been holding it back for years. Anyway, once she realized what we were doing, Momma decided (probably correctly) that no matter how much she screamed and hollered, we probably wouldn't stop sneaking around and playing with each other. So, she decided that if we were going to play around, we might as well do it right. In fact, that's what she told us.
"Huh?" I said. Lori's mouth was gaping too.
"I said, if you're going to fuck around with your little sister, you might as well REALLY fuck her, and do it right."
I still couldn't believe what I was hearing. My staid, prim, old-fashioned mother, actually TELLING me to fuck my own sister? No way!
Momma had just started, however. "You're not on the pill, are you?" she asked Lori.
"Momma!" You could tell by the tone, that my little sister had never even thought of such a thing. I mean, you don't go on the pill, unless you PLAN on being fucked. Lori was still a virgin.
Momma semi-apologized, "Well, you never know. Some kids get them from school, or the free-clinic. They aren't allowed to notify parents any more, unless the kids tell them to."
Momma looked at Lori even closer. "How long ago was your last period?" she asked.
Lori thought a bit, then responded, "I don't know, about two or three weeks ago. Somewhere in there."
"Good," said Momma. "Now why don't you two get undressed, and do this properly."
"Steve," she said, turning to me, "if you're going to fuck your little sister, you'll both be more comfortable on the bed."
Momma WANTED me to fuck my sister? I looked at Momma in astonishment.
Momma's face clouded up again. "NOW!" she said, making us both jump. "I'd better see nothing but two naked bodies in your bedroom Lori," she said emphatically, "in two minutes, or you're both going to be sorry!"
If there's one thing about Momma (Or Daddy, for that matter.) she doesn't threaten lightly. Lori and I were moving before Momma finished her threat, shedding clothes as we went.
By the time Momma made her slower way into my little sister's bedroom, we were both naked as jaybirds, and sitting on the bed waiting. Momma STILL looked annoyed.
CHAPTER: 2
"Well, what are you two waiting for?" she asked. "I told you Steve, fuck your sister. What's the matter, do I have to put it in for you?" she asked sarcastically.
"But Momma," wailed Lori, "we don't have any condoms! That's why we were just feeling around."
Momma looked as if she were going to blow her top. "Not in MY house, you don't," she exploded. "As I said before, if you're going to fuck, you're going to do it right. Now get started, or get out!" Momma looked as if she meant it.
Well, at 15, I sure wasn't ready to leave home, and if I wasn't, my little 10-year-old sister wasn't either. We looked at each other and shrugged. Well, if that was what Momma wanted, that's what she would get. If my little sister had a baby, well Momma asked for it. Somehow I knew that Momma would be overjoyed, if Lori showed up with a big belly.
Lori lay on her back; and I put my cock inside her. Yeah, just like that. No foreplay, no sucking cock, no twiddling her twat. Just up and stick it in. After all, that was what Momma wanted, wasn't it? Besides, we had gotten hot and slippery enough, before Momma caught us. That, and the thought of actually fucking my little sister, and getting her pregnant, with Momma's permission yet, was unbelievably exciting. (Permission? Hell, Momma was almost INSISTING that I knock the kid up.)
As I said, I did it. I pushed my big cock up inside my little sister's tight little hole, and gave her a belly full of baby-juice. Lori only let out a little squeak, when I slid through her hymen, then she was grunting and moaning as though she had been fucking for years. As I mentioned before, I did it. The feel of the little girl's tight little slit squeezing and clamping on my already pre-cum leaking prick was too much. After all, I hadn't really been inside a girl before, let alone one as tight and horny as Lori. I made about two big strokes, in about 10 seconds, and I lost it. I pushed my cock up inside my little sister, and gave her what she wanted: a bellyful of her own big brother's incestuous sperm. That's when Momma said those words at the beginning of this story.
"ALL the way up in your little sister," Momma insisted.
I grunted, and did my best. Pushing up as hard as I could, I did my best to plant as much of my baby-making seed as far up in the little girl's tight little belly as it would go.
Momma seemed to be satisfied. Once she had seen me do my best to impregnate my 10-year-old little sister, she calmed down a lot. Momma made it clear to both of us, that we could play around with each other all we wanted, we could even use birth-control, when she wasn't around, but not the pill. She just insisted that if we WERE going to play around, that at least once a month, we stopped "playing," and did it right. Yeah, just what you think.
From then on, Momma practically ignored the two of us, and our almost constant sex-show. That is, unless we made it TOO obvious, or invited her in to watch. Once a month though, Momma insisted on watching the two of us fuck. She always made sure that Lori was in the middle of her period, and that we didn't use any protection at all during that one time.
CHAPTER: 3
After the first time, Momma always insisted that my little sister go to bed without washing up afterwards, so that her big brother's sperm would have a chance to soak in. Then, for a month, she would leave us alone.
Don't get me wrong, Momma didn't INSIST that I impregnate my little sister. She just insisted that if the two of us were going to fool around, then at least once a month, we had to take our chances that I MIGHT make a baby in my little sister.
There's no way, that Lori and I were going to stop fucking, once we started. Also, as you might guess, and Momma probably planned; we figured that if we were taking a chance part of the time, what difference did it make, the rest of the time. Except for a few days at the beginning, we didn't use any birth-control when Momma WASN'T watching either. After a while, it got to be quite a kick, thinking I was planting a baby in my cute little sister's flat little tummy.
It took longer than you might think. Lori had just passed her 13th birthday, when she finally missed her first period. By the time she was 14 though, we were already working on a little sister for our son to fuck.
Well, as Momma said, "If you're going to do it, you might as well do it right." | 3 |
2,339 | Being Careful | "Careful, Dan," called my mother to Dad, as she watched him enter my bedroom, "She's almost twelve years old now. You might get her pregnant, if you're not careful."
Dad just snorted. As if he didn't know.
I felt the bed sag as my father climbed into bed, then he was on top of me. No feel-up and mess-around THIS morning. We were both too horny for foreplay. I spread my legs, and placed the head of Dad's leaking prick up against my hot little hole, that had also been leaking drools of arousal for over half an hour, as I had listened to what went on in the other room.
It took only a second of fumbling, before I felt my father's penis slide home in the vagina he had created almost 13 years earlier in my mother's vagina by doing the same thing to her he was doing to me. God, that felt good. To feel your own father's prick sliding up inside you, is a pleasure few girls get to feel these days. I feel sorry for those poor kids who are so neglected.
At least Dad hasn't neglected me, since that day almost four years ago, when I had climbed into bed between him and Mother, and ended up sucking him off; to Dad's surprise, and Mother's astonishment. Once she found out I WANTED sex from my own father, Mother never once objected again... except to warn us about things like me getting pregnant, that is. For all her warnings, Mom seems to know how much I need sex, and makes sure that Dad helps me out by fucking me at least once a day, if not more.
The first time I felt my own father's thick prick slide up inside my hot little hole, I was hooked. As for when Dad came in me...
God, do I love fucking my father. To feel his cock slide in and out, while I hunch up at him and squeeze his fat prick with my cunny as hard as I can, is indescribable. Then when Dad gets violent towards the end, (like now) and starts jamming his prick in me harder and harder, as he approaches his climax...
Well, what can I say? It's incredibly erotic to know you can make your own father feel this way, while at the same time YOUR orgasm just grows and makes a tighter and tighter knot in your belly, until you feel like you'll SCREAM, if your father doesn't squirt his sperm in you. The thought of how dangerous it is to let him actually squirt his sperm inside your vagina, without any artificial barriers in the way, just adds to the thrill of fucking your own father. The knowledge that your own father MIGHT get you pregnant, is more exciting than it is scary.
Then, to hear Dad grunt, "Oh KC, I'm going to..." and know he is ready to pull out, to save you the humiliation of being an unwed mother, is too much. No WAY would I ever let someone down, who loves me that much. So, Like almost every time since I first started having periods, I locked my ankles around my father until he couldn't pull out if he really HAD wanted to; which I knew he didn't.
Mother tells me it feels really GOOD to a man to ejaculate his seed in the vagina of a young girl like me...even (or especially) if he knew there was a chance she might get pregnant. Well, I don't know about THAT, but it sure felt good to ME, to feel Dad's body go rigid on top of me, and my cunny suddenly get slippery with his cum.
Feeling Dad get off in me, was almost always enough to get me to cum too. Sometimes I got off a little too soon, and I had to keep working until Dad came; and others I had to finger myself off afterwards (sometime with one or the other of my parents' help) but usually, either feeling me get off, got my father off; or feeling Dad ejaculate his cum in me, was enough to get me off.
This time, it was the second way. Feeling Dad jerk on top of me, then his slip-sliding become all slippery from the cum he was squirting inside me, was the last thing I needed to start jerking and thrashing underneath him, in response. God, did that feel good.
Only when Dad had ejaculated every drop of precious seed inside my hungry little womb, did he calm down enough to feel a little guilty. "I'm sorry," he said, "I couldn't help it."
"I'm not," I reassured him, "and I could have...I just didn't want to. OK?" I kissed Dad; enjoying the morning stubble of his cheek against mine. "Thanks, Daddy," I said; using the name he liked to be called, when we made love.
"Yeah," he responded, "so do I...but we still shouldn't."
"Don't worry about it," I said; pushing him towards the edge of the bed. "Hadn't you better be getting ready to go?"
"Maybe," he replied; though we both knew he did. "I still hate leaving you like this."
"Oh don't be silly, Daddy," I said; rubbing my belly in an obscene reference to the seed which we both know was inside me. "you know I don't mind. In fact, I'm going to lay here for a while until it's time for me to get up; just to let it soak in."
Dad left; still shaking his head at my response. As he did, I heard Mother's question from the kitchen, where she was making breakfast. "Well?" she asked.
"Yes Dear; I was real careful. I only gave KC what she wanted." | 6 |
2,353 | A short interlude with nieces II | "Uh, is Uncle Fred doing it yet, Momma?" grunted Sandra; her voice slightly stressed as she looked up at me. My daughter's tight little slit was gulping the straining member of my little brother's cock, which was almost white with the tension the engorged penis was applying to her body. I knew Fred had almost every inch of his swollen prick that would fit in the little girl's body stuffed inside her, and the pressure that was showing was tremendous. Somehow I knew that my daughter's vagina felt even more stuffed to her than it looked to me. But, just like her older sister, the little 11-year-old wasn't complaining though; just wondering whether her uncle was close to finishing or not. I was so proud of my girls. Not many little girls would let their own uncle fuck them, cum in them, and even knock them up, like Fred was about to do to her, had done to her big sister, and would do to their younger sibling, who was watching her uncle and older sisters mating before it became her turn to feel her own uncle jerking and spasming his baby into her womb where it belonged.
I still couldn't believe I had ever come up with this incredibly sexy idea of mating all three of my daughters to my baby brother... but that didn't stop me once I got the idea firmly planted in my head. The moment Sarah had her first period, I first broached the idea to my little brother; and it hadn't taken more than a month or two before he realized I was serious. Being a true pedophile, that was enough. That's why I was now here watching my sexy little brother sliding his thick prick up in the flat little belly of my second oldest daughter and squirting his thick white cum into her welcoming belly... just like he did an hour earlier, with the two girls' big sister.
I watched closely to be sure my brother did it right too; and didn't pull out until every thick drop of potent seed was in the child's womb, getting her pregnant with her own uncle's baby like we both wanted (and I'm sure that her uncle wanted too).
"I think he's doing it right now, Honey," I replied; as I watched my brother's body go stiff, while he jammed his swollen member as far up in the child's body as he could. I knew Sandy no longer needed me to tell her that her uncle was planting his baby inside her tummy; as it was now obvious from the frantic shoving and thrusting that the older man was even then ejaculating gob after gob of incestuous sperm in her ripe and fertile young womb, where we all had worked so hard to get it.
"Oh God, oh God, I'm doing it," groaned Fred; almost vibrating in his efforts to slide in and out of the child, while also trying to make sure every drop of his potent seed found its way into my daughter's welcoming young womb where hopefully at least one of his sperm would ripen her waiting eggs. With any luck, the little girl would be carrying her own uncle's baby before the hour was out... and her little sister too, an hour or two later. It took some convincing that I meant it; but I finally got Fred to promise the girls he would not only fuck each of my daughters as often as they wanted it, but that he would actually get each of them pregnant with his babies as often as he is able to. With any luck at all, my little brother could father four or even five kids on each of the girls before they get out of grade school. God, I sure hope so.
No, it might not be exactly *right* for me to have my own pedophile little brother fuck, cum inside, and actually impregnate all three of my horny little girls... one of them before she reaches the third grade....
....But that doesn't keep me from doing it, either.
The thrill of watching your own brother jerking and shaking on top of your daughters, while his prick jerks and spasms the little girls' tight little tummies full of his babies, is a feeling that every mother should have at least once. Thank Goodness my horny little brother doesn't mind doing this for the girls, and even realizes how much it means to a horny slut like me. | 3 |
2,380 | Daddy's Girl | "Oooh Daddy!" came the voice from the other room. "That feels so good."
Mary looked into her daughter's bedroom. The little 8-year-old girl was sitting on the bed facing her father. Both family members were naked. Mary could see her husband Dan, rubbing his little girl's budding breasts, while the child masturbated both of them by rubbing her father's cock up and down her slippery little slit. Mary could see her husband's cock spreading the lips of the little girl's tight little cunny, each time the little girl rubbed the head of the man's penis across it. Each time Mary saw her daughter slide the big man's cock up, so that the tip was visible, she saw a bubble of clear liquid oozing from the head. The little girl was using the slippery juice to make it easier to slide her father's penis around her swelling little clitty and hot little hole. Dan, in the meantime, was busy feeling the little girl's body and running his big hands up and down her waist, and squeezing the erect nipples of his little girl's budding breasts.
"Oh Diane!" said Dan. "Daddy's about to cum!"
"OK Daddy," said the little girl, "I'm ready." She reached down and pulled the lips of her tiny little cunt apart, so that her father could fit his big cock up against her tight little hole. Dan fisted his cock and forced the head up against the entrance to his child's vagina.
Diane looked down between their bodies, where her father's cock was about to inseminate her. "Do it, Daddy," she encouraged her father. "Squirt your cum in me."
His little girl's words were too exciting for Dan. The man pushed his big cock up against the opening to his little girl's vagina and started ejaculating his thick sticky sperm right up inside his own daughter's flat little belly.
Mary was about to collapse as she watched the incestuous duo on the bed. Her husband gave one last push as he squirted one last thick sticky dollop of cum inside his own pre-teenaged daughter.
"Thank you Daddy!" said the little girl, as her father finished squirting his sperm inside her. "That always feels so good, when you cum in me."
"Thank YOU, Diane," said the man, as his now limp cock stopped pumping cum inside his little girl.
Mary could see the little girl's vagina, now with a bubble of white slowly starting to well up out of the little girl's tight little hole. Dan got up off the bed, as his little girl sprawled out on the sheets, enjoying the feeling of her own handsome father's precious sperm warming the inside of her belly.Dan felt like he could do this forever, but finally his penis had no more to give, and slid out of his daughter's vagina.
"Sorry, dear," he said, "but, I guess, that's it."
"It's okay, Daddy," reassured Diane. "I don't mind."
The cute little 8-year-old girl looked down at her tiny little slit, as she enjoyed the soothing feeling of her own father's sperm warming her inside. The thick, sticky liquid slowly dripped out of the neck of her uterus, down into her cum-slippery vagina. Even now, except for a trickle of white, slowly leaking out of the puffy lips of her hairless little cunny, you would never know that the underage little girl had just fucked her own father, and right now, was carrying the man's sperm inside her flat little belly. Diane wondered if she had her father's baby growing inside her belly yet, or how long it would take before she did. | 3 |
2,381 | Please Daddy? | "Please Daddy?" I asked. From the stories I had heard, this was a favorite fantasy of young boys. (But sometimes a nightmare for their girlfriends.) Only I had turned the tables on Daddy; and instead of a pimply teenage boy trying to "sneak" a feel of me, I was trying to sneak a feel of my father.
I had already progressed further than I thought I would at the beginning. Perhaps because it WAS a teenage fantasy, and my father was almost as caught up in it as I was. Here I was, half naked on my own father's bed, with Daddy's pants down, and his prick in my hand, while I tried to rub the slippery head against my equally slippery crack. The turnabout I mentioned was that it was ME, who was trying to sneak a feel of my own father's stiff prick inside my itching little cunny, instead of some boy trying to see what it felt like to slide his aching prick into me. I tried to remember the rest of the scenario.
"Please Daddy," I repeated, "I just want to feel the tip inside me." God, what a line! It was all I could do to keep from giggling when I said it, no matter HOW much I meant it. Thankfully, Daddy didn't catch on. I guess the thought of acting out that sophomoric line was too exciting for him to think straight. I hoped so. Only Daddy hadn't lost ALL sense, yet.
"Oh God, I can't, Candy," he groaned. I had to ease up on my stroking, before he came all over my hand, instead of inside me where he belonged. "If I came inside you, or even accidentally left one tiny squirt inside you, you could get pregnant."
"I don't mind Daddy. Please?" I whined. At his continued reluctance, I continued, "Just a little? You don't have to cum in me; I just want to feel it for a moment. Can't you just slide the head of it inside me for a minute, so I can just see what it's like? You don't have to put it all the way in, if you don't want to." I could tell that Daddy was tempted.
"Just a little?" I repeated, as I slid a little farther down, so my father's prick was actually rubbing against the light fuzz that had started to darken the top of my slit. "If you think you're going to cum, you can always pull it out."
I knew Daddy was weakening, so I rubbed the slippery head in my equally slippery crack, and pushed up.
I guess the feel of his little girl's tight little slit rubbing against the sensitive head of his prick convinced Daddy, that maybe it wouldn't hurt to let me feel it, "Just a little." With a slight push, a stretching sensation, and a slight "pop" The tip of Daddy's prick vanished into my body. Ooh, did that feel good!
"Just for a second," he said, "then I'll have to pull out."
Once again, I almost giggled, and spoiled everything. If not for my mother's warnings about what boys might try to do, and what happened once they got started, I would never have managed to "cum" up with this sexy scenario in the first place, nor have realized that I was home free, the moment even PART of Daddy's prick slipped inside me. . . As long as I didn't spoil things by giving things away by giggling, or something.
CHAPTER: 2
I fought down the urge, and pulled back from my father a little. I could see the disappointment on Daddy's face, as I did so. "Hooked!" I thought with glee. Now all I had to do, was reel him in. "Ooh, that feels good Daddy," I said, repeating my earlier thought. "Could you slide it in just a little further, so I can feel what it's like? Just a little, Daddy."
"Well, I suppose just a little won't hurt," he responded; suiting his actions to his words. "I'll still have to pull out pretty quick though. I don't want to accidentally get you pregnant." For a second or two, Daddy did just that; sliding about an inch or two in and out of me, until the lips of my crack suddenly got slippery, just like the inside, and almost four inches of fatherly prick slid inside me by accident. (On his part; not on mine.)
"Ow!" I said, involuntarily. Damn! I had forgotten about my virginity. . . Now how did the rest of that horny scenario go?
"I don't mind," I said; being careful to NOT explain whether I "didn't mind" him pulling out, or him cumming inside me and getting me pregnant. Hopefully, Daddy wouldn't suspect me of even THINKING about the second case, while he would be able to think of nothing else.
"I'd better pull out," he said. "I almost broke your hymen by accident. Besides, now you've felt what it's like, and don't have to wonder any more. . . That's all I promised."
I almost snickered again. Daddy hadn't "promised" anything. I had. However, the LAST thing I wanted Daddy to do was pull out now; especially when he was so close to "breaking my cherry."
"Please Daddy," I repeated my earlier requests while rocking my hips back and forth; enjoying the feel of my father's thick prick sliding in and out. "I don't want my first time to be some pimply boy in the back seat of a car." Once again, I could tell my father was weakening. For sure he didn't extract more than an inch of thick fat fatherly prick from inside my tight little crack where it was filling me up so nicely. "If YOU do it," I continued, "at least I'll know it's someone who loves me, and cares about me. If I let some boy do it, then he might hurt me without even intending to. Please Daddy?"
"I shouldn't." Daddy was more trying to convince himself, than me.
"Please Daddy," I repeated for the fifth time. (Or was it sixth?)
"Are you sure, Honey?" Daddy looked at me worriedly.
Straining, I managed to turn my incipient giggle into an amused smile. "Of COURSE I'm sure Daddy," I said. "I always wanted it to be you."
"This might HURT!" Daddy said, as with the final "hurt" he slammed his prick into me without warning. I guess Daddy is of the school that believes in ripping a bandage off quickly, to ease the pain. I don't know about that; but for sure he caught me by surprise, so I never had a chance to tighten up. If I had, it might or might not have hurt less; but for sure he would have probably had to do it more than once, before getting all the way inside me.In any case, I knew that Daddy had already been leaking pre-cum and sperm inside me for over three minutes while he tried to hold out, so the point might be moot anyway. Still, I wanted Daddy to do it right, just like I had been asking him to; not accidentally screw-up and get me pregnant.
"Please Daddy," I repeated again. "Just one time won't hurt. Besides, most girls can't get pregnant on their first time anyway. Next time might be too late. Please?" I started squeezing on my father's thick prick with my cunny, just like I had read about in the books, by trying to act like I was holding back pee. It seemed to work.
"Oh God! I can't help it!" groaned Daddy, and thrust his big prick up inside me to the root. Realizing what was about to happen, I pushed back just as hard.
There was a straining pushing moment, as Daddy's thick prick stretched my crack unbelievably, before Daddy grunted; pulled out an inch, and then slammed back into me to the hilt.
I groaned, as my father's wonderfully thick prick filled my crack with an obscene "slurp" that just emphasized the illicit nature of our coupling. God, it felt good! I knew it felt good to Daddy too; just like I had promised him.
"Oh." "Oh God." "Oh God!" Three times Daddy grunted, and three times he jammed himself as far up inside me as he could. By the third time, I had managed to reach under my father's balls, and felt the thick tube underneath the bottom of his prick bulge as the third thick sticky wad of my father's precious sperm was injected into my waiting body. My own father was cumming inside me, and he was NOT trying to pull out either.
No, I didn't cum myself. I understand it's VERY rare for a girl to cum on her first time with a man. Still, I enjoyed it very much; knowing that Daddy felt so good by squirting his precious sperm inside me. Mother had told me how good it felt to a man to cum inside a girl, and explained that's why a boy would try so hard to get a girl to let him "do it" to her. To know I could do this thing to make the man I loved most in the world, my own father, feel so good, was an incredible turn-on. I love Daddy. I wasn't even worried about getting pregnant; knowing it was something else that many men fantasized about doing to a young girl like me. If knocking me up would make Daddy happy, then I would be too. Still, he didn't have to, if he didn't want to.
It was about this time, that the roof fell in.
"What are you DOING?!" Momma's voice cut through the restful quiet where Daddy and I had been resting with him still breathing harshly in my ear, and his prick slowly wilting inside my horny little hole. I could feel a slight trickle of Daddy's seed oozing out around his thick prick, as he fought to catch his breath. Daddy was in no position to defend himself, so I did.
"Sorry, Momma," I said, giving my father no chance to respond. . . Not that he was in any condition to do more than barely gasp in horror at being caught en-flagrente-delicto. "I couldn't help it," I continued. "I just HAD to feel what it was like. Please don't be mad at me. Please Momma?"
My mother looked first at me, then at my father. I guess she was trying to still be mad at Daddy, though I was making it hard for her. I guess she knew that if a sexy young girl like me put the make on almost any normally horny man, then that man didn't stand much of a chance. (Yes, I KNOW that I'm sexy. . . I've not only been told many times, but I've looked in the mirror too. Why do you think I was so sure I could seduce Daddy?)
"My God," she said, "you might have gotten her pregnant!"
OOPS! Time to nip THAT accusation in the bud too. I hadn't really planned on this, but I hadn't planned on getting caught by Momma either. . . At least, not so soon.
"Oooh," I moaned in fake passion. "Really?" I looked at Daddy adoringly. "Could we Daddy?" I asked. "Please? Could I feel what it's like, just once? Please Daddy?"
My mother and father just looked at me. At first, Daddy looked at me in something of a slight horror, until the rising of his cum-streaked prick gave him away. Momma just looked at me in astonishment, until a slight grin crossed her lips. I knew that Daddy was off the hook.
"Oh Hell, you might as well," she said in disgust, at the obscene sight of her little girl's swollen cunny drooling thick white gobs of her husband's seed. "You've already gone THIS far." For a second, I could almost swear I saw a twinkle in Momma's eye, as her head turned away from Daddy to me.
"Well?" she prompted.
I knew Momma didn't really mean that. My mother was just angry at Daddy and me; and was trying to shake Daddy up, by making him realize just how far past the normal bounds of propriety we had gone. I had never really intended things to go this far anyway. I mean, fucking your own father was obscenely exciting. Having your own father get you pregnant, was way PAST exciting, all the way to downright scary. I mean, a girl just DOESN'T have her own father's baby, does she? The very thought was thrilling, but scary too. On the other hand, that didn't stop me from taking advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself.
"Please Daddy?" I asked again. "Could we just do it a little bit, until I do? I'll make it feel REAL good for you, I promise." This time it was Momma's grin that almost made me burst out giggling, but I managed somehow. I squirmed lower, trying to recapture my father's cum-dribbling prick back inside my hot little hole. A thick white gob of sperm still oozed out the tip, as I fitted Daddy's penis inside me, while my mother watched in amazement.
"Oooh Daddy, I'm gonna have your bbaaaaabbyyyyy," I wailed; knowing that Momma wouldn't be able to blame Daddy if I got pregnant after THIS scene. "I want to feel you do it," I whined, as one last time I repeated myself: "Please Daddy? | 4 |
2,390 | The "Certified" Pedophile | "What's all the commotion over in the other block?" I asked Cindy, my next-door neighbor. Well, "next-door" is a euphemism, as is the term "block". With most of the "lots" in our area having over 5-acres, (The zoning people out here wanted to keep people from breaking up farms for housing, and all they did was increase the number of farms being broken-up; only into bigger pieces.) most of our neighbors are over a city-block away. The 5 to 6 acre parcels being stretched end-to-end make for some pretty strange distributions of city streets.
For instance, my closest neighbor was really the person living in the new house on the dead-end street that was almost a mile-away by taking the surface-roads, but only a couple of hundred yards through my backyard, and across the tiny little creek that divided the two properties.
For the last year or so, the developers had been having trouble filling up their lots, only managing to sell this one house in the cul-de-sac that made up the next street over, where all the commotion was going on.
Cindy and I weren't all that close in either distance, friendship, politics, or even mutual interests. The only thing we had in common was that we both had teenaged daughters who went to the same school. Thus, I knew her from the PTO meetings and other functions. She did seem to be one of those "busybodies" who knew everything and wanted to tell it. So, given the chance, I asked her what was going on when we met out at the common post that held 5 different neighbors' mailboxes and newspaper-receptacles. (All for the convenience of the post-office, not us.)
"Haven't you heard?" she asked. "The guy's a pedophile."
"Huh?" I said. "Who's a what?"
"I said he's a pedophile. The pervert who moved into the house behind yours. It was in the paper the other day. Under some new law, the police keep track of pedophiles and notify people when they move into a neighborhood. Especially when they contain children, like ours. So we're all holding a demonstration."
"Oh," I said, with not much brilliance. "What's a pedophile?"
Cindy looked at me like I was the school dunce. I didn't care. She wasn't that good a friend. "A pedophile," she said, "A child-lover."
"Oh," I said. "I can see why people might be pleased to have someone who loves children around," I said, perplexed, "but I don't see that it's all that strange. At least, not enough to hold a celebration about."
By this time, you could hear the shouts from clear over on our street. It must have been some celebration, I figured.
"I mean, doesn't almost everybody love children?" I asked.
Now Cindy looked at me like I was something slimy that had crawled out from under a rock. I must have looked like the village-cretin to her.I believe the old goat wanted to have sex with the kid himself and plant his baby in her sexy little belly.
"Well," I said, "if she's that cute, can you blame him?"
"Are you for real, Lady?" he asked. "I mean, do you have any kids of your own?"
"Six," I said promptly, "Five girls and a boy. Thirteen, eleven, nine, eight, five, and seven, respectively."
He looked at me funny-like. "So what would YOU think if I came over one day and had sex with all five of your little girls, right in front of you?"
God! I'd begun to fear he'd never ask. "Would you?" I asked.
"Not on your life, Lady. I've got enough troubles already," he said. "But damn, you almost make it sound as if you wanted me to." He turned and motioned me to follow him in the house.
"I do," I said under my breath. Still, I wasn't going to push things. A certified pedophile like he was, probably had too many little girls to have sex with already, even if he was on probation for not doing a proper job on one of them. I could bide my time... If he REALLY loved little girls, then seeing my cute daughters running around half-naked like they did most of the summer, would get his interest. Especially if I helped them, knowing what Daddy used to like. I could hardly wait.
In the meantime, it was nice to talk to a man who didn't think of little girls as sexless pixies. He even seemed to like ME, even though I'm getting kind of old for a child-lover, at 26. Not to mention the fact that I was single, with 6 children. I shuddered as I remembered how most men had acted when they found I had that many kids. Mark (I picked up his name over a cup of coffee, as we talked in his house, after finishing the lawn.) might not even see that as a disadvantage, being a pedophile. No wonder pedophiles were so much in demand that people would throw a party like the one last night, when one moved into the neighborhood. And he was my next-door neighbor, too... Just across the back yard. Me with 5 cute little girls living right next door to a pedophile... I couldn't believe my luck.
Over the next few months, several of my neighbors (almost all the ones with children) moved out. I couldn't believe it. Here the neighborhood gets its own registered pedophile, and after that tremendous welcome, all the people with children move away, without ever letting their children even see him. Oh well, what was their loss, was our gain. Several times that spring, when the weather was warm I dressed the kids in their skimpiest clothes, and either walked by on the bike-path by his house, or worked in the back yard, when we saw him working in his. A couple of times I took one of the two older girls with me, when I went over to visit, as we were becoming fast friends. Strangely, for someone with a reputation like his, he didn't seem to make friends with many of the neighbors. As I said, "Oh well."
A couple of times I had invited him over to our house, but he seemed to be somewhat disturbed by seeing all the little girls and their brother wandering around the house in the skimpy underwear that we all usually wore when not going out. Daddy had always preferred to see me and the girls that way, and I had never grown to like wearing much clothing when safely in my own home.
Mark almost couldn't take his eyes off little Cynthia, when she came in wiping her eyes from sleep, naked as the day she was born, and settled into my lap with her little legs spread so he could see right up her cunny, almost to her navel.
He didn't come over for two weeks after that, but eventually he seemed to take it in stride when one or the other of the girls (or boy) would come into the room displaying more of her charms than most models in Playboy. I hoped he was getting horny for them, as much as the girls were for him.
Once he asked me while I was visiting at his house, "Sometimes I almost think you meant it, when you said you wouldn't mind if I had sex with your little girls."
"I did," I said.
He just looked at me thoughtfully, but then didn't come over to visit for a week. Damn!
It was in the middle of the summer, that I saw the opportunity. You know, summer... Swimsuits, and little kids? Yeah, that time of year. The summer was hot, and we quite often played in the creek dividing our properties. Since it was quite a way to the main road, I didn't feel guilty about letting the children go swimming (Well, OK, wading) there, as their shrieks and horseplay wouldn't disturb the neighbors. When I saw Mark was quite often working outside when the girls started playing, seeming to enjoy the sight of their half-naked bodies, it didn't take much convincing on my part, to talk the children into skinny-dipping. Each time they would look around carefully as if to make sure I wouldn't see them, then the girls would slip out of their clothes and run and splash in the water completely naked. Sometimes they noticed Mark watching them, and would wave at him, trying to get him to join them. He never did, but I noticed his "yardwork" picked up tremendously, after that.
Eventually, he got used to seeing the little girls running around in various states of dress or undress, and it no longer bothered him to visit when one of the girls would come into the room wearing some particularly sexy outfit, or none at all. So I decided it was time to proceed with the next step.
By now, all 6 children seemed to think Mark's back yard was an extension of ours. Since Mark didn't do anything to correct the misapprehension, neither did I. In fact, I encouraged my daughters to play in his yard (never when he could hear me) and ask him favors... Like using the bathroom; getting a drink; borrowing a towel when wet from swimming, etc.
I then started asking him, if he could "keep an eye on the girls for just a second or two" while I dashed to the store or whatever silly errand I could make up. The girls didn't really need ANYONE watching over them, as the two older girls were quite capable of taking care of their little sisters and brother. Still, I deliberately built up an image of all six kids needing babysitting, whenever I was gone, and me as a person who couldn't afford a babysitter for more than an hour or so at a time.
Surprisingly, it was Kimmy, who made the first breakthrough. I had really expected it to be Lisa or Jackie, especially considering the fact that his past experience (what he told me of it) had been with an 11 and then 12-year-old girl... So I really expected him to make his first pass at the older girls, and I'd have to work to make him see that the younger ones could be just as sexy. What a pleasant surprise to find out he was already attracted to kids even younger.
"Momma," said the cute little 5-year-old, as she sat on my lap eating a cookie. "He touched me, down there." The little girl looked pointedly between her legs, where her pouting little hole made a plump circle, in contrast to the plump peach-like look of her three-year-older sister.
"Who, Mark?" I asked, hoping.
"Uhuh," she confirmed. "He just rubbed it a little, while I was sitting in his lap, but I could tell he was feeling me, not just holding me."
"What were you doing in his lap?" I asked. I hadn't realized that any of the girls had gotten even that far yet.
"We play Nintendo, and he's only got one controller," the little girl explained.
Wahoo! I almost shouted for joy. Why else would Mark buy a kid's game, if he didn't want the kids playing with it. Of course, maybe having lots of kid's toys around the house for little girls to play with, was standard equipment for pedophiles... I didn't know.
"Do any other of the kids sit on his lap?" I asked.
"Sometimes Cynthia or Candy does," she replied, "though Candy always keeps complaining about the lump in his pants afterwards. I don't mind his penis getting big under me though."
"Uh... You and the girls don't TELL him that, do you?" I asked.
"Of course not Momma. We don't want him knowing we know about sex, until he shows us; just like you told us."
I breathed a sigh of relief. As long as HE thought he was seducing the kids, then it was OK. If he ever thought I had set out to have them seduce him, then he might think I was trying to sneak some free service for my daughters from him. Who knows how much a certified pedophile would charge to have sex with five little girls, and teach them and their little brother about sex? On the little income I had from the insurance, I couldn't afford to find out.
Since he was the type of guy in the first place, who DID like to have sex with little girls, I figured maybe he might be tempted into doing it for free, if the girls were cute enough... And all my kids were. So, while I prompted the kids on what to do, I let Mark set the pace. For some reason, it was almost as though he felt guilty about playing around with my kids, as if it was HE who should be paying ME, and he would get in trouble if he got caught "sneaking a feel" without paying for it. I giggled at the thought.
Well if that was the case, shortly I'd be able to squash that worry. "Next time," I said to my daughter, "spread your legs a little, to make it easier for him. Don't act like you know what he's doing, but show you like it, OK?"
"Yes, Momma," sighed the 5-year-old, "I KNOW all that."
Kids learn so fast these days... <Sigh.>
From then, it was a "blow-by-blow" description, with almost every day little Kimmie getting him to go a little further.
"He actually touched my cunny today, Momma."He rubbed my breasts through my shirt." This, from Cynthia!
"Oh wow, Mom, today he really rubbed me hard, actually running his finger through my crack. No, he didn't take off my pants yet."
"Mom! He did it! He actually ran his hand down in my panties, and almost stuck his finger inside me. I was so excited I almost died!"
"Well, he DID rub my breasts, up under my shirt... Does that count, Mom?"
"Oooh Mom. You were right. His finger feels almost as good in me, as yours does." (Oh well, give the guy a few weeks finding out what the girls liked, and I'm sure he would get as good at diddling the kids as I was.)
"I took off my panties today, and he didn't say anything. The bulge got bigger in his pants though."
By this time, I was getting a little disappointed. Mark was almost openly fondling all three of the younger girls, as long as it was only them, but he hadn't even made a pass at the two older ones, who needed him most! Figuring he might be worried about the older girls "telling", I decided it was finally time to "catch on" myself.
The next afternoon, I sent the three younger kids over to "play Nintendo" then waited for about 20 minutes for things to get "warmed up" inside the house. Then, using the FRONT door, not the back, (Cynthia had found where he hid the key.) I slipped inside and slowly walked up behind the man who was oh-so-nicely molesting my little girl. I was proud of both of them. Actually, all four of them, the two kids sitting on the floor with their legs deliberately spread, so he could see right up inside their tight little vaginas, and the little 8-year-old girl being diddled on the couch by her 23-year-old lover.
I watched for a while to see how well he was doing... Fairly good, but as the girls said, "Not as good as I did."
"She really likes to have her clitoris rubbed in a circle," I observed, "and then every once in a while stick your finger up in her hole. Just be careful you don't break her hymen, because she wants a man to do it with his penis when she gets a chance, just like her Daddy did to me, when I was her age."
Ever heard the expression "He almost jumped out of his skin?" I swear, if it was possible, Mark would have done it that day. For a second, I thought he was going to have a heart-attack at being caught with his hands in my little girl's panties. (Actually, the panties in question were in a heap on the floor, next to Cynthy's feet.)
Mark turned several shades of white, then blue, and gasped for breath. He didn't yank his finger out of the little girl though, thank goodness. I think for a moment, he had actually forgotten it was there, as my presence scared him half to death... Why, I don't know. You'd think he was afraid I'd be mad, or shoot him or something, instead of just being annoyed.
He finally seemed to realize this. "You mean you don't mind?" he asked, almost incredulously.
I wondered what was the matter. Would some people actually object to their daughters having fun with an older man? I found it hard to believe; but I guess there are some weirdoes in the world. "Of course not," I snapped, almost harshly. "I'm just wondering, why do you treat the little kids so nice, and neglect the older ones? I mean, Lisa and Jackie enjoy sex just as much as Cynthia, Kim and Candy," I said. "Not to mention, Bobby and me," I added under my breath. Still, Mark was a pedophile... A man who liked sex with little girls, not little boys or old women like me. I sighed with frustration.
Mark heard me anyway. "You... Want ME... To have sex with you, and all your children?" he asked, incredulously.
I nodded. Wasn't that what I just said?
"I realize that I'm probably way too old for you, and Bobby's just a boy," I explained, "But that's no reason you should neglect the girls. I mean, I might not be what you want for a sex partner, but you already said you liked girls Lisa's age. So why don't you fuck them? I mean, I may not be as young and pretty as they are, but I'm not really expecting you to want to fuck me. But why neglect Jackie and Lisa? Aren't THEY pretty enough for you?"
"Oh Crap!" said Mark.
I was devastated. Here I had such high hopes...
"The sexiest woman I've ever seen, let alone met, tells me she thinks she's too old and ugly for me... The same woman I've been having wet-dreams about, for the last six months, tells me she's under the impression I think she's ugly!" Here Mark looked at me with an intensity that was almost frightening. "Then this same girl, who's got me creaming my jeans just thinking about her, offers me her two wet-dream daughters who I've been fighting a losing battle to keep my hands off of, as 'substitutes' to fuck, because she feels she's 'too old' for me. Oh God! Not only that, but this same unbelievably desirable young woman seems to want me to teach her OTHER four incredibly sexy little kids about sex, like some child-molesting pervert's wet-dream about a 'sex-education-class'. This is fucking unreal. I must have blown my cork. On the other hand, if it's real, I'll hate myself until I die, if I don't take advantage of this." Mark seemed to be talking more to himself, than me.
"If you meant one word of what you just told me," he said, looking me straight in the eye, "Then you'll take off those clothes right now, so we can give the kids their first lesson in having sex."
"Right here? Right Now? In front of the kids?" I asked, suddenly aware of six pairs of eyes on the two of us, as my two eldest girls and their little brother had joined the crowd, the way I had instructed them to, about 20 minutes earlier.
"Right here. Right Now. And in front of the kids," he said quietly; waiting.
I didn't even hear the finish of his sentence, I was too busy skinning out of the short little summer dress I wore, and removing my shoes.
Dress, shoes and panties were all I usually wore in the summer, and I probably would have skipped the panties, except that Daddy had always told me he thought a woman looked sexier with panties than naked, and if not, she could always take them off, but if she didn't have them, she couldn't put them on. Made sense to me, like most of what Daddy used to say.
It took Mark about three seconds longer to get undressed, but then he was like a tiger pouncing. For the first time in five long years since Daddy died, I felt my hot little hole filled properly with hot male penis. (None of the "dates" I had in the past ever got to first base, because they all chickened out when I brought them home, and they found out the size of my family.) God, that was good! I resolved never again to go without sex for over a month or two, if I could avoid it. Month or two? How about hour or two?
If he was a tiger, I was a tigress, practically raping him to get him to squirt his precious seed in my empty aching womb where it belonged. I was just reaching my third panting screaming frantic orgasm when I felt Mark's wonderfully thick penis swelling inside me. Oh God! Mark was even bigger than Daddy! I actually bit his shoulder, as I strained for that glorious third release with his thick cream jetting inside my womb where it belonged.
"Uh, Karen?" he asked; for some reason holding back on the thick squirts that would send me over the edge, "You're not on the pill, are you?"
"Pill," I wondered, "what's that?" Daddy never told me.
"Oh shit!" he exclaimed, "I'd better pull out."
Only it was too late. By this time, the tickling inside my hot little hole had gotten to be too much, and I wrapped my legs around my sexy young lover, and practically RAPED myself on his thick penis. No way was my lover getting away, until each precious drop of his seed was as far up inside me as I could get it. I felt Mark's penis swell dangerously inside me, and then I was there! I don't know if I felt him actually squirt in me, but I sure felt each time Mark's penis swelled and jerked in my vagina! Just knowing my handsome young lover was planting his seed inside me, was almost as exciting as the sex itself. Over and over I moaned and screamed, and milked the thick penis bucking in my belly, until both of us were too exhausted to try again.
We finally rolled apart, and I spread my legs so the kids could all see what it was like for a woman to have a man's sperm inside her. I had told them many times, but this was the first they could see for themselves. Except for the two older kids; who vaguely remembered when Daddy and I had let them watch; while Lisa had actually been lucky enough to feel her father's penis squirting inside her vagina twice, before the big accident took him away.
"Oh God," groaned Mark. "I'm sorry, Karen, I just couldn't help myself. you're too sexy for your own good."
"Huh?" I said, "Whatever are you rambling about... Sorry about what? That's the best sex I've had, since the first time Mom had Daddy get me pregnant."
"First time... Wha? Never mind, we'll talk about that later. I just couldn't help it, Karen, but you got me so excited I came in you."
"Oh boy, did you ever!" I agreed; enjoying the slick feel of greasy cum filling my horny slit for the first time in FAR too long. "Next time, maybe you can squirt even more in me," I said with a lewd grin. Several of the kids giggled.
"Karen," he said; talking as if to a wayward child, "you might have a baby!"
As if I didn't know all about babies... With six of them standing around watching us, as evidence that I did.
"Well," I said, "I sure HOPE so.My period was a little over a week ago, so there's a pretty good chance, if we're lucky.
"You mean that?" he asked incredulously.
At my nod, he attacked me again! The next thing I knew, we were both rutting frantically again, while he muttered obscenities about little girls with big bellies and wanting to get knocked-up, and assorted garbage like that, that told me he was as excited about creating a new life as I was. I managed three more climaxes, before he gave a final weak spurt inside me, having spent the best part of himself the first time. I didn't care... For the first time in five years I was sexually satisfied. The proper way, with my lover's seed hopefully making a baby in my womb, while we snuggled together.
When we finished and rolled apart, Lisa asked, "When can we do it, Momma?"
Mark looked at me grimly. "I don't care what you say, I am NOT fucking your daughters... They're just too young."
I just grinned to myself; sated, happy, and well-fucked. Hopefully with a baby growing in my belly, but if not, then there was always tomorrow. As for Mark and my little girls... If he was a true pedophile, or "little girl lover" as they say, then he would come around.
I sent the girls home disappointed, to look after each other, while we spent the rest of the afternoon in Mark's bed. If the girls needed me, they knew where to find me.
Two weeks later, Mark still hadn't gone any further, and I didn't even mention it again. Better for things to proceed at his pace, than to scare him off. Except for me getting laid almost every day, and sometimes several times a day, the only change had been that Mark was now "feeling up" the older girls too, now that he knew I wouldn't object, and they wouldn't either.
It was fully three weeks later, that I finally caught him with Lisa in his lap, his thick cock halfway down her throat. Mark just looked at me, shrugged, and looked embarrassed. I watched until I saw a white bubble appear in the little girl's nose, and realized he was squirting so much sperm down my daughter's throat, that it was backing up her nose. Damn, I was proud of her.
After that, I would sometimes find one or the other of the girls with my lover's prick in her mouth, and shortly thereafter, I watched him give little Cynthia a "licking that keeps on ticking." <Giggle.>
I finally figured out that the only times Mark went a little further with the girls, were the times when I wasn't there... As if, all the evidence to the contrary, he still believed I would do something horrible, if I caught him seducing one of the kids. It seems that I had to somehow get out of the house, and leave him alone with the girls for some time. Thus the "babysitting" idea.
"Mark, I've got a VERY important date, I've just got to get to... NO, not that type of date, you idiot. I'm only fucking the father of my baby. Yes father. What do you expect, fucking an innocent little girl, who doesn't know how to protect herself against such things?" <Giggle.> <Snort.>
We'll talk about that later... Right now, I need a BIG favor."
"No, not THAT 'favor' you idiot, though I might want that later... I need a babysitter."
Mark looked at me like I was nuts. "You want a babysitter?" he asked.
"That's what I said, a babysitter. I've got to be gone almost all night, and I don't want the girls left alone... OK?"
"Why don't you get the babysitter you had before?" he asked.
"Have you ever seen me use a babysitter before?" I asked.
"Well, no but..."
"Well, The last one I ever had was Momma, just before she died of cancer."
"Oh."
Mark thought about it. "Can't you get anybody else?" he asked.
"Mark, I want YOU. I don't trust anybody else with my girls."
"Let me get this straight," he said, "You want ME, a known pedophile and child-molester to 'babysit' your sexy little girls, that you 'don't trust alone with other men.' Have I got that right?"
"Uhuh," I said. "You're the only man I trust alone with them, because you truly love children."
"Oh yeah?" he said. "What if you come back and find me fucking your 13-year-old daughter; 'sitting' a baby in her belly, instead of just 'sitting' and watching her?"
"As long as she doesn't mind, then I don't," I replied.
"You're crazy," he said, "you know that?"
"So," I asked, "will you do it?"
"I must be just as crazy as you are," he said, "but if you insist, I'll do it."
"Oh thanks, Mark, I'll make sure you don't regret this," I said; wriggling my tummy at him in a suggestive manner. He got the hint... Two minutes later, we were back in bed, for the second time that day.
"Father huh?" he said afterwards; while running his big hand over my still fairly smooth belly, down to where an obscene white drool leaked out.
"Uhuh," I said. "Are you sorry?"
"No. Are you?"
"No."
Two days later, I had the "date". (Actually, all alone to a VERY boring movie, and an equally boring meal in a restaurant.) Two guys tried to "pick me up" on the streets, but I wasn't interested. Having a perfect pedophile at home to take care of my little girls, I wasn't about to settle for anything less.
Before I left I could tell Mark was nervous about the whole thing, so I tried to allay his fears by assuring him that I would tell the kids to obey him. For some reason, this seemed to make him even more nervous. However, the whole idea was to make him feel free to do whatever he wanted with my little girls, so I left him in the kitchen, (Where I knew he could still hear.) while I went into the other room and instructed the children, "Now I want all you kids to be sure and do anything Mark tells you to. He's in charge for tonight, just like it was me. So I don't want to come back later and find out that one of you refused to do something he told you to do... Understand?"
"But Momma, what if he wants us to suck his cock or something?" <Giggle.>
<Sigh.> Kids... You've got to love 'em. "Jackie," I said, "stop being silly. You've been sucking Mark's cock for weeks now. If he asks you or any of the other kids to do something like that, then I expect you to have at least a mouthful of his cum in your tummy before I get back. And that goes for all of you, understand?"
"Yes, Momma... But what if he...?"
"I said he's in charge. Unless you think you'll get hurt permanently, I expect you to do whatever he tells you to, and that's it. Now I'm going out for at least four hours, and I want every one of you to do your best to keep Mark happy. He's the first babysitter I've ever trusted with you kids, and I want him to be willing to come back when I need to go out in the future. so I expect you kids to do whatever it takes to make him want to come back and do it again next time. OK?"
"Yes Momma." There were no 'buts' this time. (Actually, the kids and I had rehearsed this whole conversation several times before Mark came over, just so we could have it while he listened in from the other room; thinking he was eavesdropping.)
When I left, I deliberately left the door unlocked, and my purse in the bedroom. I drove down to the convenience-store, bought gas and a magazine and read it while I waited for a half-hour to pass, to give the man enough time to feel unobserved, and the girls to snuggle up next to him in the skimpy underthings we all wore around the house.
Hopefully, the kids would have tempted the man into doing more than just snuggle, before I returned for my "missing" purse. I hoped Mark was as good a "babysitter" as his reputation suggested he should be. He was.
I eased the car up to the curb, not driving in the driveway, where Mark or the kids might hear it. Then I walked quietly to the front door and tried it... Locked! I almost giggled in glee, as I wondered why he would lock the door against me; seeing as nobody else would be likely to come by at this time of night. It was for this reason I had carefully oiled the lock earlier in the day, until I could turn it open without a sound. Now for the big act, where I had "forgotten" my purse, with the Movie tickets in it. (Yes tickets... I wasn't dumb enough to only buy one.)
As I walked through the living-room in search of my "missing" purse, I found Mark "babysitting' the kids, just like I had hoped he would be, with Jackie "sitting" on his lap, while he slowly fucked her, with all the other kids watching; "sitting a baby" in the little girl's womb, while he "sits" on the couch, and she "sits" on the thick prick that was spasming her tiny little womb full of his potent baby-making seed.
"Sorry to disturb you kids," I said; dashing through the room, "but I forgot my purse, and the theater tickets are still in it. Don't mind me; I'll only be a second." As if I hadn't even noticed the obscene coupling taking place on the couch. Not that I could have missed it if I had tried. I guess the shock of "being caught" was too much, as I heard Jackie suddenly keening in orgasm, followed by a loud, "Oh shit!" from Mark. I guess the little girl's squeezing climax took him over the edge too, in spite of the scary feeling of being caught fucking my little girl.
I looked over the edge of the couch, as I returned the way I had come; purse in hand. By now Mark was doing a REALLY good job of "sitting" a baby in my daughter's womb. I was so proud of my little girl for taking good care of my fiance while I was out. Not to mention how well Mark was taking of my daughters."I see you're taking good care of the girls," I said, looking down to where a thick white drool had just appeared, running in an obscene streak down the thick cylinder that had vanished into my daughter's nubile young body. I gave his shocked face a kiss and left, saying, "Don't forget the other kids too. I'll be back after my date."
I then left for my boring night, which was made even more boring and insipid by all the horny thoughts that ran through my head as I imagined all the nasty and obscene things my future husband was probably doing to my little girls. DAMN, I wanted to see it. But I knew if I had been there, the man would probably have been too frightened or embarrassed to even try seducing the kids, even with (or maybe especially with) my encouragement.
At 12:15, I figured Mark had been alone with my little girls long enough. If he was going to do anything with any of them, it had probably long since been done. Besides, I had only said I was going to be out past midnight.
I just had to find out how far Mark had gone with each of them. At least one of my little girls now knew what the man's bare quivering penis felt like, spurting thick sticky cream in her hot little hole, and if they all hadn't, I still figured it wouldn't be all that long until they did. I wondered who I would find awake when I got back, and who would be sleeping with whom.
When I opened the door, the house was silent. Not even the creaking of bedsprings I had been hoping for. Looking into each of the bedrooms, I found all of the children asleep, except the oldest one. Mark and Lisa were in MY bed (deliberately, I guess, so I couldn't miss it). The man was slowly stroking in and out of my little girl's body, as my eldest daughter and her older lover strove together for a climax. I guess the two of them had waited for several hours until they heard me come in, just so they could give me this thrill.
I watched as Mark tensed above his child-lover, before he suddenly jerked his crotch into hers and began shuddering. As I watched, I knew my eldest daughter's fertile young womb was even then being flooded with the man's potent seed, as my fiancé did his best to father a child on my little girl, just like he had done to me, sometime in the previous month.
"You know," I remarked, "Lisa's not on the pill, and her period was almost two weeks ago." (I had picked this night for my 'date' for just that reason.) "There's a very good chance," I continued, "that you're getting my little girl pregnant, right now."
"I know," said Mark.
"I know," repeated Lisa, happily.
God, I'm so proud of my little girl.
It took about a month before Mark was finally fucking the little kids too, finally taking Cynthia's despised "cherry" and fucking her just like her big sisters. Yes, even Candy and Kimmy are now getting fucked properly by my husband, with his potent seed squirting right into their tiny little wombs where it belongs, at least two or three times a week.
I envy my little girl, getting fucked for the first time a whole year younger than I was, the first time Momma had Daddy fuck me. It's so cute to see a little 5-year-old girl being royally fucked by a man old enough to be her father twice over. To see the little girl's belly bulge each time the older man slides his prick inside her, and then flatten again when he pulls it out. Then, when he finally loses control and begins jerking his prick inside her, jamming his body as close to hers as he can, while his prick pumps the child's body full of the white stuff that makes babies... I mean, how lucky can you get at only five? I suppose the only way she could be luckier would be if Mark got her pregnant. I had been 11, almost 12, the first time Momma had Daddy get me pregnant with Lisa. Maybe one of the girls would get to feel her tummy swelling even earlier than I had. As it was, I still envied Kimmy for getting to feel a man's prick squirting his potent seed in her tiny little womb when she was almost a whole year younger than I had been the first time Daddy slipped into my room.
Oh well, I guess some of us are born lucky, and some aren't.
Even Bobby had been getting "sex-lessons" from Mark. I watched proudly just the other day as the little boy fucked his little sister Kimmy for the first time, with his stepfather's prick buried to the hilt in the little boy's ass, just like he was pumping sperm right through the kid and into his little sister. We're all hoping my son will be big enough to squirt sperm in his little sister's womb, in time for her first period, so Kimmy can carry her big brother's baby, before Mark gets the little girl pregnant by accident... Of course, that wouldn't be so bad either, but we're all looking forward to mating the two kids, just like we hope to mate my daughter and Lisa's baby boy that we expect in a couple of months. We think there's a chance that Jackie might have missed her period already, while Cynthia could have her first one any day now.
It seems that Mark is almost as good at teaching the kids about sex as Daddy was at teaching me. God, I just can't believe how lucky I was to find a genuine "police-certified" pedophile right next door.
I understand from the newspapers that they are expecting the law having the police tell people when a pedophile moves into the neighborhood, struck down as "unconstitutional". I hear it's mostly because of some of the demonstrations people have when they do, like that big party they held the night Mark first moved in. It seems that some people in the demonstrations always get annoyed at finding out the police told everybody, and they get carried away. There have actually been cases where people got hurt. In a couple of them, it was even the pedophile the people had come to see, if you can believe it. Damn! What's so bad about having the police tell people like me where they can find a pedophile to fuck their horny little girls when they need one?
There just aren't enough men around who love little girls. I mean, REALLY love them, as in, "Love to fuck them." We need MORE "certified pedophiles", not less. Too bad Daddy died in that accident. I wonder if my father could have qualified as one? | 6 |
2,393 | Girl Scout Baby-Sitting Services | "But I don't HAVE a baby that needs babysitting!"
"Don't worry... WE supply that too."
"Uh... I'm not sure I want girls bringing over other people's kids."
"Oh, don't be silly! Part of the 'babysitting' service we Scouts provide is having you 'sit a baby' in the Girl Scout who comes over to 'sit' for you. No problem, see."
"Uh... But I already... Uh... My wife will...."
"Here... Let's give you just a TINY sample of the 'services' we're going to offer for a VERY reasonable price. You won't even have to take out a second mortgage."
"But I... Uh... Oh God...."
<Slurp, slurp, slurp.>
"Marie! Don't suck the slob off. SIT on him."
"But he... Oh damn, you're right. Here... get that thing in... UH!... Oh God, he's even bigger than Daddy. Shit. It feels like it's coming out my throat. Uh... huh... huh... huh."
"Careful. You don't want him cumming in you before he signs the babysitting contract."
"Oh God... I'm gonna...."
"Uh, uh, uhn, uh! No you don't! We don't provide babysitting services until you sign! Marie... You'd better get off now."
"But he's... Yes, Scout Cynthia."
"Now you be a GOOD little parent, and sign right here."
"But I'm NOT a parent."
"Don't worry... You WILL be, before the contract is up."
"There... Now let's be going, Marie."
"But... But... But what about my...."
"Oh... THAT. Your regularly scheduled babysitter will be over to supply the 'services' contracted for, at the specified time. Surely you don't expect one of US to do such a nasty thing? Goodbye, Mr. Jones; and thanks for your business."
"But I... But we... But I was just gonna...."
<Click!>
<Groan!> | 4 |
2,415 | At the doctor's office | "Karen Stanwick?" The pretty young girl in the nurse's uniform looked much too young to hold the job, seeming to be barely a year or two older than the budding teenager who rose from the chair in the waiting room. Still, her professional attitude and the crisp white uniform covering the firm young body underneath did a lot to add authority to her position. The smile she had for the 13-year-old, rising as her name was called, did a lot to dispel the younger girl's anxiety.
"Is this your first complete sex checkup?" she asked, scribbling notes in the pad of paper that was in the binder. Karen could tell from the quick glimpse she had of the contents that it contained what was probably her entire medical history.
"Yes," she said, somewhat nervously, wondering why the young woman didn't just read that information out of the file in front of her. Then she realized that the nurse probably didn't have time to read the entire file. Karen was just one person of many that the girl had to keep notes on.
"Oh. In that case, perhaps you'd rather have your mother present... at least during your first time? Some girls feel a little nervous about having their first sexual examination by a male doctor." The friendly grin of the older girl somewhat reassured the 13-year-old that she wouldn't be considered "chicken" or even unusual to want one of her parents present at that time.
Karen blushed. The LAST thing she wanted was to have her mother watching at what was sure to be an embarrassing moment for her, as the doctor did all those things she had heard about. Especially, since it involved her "private-parts". Karen was afraid she would be even more embarrassed if her mother saw her being touched "down there" than she would if she was alone with the doctor. Once again she blushed as she tried to explain this to the older girl. "No," she said, "I'd rather do it alone... I mean I'd rather be alone with the doctor, when he... Oh, you know what I mean."
Cindy grinned at the girl's embarrassment, but it was a friendly grin. After all, it hadn't been all that many years ago that SHE had her first sex-exam, as the two-year-old down in the clinic's child-care facility testified. (One of the many benefits of working for Doctor Curtis.)
"It's OK," she reassured the younger girl. "Most girls prefer to have someone present, like a nurse or one of their parents, for the first time, but not all do. Some feel more comfortable with just the doctor. We here at the Curtis clinic appreciate that, and try to make your checkup as pleasant as possible. So, if you'd rather just have the doctor, that can be arranged too. When it was my first time, I had my mother, my father, AND the nurse there... I was scared shitless." She grinned at the younger girl.
Looking up at the crisp white uniform of the nurse, who didn't look a day over 17 herself, Karen found this hard to believe, especially with the sexy walk and unconscious wiggle that the older girl put in every move she made.
CHAPTER: 2
"Really?" she asked. "I'm scared I'll cry or something, and that would embarrass me so much, I'd just DIE if my parents saw me. Especially Mother. She seems to think girls don't have to learn about sex; they just have to DO it, like she always did. All this 'modern foolishness' seems like just that to her. You know how mothers are."
Both girls grinned at each other. Being only six years older than the younger girl at 19, Cindy could still appreciate the generational difference.
"Well, thank goodness people are more civilized these days," observed Cindy as she ushered the barely teenaged "patient" into the examining room. "Anyway, I've got to take down a bunch of information first. Dr. Curtis has scheduled you for two hours this morning. It usually doesn't take that long, but he wants to be sure. In the meantime, I've got to get some preliminary information, and do some tests. Let's get started."
Karen settled herself down on the small shelf that passed for a chair, while Cindy settled down in the real one and started making marks in the book in front of her.
"Any Allergies?" she asked.
"No."
"High blood pressure?"
"No."
"Heart attacks, Rheumatic fever, Bleeding?" Cindy rattled on.
"No, no, no."
"Any STDs?" At the older girl's question, Karen looked puzzled.
"Sexually-Transmitted-Diseases... Syphilis, Gonorrhea, HIV?"
"No." Karen was blushing again.
"Of course not; this is your first time... Still, we're required to ask. Are you taking any drugs, or on any medication?"
"No." Karen's blush was even brighter.
"Have you had Chickenpox, Mumps, Measles, or Whooping-cough?"
"Mumps, I think, when I was six."
The questioning went on for almost 10 minutes, getting increasingly personal. By the time Cindy asked her about masturbating, and how and with what she did it, Karen's cheeks were flaming red. Her questions about the girl's menstruation were almost tame after that. After finding out that Karen had been menstruating for six months, regular for the last three, and had just finished her last period about a week and a half earlier, the older girl put down her pen almost with a sigh of relief. "At least YOUR mother listened to the instructions," she sighed, as she pulled an arm-cuff from a drawer and fitted it around Karen's arm. "Now I'll get your blood-pressure; take a couple of blood-samples; and as soon as the results are in, Dr. Curtis will be in to see you... OK?"
"OK." Karen was getting tired of all this.This was the first time she had ever been completely nude in front of anyone except her own parents, and the last time that had happened, she had been almost too young to remember it.
It didn't help that Dr. Curtis was as naked as she was, not even wearing shoes or socks. His penis was a soft dangle bouncing in the matted hair of his groin. Thank goodness for that. If it had been erect and pointing at her, Karen would probably have shrieked or fainted. As it was, she could barely keep her eyes off it, like a bird watching a snake.
"Uh... I... Uh," she responded, barely able to take the proffered hand and shake it, while keeping her eyes glued on the sexual apparatus of the handsome young man she supposed was Dr. Curtis.
Dr. Goodwin Curtis (No, people did NOT call him "Goody"... at least not to his face, anyway. His nickname was "Doug.") was not insensitive. In his work, he couldn't afford to be. The naked little girl shivering in the cool air of the examining room looked ready to faint from fright, and her staring at his penis was threatening to give him an unwelcome hard-on, which at the moment was the last thing the little girl needed to see.
"Uh, Karen?" he asked, "Are you sure you wouldn't feel better if the nurse was in here?"
Karen gulped and nodded. Suddenly she did NOT want to be alone at this time. It was all very well and good to play "macho", but being naked and alone in the same room with a naked man (no matter HOW friendly) for the first time, was downright scary. Dr. Curtis didn't seem to be surprised. Very few girls went through the complete sexual examination without having either one of their parents or the nurse there to provide a measure of reassurance. Besides, things usually went faster with a nurse present to take notes, instead of him having to do it all himself. Still, for those who preferred their first time to be alone, Dr. Curtis always tried to be sensitive to his clients' wishes. "Cindy?" he called out through the door, "could you step in here please?"
The door opened, and Cindy stepped inside. To Karen's surprise, the nurse was as naked as she and the doctor were. Karen hurriedly revised her estimate of Cindy's good looks upward from "pretty" to "beautiful." At 19, Cindy Macon had a body that most models would kill for. Long brown hair framed a smooth creamy face with just the right amount of mouth and nose to make her look sweet and nice, without being emphatic. The flood of brown hair cascaded down in smooth ripples to creamy shoulders, where it split, reaching partway down her back, and resting with just a hint of curl on a firm set of bosoms that Michelangelo would have mortgaged his soul to sculpture. Not a hint of sag or overblown fullness marred their perfection. They were full and pink with the blush of youth, as it wouldn't be that long before the young woman would be feeding her youngest daughter from those lovely nipples. The nipples themselves WERE erect, as the hustle and exertion of getting undressed in a hurry (not to mention being naked herself, with the handsome young doctor) had excited the young woman. From her breasts, down to her smooth flat tummy that showed no signs of wear or stretching from the two children she had carried inside it, on down to the fuzzy 'vee' surrounding her sex, and on down to two perfectly shaped legs, the young woman looked more like a high-quality porno-mag model than a physician's assistant.
Cindy's embarrassment at being naked in front of the handsome young doctor quickly faded, as it was replaced by another emotion: jealousy. She knew she would NEVER look that good, even if her body continued developing the way it had been. Her skin and face weren't that smooth and creamy, her knees were slightly knobby, her voice high and shrill, and she still even had freckles.
"God, I wish I could look that good," she said wistfully.
Cindy giggled. It was hard to remain annoyed or jealous of somebody that friendly. "If she only knew..." she thought. To certain men (like a certain doctor), the barely teenaged little girl would look FAR more attractive than she ever would. Her very innocence and youth gave her something that Cindy would never have again. (Not that she missed it all that much.) From her long black hair to her oversized big blue eyes, the younger girl was the very picture of "innocent little girl" that men wanted to take care of. Her slightly budding breasts and pouting young mound with just a trace of fuzz, reminding people of her impending womanhood, just added to the sweet innocent sexiness of the child. Cindy knew that the younger girl would retain most of that "sweet innocent" look for most of her life, while she hadn't ever really looked that innocent... Not even when SHE had her first sexual examination, about a year and a half earlier than Karen. She also knew that it would be impossible to explain all this to the younger girl, as girls like her always wished for bodies like she had. Still...
"Believe me," she said, "SOME people would think you're even prettier than I am." She deliberately avoided the eye of the young doctor who had been watching this almost silent by-play with some amusement, as he'd seen it many times before.
Karen looked up angrily at the older girl, expecting to see that she was being made fun of. Only she saw nothing but sincerity in the nurse's eyes. "Well, maybe," she said, somewhat mollified, but not really believing it either.
"We'd better get started," the man said. "We only have a little over an hour left. I'm Dr. Curtis," he continued, "My friends call me 'Doug', and I'm sure you already know Cindy here."
The two girls grinned at each other. Somehow Cindy made the younger girl feel as if she had known her all her life.
"Now, if you'll come here," he said, "we can get started."
The young man motioned to Karen to sit up on the padded surface of the examining table. Picking up a black instrument from the wall and putting a disposable tip on it, he proceeded to look the child over from head to foot, making running comments to Cindy as he did so, while she made notes in the ever-present voluminous folder.
"Ears clear and normal; no sign of infection; slight wax buildup."
"Eyes normal and responsive; no visible abnormalities."
"Nose clear and normal."
"Throat clear and normal; slight redness on tongue and palate."
"Have you been eating any candy lately?"
"Just these," explained Karen, pointing to a pack of her favorite cinnamon candies lying next to her folded-up blouse.
"Mouth clear and normal. No sign of swelling in throat, lymph-nodes or salivary glands." By now, the examination was almost routine, except for the thoroughness of it and the fact that doctor, patient, and nurse were all naked as jaybirds... even more naked in fact, as jaybirds have feathers. By now Karen was getting used to feeling Dr. Curtis' (No, "Doug's" she reminded herself) skin touching hers, as he thumped her back, prodded her chest, listened to her heartbeat, made her cough, and all those other things that doctors do... only usually the doctor is dressed, even if the patient isn't. Only Karen wasn't really a patient... she wasn't sick. She was just getting an examination... a SEXUAL examination, she reminded herself, as her breath caught when Doug massaged and pressed on her budding breasts. It was all she could do to keep from pulling away.
"Breasts reactive and normal," he stated, tweaking one erect nipple for emphasis. "No sign of lumps, scar-tissue, or other abnormalities. I'm going to check a little more for response here."
With this, Doug Curtis took Karen completely by surprise, as he bent over and took her left breast in his mouth, almost completely surrounding it with his lips, while he sucked and lapped on the suddenly erect nipple.
Karen could barely gasp at the wonderful sensation. This was something no previous doctor had ever done. She looked over at Cindy, who was grinning at her. The older girl knew just how good that must feel. She was already wet and excited from remembering the first time SHE had felt a man's mouth sucking on her budding breasts. That was one of the things she loved most about this job: reliving vicariously her own first time, as she got to watch young girls get examined for the first time, by an expert. Doug Curtis WAS an expert, as she well knew.
"Left nipple normal and reactive," commented Doug, switching his mouth to the other one. Karen gasped again. If anything, her right breast seemed to respond to the sucking and licking of the young doctor even more than her left one had. The man had one hand around her waist and the other flat across her tummy, but Karen barely noticed, as the stimulation of his mouth on her developing young breasts was driving all thoughts of where his hands were out of her mind.
If what he did to her breasts caught her by surprise, what he did next almost shocked her. Removing his mouth from the now slippery young tit of the teenager, Doug Curtis dipped his tongue into the girl's sweet little navel, like he had been dreaming of doing ever since he had entered the room and seen the SYT (Sweet Young Thing) shivering naked there, waiting for him to begin his examination. Her budding breasts, perfect navel, and pouting young slit were all the makeup of a pedophile's wet-dream. And Doug Curtis was proud to be a pedophile (That's child-lover to those of you who don't know); his job called for it.
At Karen's gasp of surprise, he managed to surprise her even further.Removing his mouth from her perfect little tummy, Doug placed it over hers before she even realized what he was doing. Such a sweet little mouth, and sweet breath (Doug always used mouthwash just before his examinations, so the children wouldn't be put off by it) and once she got used to it, such a lively little tongue, as Karen quickly learned to return his internal caresses with hers. Karen almost hated to end the kiss as much as Doug did, but the time was getting on. Only half an hour remained for the rest of his examination.
"Navel normally reactive," he noted to Cindy, "Mouth clean and sensitive; tongue reactive and mobile." He grinned over at Cindy on that... they both knew the tongue bit was NOT a required part of the test, but it did seem to make the rest go easier. Besides, it gave the girl experience she would need later.
"Bend over the table, Honey," he instructed. "Lie down on the table, and spread your legs."
'Spread your legs'... Karen wondered if this was the moment, then noticed the doctor pulling on a pair of latex gloves, while the nurse got out a blue-and-white tube of something clear.
"He's just going to check you rectally," reassured Cindy.
This was confirmed by a cold, slippery feel, before pressure on her bottom made Karen temporarily feel like she had to defecate. Then the doctor's finger slid smoothly into her bottom, and she could feel the man sliding the finger around, probing here and there inside her.
"Smooth muscle tone, no sign of polyps, tears, abrasions, or hemorrhoids," commented Doug. He next turned the little girl over and asked Cindy, "Have those test-results come in yet?"
The woman consulted her chart again, this time leafing through several papers before responding. "All negative, Doctor," she replied briskly.
The two older people grinned at each other. After all, how likely was it that a 13-year-old virgin would have STDs? Still, the test was required.
"Then we don't need these," commented Doug, stripping off the gloves and washing his hands thoroughly in the small sink. He did it twice, even using a small stiff brush to clean under his fingernails. After all, he didn't want to accidentally infect his young charge by accident, with dirty fingers.
"For this," he commented, "I prefer natural lubrication," waving away the proffered tube of KY jelly. "Smells clean and normal; just like any sexy little girl," he noted for Cindy, as he paused with his nose almost in the girl's bellybutton again.
In spite of his earlier kisses on her breasts, navel, and mouth, Karen was completely unprepared for the sensations as the young doctor leaned even closer and swiped his tongue through the crevice of her pouting young vagina.
"Oh DOCTOR," she said, too shocked to even pull away. "What are you DOING?"
"You shouldn't lick me THERE," she moaned, unconsciously pushing back at the delicious sensation, as the man's thick tongue probed deeply into her slit, then swabbed her loins almost from the crack of her anus to just short of the bud of her clitoris, now peeping in pink erection at the top of her suddenly wet vagina. "That's what I PEE out of," she objected, unable to stop herself from pushing back anyway.
If the sensation of having a mouth on her sensitive young vagina for the first time was good, the incredibly erotic feeling she felt as the young doctor first licked her budding young clitoris, then sucked on it like it was a miniature cock, was indescribable. "Oh God. Oh God," she moaned.
Karen barely felt the invasion of the doctor's thick middle finger in her clasping young slit, as the man kept licking and stroking the pink little bud at the top of her crevice.
Karen had never felt anything like this before. Oh, she had played with her "joy button" before, but it had never felt like this! Smooth and slippery, and wriggling in a way that her own fingers never could, the man's thick tongue was bringing sensations to the little girl she hadn't known she COULD feel. "Oh, don't stop; don't stop!" she almost screeched, as the doctor paused long enough to comment to the interestedly watching nurse, "Clitoris erect and unhooded; and EXTREMELY responsive."
Cindy almost giggled, but managed to restrain herself.
"Vagina lubricating normally; in fact, extremely well, for such a young girl," continued Doug, using his finger to stroke the girl's vagina and clitoris, while his mouth was otherwise engaged. "Virgo Intactae," he remarked before returning his mouth to the young girl's now slippery vagina. "I'd better get the poor kid off, before she goes out of her mind," he said, before returning to the delicious (to him) taste of sweet young virgin cunny-hole.
"Huh?" said Karen, temporarily distracted by the unfamiliar words. Up to now, Doug had been keeping his vocabulary toned down to words a barely-teenaged girl might expect to understand. He wanted her to understand each part of the examination.
"He means that you're still a virgin," explained Cindy.
"Oh," responded the younger girl. Of course she was still a virgin. What kind of girl had he expected her to be? Then she thought, "Of course; he doesn't know. It's his job to find out."
"Oh," she repeated aloud, then "Oh! Ohmigod... OH! Oh, don't stop!"
Her movements grew ragged, as her voice became unintelligible, and she reached the first orgasm of her life. Gasping, shaking and quivering, the young girl shuddered and shook through three mind-blowing spasms, as her body jerked through its release. Previous to this, Karen had always thought she WAS having climaxes, when she fingered herself off. Now she knew better, and would never be quite satisfied with anything less.
Only when the little girl had finished shuddering and had gone weakly limp on the table, did the doctor pause in his duty of licking her tiny slit.
"Well," he said with kind of a barking laugh, "I guess she's wet enough now!"
Cindy giggled in response, while Karen was too washed out from her orgasm to do more than smile weakly at the joke.
Continuing as if nothing had happened, Doug examined the young girl's legs, tapped just under the knee of each smooth limb with a rubber hammer, and worked his way down to Karen's feet, remarking to Cindy's notations as he did, "Legs normal; reflexes normal; feet clean and free of abrasions; no sign of fungal or other infections; all in all, a pretty normal, healthy young girl."
He paused and looked at Cindy. "How much time do we have left, Nurse?" he asked.
"About two minutes, Doctor," she responded.
"Darn," he responded, not wanting to say "shit" in front of his impressionable young patient. Cindy was disappointed. "Does that mean I'll have to come back some other time?" she wondered.
"We'll just have to MAKE time, I guess," sighed Dr. Curtis. "I'll work through my lunch hour I guess. Oh well, a girl as responsive as Karen here, will be worth it." He and Cindy looked at each other over the top of Karen's head, and grinned.
"I'll reschedule things a half-hour later, and have a box-lunch brought up for you," responded the young nurse, slipping out the door without bothering to slip a robe or anything else around her nakedness.
"Make that an hour," said Doug. "I don't want to short-change Karen here, on her first time."
"Yes Doctor." The door shut with a click.
"Come here, Karen," said Doug, holding out his arms to the young woman shivering on the padded examining table, "Let's see if we can figure out something to pass the time, while she's fixing my schedule."
Karen was shivering from her reaction to her first orgasm, not from cold. If anything, after that tremendous climax, she was too hot, not too cold. For sure, being naked and alone in the same room with a man who was now sporting an enormous erection didn't seem to bother her any more. In fact, it was only when she felt the swollen member slip between her legs as she sat on his lap facing him, that she even noticed.
Doug ignored the proximity of his pre-cum dribbling prick to the entrance to the girl's vagina as well. Time enough for THAT, when Cindy returned. The nurse had been extremely helpful in quieting the younger girl's fears, and he figured she deserved her chance to watch. Besides, it was awful hard to take notes, when sexually involved yourself.
All this he kept to himself, just taking the 13-year-old in his arms and pulling her close.
"Mmmmm," Karen purred, wrapping her arms around the older man in response. She felt SO grateful for what he had done earlier. She knew that "getting her off" was NOT a necessary part of the examination, and was just something the man had enjoyed almost as much as she had. Karen snuggled closer, and responded eagerly, when she felt the doctor's mouth descend to hers, to pick up on the kiss he had started earlier. This time, they kissed for almost five minutes, with the man's hands running up and down the child's frame, seeming to draw enormous pleasure just feeling her bare skin with his.
The mismatched pair was just drawing breath for a third try at an even longer kiss, when a discreet cough informed them that Cindy had returned.
"I arranged for an extra 45 minutes," she explained, "and you two have already used up 15 of those."
"Oh.... Sorry," apologized Doug.
Karen wasn't sorry. She had enjoyed the hugging, cuddling, and kissing entirely too much to be sorry. "I'm not," she pouted. Both of the adults grinned at her. THEY knew what she meant.
"We've finished the external examination now," Dr.Curtis informed Karen, once again the professional, trying to finish the examination before time ran out again. He knew he didn't dare juggle things any more than Cindy already had. "So, if you'll get up on the table again, we'll proceed with the internal one."
"Internal?" asked Karen, as she obediently lay back on the padded table and spread her legs as indicated.
"Uhuh. Dr. Curtis is going to check you inside, to see if your body is big enough inside to have sex, and developed enough to have a baby. OK?"
"OK, I guess." Surprisingly, Karen WAS ready. She knew that this was what the whole "sexual examination" was REALLY about. Everything else was just making sure she was healthy enough for what might happen if she "passed" this part of the examination.
It felt kind of funny when the nurse put her heels in the metal "stirrups" and spread her legs so far apart she almost felt like she was doing the splits in Gym Class. It was slightly embarrassing to be exposed like that in front of a man too; but Karen no longer felt the way she had before, about exposing her vagina to the older man. After all, if she could only get HALF as much fun with what came next, she would be almost addicted to spreading herself for the young doctor.
"You remember how Dr. Curtis felt up inside your vagina with his finger?" asked Cindy, distracting Karen from her introspection.
"Uhuh."
"Well, he's going to have to feel a LOT farther up inside you this time," explained the nurse, "and he's going to have to stretch you inside too."
"Oh," said Karen, not sure what the older girl was getting at.
"So, since his finger isn't big enough to reach as far as he has to inside you," she explained, "he's going to have to use something bigger to feel up inside you with."
"Oh," said Karen... Then, "Oh!" as she realized what the pretty young nurse meant, as she watched the man approach her vagina with an erection that was truly astonishing... At least, to a 13-year-old like Karen, anyway. At 7 inches long, and well over an inch thick, it looked big enough to split her body in two. Still, Karen wasn't really afraid. She knew by now that the doctor would NOT hurt her... at least not any more than was necessary to the "examination."
"Oh," she repeated, then "Oh!" again, as the doctor swabbed the pre-cum dribbling head of his prick through the still slippery slit of her barely teenaged little slit. His prick rubbing against her felt even BETTER than his tongue had, she realized.
Suddenly there was an aching, stretching sensation, and the next thing she knew almost an inch and a half of the man's penis had vanished into her belly, while she felt the throbbing, pulsing sensation of the blood in his prick fighting to expand her inside, at the same time the clamping of her unused vagina fought to squeeze him down to a size she could easily accommodate.
Like all such "accommodations", there was some give-and-take on both sides. The man's prick DID shrink a little from the extremely tight squeeze of the young girl's tiny vagina, while her vagina DID expand to accept the swollen member. Not quite enough to tear, but close. Doug Curtis was VERY careful as he inched his engorged penis into the belly of the virginal young girl.
"Ow," remarked Karen, almost conversationally, as the doctor's "instrument" reached an obstruction inside her. "It hurts," she complained.
"This next part WILL hurt," explained the nurse, while she watched the man struggle to keep from ejaculating his seed all over the inside of the young girl's belly, before he got his prick all the way inside her. She grinned, as she knew just how hard it was for him to "do the job right", and not cum before it was time. Well, that was what he got paid for. In the meantime, SHE had a job to do; reassuring the slightly scared young woman who was about to lose her virginity. "Dr. Curtis has to get it ALL the way up inside you, if he's going to feel just how deep inside you are."
"Ung, uh," moaned Karen, not really pulling away from the steady pressure that was slowly forcing more and more of the man's prick into her heaving young belly. On the other hand, she wasn't pushing back either. Cindy decided that more help was needed.
"Easy for a second, Doug," she commanded, taking charge as if SHE was the doctor, and HE was the nurse. "Let me help."
Doug wasn't sure how long he could hold out, with the sexy young girl's tight little hole strangling almost 1/3 of his prick; but he didn't want to make things harder on Karen than he had to, either. He fought down the rising seed in his prick, and tried to still the urgency to spill it in the young girl's belly, while still remaining erect enough to continue fucking her.
Cindy bent over the young girl lying on the table like some virgin sacrifice. She took Karen's breast in her mouth, and started sucking on the right one, in a manner that showed that, good as Doug was, he still had a lot to learn. After all, Cindy WAS a woman, and knew better than any man how to stimulate a woman's breasts. Cindy wasn't a lesbian, much preferring making love to a man than to a woman. However, she had several girlfriends that WERE, and was quite willing to accommodate a woman, when there weren't any men around to "scratch her itch." And Cindy had a LOT of "itch" to scratch, being almost as horny as the young satyr of a doctor she worked for. (Another reason she liked her job.)
It didn't take long for a hot little girl like Karen to respond to the dual sensations of having her titties sucked, and a hot thick prick rubbing the inside of her vagina. Shortly, she was panting and thrusting back at the man whose prick was embedded in her belly, until suddenly almost 3/4 of the man's penis vanished into her vagina, while Karen just whimpered.
"Oooh," she complained, still working her hips back at her older lover.
"That's it, Honey," Cindy soothed the younger girl. "Now Dr. Curtis is going to feel around inside you with his penis, so he can see if you're big enough for sex. From the amount you've got inside you already, I'm pretty sure you are." She almost chuckled to herself at the small deception. As if Doug wasn't already HAVING sex with the young girl....
Only Karen wasn't quite as naive as she seemed. "Are we fucking now?" she asked, squirming to take almost another half inch of thick doctoral prick in her tightly squeezing little slit.
"No," said both Cindy and the doctor, surprising her.
"THIS is fucking," explained Doug, sliding in yet another 1/4 inch, and then sliding almost all the way out of the young girl.
While Karen was somewhat glad to feel the ache subside as the man extracted his prick from inside her, she was also somewhat disappointed that it was all over. Here she had thought that sex was supposed to take longer, and somehow be more satisfying.
It was with some shock therefore, that she felt Doug's cock pulsing inside the tight entrance to her vagina, without being completely removed, before it suddenly slid all the way back inside her, bringing slight twinges from her torn virginity, but surprisingly some pleasure too.
"Oh," she said, realizing what they meant: That fucking was NOT having a man's prick inside you, it was the sliding in and out that was fucking. Then, "Oh," again, as Doug slid almost 5 inches out, and then back inside her once again. This was starting to feel almost as good as it had felt earlier when the man had licked her "down there." Karen was beginning to think she was going to LIKE fucking, once she got used to it.
Doug KNEW the little girl was going to enjoy fucking. Already her tight little slit was beginning to clamp around his prick in a manner that he knew would have him spouting baby-juice all over the inside of the child's heaving young belly. Thank goodness he had managed to regain control earlier.
"Six inches," he commented to the nurse watching him copulate with the child. "She's DEFINITELY big enough to fuck, don't you think?"
"I'd say so... 6 & 1/2," replied the nurse, looking down at where another half-inch of thick prick had just vanished into the child's belly. The sight of the handsome man's penis bulging in the little girl's belly, knowing it was about to spit thick sticky gobs of baby-making seed all over the inside of the child's unprotected young vagina, was almost enough to make Cindy cum herself, without even being touched. As mentioned before, Cindy had a lot of empathy for her charges.
"Oooohh!... Seven," the man groaned, as somehow the last of his throbbing erection slid into the 13-year-old little girl. His strokes got faster and faster, and Cindy knew it wouldn't be long before her boss's sperm was decorating the inside of the child's womb.
"Since you're big enough to have sex," she told the little girl who was now straining just as hard as the man was, to force as much of his thick prick into her belly as she could, "Dr. Curtis is now going to check to see if your body is developed enough to have a baby. OK?"
"Uh, uh, Ugh!" Karen was too far gone in the sensations of having a thick prick sliding in and out of her vagina for the first time, to raise an objection, even if she had been inclined to, which she wasn't. After all, wasn't this why she had come to the clinic in the first place?
"In a minute," explained Cindy, "Dr. Curtis is going to squirt some white-stuff up inside you, to see if your body is mature enough to have a baby."When he does, I want you to squeeze his penis, so as much of that white-stuff gets up inside you as possible. We don't want any of it going to waste.
("God, what a line," she thought, wondering just how much of it the younger girl bought. Still, in all the time she had spent at the clinic, not once had any of the little girls objected.)
13
Cindy may have been warning Karen about what would happen when the doctor had his orgasm and ejaculated his sperm inside her; only Karen beat him to it! With a sudden groan that was incredible, and rose from a grunt steadily up in pitch until it was a sheer screaming whistle that could only come from a little girl, Karen jerked one, twice, and three times on the padded table as her already incredibly tight young vagina clamped down on the older man's penis in a grip that threatened to break it off. The stimulation was incredible. Doug would have been forced to cum; only the wild gyrations and rhythmic clamping on his swollen penis kept him from actually squirting inside the girl until her motions finally slowed, and he was finally able to let his thick white sperm flow in one long satisfying eruption into the child's developing young womb. It felt so GOOD to let that rusty load of baby-juice go. And Karen seemed to be as happy about feeling him ejaculate inside her, as he was to do it.
"Are you getting me pregnant now?" she asked, as the last sticky curds of thick white cum were stripped from the man's penis by the involuntary squeezing of the last twinges of HER climax. (Thus showing that Karen HAD been paying attention in those sex-education classes, taken so long ago.)
"Well, I'm trying," said Doug, feeling the last satisfying trickle of sperm ooze out of his penis, and into the welcoming belly of this incredible young girl. "I'm definitely trying."
Finally, Doug managed to extricate himself from the child. Only a tiny bubble of thick white cum, and slight pinkish ring around his penis showed that he had just taken the 13-year-old's virginity, and left enough sperm in the child's womb to impregnate half the little girls in the county.
"How much time do we have left?" he asked.
Cindy looked at her watch; the only item of apparel that any of them were wearing. "You still have 20 minutes," she responded. "Just enough time."
Karen was surprised. There was something left? She wondered what it could be.
Eighteen minutes later, she was no longer wondering, as she had a slightly sore ass, a very tired tongue, a cloying taste in her mouth, and yet another thick white blob of sperm slowly oozing from her tight little slit, as the doctor and nurse combined to show her about oral and anal sex with both men and women; with the good doctor managing to hold out throughout this until he left the second thick white squirt of baby-making cum inside her vagina, "where it belonged."
"Now remember," he said, scooping up a dribbling blob of cum with the pink rubber cup, "to leave this diaphragm in for three days, so you have a better chance to catch, OK?"
"Yes Doctor," sighed Karen, enjoying the feel of his fingers fitting the rubber "baby-barrier" inside her satisfied vagina. "If you say so."
"I do," he said, wiping up afterwards. "Now that you're old enough, I want you to practice what you learned here today, as often as you can. If you don't 'catch' and are still bleeding next month, we'll have you come back, and repeat the 'testing', OK?"
"Oooh." Karen shivered with delight at the very thought.
14
"So promise me you'll practice this with your boyfriend, as often as you can."
Karen was suddenly dismayed. "But I don't HAVE a boyfriend," she complained.
"Well, that's all right... You can always practice making a baby with your brother, you know."
"With Billy?!" Karen was scornful. "He's only 10 years old!"
"Oh. I thought..." Here Dr. Curtis looked at the chart. "Well," he said finally, "There's always one person... though you might be surprised at the abilities of 10-year-old little boys," he said with a grin, as if remembering something from his youth.
Something about that grin made Karen decide to see if maybe her little brother wasn't so "little" after all. Who knows. In the meantime... Karen finished dressing, and emerged in the waiting-room, where her mother had been so patiently waiting for the last three hours.
Still, the older woman wasn't even annoyed at them for taking so long, taking a kind of perverse pride in the knowledge that they had thought that HER daughter was worth spending that much time on.
"So, for the next three days," Karen heard the doctor finishing up to her mother, "your daughter is going to need a lot of sexual stimulation. I was informed that she doesn't have a boyfriend yet, so I wonder if you could convince your husband to help out?"
"By fucking her, you mean?" Amanda Stanwick didn't mince words.
"Uhuh." Neither did the doctor.
"I suppose, if you feel that she needs it." It was almost a sigh, but you could see the lights dancing in the woman's eyes as she considered the prospect of her husband screwing the lights out of their little girl. "For three days, huh?"
"Well, actually, even after that, if possible. Even once she takes the diaphragm out, Karen's going to need at least SOME sex for a while, at least until she gets a real boyfriend of her own.... So, if you could have your husband fuck her at least once a day..."
"If I know John," interrupted the woman with a laugh, "it'll be closer to THREE times a day, and maybe even oftener, if the little slut will hold still for it." The gleaming smile she gave her daughter made the term "slut" seem more like a term of endearment, than anything else.
"But what if HE gets her pregnant?" she asked, looking pointedly at Cindy, who had picked up her youngest daughter from the child-care facility, and was calmly nursing the child during her break.
"So much the better," responded the doctor. "After all, isn't the idea of testing her, to find out if she CAN?"
"I suppose. And if she doesn't?"
"Well, if she gets her next period, just bring her back next month, and we'll 'test' her again, OK?"
15
"OK." Both adults grinned at each other. "I suppose you'll want me to have John stop fucking her before the middle of her period though."
Dr. Curtis just grinned. "That's up to you, him, and her."
"You know Doctor, If I didn't know better, I'd think you LIKE to knock little girls up." Both adults were grinning by this time.
Karen, by this time, had grown bored, and had noticed the little girl playing in the corner, while she waited for lunch-hour at the small private clinic to be over, and her appointment.
"Hi Ginny," said Karen, recognizing the 10-year-old that lived almost next-door to her. "What are YOU doing here? Are you sick or something?"
Being bored, at playing alone for almost an hour past her appointment, the younger girl was glad to see someone she could talk to. "Oh hi, Karen," she exclaimed, "I'm in here to... Oh... HI DR. CURTIS!!" she yelled, almost deafening the older girl, as the child suddenly ignored Karen as if she didn't exist. "I'm over Here!"
Karen had no choice but to listen in, as the child babbled on and on, to the questions the doctor asked.
"No, I'm doing fine."
"No, I had it this month; that's why we're in here."
"Yes, I HAVE been doing my 'exercises' just like you told me to!" Here the 10-year-old looked indignant.
Dr. Curtis looked for corroboration from the chattering child's mother, while Karen listened with open-mouth astonishment. She just HAD to find out if the little girl meant what she thought she did. She did.
"Yes," sighed the older woman, looking with a mixture of pride and weariness at her precocious offspring. "She has. She's been 'practicing making a baby' with the boy next door almost twice a day; and as if that wasn't enough, she's been 'practicing' with her two big brothers even oftener. In fact, she's been sleeping with the two of them, just so she won't 'miss out on a chance to practice'. I get tired just watching her fucking all three kids from the moment she comes home from school, until she's on her way in the morning. Not only that, but she's seduced at least one uncle, her grandfather, and my husband at least twice; and I THINK she's been trying to get some of the teachers at school to get in her tight little panties. Yes, she's been trying... she's been VERY trying." The woman looked with a mixture of pride, awe, and a little annoyance, at her oversexed little girl.
16
"Well, we'll see what we can do to slow her down, by filling her tummy with enough weight she'll HAVE to slow down." Here the doctor grinned at the woman, and included Karen in his grin, by staring pointedly at her belly, as if it was about to start getting bigger right then.
Ginger ignored the by-play. "Really Dr. Curtis... Uh, Doug? You'll fuck me, and cum in me, and get me pregnant, just like last time? Can we do it right now? Can I lick Nurse Cindy like last time? Do you think she'd mind?" the child chattered, as Cindy (once again dressed primly in white) and the doctor, took the little girl between them, back towards the examining-room where Cindy had just spent the last three hours.
"Last time?" Karen looked wonderingly over at her neighbor, and then back at the woman's daughter.
"Uhuh. She had her first period when she was nine, her first baby at 10, and she's been the neighborhood slut ever since."We left the baby with her father this morning. I don't know what I'm going to do if one of them doesn't get her pregnant pretty soon, as that's the only time she slows down even a little. The older woman seemed to be speaking more to herself than answering the young girl standing next to her.
"Well, I hear Dr. Curtis is pretty good at that," said Karen, rubbing her own tummy in anticipation. Thinking of the horny doctor's tumescent prick bulging in the cute little pre-teen's belly, with his thick white cum filling the little girl's tight little baby-hole until the child's tummy was swollen with the man's potent sperm squirting inside her womb, was quite a turn-on to the teenager. Karen almost wished she was going back into the room instead of the 10-year-old. Still, her own cunny was still slippery with the man's sperm oozing out of her slit... a person shouldn't be greedy.
"Yes, he is, isn't he?" agreed her neighbor, watching her precocious offspring vanish around the corner between the equally-oversexed young doctor and his almost-as-oversexed young nurse.
Karen giggled to herself as she followed her mother out the door. She hoped Dr. Curtis ("Doug," she reminded herself) had taken some vitamin pills along with that hurried box-lunch. From the look of things, he was going to need it. | 3 |
2,423 | Tricking Daddy | "Daddy?" The seven-year-old girl seemed bothered.
"What, dear?"
"How come we never fuck anymore?"
"Uh... I'm sorry? WHAT did you just say?" To say that Dan was astonished at his little girl's accusation was a gross understatement.
"I said, how come you never fuck me anymore? I keep waiting for you to come into my bedroom every night, and you never do!"
"But, Hon, I NEVER... When was this, anyway?"
"Back when you and Mom were having all those arguments... don't you remember?"
The thirty-year-old man was quite taken aback. If there was one thing he would have been SURE to remember, it was sticking his swollen penis up in his own daughter's cute little slit, and squirting the child's womb full of jet after gooey jet of her own father's thick white baby-making seed, without a care of getting the little girl pregnant with her own brother or sister. Even a year earlier at six, the precocious youngster had been giving him hard-ons and wet-dreams like that, that made his groin ache for hours; though he had no more intention of even touching her sexually than he had of climbing Mount Everest. (Both taking up some time in his daydreams though.) Dan just couldn't imagine the scene that would have to take place for him to really molest his own daughter though. "Uh, you're sure of this?" he asked; wondering if he had been sleepwalking, drugged, or possibly somebody else had sneaked into the house and deflowered his innocent little girl. Dan felt a surge of rage at the very thought.
"Uh-huh. It felt so GOOD, when you slid your big thing inside me. How come you haven't been to see me anymore? Don't you love me, Daddy?"
"Of COURSE I love you, HoneyBun... It's just that I'm not sure...."
"Oh GOODY!" exclaimed the youngster; clapping her hands and jumping on his lap with glee. "Does that mean you'll be in to see me tonight? I'll tell Mommy like I usually do, so we'll be ALL alone!"
"Uh... Hon?" he asks; now worried. "Are you sure about this?" Things seemed rather strange, to say the least.
"Uh-huh!" the child responded; giggling. "Here, feel me. I'm all wet!"
Somehow Dan Samuels found his hand being almost forced into his child's groin, up under her short little dress, and down under her panties. Sam (Samantha) had been right about one thing; she was soaking wet and quite slippery with arousal; and her father's finger slipped easily inside her... about half an inch.
"Sam!" exploded the older man, finally realizing what he was doing. "You've been lying to me! You're still a virgin; so you KNOW I haven't been doing anything to you."
<Giggle> "Of course, Daddy, I know that. But I got you to stick your finger in me to find out, didn't I?" From a single giggle, the child's body now shook with a whole raft of them, as she almost shook herself off the older man's lap from laughter. Neither party even seemed to notice that the man's hand was still inside her panties; slowly stroking the lips and tickling the protruding nubbin at the top of the little girl's tiny slit.
"Sam...." Dan couldn't bring himself to properly chastise the little girl he loved so much; and she didn't let him.
"Uh Daddy?" she asked. "Does this mean you won't be coming in to fuck me tonight?"
There was a long silence, as both man and girl thought about how their lives together would never be the same.
"Please, Daddy?" she whimpered in disappointment; almost certain she would be refused. From the instructions she had gotten, Sam was sure this was her best (and possibly ONLY) chance to be her father's lover like she wanted to be... at least until she started puberty. Five or six years seemed like forever to a girl of her age. Samantha knew she would never make it until 11 or 12 to have sex... she'd die of frustration first.
"Please, Daddy?"
"Oh God." | 3 |
2,443 | Teaching the Boys | "Now watch closely," I said to the watching boys. "In a second, I'm going to cum inside your sister and try to get her pregnant, so I want you all to watch and see what to do when it's your turn."
The three boys could only nod, and I barely caught that out of the corner of my eye as I concentrated on the little girl squirming underneath me. "In a second," I repeated to Sandy, "I'm going to squirt that white stuff I told you about, that makes babies, right up inside you, so you can feel what it's like. When I do, I want you to squeeze my prick as hard as you can and milk all the sperm out of me, so you'll have a better chance to catch, OK?"
Sandy just groaned, rocking her hips against mine, while digging her heels into my back the way I had taught her to.
The feel of my own daughter's tight little slit milking and squeezing on my prick finally had the effect I knew it would. I felt first a tingle, then a dribble, then finally a thick, healthy SQUIRT of cum ripple through the tube on the bottom of my prick and into the child's welcoming belly. "Oh God," I groaned. "Here it comes, Honey. Daddy's making a baby in that cute little tummy of yours. Fuck back, Honey... Fuck back at Daddy. Make me cum."
With each grunt, I forced myself as far into the little girl as I could, while my penis performed its intended purpose of delivering my sperm inside a fertile female. Each healthy surge of thick white cum squirting inside her felt incredible to me. I don't know if Sandy could feel each ejaculation, but she seemed to react to my thrusts as if she did, grunting and moaning her satisfaction in my ear, while squirming wildly against me. For sure, the thought of carrying her own father's baby was not even tempting her to pull away... Far from it, in fact. With each heavy blast of cum teeming with millions of sperm, Sandy worked to force herself even tighter against me, until it felt like I was trying to work half my body into her tight little hole.
Finally, I collapsed on top of my daughter, as the ability to ejaculate any more left me. It was with some effort that I managed to keep from falling asleep that way, but the knowledge of the three watching boys kept me awake. I could barely groan as I rolled off Sandy's body, the sensation of my little girl's incredibly tight little slit milking the final drops of semen out of my prick as we pulled apart, almost giving me yet another erection.
Sandy groaned too... in disappointment? Well, perhaps that was only my fantasy. Still, she wasn't complaining.
"Now Mike," I barely managed to speak clearly, "it's your turn. I want each of you three boys to practice what I just showed you, so your sister can feel what it's like with different guys. Since you're the oldest, you go first."
Mike looked down at where his little sister's cunny was spread and oozing a tiny trickle of white, belying the enormous gouts of sperm-containing cum I had left inside her. The lips were reddened and swollen... and completely slippery with both her juices and mine. I knew the little girl would have no difficulty accommodating the older boy's penis, especially after having her father's thick dong inside her.
I don't remember Mike climbing on the bed. The next thing I do recall is an instant's view of my son's prick touching the swollen, red, and puffy lips of Sandy's cunny... and then the two siblings' pelvises met as they mated in frantic urgency. It seems that watching me impregnate their little sister had gotten all three boys so hot and horny they weren't able to hold out for more than a second or two against the little girl's squeezingly tight little hole. However, Sandy (again) never complained, just working with her brothers in turn, milking and squeezing with her vagina on their pricks, accepting their slobbery kisses, working her chest, tummy and pelvis against their ragged thrusts, as each of the older boys climbed on top of her body and banged away.
As Mike began shuddering in climax almost immediately on getting inside her (no surprise to ME, as I knew it was the first time the older boy had actually stuck his prick inside a girl), I encouraged him. "Now Mike, you be careful when you cum inside your sister," I admonished him, as he did just that. "Sandy's not on birth-control, and her period was just a little over two weeks ago... So there's a good chance you're getting your little sister pregnant right now, understand? Make sure you do it right."
"Uh, UHHH, UghhhH!" the boy groaned in somewhat of an answer, and somewhat just in reaction, as he jerked and spasmed on top of his little sister. "Yes Dad," Mike finally groaned, as the last thin trickles of sperm oozed out of his prick and into the little girl's welcoming body.
Shortly after that (it didn't take more than five minutes for both of them), the two younger boys, Daniel and Jacob, followed suit, leaving gobs of thick white cum inside their own sister's tight little slit, until when Jake was finished, my daughter's cunny was oozing and dripping with slippery goo.
To his surprise, I motioned Mike back on top of his little sister again. I had noticed that watching his little brothers fucking the child had aroused the older boy's erection all over again. Oh, the resilience of youth! I knew that even with the extreme stimulation of watching all three boys trying to impregnate their little sister, it would be at least a half hour (and probably longer) before I would have enough of a hard-on to do the same thing myself.
"Now Boys," I said, while watching Mike sheathe his prick inside his little sister again, "from now on, I'll expect each of you to impregnate your little sister as often as you can. I'll do the best to help out whenever I can too, but if Sandy gets pregnant in the next few months, I'll really expect it to be by one of you boys. Got that?"
Jake and Danny looked at me in surprise. The knowledge finally percolating into their minds that I actually WANTED them to knock up their little sister? Still, neither boy objected, either then, or to what I added later. Mike was too busy actually TRYING to father his child on the little girl to object himself.
"So from now on, Sandy," I added, "I'll expect you to let me know if each of the boys doesn't fuck you at least three times a day, OK?"
"Uh, Uh, Uh," Sandy groaned, in response to her big brother's thrusts inside her vagina.
I took that as an affirmative, and continued, "I'm sure that three healthy young boys like you can manage to get it up that often. Each of you should be able to fuck your sister at least once a night before bedtime, once in the morning before school or Church, and two or three times during the day as well. Like I said, 'I'll do what I can to help too, but I'm not as young as you kids are.'"
Not one of the kids protested. (What I would have done if they had... especially if Sandy had shown even the slightest objection to having her own brothers feel her up, put their pricks inside her cunny, fuck her, cum inside her, ejaculate their thick white cum right up inside her fertile young womb, and get the little girl pregnant with her own brother's babies, I don't have the foggiest notion... except I knew I would be in BIG trouble. Thankfully, that scenario never came up.)
As I left the room, I could hear Jake going for HIS second "turn". I looked back, and sure enough Sandy had her legs wrapped around the boy, pulling him into her body just like I had taught the youngster to do. God, I'm proud of my kids!"If we try to stop the kids from having sex, what happens, and how do we do it?"
My wife looked at me for a second, then calmed down enough to listen. I knew I was home free.
"Look," I said, "if you start beating the kids, Social Services will come around and find out why. If you call the Cops, the same result will happen... All three boys will probably end up in jail for 'statutory rape' of their little sister, and SHE will end up in a foster home. Even if they don't end up in jail, for sure all FOUR kids will end up in foster homes, as they won't trust US any more to keep them away from each other. Do you WANT all four of our kids taken away from us?"
Marcia looked at me. For a moment I thought she was mad enough to risk even that. Then she collapsed against me.
"But what can we DO?" she almost wailed. "We can't just let them go on having sex together, can we? Besides, I can't let the boys rape their own sister. If we have to send them to jail to protect her, then what other choice DO we have?"
"Um... I think you'd better see something," I said. Motioning to my wife to be silent, I led her down the hall to the bedroom where I hoped the orgy I had seen start earlier would still be going on. It was.
Cracking the door slightly, Marcia and I had a perfect view of Sandy lying on the bed, her legs wrapped around Mike, pulling the older boy into her body, while he worked towards yet another climax. Off to one side, the two younger boys were obviously waiting their turns to repeat their earlier exploits. Once she had seen clearly what was going on in the child's bedroom, I carefully closed the door.
"See," I said. "Does THAT look to you as if Sandy was being raped?"
"No... but we've GOT to stop them," moaned Marcia, sinking down on the carpet in the hall.
"Think about it," I said, once again. "Now that they've all learned what sex is about, and how good it feels to have sex, what do you think the chances are they'll quit? Hell, once you and I started having sex, how much chance do you think either of OUR parents would have had at stopping US?"
"You don't mean we should just let them go ON having sex?" My wife's voice was incredulous.
"What other choice DO we have?" I asked. "Other than having the boys arrested and put in jail?"
"But... but... but, she might get PREGNANT," wailed Marcia. "At LEAST, we'll have to put her on the pill... if it's not too late already. My God, the kid is only 11 years old!"
"Um," I said, "you realize that that too, is up to her. Like I said, I told the kids about where babies come from, and about birth-control." (I had too... I just hadn't suggested that they ever use any... or intimated that I would supply it if asked. [I would; but ONLY if asked.] With my plans, I had no expectation that any one of the four kids ever WOULD ask... but I certainly didn't tell Marcia that.)
"You saw them," I reminded her. "Did it look like any one of the boys were trying to keep Sandy from getting pregnant? In fact, from the way she had her legs wrapped around her big brother, I doubt if Mike could have pulled out of her if he wanted to."
"Oh God."
"Uhuh," I pushed my point. "From the look of things, since I told them about how she could get pregnant and have a baby, they've actually been TRYING as hard as they can to do it. And unless we send them off to reform school or something, there's not much doubt that eventually they'll succeed."
"Oh God," repeated Marcia. "What'll we DO then?"
Finally! "Nothing," I replied.
"Nothing? You mean we just LET the kids continue this way, breeding their own sister, like it was something everybody does?"
"Uhuh. Well, after all, it WAS you who wanted more kids anyway."
It took almost three more hours before I convinced her; but once she was on-board, it seemed like my horny wife was almost as eager to see our daughter with a big belly as I was. She still didn't know that there was a good chance (a VERY good chance) that if Sandy got pregnant right away, the kid might very well be mine; as my sperm was the first to find its way into our daughter's womb, right while the little girl was at the peak of her fertility. I wasn't about to tell my wife that... yet.
However, it was a couple of days later that Marcia found Sandy and me in our bedroom one afternoon, with her little girl rising and falling on my engorged prick, until the child's tight little slit milking and squeezing on my swollen dong caused me to jerk and squirt our daughter's womb full of jet after potent jet of incestuous cum; filling the child's loins with my seed until my wife finally collapsed and gave in completely to the idea of not only the boys having sex with her little girl, but her husband as well. After all, with Sandy squirming, jerking, cooing, and rutting like an oversexed mink on top of me like that, it was obvious that the horny little slut (A compliment!) was NOT being forced. I just looked at my wife and shrugged; as if to say, "Well, what CAN I do?" ... as if it had been our daughter who seduced ME. I must have pissed almost a gallon of sperm in the child's womb at the thought of my wife watching me impregnate our little girl.
A little over a week and a half later, Sandy missed her period. I'll never know if the child that grew in her womb is my daughter or granddaughter... and even now, almost seven years later, I really don't WANT to know. All I DO know, is the little girl is the light of my life.
Her, and her five little sisters. | 4 |
2,445 | The Breeders Cup | "I can too!" I shouted at my twin sister. "I can have more than you!"
"Andrea, you're a virgin, and I'm already starting my second trimester. There's no way in the world you can beat me," Heather replied scornfully.
As usual, my twin and I were arguing up in our room. This time, though, I was determined to win. You see, it all comes down to the fact that Heather is fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds older than me. She has used the label of "big sister" to constantly boss me around and tell me what to do. I mean, it's only fourteen and a half minutes, for crying out loud! This time, our argument was a little more important. Heather was going into territory that I considered solely mine. She was going to move in on Daddy.
I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Andrea Garcy, and I'm thirteen years old. I have long blond hair, green eyes, and a petite figure. I live with my Father, Michael, older brother Greg (who's fifteen), and my twin sister Heather. Mom was killed in a plane crash when we were only about two, so I don't really have many memories of her, but that's okay. Daddy is the best mother a girl could have.
Well, Heather and I have not gotten along all that well all our lives. In spite of being twins (or maybe because of it), we just are opposites in so many ways (maybe because we TRY so hard to be different). My sister is the adventurous one. She's the perfect tomboy. She plays sports and war with Greg and all the boys on the street. No matter where Greg is, there you'll find Heather, playing and fighting to help him win. I, on the other hand, am the studious, responsible one (at least I think so, anyway). I have always had straight "A"s, and I'm the one who usually has to pull my sister's bacon out of the fire. I'm the one who talks politics with Daddy and helps him out around the house. I don't think Heather could boil an egg without burning the place down. Even Daddy jokes that Heather "can't boil water without burning it." Despite our differences, I do love her. Whenever we're not arguing, I know she loves me too. Only sometimes she can be SO exasperating...like right now.
CHAPTER: 2
CORRECTED_TEXT: I guess it was no big surprise when I came into our room about a year ago to get my bookbag and found Greg and Heather screwing for all they were worth. My big brother had his thick cock buried to the hilt in our sister, and both of them were working just as hard as possible to try and force even more of it inside her. Both were completely naked and not saying a word. (I guess that's why I hadn't noticed what was going on, even before I entered the room.) At first, I was shocked and maybe even a LITTLE surprised at seeing the two of them rutting like minks in the bed I shared with Heather, but after a second or two of watching my brother's thick prick sliding in and out of her, I just backed out and waited until Greg came downstairs with a silly grin on his face before I went back up. I guess he didn't realize I had seen him fucking his sister, as he didn't look embarrassed at all. When I got upstairs, Heather was asleep on the bed, with her legs spread and a pinkish fluid seeping out of her pussy. I threw a sheet over her and got my stuff.
It wasn't until that evening that Heather and I talked about it. She said that they had just been goofing off and it got out of hand. When I asked her if they would do it again, she got this dreamy, faraway look in her eyes and said they would. It was then that I gave my sister the lecture on STDs and pregnancy. Well, as you can imagine, that speech didn't go over so well. After all, SHE was the "big sister," and she knew EVER so much more than her little sister did. Yeah, right.
All I had done was to make Heather and Greg sleep together even more. I lost track of the number of times she snuck out of our room and into his at night or how often one would vanish into the basement and then the other would follow a few minutes later. Daddy doesn't get home from work till a little after six, so when I would get home from school, it was standard to find them fucking at home. They did it everywhere. The kitchen, bathroom, his room, our room, Daddy's room, laundry room, the basement...well, you get the picture. After a while, it seemed as if they went out of their way for me to find them. I think they LIKED to have me watch them. I kept my peace, let them get theirs, and went about my work as usual. Still, it WAS a bit distracting to come into a room and find my two siblings putting on what was effectively a porno-show just for me. I think that once Greg knew what was going on between me and Heather, he made an even bigger point of not pulling out and ejaculating his sperm inside my big sister when he knew I was watching. For sure Heather did, anyway. I hate to admit it, but the sight of the two of them rutting like that made me have to finger myself off more times than I ever did before. I'm not sure, but I think they both knew it too, and that made them both more eager to have me "catch" them.
It wasn't until a bit before our thirteenth birthday that I noticed anything different. I got up one morning to find Heather on her knees, bent over the toilet. At first, I thought she had the flu, but when her morning sickness lasted a week, I knew what was up: My "big sister" was pregnant. I told her about my suspicions, and instead of being afraid like I thought she would be, Heather just gave me a superior look and told me to "mind my own business."Of course, since she was already pregnant, it wasn't the nastily obscene risk it had been for Heather to have her own brother ejaculating his seed in his own sister's nubile young body before she caught. Since she was pregnant, and Dad didn't want to raise too much controversy about his just-barely-teenaged daughter having a big belly, Heather took the home schooling option the district offered. Dad let them have their privacy and only gave Greg some advice now and then.
Once Heather moved out of my room, and it didn't seem like a setting for constant orgies anymore, I guess I felt excluded from their lives and began to spend nearly all of my free time with Daddy when he was home. We would snuggle on the couch or go to movies or out shopping together. I also began to see Daddy differently, now that I had my "big sister" and Greg as a constant reminder that family members were also human and even possible sex partners. He was now more than just Daddy. He was a man and I was a woman. I also realized that he was the man I wanted.
It was near the end of Heather's first trimester when she began to hang around Daddy more and more. This made me as nervous as all Hell. I would rush home and find Heather and Daddy talking on the couch. Once, I even found them sleeping there. I began to get jealous of my sister. I mean, she had Greg and he loved her; now she was working on Daddy? The final straw was when I came home late one night and found her sitting naked on Daddy's lap. I calmly asked to talk to her up in what had been our room, and that's when the argument began.
I went on and on about how she had Greg and didn't need Daddy. She calmly answered that she was a "woman" and, as I was "just a girl," this was something I didn't know about. If it weren't for the fact that she was pregnant and I didn't want to hurt my niece/nephew, we would have had a real fight. As it was, we started screaming at each other until finally I was shouting at the top of my lungs. Heather was calm and cool the whole time. She just said for me to leave alone the things I didn't understand, and then she said, "Besides, you couldn't even get your man, let alone have him knock you up. You wouldn't know how."
That was really the last straw for me. "I can too!" I shouted at my twin sister. "I can have even more than you do!"
"Andrea, you're a virgin, and I am already starting my second trimester. There's no way you can beat me," Heather replied smugly.
"Okay, if you're so sure, then let's bet on it!" I said pugnaciously.
"All right," she replied, "I'm interested... what's the bet?"
"Okay, here it is: We're both going to pick one man and stick with him for the next four years. In that time, we both try to have as many children with whoever it is that we can. Whichever one of us has the most at the end, wins the bet. How's that?"
"Why four years?"
"I just figure that will give us time to have a good count. Since you already have a head-start, I figure I need a little time to catch up; even though I plan to blow you away!"
"Okay, you're on," said Heather smugly, certain (with her developing belly) that she had the "race" in the bag. "Now what are we going to bet with? Money, Chores, Services?"
"Mom's Jewelry," I said flatly. "The winner gets all of Mom's Jewelry." Dad had shown us Mom's jewelry box and had promised it to us when we turned eighteen. Heather and I each had favorites in there and some of the pieces we both wanted as a reminder of our mother. This was something I knew both of us highly valued and both of us desired badly.
"Deal!" Heather cried, and stuck out her hand. "Shake on it."
We shook hands, but I didn't let go of hers quite yet. "There are a few other rules, Sister-Mine," I said. "First, my man is Daddy, so you stay away from him sexually. That means no more cuddling up on his lap naked. You can still kiss him, but not like a lover... he's mine. If I catch you even trying to 'make out' with Daddy again, you automatically lose. Got that? Now you pick your guy."
"You're taking Daddy? This is a piece of cake!" she said in a careless fashion, as if Mom's jewelry were hers already. "I guess we might as well keep this in the family. Of course, I'll take Greg, as you already figured out."
"Second, no cheating with other guys," I pressed on. "Okay?"
"Okay."
"Third: You're so sure you're going to win because you're pregnant already... I'm not going to cheat you out of that; I'm going to beat you in spite of it, so your pregnancy counts now, but so will any we have that start before the time limit is up. Twins count as two, not one. Okay?"
"Okay. Boy, you're sure going out of your way to make sure you lose, aren't you?"
I ignored my sister's remark, while I finished laying out the rules. "Last, neither Greg nor Dad can know about the bet 'til it's over. So no cheating that way. Good?"
"All right; that sounds fair." Heather thought for a moment, then in a conciliatory manner decided that maybe she did have the better part of the deal. "So, since I'm already up by one on you," she said, "I really think you need some help from your big sister." Heather walked over to her dresser and got out one of her short nighties and threw it at me. "There," she said smugly, "at least he'll have something nice to look at." Whatever else you can say about Heather, she did have sexy taste in nightclothes. The short little Baby-Doll looked like an invitation to rape.
"Thanks, Big Sister," I said, for the first time in weeks without being sarcastic. Nothing in my closet was half as sexy. Still, while I was grateful for the outfit, I was still annoyed from earlier, and the fact that my sister was right about my needing it... didn't she think I had any sense when it came to dressing to attract a man? I guess not.
I grabbed the nightie and stomped out of the room and into the bathroom to get ready. I stripped down and took a long shower. I did my hair and makeup, carefully trying to be as pretty as I could. It was in there for close to an hour and a half before I looked at the final product in the mirror.
I stood five feet tall exactly. My blond hair shone and fell down to the middle of my back in lustrous waves. I wore just enough makeup to highlight the prettiness of my face, and my eyes had a soft, loving cast to them. My body was a pale alabaster in color and nicely developed. My small breasts sat high on my chest with my nipples firm in anticipation of what was to come. I had shaved my legs (and in a flash of insight, also my pussy). It was now as bald as a baby's behind. I looked stunning, and I thought sexy. (God, I sure hoped I looked sexy.)
I looked to where I had thrown Heather's nightie and decided, "What the Hell, why not?" At first, I had been inclined to wear something of my own, because I was still somewhat steamed at her. Only Heather's outfit was a lacy black Baby-Doll that just emphasized how short it was against my creamy skin, and I knew that Daddy would like it on me, even more than Greg had liked it on her. Or at least I hoped so. I picked it up, shook it out, and put it on. The hem fell to just a few inches below my pussy and gave whoever was watching me a flirting glimpse of my charms. I practiced walking a few times and pronounced myself ready. Seeing me in dishabille like this should get any man hard... Only I didn't want just any man... I wanted my own father.
I got out of the bathroom and was about to go downstairs, when I heard Daddy's shower start up. I turned and walked into his room. Now was the critical moment for me. I gathered my courage and stuck my head into the master-bath and saw Daddy's body behind the smoked shower glass. "Daddy?" I called.
"What, Princess?"
I almost melted right then, when he called me his "princess". "Can I talk to you about something?"
"Sure, Baby. Let me finish up in here, and I'll be right out," he called back to me as he rinsed out his hair.
"Okay, Daddy. I'll wait for you in your room."
I closed his door, locked it, and sat down on what I hoped would soon be our bed. I was so nervous. All my doubts and fears ran through my mind. "Maybe I wasn't physically mature enough for him?" "What if he didn't want me?" "How would I go on after he said no?" I thought I was a fool to do this. "How could I risk our relationship like this?" the worries continued.
After what seemed like an eternity, the water shut off in the bathroom, and I heard Daddy step out. I got even more nervous as the seconds ticked by until he emerged from the bathroom wearing only a pair of sweatpants.
He stopped in his tracks and looked at me. It felt like his eyes traveled all over me and finally came back to my face. I started to do handsprings in my mind as he smiled in approval at me. He liked how I looked. Then I saw a glimmer of confusion on his features. I knew it was now or never.
"Daddy, do you love me?" I asked in a small voice, looking down at my feet.
"Yes, Princess, I love you very much," he said as he placed his fingers under my chin and lifted so that we were eye to eye.
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
"You're beautiful, Baby. Why?"
"Daddy, I want you to make love to me," I said. Then it was like a dam burst, and all of my feelings for my father boiled over and came out. I told him how I loved him as both a daughter and as a woman, but that I would understand if he didn't want to change our relationship."Oh Princess," he said as he gathered me into his arms. "Is this because of Heather and Greg, or is this something you really and truly want?"
I couldn't lie to him, so I said, "It's both, Daddy. Watching Heather and Greg helped me to realize that what I felt for you is more than a daughter should feel for her father, but I also want this for me. I love you, and I know you like no other person since Mom died. I want you to be happy, and I think I am the best person to make you happy. I know I'm young and all, but I love YOU. I guess what really decided me was the fact that you already had a relationship like ours before. If you loved your own little sister enough to marry her, maybe you could love your daughter almost as much. Please, Daddy? I know it would be hard for me to take Mom's place, but I'd like to try."
He sat us down on his bed and held me to him. He slowly stroked my hair with his big hands. It felt wonderful, and I gave myself over to his caresses, but it was all fatherly in feel. For a long time, he didn't say anything. When about five minutes had passed, I felt like my heart was dead. I had made a mistake. He didn't want me like I wanted him. I began to squirm out of his grasp as tearing sobs racked my body. I had to get away. I wanted to die!
He just held me tighter and turned my face up to his, and then it happened. He kissed me. At first, it was a soft, gentle kiss, more like a father's than a lover's. I looked up into his face and saw love there, as well as something else. He kissed me again, this time with passion, and I felt his tongue flick out and taste my lips. With a shuddering groan of surrender, I opened my mouth to accept his tongue. I threw my arms around his neck and put all of my heart into my kisses. I tried to show my father that he and he alone would always own my heart.
Our passions built, and I felt his hands begin to slide over my body in what was now a lover's caress. First, they dipped down my back to grasp and knead my ass. I felt a flush of heat spread out from my loins and encompass my entire body. His hands felt so good on my slight form. I pressed back into them and let out soft mewls of pleasure. Then his hands began to travel up my body, caressing my smooth skin. He gently untied the bows at the shoulders of the Baby-Doll, and let it fall around my waist, freeing my breasts.
I shivered in anticipation of his touch on my chest, and was rewarded with it almost immediately. He gently felt and squeezed my twin orbs. His pulling gently on my nipples caused fireworks to shoot through my entire being, and I let out a loud moan of pleasure. We broke our kiss and looked into each other's eyes with a kind of special wonder you have when you find your perfect match.
"You're so soft and pretty," he husked to me, as his face dropped lower. I felt his kisses on my torso, and they burned like fire. He kissed my shoulders and neck first, nearly driving me mad with the sensation. Then he drifted lower still. First, he kissed the shallow valley between my breasts, then the right and then the left. Finally, he kissed each of my nipples. I thrust my chest out and moaned out my pleasure, begging him to suck harder. He complied, swapping from right to left every few seconds. I felt my inner fires begin to roar and knew I was close. I entwined my fingers in his hair and held him against my chest.
My insides were on fire, and I was panting in quick, shallow breaths when it finally happened. I felt Daddy's right hand slither down my abdomen and cup my pussy mound. His middle finger rested right in my groove and began to rub gently. The fire in my belly increased a hundredfold, and I cried out my pleasure, "Oh Daddy, Yes!!! It Feels So Good!!! Yes! Daddy, Yes!"
Then I came. My brain was overloaded with the pleasure he was giving me. I felt a massive surge of pleasure rip through me as my first true orgasm hit. It was in that moment, when all other concerns and cares were thrust away from me, that my mind refused to let go of the fact that this was my father, the man I loved, and that I was his now. That knowledge fueled my orgasm, sending it higher and higher. As my body tensed and jerked in spasms, my heart and mind welded shut the door to my soul to any other but Daddy. I was his. From now on, there was truly no man in my life but my father (at least not sexually, or as a lover).
I slowly came down from my orgasmic high and found myself cradled in my father's strong arms. I could smell the faint scent of his soap on him and his own scent as well. I turned my head and smiled my most radiant smile at him. He gave me a small, sly one in return. I moved my hand so that I caressed his chest and kissed his nipple. I stood on shaky legs, and let the Baby-Doll fall to the ground. I took his hand and pulled on it, signaling him to stand.
He did so, and with sure fingers, I pulled his sweatpants down and off. His erection sprang out into full view. I turned and backed to the bed, drawing my father after me. My nervousness was gone, and all that remained was the desire to finish our union and properly consummate our new relationship. When I felt the bed behind me, I laid back upon it and spread my legs in a welcoming gesture to the man who now owned my body and soul... my own father.
"I'm ready, Daddy," I said. "Please make love to me now."
"Yes, Princess... now and forever."
I felt the bed sag as my father's weight came down between my legs. I knew I was ready. I could feel the juices of my arousal slowly seeping down my legs. We exchanged another deep, loving kiss, and then I felt the head of my father's penis touch my pussy. I spread my legs farther apart and looked down to see where we would soon become one.
I think that the first time watching my father's cock begin to enter my virgin pussy was the most erotic sight I have ever seen. Even seeing Greg squirming on top of Heather, pumping his penis in my sister's body and getting her pregnant with her own brother's baby by filling her barely pubescent womb with thick white squirts of incestuous seed, wasn't as sexy as watching my own father prepare to do the same thing to me. I could feel the thick, purple head of Daddy's cock push open my pussy lips and begin to burrow its way into me.
Soon Daddy had the head of his prick inside my body, up against my hymen. Then he began to thrust in small, gentle pulses. He worked out and in, stretching my hymen instead of plowing straight through. Eventually, my hymen tore gently with very little pain, and I saw and felt my father/lover's cock vanish up into my body. Soon, he was three-quarters of the way in and had bottomed out against my cervix.
The feeling was unlike any I had ever known. I was so full, yet it felt so right. Daddy began to take longer strokes as I began to let out pants and mewls of pleasure while we worked together to combine ourselves into one being. Soon Daddy was stroking in long, powerful thrusts that shoved me up the bed toward the headboard. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and begged him to go faster.
"Oh Daddy, more! Faster. Oh yes!!!" I hissed through clenched teeth. The fires in my body were again raging higher and higher. The pleasures I was getting and giving were so great that I never wanted them to end.
"Fuck your daddy, Princess!" Dad ordered me. "So Good! So Tight! I want to fuck you forever, Princess."
Soon Daddy's strokes began to speed up, and I knew from watching Greg and Heather that he was getting close to cumming. The thought of my own father ejaculating his sperm inside my body, filling my womb with incestuous baby-making seed, was incredibly thrilling. "Come in me, Daddy," I begged him. "I want it in me." I locked my legs and arms around my father and began to furiously thrust my hips up to his. My fire was soon at its peak, and then I was over it. I again lost control of my mind and body as a massive orgasm shot through me. I was dimly aware of Daddy saying he was cumming. I was locked in a world of pleasure and love, and I never wanted it to end. My last words before I passed out from the pleasure were, "I love you, Daddy."
Slowly, I began to become aware of myself again. Something heavy was on me, and it was hard to move. Then I realized it was my own father lying exhausted on my body after cumming inside me, and I welcomed the weight. I put my arms around him and stroked up and down his back gently. I thought of the millions and millions of his sperm now swimming up through the neck of my uterus and on into my womb in search of an egg, and wished them all the best of luck. I wanted our first child to be conceived tonight, in the midst of this discovery of our love.
Daddy lifted up and looked into my eyes with a shy, hesitant smile on his lips. "You know, Princess, you're the first woman I've been with since I lost your mother. I love you, Andrea."
I felt sorry for my father, missing pleasures like this after having enjoyed them for years with his little sister. It must have been hell for Daddy when Mom died. "I promise I won't leave you, Daddy," I replied. I reached up and kissed him, as a promise of our new bond. We snuggled down into his bed and continued to trade kisses and words of endearment for a while. Then I felt Daddy growing hard again. This time, he rolled over on his back and drew me on top of him.I helped him raise me up, and then put my hand on his cock.
"You put it in this time, Princess."
I took Daddy's cock, centered it on my pussy, and slowly sank down its length. It felt bigger now and stretched me in new ways. I welcomed it and reveled in the feeling. I leaned down and kissed my father. I started to undulate my hips as we traded passionate kisses. I broke our kisses and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I want our first child to be conceived tonight."
The effect my words had on my father was electric. He surged up off the bed, lifting me on just his cock. He grabbed my head and kissed me hard, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I loved it as we took each other this way, with my father's cock impaling me like a spike. I could feel that Daddy was getting close to cumming again for the second time because of my words, and I decided to whisper to him again. "I want you to keep me pregnant for the next thirty years, Daddy. I never want to be without your child growing inside me, ever again."
"Oh baby!" Daddy cried as he again bucked up into me and came. "I'll try... I swear I'll try."
That was what I wanted to hear, and the words were even more erotic to me than what came next, as I felt my father's penis first swell inside my cunny, then jerk powerfully. I could swear I felt each powerful spurt of his semen into my body, as each thick white jet of my father's potent seed splashed wetly into my womb where it belonged (they say you can't, but I was so sensitive and receptive that I'll still swear I could). I collapsed onto Daddy's chest as he came down from his orgasm, while I tried mightily to milk each precious drop of my father's sperm inside my tummy. I felt Daddy wrap his arms around me and pull me tighter into him.
"Andrea?"
"Yes, Daddy?"
"Did you mean what you said?"
"Yes. I want your... our children so badly. I want you to get me pregnant, and keep me that way forever. Please Daddy."
"We'll see, Princess. Andrea, when was your last period?"
"About two weeks ago. So hopefully I already am. This is my best time to conceive."
"Well, if we miss this one, we'll just have to shoot for the next one, won't we?"
In spite of myself, I couldn't help but giggle at that one. Shortly Daddy joined me in quite sniggers, as my cunny kept trying to milk a few more drops of precious seed out of his body and into mine, to replace those leaking out around his still half-hard prick. We didn't get much sleep that night.bringing the "official count" to nine for me, and eight for Heather. Both Greg and Daddy had a good laugh when they learned of our bet, when Heather presented me with the trophy in front of the entire family. Still, I'm quite proud of it; and it does look nice over the fireplace. Funny thing though... it still doesn't have my name on it; though Heather has promised to have it engraved several times. Our house is now a large happy home, filled with well-loved children. How about yours? | 3 |
2,454 | Before the wedding | "Are you sure this is right, Mom?" asked the picture-perfect young bride. All girls (and even women) look like angels or princesses when getting married. Charlene was no different. From the top of her veil with the tiny coronet in place, to the rhinestones glittering on the heels of her shoes, the girl looked the very picture of radiant bridal glory.
A woman doesn't need real beauty for this. Even the ugliest of dowdy frumps can look wonderful for a wedding once in her life. But Charlene had that beautiful brown hair combined with blue eyes, that seemed so common with girls her age in this area. A fact well appreciated by the horny young studs aching to trap these beauties into matrimony ... the only way it seemed to get sex in Marton County.
"Yes, dear," soothed her mother. "Father Jenkins knows how inexperienced girls like you are when it comes to sex, and has volunteered to see to it that you know what is important on your wedding night. Now that we're sure it fits, let's get that dress off you before we wrinkle it. I don't have time to do another ironing."
"Well ... If you're sure," she pouted, working to ease herself out of the layers of gown, like a man taking off a diving suit. "I don't want Jeremy getting angry about this. I mean, he's waited so long ... and really expected to be first."
"Don't worry about Jeremy," again soothed her mother. "Being first-born, he knows as little about sex as you do ... So Father Jenkins has also volunteered to instruct him in the details as well. He's very good at that. In fact, your fiancé is probably over there right now."Having felt "Father" swallow every drop of his cum, Jeremy felt obliged to reciprocate; licking and cleaning up every drop, as the older man taught him to.
Two hours later, after "proper" introductions to anal sex and the joys of mutual masturbation, Jeremy was sent on his way with the knowledge he would need to make it until his new wife told him she was ready, like the good priest had taught him. An anus isn't exactly a great substitute for a vagina, but Father Jenkins had demonstrated rather well that on occasion it felt almost as good to both receiver and giver. Again, something the young man would find handy later on, when his wife was menstruating or otherwise unavailable "normally".
"Yes, Jeremy," he reassured the still trembling young man as he left, "I'll make SURE to teach your sis... I mean your new bride what she needs to know for your wedding night. I've done this many times before, you know." With that, the prospective young groom had to be content.
It took a full day for the over-fifty priest to recover. He was no longer the young stud who could fuck three triplets in one morning, knocking all three of them up in one marathon incestuous session... and then take on their brothers the same afternoon.
However, 2:00 the next afternoon the priest issued a warm welcome to the pretty young thing blushing in the doorway. That the beautiful girl was his own daughter, was fertile, and would be ovulating sometime in the next three or four days (according to her mother who had arranged the marriage-schedule to properly match the child's timing, per the priest's instruction) just added to her alluring beauty to the horny goat of a priest.
Still, Father Jenkins was a master of seduction, not rape. Getting his children to send THEIR children to him to seduce was as close as he got to forcing somebody into sex. However, with both her mother encouraging this, AND the spiritual leader of the parish the young woman had known and followed all her life assuring her this was the PROPER thing for a young woman about-to-be-married to do, it wasn't all that difficult. Father Jenkins often suspected (but deliberately never tested the idea) that many if not most (or even all) of his daughters actually LIKED the idea of the horny old goat of a priest having full vaginal sexual intercourse with their little girls... and knocking the kids up BEFORE they got married, with her own father's baby kicking and squirming inside her fertile young womb. Even with younger girls that were NOT the priest's direct offspring, it was probably a kick to know the child would be knocked-up by her own grandfather, and carry her own uncle or aunt to term in her womb, days or sometimes even weeks before her new husband's seed ever saw the inside of the girl's vagina.
"Father Jenkins... I'm not sure...," began Charlene, as the priest took off her jacket, kissing her neck as he did so, and hung it on the hook by the door.
"Call me father," instructed the priest; helping the girl out of her blouse; baring her naked waist, now only protected by a thin brassiere. "... Or even 'Daddy' if you prefer. Your mother told you what to expect, didn't you?"
"Father... Uh... Daddy?" Now the youngster seemed confused, as she almost helplessly let the priest unbutton the front of her pants, before slipping them down to her ankles.
"Daddy is fine," he reassured her. "A priest LIKES to think of his parishioners as his children. Like you are, my child. Think of me as your Daddy, who is teaching you to make love, so you can please your husband, please God, and please me by accepting his seed into your body so you can obey God's command to be fruitful and multiply."
"Oh God, fath... Uh, Daddy. This just isn't right," she objected faintly; but not struggling as the priest kissed his way down her thighs, while removing garments and intruding pantyhose as he did so.
"It's not right to love your own father?" he asked; while pulling a shoe off the girl's foot and replacing the missing object with a kiss. Soon the girl's thoughts were almost incoherent, as she felt the man's tongue working its way back up the INSIDE of her thighs, close to the "private parts" she had expected to keep private to herself... and possibly her soon-to-be husband, Jeremy.
Somehow Charlene only managed to raise a small objection (and her ass slightly at the same time) as the priest continued removing her most intimate of garments until both panties and bra had joined the heap of clothing on the floor. "You mean," she breathed; involuntarily pushing her chest into the man's sucking mouth, "Momma was RIGHT? You're really my... my real Daddy?"
"Uhuh," he reassured her. "And her mother's too. So you see how right this is. I don't want you to do anything you don't feel right about."
"Uh... I don't Know . oh . oh," she whimpered; as she felt the first intrusion of the good father's finger inside her virginal cleft. "I haven't... I mean, Jeremy and I ...."
"Shhh," he coddled her. "Don't worry about Jeremy. I taught him, just like I'm going to teach you. You've got to know how to make your husband feel good, when it comes time for you two to consummate your marriage. I'm just here to help."
"But I never ...."
"Shh... Doesn't it feel good?" This asked, with a thick tongue probing her womanhood in a manner she hadn't suspected could feel so... so intimate, even with her experimentation years earlier with her two younger sisters. But then, they had all been kids when that happened.
"Yes but... But you're my own FATHER," she objected; as he placed the leaking tip against her now wet and ready young hole. If she didn't stop him soon, she knew the priest's sex would soon be buried to the hilt in her belly; squirting and inseminating her with her own father's sperm. That she had just learned of their true relationship just added to the obscenity (and, to tell the truth, the incredibly sexual carnality and wonder) of the idea of coupling with the man.
"That makes it all the better," he told her; fitting the first inch of fatherly prick inside her.
"Uh... I guess," she somehow couldn't help but agree; lifting her hips so that the next inch sliced through her virginity in a sudden stab of pain. "Ouch," she added, almost conversationally; looking down at where the priest's swollen member had vanished partway into her body. The astonishment at seeing their incestuous connection made the girl involuntarily hunch forward, until half the man's penis was now embedded in her no-longer-virginal and leaking sex.
"So tell Daddy to fuck you, cum in you, and make a baby in your tummy, just like he did to your mother years ago," he prompted.
"Uh... Fuck me, fa... Uh, Daddy," she tried. Still wincing, she pulled back an inch until a red streak appeared on the man's prick. "Fuck me, Daddy," she repeated, stronger now, as he slid back inside her.
"The rest, too," he prompted again.
"Uh... Unh, OOooh!" she moaned; temporarily distracted. Then, "Cum in me, Daddy... Please?" By this time, almost all of the priest's swollen member was appearing and disappearing into the young girl's tight little slit. Charlene was working almost as hard as her father was to force the incestuous priest's swollen prick into her fertile young belly as they both could.
"All of it," he insisted; holding still until the youngster's gyrations on his engorged member stilled, and she looked up in frustration at his patient waiting for her to continue.
"Do I have to?" she asked; holding out on this last obscene request as long as she could. Charlene knew that once she ASKED him to do this, she would have no recourse or blame to put on him for planting his baby in her belly. Like her mother, she would always remember ASKING the priest to fuck her, cum in her, and knock her up with her own father's baby.
Father Jenkins just nodded; somehow holding out against the incredible pleasure of having the youngster's tight little slit squeezing and milking his swollen prick for its incestuous seed. He had to have the girl's mind, as well as her body, not only asking, but pleading for his baby-making seed, before he would let go and give her what had been his aim all along... another incestuous baby for the girl to raise, without any obligations from him. Really nice work for a priest, if you can get it.
"Make a baby in my tummy," she broke down and said; her needs now growing too great to ignore. When the priest STILL didn't move, she added pleadingly, "Please, Daddy?"
"Well, if that's what you want...," he teased; just sliding in and out about an inch.
"PLEASE, Daddy," she whimpered; now gyrating her hips as she tried to capture the delicious sensations she had felt inside earlier, when the priest's prick had been sliding in and out. "Knock me up."Make a baby in my tummy, so I can have my Daddy's baby, just like Momma did." When this finally brought a slow reaction and more movement on the man's part, the little girl broke down completely. "Please Daddy," she whimpered. "I want to feel your baby inside me. Please?"
Charlene it seems, in the end, was (and is) just as horny a young woman as her mother was before her... and her equally horny goat of a father.
Going faster and faster now, the priest slid in and out until he felt the rising of seed in his prick, and buried the belching member to the hilt in his daughter's body; filling the child's womb with squirt after squirt and jet after jet of incestuous baby-making seed. Charlene just moaned and grabbed at him; working against the priest to milk each precious drop of her father's sperm into her ripe and ready young womb as she could.
Like her half-brother earlier, Father Jenkins did NOT stop with just vaginal intercourse. Before the four-hour "sex-education" session was over, Charlene (like Jeremy) had been introduced properly to both oral AND anal sex. "After all," the priest reminded her, "she had to keep Jeremy happy until she had conceived... and it was 'safe' to take her husband's sperm inside her body." Charlene just shuddered at the implication... but did not object in the slightest when Father Jeremy showed her how to use a rubber diaphragm to hold his sperm inside her womb. Once married, and once their initial consummation of their marriage, the couple would be good little Catholics; raising child after child for the benefit of the Church... and of course, Father Jenkins, too. But that would be probably several days before she felt free to risk her husband's seed inside her body, where the priest's child might already be taking root. In the meantime, both children had been "properly instructed" as to how to proceed until she was ready to consummate the marriage properly.
"And now, My Child, do you Jeremy take Charlene, to have and to hold, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, to be your wedded wife, from this day forward, until death do you part?"
Jeremy looked stunned that he could be so lucky as to have such a lovely bride; and almost had to be prodded into saying, "I do."
"And do you, My Daughter Charlene, take this man, My Son Jeremy, to have and to hold, to honor and cherish, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, to be your wedded husband, from this day forward, until death do you part?"
"I do!"
"Do you Brother and Sister, promise to follow the teachings of God and the Catholic Church; to raise your children in the ways of God, and to follow his commands to multiply and replenish the Earth?"
"We do."
"Therefore, by the powers invested in me by God, by the Church, and by the State I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Father Jenkins turned the now-glowing couple together. "As Father, I now command you Brother Jeremy to kiss your Sister Charlene." Only a few people (all women) in the parish noticed the slight difference of wording in the marriage ceremony. But then, why should they? After all, Father Jenkins had been giving almost identical weddings for over thirty years in the parish. By now, his interpretation of scripture was accepted as the definitive one.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he concluded, "I now present to you Brother Jeremy and his Sister, Charlene... Now husband and wife." Well... people were SUPPOSED to be brothers and sisters in the Church, weren't they?
Father Jenkins intended to see that they continued to be. | 3 |
2,460 | Showing My Daughter | "Hi Daddy."
"Hi punkin. You ready for bed?"
"Uhuh. What'cha want Daddy?"
"Mmmm. Well Momma sent me in here to check on you, to see
if you're old enough."
"Old enough, Daddy?"
"Uhuh. Your mother thinks you might be old enough to learn
about sex, and how babies are made, so she sent me in here to
check."
"Why didn't Mommy check herself? I mean, she knows how big
I am, even better than you do Daddy."
"Well, this is a special kind of checking, that only Daddies
can do to their little girls."
"Oh. What Am I supposed to do, Daddy?"
"Well, first, I'll have to look at your body. You aren't
wearing anything are you?"
"No Daddy. Am I supposed to?"
"Not if you don't want to. Actually, I'm kind of proud of
you, for not wearing anything. Most little girls don't stop
wearing pajamas, until they're older. Perhaps your mother is
right, and you ARE old enough."
"I hope so, Daddy."
"We'll see. Now let me pull back these covers, so that I
can get a good look at you. OOh. You are pretty."
"You really think so, Daddy? I'm not as pretty as Kelly, or
even Ginny. All the boy's like to look at Kelly, since she. . ."
"Boy's like to look at girls with breasts, Honey. In a few
years, your breasts will start to get big too, then you'll have
even more boys chasing you than even Kelly does. Besides, I
think you're just as pretty as either Ginny OR Kelly, right now."
"But Daddy, I don't have any tits at ALL, and even Ginny has
just started growing them, and she's. . ."
"Believe me, Judy, You're just as sexy in your own way, as
Ginny is. Some people would thing you're even sexier."
"Really Daddy? I thought you had to have real breasts, and
hair down there like Kelly does, before people thought you were
sexy."
"Well some people do. Still, you'll notice that Ginny has
plenty of boyfriends, and she doesn't have any hair between her
legs yet, and her tits aren't THAT much bigger than yours. It's
what you DO with your body, that makes you sexy, not how big your
tits are."
"Really Daddy, You think I'm sexy?"
"Uhuh. And I think your mother was right. You're
definitely old enough."
"Really Daddy? You're sure?"
"Uhuh. Here, let me get these pants off, and Daddy's going
to teach you how babies are made. It's time you learned, so you
don't get pregnant by accident."
"Really Daddy? You'll teach me how to make a baby, just
like Kelly and Ginny?"
1
"Well, not QUITE the same. You're not old enough to really
have a baby yet, but your momma wants me to show you how it's
done, so you'll know what to do when you are. Here, move over a
bit, so Daddy can get into bed with you."
"Oooh Daddy. What's that thing?"
"That's my penis. You've seen it before."
"But it's bigger, or something."
"Uhuh. That's because I'm ready to have sex. A man's thing
get's big and swollen like this, when he's next to a woman, and
he thinks there's a chance he might have sex with her."
"But I'm not a woman, Daddy."
"It won't be long, before you are, Honey. That's one of the
things I'm going to be teaching you. Now, you know this crack
between your legs here?"
"You mean my vagina, daddy?"
"Uhuh. Well, up inside your vagina, there's a spot inside
you, where babies are made. It's called your womb, and when you
get older, you'll start bleeding there."
"Like Ginny and Kelly?"
"Uhuh. Once that starts, you'll know your body is ready to
make babies. I want you to know this now, before it happens, so
you'll know what to do, when it does."
"You mean, when I bleed, I could have a baby?"
"Well, actually not. Usually, when you bleed, is the one
time of month, you CAN'T have a baby. You see, your body
releases an egg each month, and. . ."
"An EGG, Daddy?"
"They call it an egg. actually, it's very tiny, and you
almost couldn't see it. As I said, your body releases an egg
about once a month, and it waits for a man to squirt his sperm in
you. If nobody squirts in you, then the egg is wasted, and your
body will wash it out with a little blood. That tells you, that
you didn't get pregnant that month, and you'll have to try
again."
"Uh Daddy?
Yes, Judy?
Is that what they call. 'fucking,' when a man squirts his
sperm in you?"
"Oh. You DO know some of this already. Uhuh. That's what
they call it."
"Then How cum Kelly was fucking for over 6 months, and she
kept right on bleeding anyway? I remember how she kept fussing
with those white-things."
"Tampons. Oh. I'm sorry I misled you, Honey. You don't
always make a baby when a man squirts his sperm in you. That's
why Kelly didn't get pregnant for so long."
"Pregnant?"
"You know!"
"Oh! having a baby."
"Right. When your womb expands because there's a baby
inside it, and makes your tummy get big."
"Like Kelly's, or. . ."
"Right. So your mother wants me to show you this, so you'll
know what to do, and what NOT to do, when you start having
periods."
2
"Periods, Daddy?"
"Bleeding between your legs. It happens about once a month,
or 'periodically', so they call them periods."
"Oh. So how does a man squirt his sperm in me Daddy?"
"That's what I'm going to show you. You see Daddy's cock?"
"Huh?"
"My penis. Cock, prick, peter, dong. All the same word.
Just like your vagina is called your cunt, cunny, slit, crack,
hole, pussy, and a whole lot of other words."
"Oh. What about your 'cock' Daddy?"
"Well, a man makes little things called 'sperm' in these
little lumps in the bag underneath my cock. They're called my
testicles."
"Test-Tickles, Daddy? I always called them 'balls'."
"Balls is OK, if it's easier for you. That's another common
name for them. Anyway, Daddy makes sperm in his balls, and then
it goes up inside him, where it's stored, until he fucks someone,
at which time he squirts it up inside HER, and hopefully they
make a baby. Daddy's sperm contains about half of what makes him
the person he is, and the woman's egg contains about half of what
SHE is, and together they combine to make a NEW person."
"You mean, if you squirted your. . . your sperm in me, and I
got 'pregnant', then the baby would be half me, and half you?"
"That's right, except you're 'half-me' already, being my
daughter."
"Gee, Daddy, I don't know if I want to do this with just
anybody. I mean, if it's half ME in there, I don't want just
anybody making a baby in me."
"That's the idea. You should only make babies with someone
you love, who you know won't hurt you, and you can trust to help
you raise the baby. Your mother picked ME, to have her babies,
which is the greatest compliment a woman can give a man. That's
why your mother wanted ME to show you how babies were made,
'cause she knows you love me, and I can be trusted not to hurt
you."
"Just like you did with Kelly and Ginny, huh?"
"Right. So to continue, the man puts his cock up inside the
woman, and squirts his sperm inside her, so she can get
pregnant."
"Waitaminit, Daddy! That can't be right."
"Huh? What can't be right?"
"You said the man puts his. . ."
"His cock."
"The man puts his cock up inside the woman, and squirts his
sperm inside her."
"That's right."
"You don't mean, that you'd put your cock up inside my
vagina, do you? I mean, it wouldn't fit!"
"Yes it would. In fact, that's what I'm going to show you."
"Huh?"
"Here. Look at Daddy's cock. See that liquid on the end?"
"Uhuh. It looks slippery."
"It is. Here, feel it."
"Ooh, it IS slippery."
3
"Uhuh. That's to make Daddy's cock slippery, so it'll slide
up inside you."
"You're kidding! It'll never fit!"
"No. Cunts stretch a lot, and with this stuff, you'd be
surprised how much of Daddy's cock will fit inside you. Here,
let me show you. Let me rub the head of my prick around your
cunny, and get it nice and slick."
"Daddy! It'll never fit!"
"Yes it will. Come on, spread your legs a little. That's
better. Now push back."
"Daddy, it's too big, it. . . OH!"
"See? Unh!"
"Ow!"
"Unh! OOOoooh! Look Judy, you've got the head inside you."
"It hurts!"
"Just a little. You DO want to learn how to make babies,
just like your sisters do, don't you?"
"Uhuh, but. . ."
"Just take it easy then. I'm going to take it out, and rub
a little more pre-cum on my prick, so it goes in a little
easier."
"Huh? Pre-cum? Oof!"
"That slippery stuff. There. Now I've got it all over my
cock. Just let me slip it up inside you here. . ."
"Unh! Oh Daddy!"
"Unh! Easy Hon, I almost. . . There! Whew!"
"Ow. Ooh. Uh Daddy, I. . . I. . . Uh. That doesn't feel
so bad."
"Uhuh. Told you. Here let me slide it out a little."
"Uh! Oh! Daddy, that feels. . . Ow! Not quite so hard,
Daddy."
"Like it?"
"Uh."Like the feeling of Daddy's cock sliding in and out?"
"Uh Daddy, I think so."
"Here. Let me lay on my side, so I'm not squishing your leg. There. How's that feel?"
"Better, Daddy."
"Good. Just lie there, and let Daddy fuck you. Ooh, you're nice and tight."
"Does it feel good to you, Daddy?"
"Honey, it feels just GREAT. See, I've got the whole head of my cock in you, and almost a quarter of the rest of it. Feel it pull, when I slide out, and push, when I slide in."
"Uhuh. It's starting to feel a lot better Daddy."
"Good, 'cause I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to hold out."
"Daddy! Huh. Huh. Huh. It's, huh, Starting to feel. . . Oh God. Oh Daddy!"
"Like it? Oooh! That feels good, Hon."
"Daddy, why won't it go in any further? I thought you said it would fit inside me."
"I'd have to break your cherry, Hon. I didn't want to hurt you."
"Ginny takes more than this, doesn't she?"
"Uhuh. She takes it all the way up inside her. You're too little for THAT yet, but I could probably get about half of it inside you."
"Uh. Huh. Oooh! Why don't you Daddy? Please?"
"Oh God. Hold still for a second, Judy. DON'T MOVE!"
"Uh. Daddy, I. . . I. . . Can't stop. . . Oooh. What's the matter, Daddy?"
"Hold it just a second. . . I. . . There! Whew!!! Sorry Honey, I almost came in you."
"Came in me Daddy?"
"Squirted my sperm inside you."
"I thought you were supposed to squirt your sperm in me Daddy."
"Uhuh. I am. It's just that if I do, I won't be able to put my cock all the way up inside you. Here, how's this feel?"
"Ow. Hurts a little. Feels good too."
"Daddy's going to push up inside you. Now you tell me, if it hurts too much."
"OK, Daddy, I. . Oh. . . Oooh. . . It's OK Daddy I. . . .I. . . Ooof. . . Daddy I. . . OWW!!! That hurt!"
"Sorry, Judy, I had to break it. Now look down."
"Ohmigod!"
"Uhuh. You got almost every inch of Daddy inside you. I'm proud of you."
"Oooh Daddy. Does that mean we can fuck now?"
"Uhuh. Here, let me get on top of you."
"Daddy! Don't take it out! Ow."
"Have to. Here, now spread your legs, and let Daddy. . . Ooh, that feels nice!"
"Oh Daddy, it's going in!"
"Uhuh. Now I'll slide it out a little."
"Oooh. That feels good too, Daddy."
"Now back iiiiinnn."
"Oh Daddy!"
"And out."
"Huh!"
"And in again."
"Oh Daddy!"
"SEE Judy. Look down now."
"Oh Daddy! It's almost all the way up inside me."
"Uhuh. You like Daddy's cock inside you?"
"Uhuh. Don't stop, Daddy."
"OOh, Honey. You're so tight inside."
"Do you like the feel of my cunny Daddy?"
"Ooh. Do I ever. You squeeze so nicely on daddy's cock. I feel like I could fuck you all night."
"Oooh Daddy. Do it. Don't stop, Daddy."
"Don't worry. Daddy's going to fuck you, and cum in you, and everything."
"Cum in me Daddy?"
"Uhuh. Daddy's going to squirt his sperm in your cute little tummy, so you can feel what it's like to make a baby."
"Oh. Do it Daddy. Cum in me, and make a baby in me. Please?"
"That's what you want, Judy? You want Daddy to squirt the stuff that makes babies in your tummy, and get you pregnant?"
"huh. Huh. Huh. Uhuh. Please daddy?"
"Hoo! You're a little too young yet, Honey, but we can try. Ooooh! Here it comes, Honey I. . .I. . . OH! That feels good."
"Oh Daddy I. . . What are you doing Daddy, I. . . Ow! Oh God, Daddy! Oh. It feels good Daddy. Oh. It's all sticky!"
"Oh God! Daddy's cumming in his little baby girl. Oh. Oh. Daddy's making a baby in that cute little tummy. Oh. Oh. Feel it Judy? Daddy's squirting the thick sticky white-stuff that makes babies in little girls, in your sexy little tummy. Oh Honey!"
"Do it Daddy. Oh. OH! Oh Daddy! You're jerking so HARD! Oh! Oh. Whew."
"Take it Judy. Take Daddy's sperm up inside you. Squeeze your Daddy's cock. Oh! Daddy's going to get his little girl pregnant! Oh JUDY! Daddy loves you so much."
"Oh Daddy, do it! Make a baby in my tummy. Squirt your sperm in me. Please Daddy? Oh, Daddy. I love you."
"Oh. OH! Here comes some more! OOOOoooh. Oh God, your tight little cunny feels so good to Daddy. Ooh. Huf. Squeeze it one more time, Honey, so you get it all. That's it. Oh Jesus, you make your daddy feel good."
"I like it too, Daddy."
"Whew! Judy?"
"Yes Daddy?"
"Feel that slick creamy stuff up inside you?"
"Well, It slides in and out, a lot easier now. Is that what you mean?"
"Look down. See that white stuff around daddy's prick?"
"Uhuh. It's leaking out."
"That's Daddy's cum. Daddy's sperm is in that white-stuff."
"Oh. Is that the stuff that makes babies in me, Daddy?"
"Uhuh. When Daddy's sperm gets to your egg, a baby will start to grow inside you, and you'll be pregnant."
"Oh. You mean I might have a baby?"
"Well, you're a little young yet, but I suppose anything is possible. Most girls have to wait until they start having periods, before they get pregnant. Why? Do you want Daddy to make a baby in you?"
"Uhuh. Please, Daddy?"
"Well, I suppose. Your sisters seemed to enjoy it enough. I guess one more kid with a big-belly, won't hurt too much."
"You mean it Daddy? You'll fuck me, and squirt your sperm inside me, and let me have your baby, and everything."
"Well, as I said, you're a little young yet. Still, I guess I can keep fucking you every once in a while, until you get your period. After that, we'll see."
"Uh, Daddy?"
"Huh?"
"Now that I know what it's like, I don't want to stop. I mean, it feels too good."
"Oh. I suppose so. How about, I come in here and fuck you about two or three time a week? That'll keep your cute little tummy filled with Daddy's sperm often enough, that you won't miss a chance at getting pregnant."
"That's ALL, Daddy?"
"Well Gee. I'm sorry Judy, but I still have to fuck Kelly and Ginny once in a while Hon. I promised Kelly I'd try to get her knocked-up again before her birthday, and Ginny still likes to fuck, even if her baby is due in about 6 months. Not to mention your mother. She still likes to fuck too, even if she can't have any more babies."
"Momma can't have any more babies?"
"Uhuh. That's why she's willing to let you girls have as many as you want. Your mother says, that watching her little girls' tummies swell, is almost as exciting as feeling her own, when you were inside her."
"Oooh. I hope my tummy starts to get big pretty quick, so Mommy can watch me have a baby too."
"We all do Honey."
"George! Aren't you done fucking that kid yet? I mean, how long does it take, to teach a little girl the facts of life? Oh. Sorry Judy. Did your father do it right, and squirt his sperm up inside you properly, so you could feel what it's like, to have a baby?"
"Yes Momma. Daddy squirted LOTS of sperm in me."
"Good. C'mon George, let's go. You're not done YET, tonight. You've still got. . . Oh, Sorry Hon. 'night, Judy."
"G'night Momma. 'night Daddy."
"Say Judy?"
"Yes Momma?"
"If you lie on your back tonight, and stick a pillow under your rear-end, there's a better chance that Daddy's sperm will soak into your womb, so you can get pregnant."
"OK, Mommy. Thanks."
"You're welcome. Now as I was saying, 'You've still got to. . . | 5 |
2,504 | Not Really An Erotic Story | "Oh Sis, I'm..."
"Don't cum in me, I could have a baby!"
I looked down at where most of my son's cock had vanished up inside his 12-year-old little sister's tight little slit. From the jerking of the fat rod, I knew the boy wouldn't be able to hold out, so I knew that I'd better act fast, before it was too late.
Hurriedly, I reached down and grabbed my son's hips, and pushed, as hard as I could! The last half-inch of my son's penis slid up inside his little sister. Diane's eyes widened in shock, as her big brother's cock stretched her uterus, and then popped inside her fertile young womb, as the 15-year-old boy began to cum. It was so exciting to watch my son impregnate his little sister. Spasm after spasm shook the boy's body, as he squirted gob after thick, sticky gob of his potent seed in his own little sister's unprotected young womb.
"Ungh. Unnngghhh!" grunted Jason. "Oh God, I'm cumming in you! Oh Diane!"
Diane whimpered a little, then suddenly seemed to decide to accept it. The little girl wrapped her arms and legs around her older brother, and pushed back. "Cum. Cum. Cum in me," she said. "C'mon big brother, knock your little sister up."
I watched closely, to be sure my son did it right, and left every drop of his incestuous sperm in his little sister's tight little belly where it belonged. He did. It wasn't until both children had finished their orgasms, and his cock could no longer remain erect, that he pulled out of the little girl.
I could see a thick white drop of sperm dripping off the end of the boy's penis as he withdrew, and shortly a matching drop started to ooze out of his sister's tight little crack. I knew my son had done it right, and had left a generous helping of his baby-making sperm in his little sister's cute little tummy. Hopefully, that same tummy would soon be swelling with her big brother's baby kicking inside. Well, if not, I'd see to it that Jason kept trying until it did. My wife was going to be so proud of our kids, when I told her.
I thought about our other two children, and wondered how long it would be, before Billy was old enough to father a child on HIS little sister, Suzy. After thinking about this a bit, I brightened with a new thought. Maybe Billy and Suzy weren't old enough to MAKE a baby yet, but that didn't mean they weren't old enough to practice. This thought was so exciting, I just knew I had to tell my wife. Since the whole Idea of mating Jason and Diane, so that Karen's baby would have a playmate to grow up with, had been hers, I was fairly sure she'd go for it. I could hardly wait, until she got home.
"The family that plays together, stays together." | 3 |
2,507 | Pregnant! #1 | "I feel like a beached whale!" she moaned, struggling to get comfortable in the bed. The hard lump in her belly decided to jump around and play, anytime she lay back, interrupting her rest. "I look like a beached whale, too!"
"Nonsense." The man reached over and draped his arm across the disgruntled woman, giving her a sleepy hug. "You've never been more beautiful."
"Oh, bullshit." She grabbed his pillow away from him, stuffing it under her belly as she rolled on her side. For a moment, that was comfortable. "If I'm so beautiful, how come you never look at me anymore?"
"Look at you?" He opened a sleepy eye, peering over at her. "I look at you all the time. Your face is glowing, your hair is so luxurious, and your eyes, oh Honey, your eyes shine. And, of course, I love how pretty your breasts are. All big and swollen." He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. "I have never seen you any lovelier. Being pregnant is a wonderful thing."
"Hmmph!" He knew right away he'd said something wrong.
"Then how come you've not touched me in a month?" she cried. "You don't find me attractive anymore!"
"Oh yes I do!" He squirmed closer, nuzzling her neck. "I was just trying to be considerate. I didn't think you wanted to be touched. I mean, you didn't even want me to rub cocoa butter on your stomach anymore, so I thought...."
"I didn't want you to rub cocoa butter on my stomach, because the smell bothered me," she answered. "I ALWAYS want you to touch me."
Smiling, he rolled back the covers, revealing her swollen body. In one month, their child would be ready to leave, ready to join them in this world. He watched her stomach move as his son (He was just sure it was a son, though he wouldn't love a daughter any less.) kicked and punched his confining home. None of her night clothes fit anymore, so she wore an old flannel shirt of his, buttoned down only three buttons, her belly too big for the shirt to close around it. He reached up to unbutton the shirt, kissing the quivering mound that was her stomach.
The shirt fell away, baring her beautiful breasts. Here again, her pregnancy had only improved on something already wonderful. The softness he loved so was now swollen heavy with milk, the nipples dark and extended, extra large. Long ago, he'd told her he would be the kind of husband who would want to share their child's breakfast... and now he fastened his lips over one of the swollen buds, thrilling at how her body jumped at his touch. His cock was hard as a rock, throbbing, and the dribble of milk that came into his mouth only excited him more.
She was moaning now, her nipples hypersensitive, his sucking nearly sending her over the edge. But then, she had always had very sensitive nipples, and he had always loved playing with them like this.
His mouth trailed down her belly; his tongue pressed flat against her skin. He was rewarded with a punch from the baby; obviously upset that Dad was interrupting his play time. His tongue dipped into the deep well that was her navel, already smelling the delightful muskiness of her sex. He let his fingers wander ahead of him, finding her pussy already wet and warm, just waiting for him. Well, he'd waste no time.... Two fingers slid deep into her, slipping easily in her juices.
His tongue trailed down her belly, sliding down the slope to find her clit already hard and swollen. Tasting her was sheer heaven, having denied himself so long. And looking up, he could see her belly, looming over him. If he wasn't careful, he'd find himself shooting his cum across the bed, and not where he wanted it to go.
"Oh, my little baby, you really where hot, weren't you?" He teased, feeling her pussy clutch at his fingers as her body quivered through an orgasm. If she had been wonderful to watch before, seeing her orgasm with her belly so full was magnificent! The way her breasts shook, the nipples blood red. Her stomach so heavy she couldn't arch her back, the baby disliking Mom's sudden movement, shifting her stomach in the opposite direction. "You are beautiful. You should be pregnant all the time."
"No way," she managed, raising herself to her elbows. "YOU be pregnant. See how you like it."
"I wish I could be," he replied wistfully, rubbing his hands across her belly. Her foot rubbed against the underside of his cock, a wicked smile on her face. "You ever gonna get around to using this, Daddy?" she asked.
"Yes Ma'am." He folded the blankets up, sliding them under her hips, raising her off the bed. Now he could kneel on the bed; sliding his cock into her waiting pussy without pressing down on her stomach. Which he did, watching the lust in her face as he entered her.
"This is the best," he said, his cock buried deep inside her; his hands free to roam her stomach, her breasts. Each stroke made her gasp; her breasts heaving, the walls of her pussy trying to pull his cock deeper inside. Crying out her name, he sent a load of cum up to her womb, to his son or daughter.
What delightful torture, forcing himself to keep pumping in and out of her before he lost his erection. The feeling of her climaxing around his semi-erect cock almost sent him into unconsciousness.
Together they lay on the bed, spent. She smiled softly. "I guess that does prove you love me," she murmured.
"Good." He smiled back. Her belly lunged out at him. "And I love you too, sprout," he said, rubbing the hard lump. Laughing, they drifted off into sleep. | 4 |
2,647 | Teasing Pleasing Family | "Looking forward to seeing your big brother, honey?" Christy's mother asked.
"Sure," Christy said, but she was really thinking a lot more about the hung cousin she'd left behind than Denny. After all, she couldn't fuck her own brother.
Half an hour later they were there. Denny lived in an apartment that was just large enough for him, his wife and the baby they were expecting so with three visitors it strained at the seams. There was a rollaway bed for Brad and Helen in a room that would eventually be used as a nursery, but Christy would have to make do with the couch in the living room.
Because of the sleeping arrangements, Christy had to wait until everybody else was through talking before she could turn in. Feeling tired, she didn't have much to add to the conversation. So she just sat there and sneaked some wine after dinner, waiting until she could treat herself to another wet-dream.
Around midnight, things finally broke up. Grateful to be alone, Christy put on her nightie and tested out the couch, finding it more comfortable than she'd expected. Curling up on it under a sheet and blanket, she snuggled her hand between her legs and rubbed her cunt to lull herself to sleep.
However, before she could drop off, Christy heard footsteps. Peeking out from under the covers, she saw her brother in his pajamas. Standing in the hallway, Denny was looking straight at her.
"You awake, Sis?" he whispered.
Christy remained motionless, not answering. Her brother repeated his question, louder this time. Christy kept her silence, while she watched Denny slowly edge toward her.
He was being very careful about something. It seemed to take him forever to get to the couch. By the time he had, Christy had her eyes tightly shut, doing her best to convince him that now wasn't the time to disturb her.
"You awake, Sis?" Denny said again, standing directly over her at this point.
Christy pretended to snore, just not in the mood for her brother. But if she wanted him to go away, she was using the wrong strategy. For, it turned out, asleep and helpless was exactly how Denny wanted to find her.
"I'll just take a quick look, that's all," she heard him mutter to himself under his breath. "What she doesn't know won't hurt either of us."
Christy held her breath as her brother then slipped the covers from her body. Even though she was afraid to look, she could feel Denny's eyes all over her. And since she only wore a sheer nightie, there was plenty for him to see.
"Mmmmm, Sis, you grew up real nice," Denny murmured. "Everything I remember from when I was still at home, and now a whole lot more to go along with that."
Christy squirmed. How could she help it? Her brother's ragged breath now caressed her nearly bare ass, raising goose bumps. Denny was leaning over to get a better look at her cunt.
He was panting. "Cunts don't get any sweeter than this beauty. Damn, I can smell how good it must taste. Wonder if Sis is still cherry?"
The goose bumps had spread all over Christy by now.
"God, what I'd give to suck and fuck her," her brother muttered. "Whole time we were growing up it was all I could do to keep my hands off her, and she's got me even hornier now."
Christy didn't know what to do. Frantic, she ran the past through her mind in search of clues about her brother's alarming behavior. And, her memory forcibly triggered, something abruptly stood out which she had never before seriously considered ...
When Denny was still at home, she recalled, it would happen when she was taking a bath. How often he'd seemed to walk in on her by accident. Then, afterward, he'd always wind up in his own room with the door shut. What had he been doing in there? Christy was starting to get a pretty good idea.
Tonight, of course, he couldn't withdraw into his bedroom. His wife was in there. But it was obvious to Christy that he was on his way to somewhere private to do something about the hard-on which she saw jutting from his pajamas when she dared to peek out of one eye at him.
He left a moment later. Christy heard a door open and close down the hallway. And sitting up in a daze, she found herself mentally focusing on the big cock she had just glimpsed. "I never knew he was so hung," she whispered to herself, seeing him in a whole new light. Then, comparing him to her cousin, she added, "God, Denny's cock's even bigger when it's hard than Jake's was."
The next thing she knew, Christy had left the couch, her curiosity too strong to resist. Across the living room and into the hallway she went. To her left she saw a sliver of light from beneath a closed door. The bathroom. That's where her brother was, the same place she'd been when Denny had accidentally walked in on her so many times while they'd been growing up together.
"It's my turn now," Christy whispered.
She made her move before she lost her nerve. Suddenly she'd opened the bathroom door, ready to claim that she hadn't known anybody was inside. Instead, she speechlessly stood there and stared at the sight awaiting her.
Denny was sitting on the john. His cock seemed even bigger to Christy now that she was staring at it. What's more, in his stroking hand, his cock was just this instant erupting with a torrent of jizz.
"S-sorry you had to see this, Sis," Denny said as he came, caught in the act of jacking off. Then, trying to save face, he said, "Isn't easy having a pregnant wife. Guy's gotta do something about the way he feels."
Christy didn't know what she'd say until she heard it herself, and it was as bold as her brother's cock was big and hard. "Elise doesn't have anything to do with it--with us," she bluntly said, dismissing Denny's explanation about his wife. "You're jacking off on account of me. You're horny for me--always have been."
Denny didn't deny it. "H-how'd you know?"
Christy could have told him that she hadn't been asleep when he'd been fooling with her on the couch, but that would have probably made him feel so guilty that she'd have had to listen to a whole string of more sorry excuses. And her uncontrollably aroused cunt made her too impatient for that.
"I've always been the same way for you," Christy stated, recklessly changing the past to suit the present. "That means, in case you want me to spell it out, h-o-t! Girl keeps her eyes open when she's got a crush on her own brother, just hoping he feels the same about her. So I know all about how you used to beat your meat because of me--same as you did tonight."
"Th-then why didn't you do s-something?" Denny sputtered.
"I did. Same thing you did," Christy said. "Want a demonstration?"
Her brother gulped and nodded for her to go ahead.
Christy went to the bathtub. She sat on the edge, one foot propped on the rim and the other extended on the floor. This made her short nightie bunch around her hips, exposing her cunt. Then, snaking her fingers through her wispy cunt-bush, she began massaging her cunt.
"I played with my cunt so many times, thanks to you."
"Show me ... show me more," Denny urged.
"Mmmmm-hmmmmmmm," crooned Christy, poking her middle finger into her cunt. "Feels good. 'Specially now that I get to look at your big cock while I'm finger-fucking myself."
"I-I'll jack off along with you, Sis," Denny said.
"No, I've got a better idea."
"Yeah, Sis?"
"I'll suck you instead."
"You sure, Sis?"
"Just put that big cock in my mouth and try me, stud."
Denny sprang off the john. Christy's mouth was wide open. Denny took aim and filled the target with his surging cock. Christy did the rest, deep-throating him to his balls while she continued finger-fucking her own cunt.
"God, Sis, you're terrific!" Denny praised Christy's expert cock-sucking. "Always knew that if you ever gave me one it'd be the best blow-job I ever got."
Christy, though, had just begun to bend her brother's mind with her sexy ways. First, she'd tangle up his spurs some by seeming to go in the opposite direction than the one in which she was actually headed. This occurred when, all at once, she separated her mouth from Denny's hard-on.
"What's wrong, Sis?" he anxiously asked. "You were sucking my prick so good."
"But," Christy said, "I know what'd make me suck it even better."
Denny nervously waited for an explanation.
"This ..."
Christy popped her finger out of her cunt and passed it under her brother's nose.
"Smell sweet?" she asked.
Denny nodded.
Then Christy put the same sticky finger in her brother's mouth.
"Taste even sweeter?" she asked.
Denny nodded again.
"Then go for it where it's sweetest," Christy said. "Eat my cunt if you really want your cock sucked as good as it gets."
To get into position to make good on her suggestion, Christy took advantage of what was available on the spot. Leaving her perch, she slithered down into his tub as if it were a sunken bed and spread herself out in all her glory.
"Sixty-nine!" she said.
Denny followed her into the tub without further delay. Facing in the opposite direction, he dangled his cock and balls above her head while looking down at her reeking cunt.
"Go for it!" Christy cried.
Her brother burrowed between her parted thighs, mouth flush with cunt-lips, tongue surging into cunt-gash."Mmmmm, that's more like it," Christy moaned with pleasure.
Then she acted to double that pleasure, guiding her brother's cock back into her mouth and down her deep throat.
From there it was prime suction at both ends of the action as if brother and sister had been sixty-nining since they were little kids. Christy came first, feeding Denny all the orgasmic cunt-juice he could swallow. But within moments he'd caught up, his prick unloading with gushing force.
Christy's thirst for her brother's jizz proved to be as much or more than it had been for her cousin Jake's. She couldn't get enough of his cum. Not a precious drop would escape her hunger, as she clung to Denny's cock until his balls were totally drained.
"If you want my cock to stay hard, Sis, you got it," Denny said when Christy had sucked him clean. "You got all my cum this time, but I'll have more to shoot if that's what you want."
"God, do I!" Christy slurped, finally releasing her sucking hold on Denny's cock. "And someplace even better than my mouth the next time you come for me."
"Fuck you, Sis?" Denny eagerly asked.
"Like you're trying to split me in two!" Christy declared.
Then she pushed her brother away so she could move into a better position to get fucked.
When Denny had given her room, Christy slithered out of the tub and then crawled over to the john. There she knelt with her face resting on the lid and her ass raised, in the classic dog-fucking stance.
"Get the idea, stud?" she called.
"You better believe it, Sis!"
That said, Denny moved in behind his sister. In each of his hands he took an ass-cheek and yanked them apart, exposing the yawning splendor of Christy's rear-spread cunt.
"You like it rough, don't you, Sis?" he said.
"What makes you think that?" Christy asked.
"Your tits," Denny said. "Started noticing how bruised they are. You must've really let the last guy who fucked you do a job on you."
"How do you know I wasn't raped?"
"If you were, bet you wound up begging for more."
Christy suddenly had a whim that was more reckless than anything that had gone before. Rape was the key. She'd never been forced into sex before, but like any normal girl she'd always wondered what it would be like. And since her brother was so sure he knew how she'd react, why not make him prove it?
"If I begged for more before, then you ought to be able to make me do it again even more," she said.
"You're really asking for it, Sis," warned her brother.
"So do you have the balls to give it to me?"
Denny reacted to Christy's challenge by squeezing her ass-cheeks so they'd be even more bruised than her tits already were.
"You can be meaner than that," Christy egged him on.
One hand went to her head. Denny grabbed a fistful of her hair and snapped her head back. Then his other hand went for another kind of hair. The wispy thatch at Christy's cunt. He tugged her cunt so her cunt-lips stretched from between her ass-cheeks like pink flaps of rubber.
"Now what do you think, Sis? Am I giving it to you rough enough?"
Christy reacted to the pain by coming on the spot.
"God, you mean it, don't you? You goddamned horny bitch in heat!"
"You raping bastard!"
"Okay, if this is what you really want, it's gonna get worse," Denny said.
"Then pour it on! Treat me like I deserve! Rough as it gets! Rape the shit out of me!" Christy wildly pleaded for the worst.
"Rape the shit out of you, huh?" Denny chuckled. "Baby sister, I just ought to take you at your word on that. Teach you a lesson you'll never forget."
"What's stopping you?" Christy replied.
"You know what that means, Sis?"
"Try me!"
"Damn, then, you got it!"
Once again, Denny was prying apart his sister's ass-cheeks. But this time he didn't focus on her cunt. The much tighter opening had his attention. Denny nudged his chunky cock-head against the puckered dent, ready to go for broke.
"Mmmmm it's like being cherry all over again," Christy panted with anticipation.
"Then you know it's gonna hurt."
"It damned well better!"
"Then take this and put it in your mouth, so you don't wake up everybody in the apartment when you start to scream," Denny said, reaching for a towel.
"You do it for me. Gag me just like you're honest to God raping me," Christy said.
His throbbing cock-head remained poised in striking position. Denny wrapped the towel around his sister's face the way a genuine rapist would do to keep his victim quiet. Then his hands returned to Christy's ass-cheeks as he steadied himself to finally take the plunge.
"No backing out now," he exclaimed, speaking for himself as well as his sister as his crotch violently lurched to force his huge cock into its narrow target.
And so Christy was brutally introduced to backdoor sex. With the towel gagging her, she couldn't cry out as she wanted to, but at least she managed to make herself heard.
"Owwww! Feels like you're ripping me in half, Denny!" she moaned. "Getting my ass fucked for the first time hurts twice as much as when I got my cherry cunt full of cock!"
"You bragging or complaining, Sis?" Denny taunted, shoving even more cock into Christy's rear chute.
Christy responded to his mocking question by coming on the spot. Her orgasmic asshole rippled along the length of her brother's buried cock, letting Denny know for certain that he'd plugged into a keg of female dynamite. For her, twice as much pain equaled twice as much pleasure.
"You're the real goods, Sis. Hell, forget about me raping you. More like the other way around--your ass raping my prick."
This made it Christy's turn to tease. "You bragging or complaining?"
"Just telling the truth, Sis," Denny said. "You're the best!"
"Then," Christy chuckled through the towel, "I'd better keep living up to my reputation."
She began rocking back and forth on her knees so her tight asshole tugged and hauled her brother's cock. In the process, something gave way within her, in much the same way it did in her cunt when her cherry had been popped. Only this time, rather than blood, the sticky flow which seeped around the cock fucking her was more like female fudge.
"Oooooh, can you feel it?" Christy asked, picking up on the slimy sensation at once. "Feel my fucked ass leaking? Getting your cock so dirty with you know what?"
Denny tested his sister's slippery asshole with what was now his thoroughly lubed cock, sliding back and then lurching forward in to the hilt.
"Yeah, brother dear, that's right, you did it. Kept your promise," Christy said. "Fucked the shit out of me ..."
She interrupted herself by shuddering from head to toe.
"... got me shitting and coming at the same time," she moaned with ecstasy. "Coming and shitting."
By now the towel that was supposed to gag Christy had fallen away from her face. So she put it to another use, wadding it in her hand and reaching behind to dab the excess shit which leaked down her inner thighs from her fucked ass. Then she brought the stained towel back to her face and sniffed it, getting high on her own funky aroma.
"Soooo dirty," she joyously murmured. "Just makes me wanna get even nastier."
"Don't see how it could get any dirtier than this, Sis," Denny said.
That was like a dare to Christy in her current frame of mind, and she readily accepted the challenge.
Can't get any dirtier? she scoffed;. "We'll find out about that."
Denny was curious about where his sister was leading the next. However, to his surprise, Christy now told him to take his cock out of her ass.
"Huh?" He gulped, puzzled why she'd pick this moment to end the butt-fuck just when it was as its filthiest.
"Just do what I say!" Christy snapped.
Denny reluctantly withdrew. Fresh from his sister's shit-pit, his rigid cock looked as if it had been smeared with chocolate.
"Mmmmmm, disgusting, isn't it?" Christy asked over her shoulder as she and her brother both looked at his butt-fucked cock.
"Now what am I supposed to do with my cock?" Denny asked.
"Well, what else?" giggled Christy. "Clean your cock off. I told you, it's disgusting."
"Give me the towel, then ..."
"No, silly, I mean clean your cock off the dirtiest way there is," Christy said, continuing to confuse her brother.
"'Fraid you're gonna have to explain better than that, Sis," Denny mumbled. "Dunno what you're talking about."
"Well, actions always speak louder than words, don't they?"
That said, Christy was abruptly no longer kneeling over the john. Instead, she'd bobbed up and around to perch herself on the seat. And, next, one leg angled over so she could prop her foot in the sink. After that, the other leg stretched to rest on the dirty clothes hamper. Her clit seemed to jump out at her brother from between her spread thighs--her wide-open cunt.
Danny reacted, glancing at his filthy cock as he muttered, "You mean you want this ..."
His gaze then darted to his sister's yawning cunt.
"... in there?"
"Can't think of a better place to wash your cock clean," Christy giggled some more. "A better, wetter place than my juicy cunt."
But Denny hesitated about filling that pink cunt with a cock so gross as his. Then, as he stalled, Christy lost her patience. Those long legs of hers reached out and seized her startled brother, pulling him tightly into fucking range.
"Remember this?" she asked, waving the towel in Denny's face. "Well, it's not gagging me anymore. So if I start screaming that you really did rape me, everyone'll hear."
"Th-that's not fair, Sis." Denny choked on the threat. "I'd go to jail."
"Not if you play ball by balling my cunt with your dirty cock," Christy said.
Trapped, Denny had to stick his dirty cock into his sister's demanding cunt. And, as soon as he had, Christy slung the towel around his ass, tugging an end in each of her hands to guide the movement of his hips so they'd roll to her liking.
"Oooooh, yes this is how I wanna finish up."Christy moaned, making Denny's cock pump nonstop in her grinding cunt. "Fucked up the ass and then in my cunt by the same big, hard prick! How could any horny little sister ask for anything more from her big, hung brother?"
She was getting awfully loud at this point. Denny broke into a cold sweat worrying about her being overheard by the rest of the family. And what about when she came again? The way she was going, she might raise the roof.
She read his mind. "Still afraid about going to jail, Brother dear?"
An ashen Denny nodded.
"Relax," Christy told him. "Relax and enjoy it. You can trust me. Nobody'll know how much I come except me and you."
Then Christy whipped the towel free from her brother's ass, startling him by snapping it in the air. From there, Denny watched her stuff a corner of it in her mouth. And only then did she begin coming.
Sighing with relief as his sister's wails of pleasure were muffled by the towel while she came, Denny took Christy's advice and relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the fuck. Enjoyed it so much that when he shot his wad, he had to grab the other end of the towel and stuff it in his mouth too, silently screaming along with his sister in perfect harmony. | 4 |
2,669 | From Happy Days | "Whatcha doing, Richie?" She spoke softly, almost a whisper, but it was enough to startle me. I grabbed my cock with both hands to cover up.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you." This was funny, my little sister trying to comfort me, her big brother. But it worked. My heart slowed down to a more normal beat as I looked across the bed.
Joanie was standing right at the edge, right by my feet. Her oval, freckled face was beaming down at me. She'd changed into a nightgown, one that must've been a hand-me-down because the material was worn pretty thin and the pink and blue embroidery around the collar was frayed a lot. It was transparent enough for me to make out the outline of her body. She was just starting to hit puberty then, I guess. There was only the slightest of hints of a curve to her waist. She didn't really have any breasts, but Mom had gotten her a training bra and she wore it all the time. I could see the white triangles through the gown.
I'd loosened my grip on my cock, and I suddenly realized it was rising up above my hands, standing stiff and straight. Joanie followed my eyes.
"Wow, Richie! You're big!"
I blushed, at first with pride. Then I remembered this was my baby sister! I was naked in front of her, and it was making my cock swell. Even as I thought about how terrible that was, my cock got bigger and harder. I couldn't figure it out. I'd never thought of Joanie THAT way; she was just a kid. OK, she wasn't really a kid anymore; I'd even wondered why Mom had bothered to make me stay and watch her that weekend. Joanie had already baby-sat herself for a couple of families on the block. And her face had lost all of its baby fat; she was obviously going to be a really pretty girl when she got older. Oh, heck, she was pretty now. Her lips were fuller than Betty's, and her brown eyes had this kinda sexy twinkle sometimes ... God, I was doing it to myself, I thought. My cock was eight inches long now, bobbing a bit up and down like a skier waiting at the top of a jump.
As I looked up from my cock, I saw that Joanie was staring at it too. Her eyes were wide open and her pink tongue was peeking out between her lips, rubbing back and forth slowly. I saw a blush spread over her face when she realized I knew what she was looking at.
"Haven't you ever seen a boy's -- you know?"
"I saw Tommy Johnson's when we were six, but it didn't look anything like that," she whispered back. "It was small and stubby and it looked kinda soft. And he didn't have any hair ... down there."
"Well, all boys are like that when they're kids. When we grow up, we get hair. And mine isn't always so big, it's just ..." I stopped. What could I say? It's just that I got hot thinking about my baby sister? And what did I think I was doing, just lying there naked, anyway? I grabbed for the sheet to pull it over me, but Joanie held it back.
"No, don't. It's OK. If you're worried about me telling Mom and Dad, don't. I won't tell. Just like I won't tell about you and Bet... oops."
My cock quickly deflated. "You heard?"
"Yeah," she said shyly, ducking her head. "That's why I'm here." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "I heard what you said, and what Potsie said. I bet that Betty's a stuck-up girl like her little sister Tracy. I remember how long you worked on that poem you wrote for her last week -- and she didn't even say 'Thank you,' I bet. ... And I heard how you stuck up for me when Potsie called me a brat. That was really sweet, Richie."
As she finished, she looked up at me again. "Oh, Richie, your thing's so much smaller! Did I do something wrong?"
"No, no, it's ..."
"It's Betty, isn't it? It's 'cause I reminded you about her." She paused and seemed to be making up her mind about something. "It wasn't right, what Betty did. When I heard about it, I wanted to do something to help. But I couldn't think of what, until I saw you running past my room." She reached a hand out tentatively. "Jenny Piccolo said guys like it if you touch their things. Can I touch yours?"
I stared at her. I couldn't believe this! My kid sister, the little girl I'd seen in diapers, wanted to touch my cock? I thought about it. She was really cute, and I was horny. But could I...? Even as I thought about it, my cock started to swell again.
"Oooh, I think you want me to," Joanie cooed. She softly encircled my rod with her right hand. The warm touch sent a shiver all the way up my spine and I let out a deep sigh.
"What do I do now, Richie?"
I should have told her to stop. I should have sent her out of the room and gotten dressed. I should have done a lot of things. But what I did was say, "That feels really good, Sis. Now move your hand up and down, real slow. Yeah. All the way up to the tip, and down. Mmmmmm."
I lay back on the bed as Joanie's small hand massaged my cock. I tried not to think about how I was corrupting my kid sister. Then ... I felt a warm breath on the head of my dick, and it was engulfed in a hot, wet embrace.
"What?" I yelped, as I looked down to see my little sister swallowing my cock.
She slipped it out of her mouth. "Sssshh." She grinned. "This is something else I learned from Jenny Piccolo. She showed me on a banana. Am I doing it all right?"
With that, she swooped down onto my dick again and began to bob up and down on it, holding her lips in a tight "O" that sizzled up and down the rod while her tongue flicked out at the tip.
I had never even dared think about asking Betty to give me a blow job, and now Joanie ... well, I was going to have to change the way I thought about her. Fast.
And faster. She picked up the rhythm, her dark hair flying as her head bounced up and down while her hand kept rubbing the rest of my cock. The bed was creaking and squeaking as I finally let out a loud groan. "Look out, Joanie! I'm commmmmmmmiiiinnnngggg!"
She pulled her head up just in time to get a jet of cum across her face. Her eyes flew open in surprise. When she flicked out her tongue and had a taste, though, she smiled and licked some more off. "Mmmm," she said, "it's as good as Jenny said."
I reached down and pulled her up to me. "Joanie, that was wonderful. I've never had anything so good. You're the best sister ever." Looking at her cute face with globs of my spunk still spattered here and there, I couldn't resist. I pulled her closer and pressed my lips to hers. I'd heard the expression "a tie is like kissing your sister," but I don't think this was what they meant. She kept her lips slightly open, and as we pressed together she slipped her hot tongue inside me. I flicked back at it, one hand entangling itself in her hair as the other slipped down and caressed her tight little butt.
We became lost in passion. I kissed my way from her mouth down to her neck, licking and sucking around to her tender ear. When I slipped my tongue into it, she yipped as her body shook. "Richie!"
I whispered into her ear, my warm breath washing over it. "I've learned a few things too, little Sis." We kissed and licked for several minutes. Then Joanie slipped out of my arms and stood beside the bed.
"Richie ... I love you," she said in a deep, sighing voice. "Can I, can I ask you something? There's, um, there's something else Jenny told me about." She pressed her lips together tightly and squeezed her arms at her side. I reached out and took her hand.
"It's OK, Joanie. What?"
She took a deep breath. "Jenny-said-boys-could-do-girls-like-I-did-you-but-they-don't-like-to-Could-you-do-me-please?" The words tumbled out fast, as if she was afraid if she stopped for a second she'd be too afraid to go on.
"I've never done that, Joanie -- but I'll try," I said. The familiar grin broke out on her face, like the sun coming out after a gray morning. I couldn't help but love her, I thought.
"What do I do, Richie?"
"Well, I guess ... Take your clothes off, first."
I lifted the nightgown over her head. As I'd thought, she still looked like a little girl on the outside, without any real curves. But as I slipped off her training bra, I could see that her nipples were long and hard, standing out from the dark circles around them. And when I pulled off her panties, I could see the first few wisps of hairs above her pussy.
I moved over on the bed to make room for her. "Now you lie down," I said.
Moving between her legs, I licked from her feet to her crotch as I gently spread her thighs apart. Better take it slow, I thought. I moved up further, sliding my tongue around her belly button, then taking each of her nipples into my mouth and sucking. I could feel her smooth, warm skin next to mine. My cock had already gotten hard again and was rubbing on her legs. I kissed her again, then moved all the way down to her crotch. A pungent aroma was already rising from her pussy as I nibbled around the edges. Joanie's hands grabbed my head as her knees rose up around me. "Nnnnice, Richie! Ooooh, that's so good!"
Gently, I began to lick her labia, already slightly wet. She wiggled her pussy in my face and urged me on, but I was afraid to do too much at once.Plus, I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing. After licking up and down at the entrance to her pussy for a while, I used both hands to spread the lips slightly and slipped my tongue inside.
"Aaaaaaah! Richie, yes! Yes-yes-yes! Unnnggghh!"
I guessed I must be doing something right. I pushed my tongue in further and in and out. My fingers roamed outside the now-slick cunt of my baby sister, until I felt something like a small, hard button. As soon as I touched it, a jolt shot through Joanie's body. A sudden realization hit me: her clit! For all my hopes with Betty and the boasts Potsie, Ralph and I made, I'd never done anything like this before, and I'd never really known what all the words we used meant. It felt kind of weird to be getting a sex education from my kid sister.
Before I could waste too much time thinking about it, though, Joanie's thighs closed around me and she called out. "Don't stop, Rich! That feels so good!" She gasped several times, and her voice got low and soft. "Richie, that's it. Touch me there. Oh, rub it. And lick me. My whole body's burning up with you, Richie. Uhhhh, please, yes, right there. Oh, Richie, I love you. I love you!" All at once she stiffened. "Gaaaaah-nnnnng-unnnnnnh-AAAAAAAHHHH! Oh, God, Richie, did I cum? I think I ccuuuuuuunnnnnnnggghhh-AAAAAHHHH!"
This time it was Joanie who pulled me up for a deep kiss, licking her own juices off my face. As we nuzzled, my stiff cock was at the gate of her pussy. I felt the hot, slippery fluids from her washing over the tip of my dick.
I looked straight into her warm brown eyes. "Did Jenny Piccolo tell you about anything else? I mean, about what boys and girls can do ...?"
"You mean ... Oh, Richie, do you want to fuck me?" Hearing my kid sister use words like that turned me on even more than ever.
"Yes, yes, Joanie, I want to fuck you. I want to put my cock inside you and feel your pussy around me. Please, Joanie, I love you so much, can I?"
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "Yes, please, yes! I want you inside me! I want you deep in me, Richie!"
I pushed my cock up to the entrance of her steaming tunnel and slowly slipped inside. She was tight, even tighter than when she'd sucked me. But all the juices made it easy to push in, her pussy lips squeezing around the inflamed head of my dick. I felt the wide helmet pop past the lips, which immediately tightened again around my rod. I almost came right then, but I held it there for a long time until that feeling went away.
Then I began to stroke, real slow and gentle. The feeling was a hundred times better than I'd ever expected. I kept pushing in a bit further every time, carefully probing for Joanie's maidenhead. Soon I had three or four inches inside her, and still nothing stood in the way.
"Joanie, I..."
I heard a soft giggle. "I used a candle, Richie. Three months ago. That's something else Jenny taught me."
"Remind me to thank Jenny next time I see her," I murmured. I was happy that the pain of breaking her hymen wouldn't interrupt our lovemaking. Opening my eyes, I looked down at Joanie's face, now flushed and covered with sweat and cum and juices. My little sister's first fuck, I thought, and it was me! Somehow it felt right, now, that I'd be the one, not some fumbling jerk who didn't really care for her ... like I didn't care for Betty, it occurred to me. Yes, this was the right thing.
By now I was plunging all the way inside her, burying my cock to the hilt in the hot, sopping wet pussy, then pulling out. Joanie was bucking her slim hips back at me in a primal beat.
"Fuck me, Richie. Fuck me so good. Ohhhh, you feel so good inside me. Deeper. Deeper! DEEPER! YES! Ohhh, Richie, it's wonderful! Oh, God, it feels so good."
Her legs closed tight around me, her feet sticking straight up in the air. I couldn't believe I could go so deep inside her! Her fingers clawed at my back and my knees ached a little and my arms were stiff but I didn't really feel much of that at all. It seemed like my mind was wired directly to my cock and the feel of Joanie's soft pussy squeezing along the rod and the tip bumping up against the back of her cunt and the base bouncing against her crotch.
She brought her heels down against my butt, pressing me deeper.
"Harder! Faster!" Joanie urged me on. "Fuck me harder, please, pleasepleaseplease-yes-that's-it-that's-it!"
The bedsprings were screeching, the sheet and blanket had slipped off onto the floor, the pillows had fallen off and Joanie's head was bouncing up and down on the mattress, sweat flying off as she bucked and jerked and I had never loved anyone as much as I loved her at that moment. I felt a burning deep within and I knew it was time.
"Joanie, I'm cuuuummmmmmiiiiiinnnnnnggggg!" Waves of jism pulsed through my rod and exploded into her as her pussy convulsed, squeezing me dry. "Me too, Richie, me toooooooo-AAAAAAHHHHH!" She trembled and stiffened, trembled and stiffened, her fingers digging into my sides as her eyes flew open and she stared blankly at the ceiling. "Aaaaannnnnggggghhhh! Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-AAAAAHHHHH!"
As my cock made its last feeble pulses, all at once I felt the ache in my arms and the friction that had rubbed my knees raw. I slipped out of Joanie and rolled over onto the bed next to her, taking her in my arms and kissing her long and hard.
"Richie," she said, her eyes softly shining, "I do love you. You're so good to me. Can we do it again?"
"Mmmm, yes, little Sis, anytime you want."
The thought of making love to Joanie again made me press my mouth to hers again. How wonderful! My baby sister and I, lovers!
Soon, Joanie slipped a hand down to caress my cock back to life as she snuggled up to me, sticking her tongue into my ear. Before I knew it, she had rolled me over onto my back. Incredibly, my dick was stiff and straight again. Joanie got on top of me and slowly lowered herself onto my cock, letting it slide past her slippery lips and all the way up. At first she kept it slow, sometimes even lifting all the way off so that the tip would have to pop into her lips again. I reached up and twiddled her nipples between my fingers, feeling her heart beating swiftly beneath her sweaty skin. Then Joanie picked up the pace, until soon she was bouncing up and down as if she were riding a bucking bronco. My hands slipped down her silky body to rest on her hips, holding onto her as the speeding friction drove me wild again. Her voice was like a helicopter traffic guy's, all jerky because of the bouncing: "Oh-oh Ri-hich-hie I-hi lov-ove yo-hou! Fu-huck me ye-hes ye-hes uh-NG-GAAAH-haaa-GAAa-aaaaaaaaahhhh-DDDeehaaaa!"
My cock was still hard and I urged her on even after her orgasm. She must have ridden me for 30 minutes before she finally cried out, "Oh, Go-haaad Ri-hichie I-hi can't ta-hake this mu-huch loooonnnggge-hheeerr!"
I eased her off me -- my cock was so swollen that I was afraid it would break -- and had her lie face down on the bed, already soaked with our sweat and juices. Quickly I moved behind her and pressed my dick up against her puckered little asshole. I don't know why I thought of it, except from raw sexual passion. Smearing some of the juices from her pussy onto her other hole, I worked my index finger inside her and then slowly but firmly pressed my cock in its place. "Richie! Richie, Jenny didn't say anything about this? What are you doing?"
"I love you, Joanie, and I want all of you! It'll be all right! Just relax and let me -- oooohhhh, yes!" My dick slid inside her asshole, even tighter than her pussy. With my hands I kept her small butt cheeks separated as I began to stroke. I kept the rhythm slow and steady until I felt the familiar burning and my jism blasted deep into Joanie's ass. "I'm cummmmiinnngggg!"
The next several years were the best I've ever known. Joanie and I had many happy days together. Joanie blossomed into a beautiful young woman with ample breasts, shapely legs and the hottest mouth in Milwaukee. When she finished school, I asked her to marry me and she, of course, said yes. So, my sister Joanie became my wife Joanie and now she is also mother Jonie. Yes, my sister and I have two lovely children now and our happy days continue. | 4 |
2,741 | TIFFANY ON THE TABLE | "I know what boys like, I know what guys want,
I know what boys like, I've got what boys like,
I know what boys like, I know what guys want,
I see them looking, I make them want me,
I like to tease them,
They want to touch me,
I never let them."
Tiffany Daniels sashayed down the hall of her high school, singing softly to herself. None of the students could hear her; the song, an old '80s tune by The Waitresses she had heard at a friend's house over the weekend, had stuck in her head, the way relentlessly catchy melodies so often do.
The other students might not have been able to hear what she was singing to herself, but they certainly noticed Tiffany. She was the queen of Daniels High School (named for her grandfather, Godfrey Daniels). How was she queen? Let us count the ways, as Tiffany so often did to herself:
She was a senior. A cheerleader. She was rich. Her family was established and well-connected, her daddy a member of the City Council of Beverly, Texas. And she was beautiful, heart-breakingly, staggeringly beautiful, in the way a pampered princess of 17 years can be. Long blonde hair that bounced when she walked, a knock-out figure with perfect firm breasts and long, tanned legs, a cute little pug nose and a light sprinkling of freckles that gave her a resemblance to a certain teenaged tennis star who dates an older hockey player and is known for her I'm-so-fuckable-too-bad-you-can't attitude.
And like some royalty, Tiffany knew she ruled. Sports hadn't started for the school year yet, so she wasn't allowed to wear her cheerleading uniform to school, with its ultra-short pleated skirt that swirled when she walked and made all the boys and most of the male teachers almost cross-eyed with desire. But she nonetheless managed to dress in a classy, sexy way that didn't look slutty, with a plaid kilt-style skirt that fell to mid-thigh, white knee socks, expensive loafers, and an $80 white cotton sweater, very lightweight, that showcased her magnificent chest. As she bounced down the hall of Daniels High, she was the very picture of healthy, nubile schoolgirl eroticism.
"Tiffany, could I see you a moment please?" Ms. Warren, the Daniels cheerleader advisor, called out from her class to the passing senior. Tiffany stepped into the room.
"Tiffany, have you had your physical yet?"
"Oh, jeez, Ms. Warren," the teenaged beauty said, "I'm sorry. I guess I've been putting it off."
"Well, you can't put it off any longer, dear. The deadline for the squad is tomorrow. And you know the rules: If you don't have a signed doctor's form and a complete physical every year, you can't be a cheerleader."
"I know," Tiffany said, somewhat embarrassed by the intimacy of the topic. She hated going to her doctor for a physical, even though she was a woman, because it meant being naked, or nearly naked, and having her breasts examined for lumps and being on that God-awful examining table and having her legs up in the stirrups and all. After what Tiffany had been through in the past year - the sexual degradation, humiliation and abuse that had been heaped on her by teachers, relatives and even strangers in a bizarre string of horrifying ordeals - she could barely stand to be naked in the shower, let alone in front of a stranger.
She thought quickly. "But it's Wednesday, Ms. Warren. I think my doctor isn't in the office today."
"Look, it's best to just get this over with, and not take a chance of missing the deadline," Ellyn Warren retorted. "I know a doctor that a couple of the other girls on the squad have used, and she keeps me office hours on Wednesday. I could write you a pass and you could get this over with right now."
"She? The doctor's a woman?"
"Of course, honey," Ellyn Warren said. "I know how you teenaged girls feel about going to male doctors. Dr. Weston is very nice. Tell her I sent you and what it's for, and she'll do a super-quick exam and get you out in 10 minutes tops."
"Well, OK," Tiffany said reluctantly. She had no more excuses, and she did have to do it. Better to get it over with.
Fifteen minutes later Tiffany swung her red Miata into a parking space at a nondescript office park in Beverly, the kind where all the gray brick buildings look just alike. That song was still going through her mind, and she was enjoying singing:
"I got my cat moves, that so upset them
Zippers and buttons, fun to frustrate them
They get so angry
Like pouty children denied their candy."
She found the sign out front indicating that this was the office of Dr. Nancy Weston, and went inside. A matronly receptionist, chubby and graying, greeted her, pushed a clipboard at her with a page of personal information to fill out, and Tiffany sat down to write, and then to wait. The waiting room was empty, and in just a few minutes the receptionist, whose nametag read "Hope," called her name.
"How are you, honey?" she asked with a voice that sounded like too many cigarettes.
"Fine."
"Step into Exam Room 1, take off your clothes and put on the gown. The doc will be with you in a second." Tiffany did as she was told, and stripped down to her knee socks (for warmth), lacy white cotton bra and white Victoria's Secret panties. She put on the thin cloth gown, and awkwardly tied it behind her back and around her neck. She could still feel how much of her back side was exposed by the long slit in the gown. Before she even had a chance to sit up on the examining table, Hope was back.
"Come on out here, hon, I got to take your weight and height."
The 17-year-old cheerleader stepped nervously into the hall and climbed up on the scale. The receptionist wrote her weight, 115 lbs., and height, 5 foot 7, on the clipboard, and Tiffany was about to step down when she heard a male voice say "Holy shit!"
She whirled around and saw two construction workers, who had appeared as if from nowhere in the corridor. They were big, burly guys in the late 20s, dressed in jeans and white T-shirts, and both wore belts hung with tools. "Yowsah!" said the other man.
The two workmen were openly ogling the poor girl. From their view of her back as she stood on the scale, she knew they could see a lot of her bare back and much of her naked legs. The way the gown was tied they couldn't see her panties or ass, and if she had stopped to think about it, Tiffany often was seen by hundreds of men at the beach wearing a bikini that exposed far more of her succulent flesh. But this wasn't a time for such rational thought, and the flustered schoolgirl was deeply embarrassed to have the two strangers so openly checking her out.
"Don't you men have some work to do?" asked the receptionist harshly. "Get back to your dry-walling!" The workers held their gaze for a few more moments, and Tiffany could feel their hot, lustful stares burning into her skin. Then, disappointed that their show was over, they went back into another exam room.
"Sorry about that, hon," she told Tiffany. "That wasn't very nice. Still, you can't blame red-blooded American men for noticing a pretty little thing like you."
Tiffany knew she was trying to make light of the situation, but she felt sick to her stomach, somehow violated by the eyeball-rape. She moved quickly back into her exam room, and shut the door behind her. God, why did they have to make these places so freezing cold? she thought. She was getting goosebumps on her arms, and underneath the cotton gown, her nipples had sprung to erection from the cold. They brushed against the front of her gown when Tiffany hopped up onto the examining table and sat on the white paper that had been rolled down there.
There were no magazines, so Tiffany just sat. A boombox sitting on the counter against one wall was playing soft music, some sort of light classical that was obviously intended to relax patients, but little Tiffany was far from relaxing. She was no longer singing "I Know What Boys Wants," because her cockiness had been punctured by the brief encounter with the lecherous workmen. Soon there was a gentle knock on the door and in walked the doctor.
"Hello," he said. "I'm Dr. Steadman."
"But, uh, you're supposed to be a, uh, woman," Tiffany stammered.
"Well, obviously I'm not," he answered. "If you mean Dr. Weston, she had a family emergency. I work for the same HMO, and they called me and asked me to fill in."
Tiffany didn't know what to say or do.She was already in the gown, in the exam room, and her sponsor was expecting her back soon with a signed physical form. She hated the thought of being examined by a man, but it was better just to get it over with. It didn't help that Dr. Steadman was incredibly handsome. Tiffany figured he was probably in his late '20s, not long out of med school. He was tall and well-built, with close-cropped dark hair and piercing eyes.
"Your chart says you're here for your high-school physical," he said.
"Cheerleading."
"Oh, you're a cheerleader? Lucky you. I should have known."
Was he flirting with her? Tiffany wondered. What did he mean by that?
"Very good, Miss Daniels. Please untie your gown behind your neck and let it drop forward. I need to check your breathing." He picked up the end of the stethoscope that dangled from his neck.
"Untie my gown?" Tiffany said. "Can't you listen through my gown?"
"Miss Daniels," he said sternly. "You let me be the doctor, and you can be the patient, and we can both get on with this." His tone left little room for her to argue.
Reluctantly, Tiffany reached back and untied the string at the back of her neck. As soon as it was loose, the gown fell forward, exposing her 36C breasts nestled snugly in their bra. Even through the cotton, the nipples, pink and hard as little pebbles, felt the cold air in the room and poked out even more. She was embarrassed by her erect little nubbins, but hoped the doctor saw this sort of thing all the time.
"This will be a little chilly," Dr. Steadman said as he approached with the stethoscope. "Can't be helped." He placed the icy piece of metal on her chest between her breasts and instructed her to breathe. The familiar ritual was repeated as he moved the stethoscope around her chest, and then on several spots on her back. Tiffany started to calm down a little from the clinical nature of what was happening.
"Now we have to check for any nodes in the breasts. Please lay back on the table."
"Dr. Steadman?" the nervous girl squeaked. "Is that really necessary? I mean, I'm only 17, so I don't think that's a problem, and uh, I was hoping this would just be quick so I could get back to school."
"Miss Daniels, I'm getting tired of having my authority challenged!" Steadman snapped. "Now quit yapping at me, take off your bra and lay down!"
The busty girl had no choice. Reluctantly, she unhooked her bra and set it aside. Her sweet adolescent breasts were now on full display, and Tiffany prayed the door to the exam room was locked, so those horrible workmen would not "accidentally" come in and see her. She lay down on the paper, her arms at her sides, her body rigid with anxiety. Her breathing was shallow, and her perfectly formed breasts rose and fell, rose and fell, in a delightful rhythm.
"Please try and relax, Miss Daniels. I'm not going to hurt you." She couldn't help it, she squeezed her eyes shut, and then she felt his hands on her left breast. They were incredibly warm and soft. Dr. Steadman began to rub her breasts in circles, giving her a standard breast exam. His touch was so tender, Tiffany thought, and she found herself relaxing, the tension melting away as she lay back with her eyes closed. The hands started at the outsides of her breasts and worked inward, slowly, in circles, headed toward the nipple.
To her dismay, Tiffany found herself wishing he would hurry up and get to her nipples. They were so cold and so hard, and she knew his soft, warm fingers would feel fantastic there. This wish confused her: this was a breast exam, for God's sake, not an erotic massage. Still, she couldn't help the tickle in her brain.
Dr. Steadman finally reached the nipple of her left breast, and Tiffany surprised herself by gasping with pleasure when his fingertips made contact with the aureole. He immediately stopped. "Is everything all right, Miss Daniels?" he asked.
She opened her eyes and looked at him leaning over her. "Yes, I'm sorry," she replied.
"This is not supposed to be sexually stimulating, Miss Daniels," he said in a clinical voice.
Tiffany blushed scarlet. Oh Jeez, she thought, he can tell this is turning me on! How embarrassing! I've got to get a grip on myself. But she was also aware that her sweet teenage pussy was beginning to secrete a little bit of juice.
Dr. Steadman turned his attention to Tiffany Daniels' right breast, and she closed her eyes again. The physician's sensitive fingers again worked their magic, and the beleaguered teenager was again assailed by inappropriate sexual feelings. Again, he reached her nipple and brushed it with his fingers, and Tiffany moaned softly and squeezed her naked thighs together. She was getting wet between her legs, and praying it wasn't so much as to make a spot on her panties!
"You may sit up now, Miss Daniels," the doctor said, and Tiffany sat up swiftly. The intensity of her sexual arousal, coupled with sitting up so quickly, caused her to be light-headed for a moment, and she swayed a bit, leaning toward the doctor. Steadman reached out and caught her.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, I'm sorry. Please, I, uh, I don't know..." She knew she was babbling, but couldn't stop.
"We'll continue the exam now," Steadman said. Tiffany didn't even think to ask if she could put her bra back on, but sat on the exam table, her naked breasts practically at eye level with the doctor, the front of her panties under the gown glistening slightly with a dab of her own juice. Steadman quickly ran through taking her pulse, blood pressure, checking her eyes, ears, throat and reflexes. The schoolgirl began to settle down and return to normal.
"OK, we need to do a pelvic," the doctor said matter-of-factly. "Take off your panties, then lay back, and put your feet in the stirrups."
This was the moment Tiffany had been dreading. She was about to expose her most intimate part to a total stranger. And even though he was a doctor, a professional, there was the added problem of having been slightly turned on by the breast exam. Her mind swirled with confusion, but she didn't want to be reprimanded again, so she obediently hopped down off the examining table, reached under her gown and pulled off her panties. Then she climbed back up, lay on her back, and scooted her bottom down so that her legs were lined up in the proper position. She lifted her feet up and placed her heels carefully into the metal stirrups that jutted out from the end of the table.
There is no more humiliating position for a woman, Tiffany thought. She and her friends sometimes joked nervously about how much they hated gyno exams, how demeaning it was just to have your legs lifted and spread and your private parts so blatantly exposed. Never mind what the doctor did down there, that was just too awful to even talk about!
Dr. Steadman pulled thin latex gloves onto his hands. At least he's being very professional about all this, Tiffany thought. She waited, dreading his touch. Or at least part of her was dreading it. Another part of her brain – the primitive part, that controls sexual response and operates independently of the rest of the brain – was somehow craving his touch on her bare pussy. "Shame on you, Tiffany Daniels," she thought.
The physician stepped to the bottom of the table and lifted her gown, so that it formed a tent over her upraised knees and she could not see what he was doing. Then she felt him push a finger into her vagina. She was relieved that it didn't feel particularly good or bad. He slowly inserted his finger into the nervous adolescent, so splayed and vulnerable, until it was all the way in.
"Miss Daniels," he said sternly. "I see you're not a virgin."
"What?" Tiffany practically yelped. "What?"
"I'm simply stating a fact," he said. "Your hymen is gone. You're not a virgin. And don't give me any of that silly teenage girl crap about tampons or gymnastics or horseback riding."
Tiffany was stunned. How dare he speak to her like this? She started to get up from the table. Any incipient sexual feeling had vanished completely, and she just wanted to get dressed and get away from this awful man.
She was part way up when Steadman snarled at her. "Lay back down immediately, Miss Daniels!" She froze.
"This is not an optional series of tests, Miss Daniels. I'm sorry if you're distressed that I found out that you're sexually active, but that's too bad, honey. Now get back down on that table!"
Poor Tiffany was mortified. The exam had started off bad when she realized her doctor was a man, then had seemed OK when she was mildly aroused by him and he seemed to be professional. But now he was yelling at her, and practically calling her a slut. It was horrible, particularly for a princess like herself who almost always got her way. But what could she do? She obeyed Dr. Steadman and laid back down on the table.
"Now, Miss Tiffany Daniels," he said, "I have to step out for just a minute. You will continue to lay exactly as you are and not move one muscle. If I come back and you have moved a muscle, I will call your cheerleader sponsor at school, whose number is on this form. I will tell her that since you are sexually active, I need to test you for sexually transmitted diseases. I can, if I choose, make it sound very ugly over the phone, implying all sorts of things. By the time I hang up, your sponsor will think you're practically dripping with the AIDS virus. Do you think a development like that might put a little crimp in your plans, Miss Daniels. Hmm?"
He was taunting her, threatening her. It was too awful, Tiffany thought, just too awful. But he was leaving her no choice.She wanted to tell him that she had never willingly had sex with anybody, that every sexual encounter she'd ever had had been the result of blackmail or drugs or threats or outright force. Men seemed to always find ways to manipulate her, and that's why she wasn't a virgin. She wanted to tell Dr. Steadman all this, but how could she? With tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, she laid back down on the table and kept her feet in the stirrups. Dr. Steadman took the clipboard with the form she needed and left the exam room.
CHAPTER TWO
With our poor little high school honey stretched out on the doctor's examining table, her feet in the metal stirrups and her pussy gaping open like an invitation to the whole wide world, let's pause very briefly to consider her new tormentor, Dr. Steadman.
Michael Steadman, 28, had been a promising young physician until he got himself into a bit of a jam in Colorado. The charge was molesting a female patient - several female patients, actually - and in exchange for the charges being dropped by the district attorney, to spare the young women the ordeal of testifying in open court, Dr. Steadman agreed not to practice medicine in the state of Colorado.
Soon after, though, he moved to Texas, to the small town of Beverly. Rather than open his own practice, he contacted HumanaCorpInc., the largest HMO operating in Texas. For a decent annual salary, he agreed to be a doctor-on-demand for the HMO, filling in for other doctors as needed. The HMO loved Dr. Steadman because he hardly ever ordered expensive tests and put people in the hospital for observation. And Dr. Steadman loved HumanaCorpInc. because it gave him freedom to roam, which made him harder to keep tabs on. He had access to drugs, and more important, he had access to young females such as Tiffany Daniels. He was careful this time, though, about whom he went after. He only went after girls he thought he could persuade not to press charges against him, and when he found out Tiffany wasn't a virgin, and noticed how agitated she was at his little bluff, he knew he had found his latest victim.
Dr. Steadman went up front and told the receptionist that Miss Daniels, the only patient in the office, was almost done, and that she could knock off early for lunch if she wanted. He waited while Hope got her purse, and after she had left, he hung a little clock on the front door of the office suite that read "Back at 1 p.m." It was 11:30 a.m., and Dr. Steadman locked the door.
He paid a quick visit to the drug supply cabinet and fixed himself a little cocktail, and then re-entered Exam Room A. Ah, perfect, he thought. The little slut is doing exactly what I told her, laying perfectly still, scared shitless. This will be fun.
Tiffany turned her head when Dr. Steadman walked back in. "Please, sir, may I go now? You know I don't have any STDs, and they'll be missing me at school and wondering where I am," she pleaded.
"Just a couple more minutes," Steadman told her as he resumed his position at the foot of the exam table. From where he was standing, Steadman had the most glorious view imaginable. From Tiffany's bare feet in the stirrups, his eyes followed up her long legs, so smooth and tan from the tanning salon. Her thighs were incredible, soft with great muscle tone. And they met at the sweetest little pussy in the world. It was covered with silky blonde pubic hair - a real blonde, imagine that! - and was gaping open ever so slightly, exposing her inner labia and a hint of her little pink clitoris.
Steadman reached into his pocket. Tiffany could not see what he was doing, and suddenly she felt a sting in her buttocks. He'd given her a shot!
"What was that?" she screeched.
"Just a little something to relax you, my dear," Steadman said. "You seemed awfully uptight and nervous. This will make you feel very nice, I promise."
"I don't want a shot," she said, and started to sit up. She got part way up, and then it seemed as if her body would not obey her wishes. Her arms gave way, and she flopped back down on the table with a thud.
"What did you do to me?" she asked, panic rising in her voice.
"It's a kind of muscle relaxant, dear girl," he said. "Actually, it's a combination of a couple of drugs that interfere with the messages from your brain to the muscles in your limbs. Your brain is telling your muscles to get up and run away, but your legs don't hear the message. And they won't for about an hour or so, until it wears off. No side effects, no after effects, I promise."
"HELP!" Tiffany yelled.
"No one can hear you, princess. The receptionist is gone, and the door is locked. It's just you and me. Fun and games..."
"You pervert! Fuck you!" Tiffany yelled.
"Oh, a feisty one. I like that in a girl," Steadman said. "Go ahead, why don't you get up and and get dressed and walk out of here, Tiffany?"
She struggled to get up, but got as far as raising her head off the pillow at her end of the table. Nothing from the neck down moved, as if she was paralyzed.
"I'm paralyzed!" Tiffany squealed.
"No, you're not. Pay attention, you stupid slut. First, it's temporary. Second, even though your muscles aren't responding, you have full feeling everywhere. Here, I'll show you." Steadman raised Tiffany's exam gown up and bunched it at her waist. She was now completely nude except for the a few inches of gown scrunched around her midsection. Then he grabbed each one of her trim ankles in his hands and spread them out. The stirrups moved with her, as Tiffany's legs were stretched wider and wider, making her feel more and more vulnerable. Finally, when she was practically doing a splits in mid-air, Steadman stopped pushing her legs apart, bent down and fastened his mouth onto Tiffany's pussy. Without warning, he began plunging his tongue in and out of her twat, occasionally pulling it out to take a big lap at her clit. The tonguing had the desired effect on the teenager, and she began to become physically aroused. The little hood covering her clit began to retract, and the tiny love organ began to throb.
"Oh! Oh! Ohhhh! Stop that! Please, stop that, for God's sake, don't do that!" she shrieked.
"I think your little pussy likes it though, Princess," said Steadman. He took a breath and plunged back in. This time he stuck his index finger up into the poor girl and began frigging her gently, and kept his lips fastened on her clit, sucking and swirling it in his mouth. As much as she hated it, the doctor's attentions couldn't help but arouse the poor girl, and she began to get wetter and wetter, from his saliva and her own juices, which were now flowing copiously.
"Oh God, please stop!" she pleaded. "What are you doing? It's not right! I'm helpless, you can't do this. Ohhhhhhhh."
Steadman went to work on Tiffany's gaping, defenseless cunt. He took her labia, now engorged with blood, very gently between his teeth and tugged at them ever so softly, which opened the girl up even more. He began to tongue-fuck her, snaking his tongue deep inside her pussy, setting up a rhythm as if it were a cock. Because his face was so deeply sealed against her pussy, the bridge of his nose was bumping into her exposed clit continually, running the hard little organ. At the same time, he touched the tip of his index finger to her asshole, which because of her position at the edge of the table was every bit as exposed as her pussy. He began to gently probe at her pink little rosebud of an anus.
"Nooooo!" Tiffany wailed. "Don't touch me there! Please stop, you sicko. Oh Godddd, ohhhh ...."
Steadman could feel the cheerleader's juices flowing freely, and the muscles inside her vagina contracting. She wasn't having an orgasm yet, but she was getting close, he could tell.
"I think Little Princess Tiffany wants to cum," said Dr. Steadman, gloating.
"No! I don't! I don't! I can't help it!" she wailed. She tried frantically to close her legs, to stop what he was doing, but her legs wouldn't do what she told them to, and the sensations shooting up from her pelvis to her brain were overwhelming.
"OK, I'll stop," said the doctor. He walked around so that he was standing near Tiffany's face and chest, and when she turned her face to look at him, she realized she was eye-level with his crotch. She could see his erection straining inside his pants, a huge throbbing bulge that she knew, with a sickening feeling in her gut, was destined for her in some way.
The youngster was so confused. She had begged the perverted doctor to stop manipulating her, trying to make her cum, and he had done so. But now she was left panting and wanting more, wanting desperately to have the orgasm that had been denied to her. She couldn't possibly ask for him to continue, though, after begging him to cease. It would be far too embarrassing.
"Time to take your medical history," he said. He reached out and grabbed each of Tiffany's nipples, which were bigger and harder than they had ever been from the combined effects of the exciting cunnilingus, her fear, and the room's air-conditioning. He grasped each nipple tightly between thumb and forefinger and began to pull, just enough to cause the young girl a small amount of pain.
"As a doctor, one of the things I'm good at is telling whether my patients are lying to me. So if you tell me the truth on every question I ask, I won't pull your nipples any harder than I am right now. But if you lie to me, you little bitch, I'll increase my pulling. I'll be careful not to do any permanent damage, but I don't think you want to find out how much I can hurt these precious little nips. So now I'll take your medical history. And nothing but the truth, cause the truth shall set you free.""OK, maybe not free," he chuckled, enjoying his position of power, "but it will keep you from getting your breasts yanked. Now, how many boys have you had sex with?"
"Shut up! I hate you! Leave me alone."
"Oops! Wrong answer!" And Steadman squeezed the schoolgirl's nipples and pulled them upward about an inch, stretching her breasts in the process.
"Ow! Owww! Stop!" Tiffany squealed. "OK, OK. I've never had sex with another man willingly," Tiffany started, then stopped. How could she tell this stranger what had happened to her? It was so humiliating, and he would just get more turned on listening to her story. But she plunged ahead.
"I was drugged and blackmailed by one of my teachers last year. He was part of a ring of adults at school, and they did all kinds of nasty things to me. Then over the summer I was baby-sitting for my cousin, who's 13, and he and his friends raped me. There! Are you satisfied now, doctor?"
"Oh, it's gonna take more than that to satisfy me, sweet thing. So how many different cocks have you had in your pussy?"
"I don't know."
"Listen, I'm trying to take a comprehensive medical history," he said harshly. He smiled, knowing what a perversion of true medicine he was practicing. "How many dicks?"
"Please, doctor, I really don't know. I haven't counted. A bunch, OK? A lot. It wasn't my idea, none of it was."
"Well, that's better than 'I don't know,'" Steadman said quietly. "And how many cocks have you sucked?"
"Same answer. A lot."
"More than 20?"
"Yes, God damn it, more than 20, probably. I told you, I was blackmailed!" Tiffany was nearly hysterical. Here she was, opened up and vulnerable to this cruel, manipulative man, practically paralyzed, and having to recount her horrible past sexual experiences for his twisted version of 20 Questions.
"Well, well," said Steadman. "She acts like Little Miss Virgin, but she's really Little Miss Whore. I find it very hard to believe that more than 20 guys have had their dicks in that pretty little mouth of yours, and you didn't invite a single one in, or that a bunch of guys have been inside that sweet cunt, and it was all unwilling. Do you think you could sell that story to a jury, Miss Tiffany Daniels?"
"To a jury? I don't know." She was so confused by his taunting.
"It's not an idle question. Let me explain why. In just a minute I'm going to fuck you, Miss Daniels, while you lay there helplessly on the examining table. And then the drug is going to wear off, and you're going to get dressed and go back to your little high school and play Miss Queen of the Senior Class. And you're not going to breathe a word to anyone about what happened here today. Because if you tell anyone, and I get in trouble, there will probably be a trial. I will be the one on trial at first, but I won't be the only one. I'll hire the toughest, nastiest lawyer I can find, and he'll start with a full deposition of you, my accuser, under oath. He'll get you to tell every single detail of every sexual act you've ever participated in. Then we'll start deposing your family members, your friends, your teachers, all to compile the complete sexual history of Miss Tiffany Daniels, age 17. It will all be relevant, see, to the charges against me. I'll just be defending myself. Maybe, in the end, a jury will find me guilty. Or maybe they'll decide that a slut like you who's had sex with so many different guys can't be believed. Whichever way it comes out, it's a safe bet you won't be elected Homecoming Queen. About the only vote you'll win at your high school is the Girl Most Likely to Suck Seed!"
Steadman cackled at his joke, and Tiffany moaned. Again, she was trapped. She would just have to endure whatever this horrible man did to her, and take it. Take him.
"Since you've been fucked so many times in your pussy, I think I'll take you in the ass, Princess. Have you ever had a cock up your ass?" Before Tiffany could answer, the horny physician changed his mind. "No! Don't answer that! I prefer to believe that your tiny little butthole has never been violated, that mine will be the first cock to penetrate you there. If that's not the case, I don't want you spoiling my little fantasy."
All Tiffany could do was whimper. "Please don't. Please. I'm begging you."
Steadman started undressing, and pulled off his shoes, socks, pants and jockeys. His erection sprang out from his groin: stiff, huge and angry looking. His hard-on was just inches away from her wide, terrified blue eyes.
"It hurts so much if I put it in dry," he informed her. "It won't hurt as bad if it's wet. Why don't you see if you can figure out what to do. You've got five minutes." He pushed his dick up to the teenager's lips, and Tiffany parted them, allowing him to slide inside her warm, wet mouth.
"Thatta girl," he hissed, pushing his cock into the unwilling girl's mouth. "Get it all nice and wet. And here's a little hint: Since I'm gonna bury the entire length of this big boy all the way up in your rectum, it's in your best interest to get the entire length nice and wet. So I suggest you try deep throating me, Miss Daniels, all the way to the balls." As he spoke, he kept feeding more and more cockmeat past the cheerleader's lips and into the back of her mouth.
Tiffany suddenly had a brain storm. If she could make this awful pervert cum now, in her mouth, then his cock would be too limp to fuck her in the ass. And maybe by the time he got hard again, the drug would be wearing off and she could escape. Accordingly, she began trying to give Dr. Steadman the best head she possibly could, swirling her pink little tongue over the bulbous helmet-head of his cock, slurping away frantically, and actually trying to push her face forward to get more of the cock into her mouth. She started to choke, but forced herself to stop, as the doctor's dick tickled the uvula in the back of her throat.
"Just make him cum," Tiffany thought, wishing she had the power to use her hands to tickle his balls. "Just make him cum fast."
"Ahhh, yes," Steadman moaned. "God, I LOVE being a man of medicine!"
Suddenly there was a knock on the exam room door. Both Tiffany and her tormentor froze, although since Tiffany couldn't move anything below her neck, the freezing was more or less in her mind. The knock boomed again, and then the door burst open.
"Fuckin' A!" yelled one of the workmen. "Looks like the doc's got himself a little party goin' on in here!" He stepped into the room, followed by the other worker. The two men took in the amazing sight of Tiffany, nude on the exam table with her legs splayed wide open, and the doctor's cock buried in her mouth so far that his pubic hair was tickling her face.
"Hey doc," said the second worker. "Mind if we join ya?"
"Mmppppffffff!" said Tiffany.
CHAPTER THREE
Dr. Steadman whirled around at the sound of the intruders, and his hard-on popped out of the teenager's sweetly sucking mouth.
"Looks like you got some nice action goin' here, doc," said one workman. "Mind if we join in?"
Steadman weighed his options in a split second. He could try to bluff his way, tell the men to get out, and continue his ravishing of the drugged and vulnerable girl. But if he did that, they would get pissed and could report him, and unlike Tiffany, they were not easily blackmailed. Or he could invite them to join him and have a turn on the girl. It really wasn't much of a choice, he thought.
"Come on in, guys," he said. "The more the merrier. Maybe not from the patient's standpoint, but I don't think she'll object, will you Princess?"
Tiffany had not thought her day could get any worse than being drugged and anally raped by a doctor during the lunch hour. But now she realized she was going to have to service three men. And she was just enough of a snob that somehow, in her subconscious, it was worse being violated by common construction workers than it was by a handsome doctor.
"Please, doctor, I'm begging you," she wailed. "Let me go. I won't tell. I promise."
"We already discussed that. Of course you won't tell. But I've got this condition here" - he pointed to his throbbing dick - "and I need you to take care of it. And I don't want to be selfish, so we can share you with these two newcomers. Names, gentlemen?"
The construction workers realized he was talking to them, and they paused while stripping out of their overalls. "I'm Elliott," said the shorter one, who had closely cropped red hair and a full beard. "This here is Gary," he said, jerking a thumb at his partner, who was tall and thin and had long, dirty blonde hair.
"I'm Dr. Steadman, but under the circumstances you can call me Michael. And let me introduce our guest of honor, Miss Tiffany Daniels."
The cheerleader moaned and turned her head away from the burning lustful gazes of the three men.
"Tiffany has had a little shot that more or less paralyzes her movement from the neck down," explained Steadman. "She can, however, feel everything that happens to her. Otherwise it wouldn't be any fun, would it Princess?" He reached out and grabbed a nipple, which was still jutting up from her firm young breast. He gave it a quick tug upward, and Tiffany moaned. Was it pain, or shame, or lust? She hardly knew the difference any more.
Tiffany turned her head back, and saw that Gary and Elliott were now naked and approaching her. Both men were massaging their dicks, which were growing quickly into threatening weapons.
"Here's the plan, gents," the physician said. "Since I don't have any rubbers handy and we don't want to get the Princess pregnant, we'll be fucking her up the ass today. She can suck on one guy while another takes her up the ass. We'll have a little round-robin on Tiffany."Since I set it up, I go first. Any questions?"
"Sounds great to me!" said Gary. "Man, she's fuckin' hot. How old is she?"
"According to her chart, she's 17," said Steadman. "A high-school senior right here at Daniels High School. And a cheerleader, no less. Don't you just bet that all the boys at her high school follow her around all day with drool cups under their chins, and little Princess Tiffany just swishes her ass at them and laughs to herself."
"Yeah, she looks like a real prick teaser," said Elliott. "Only today she's gonna be a real prick pleaser."
Tiffany tried to remain calm as the men talked about her like a piece of meat, but it was hard. They were so cruel, and yet, she had to admit, they were so right. She was a prick tease, she knew it, she enjoyed it. Somehow this horrible encounter was payment, or penance or something, for being such a cock tease. Just as she was thinking that, Steadman jammed his cock back into her mouth, and she began sucking him again. She could see Elliott and Gary standing right behind him, stroking their cocks lazily with one hand, waiting their turn.
There was nothing for her to do but lay there and get fucked up the ass, she thought.
Steadman sawed his cock in and out of the helpless girl's mouth for several minutes; the exam room filled with wet, slurping sounds. Tiffany had given up her plan of trying to make him cum in her mouth; even if she managed it with one, she'd never pull it off with all three. Soon, the doctor popped out and moved to the end of the table, between Tiffany's widely spread, immobile legs.
"Let's scoot you down a little," he said, and grabbing her by the hips, he pulled her pelvis down toward the end of the examining table. This had the effect of forcing her legs apart even farther. When he was done, Tiffany Daniels' tight little pink bumhole was right at the end of the table, perfectly lined up for Steadman's massive dick.
"Here we go, Princess," Steadman said, and he pushed the bulbous head of his cock up against her sphincter.
Tiffany started to cry out, but was stopped because Gary had stuffed his cock into her mouth as soon as she opened it. He did not smell as clean as the doctor, she thought, as he rammed his erection into her. "Mppfffff!" she screamed, as Steadman penetrated her young asshole.
"Ohh, man, that is soooo tight!" the doctor exclaimed as he fed his cock up the cheerleader's rectum, pushing it in inch by inch. Even though she had lubricated the tool as best she could, Tiffany still felt as if it was ripping her guts apart. But Gary was working up a rhythm in her mouth even as Steadman was starting to pull back out, then shove his erection back in again.
"Nice ass, doc?" asked Elliott.
"The finest," said Steadman. "You can't believe how tight it is. Hey listen, since you're not doing anything except standing there yanking your crank, why don't you change the station on that radio over there and find us some good gang-bang music?"
"Sure thing, doc," replied the workman. He started fiddling with the knob on the boom box, tuning it away from the light classical station. After several spurts of static, the sound of one of the most popular songs of the fall of 1999, Lou Bega's "Mambo No. 5," filled the exam room.
"One, two, three, four, five/
Everybody in the car come on let's drive ..." sang Bega.
"Yeah, keep it there, I like this," said Steadman.
Tiffany Daniels choked on the blue-collar cock that was reaming her mouth, banging against the back of her throat. Her asshole was on fire from Dr. Steadman's steady beat, penetrating her tiny orifice over and over as she lay there helplessly. And now this damn song playing!
Like all high school students, Tiffany had heard the sexy Top 40 song "Mambo No. 5" over and over. Even though cheerleading hadn't actually started, she and some of the girls had gotten together informally and planned a half-time routine where they would dance to the song. They had practiced the last couple of weeks after school in the panelled rec room in Tiffany's basement, swaying their hips sexily and giggily as they choreographed it. Through the dim haze of the drugs and the humiliation, it occurred to her that now this song would be ruined for her, and that she would not be able to tell her friends why. Every time it played and she got up to dance at half-time, she would flash back to this awful medical examination.
"A little bit of Monica in my life/
A little bit of Erica by my side/
A little bit of Rita is all I need/
A little bit of Tina is what I see," Bega sang.
Steadman had now penetrated the poor girl's bowels completely with his rampaging cock, and was slapping his stomach against her exposed ass in time to the tune. Her legs were spread wide in the metal stirrups, with her knees pulled back almost even with her big tits, which were jiggling in time to the butt-slamming she was receiving. Gary was working his prick in and out of her unwilling mouth, and Tiffany just had to lay there and take it.
Suddenly and very unexpectedly, Elliott started singing along with the tune.
"A little bit of Tiffany — fuck her butt/
A little bit of Tiffany — What a slut!"
Gary and Steadman burst out laughing. "Cool, man!" yelled Gary. "Sing it, dude!"
"A little bit of Tiffany, make her squirm
A little bit of Tiffany, give her sperm!"
Elliott timed his invented verses so that he was singing them right over the correct spots in "Mambo No. 5." Tiffany was mortified. Being sexually used and degraded was horrible enough, but then to be laughed at! How humiliating! How would she ever be able to join her fellow cheerleaders at half-time and dance to this song that would, in her mind, forever have these awful lyrics about her.
The arrival of the workmen had spoiled Steadman's plans for the girl. He had intended to cum in her mouth first - oh yes, he knew exactly what she was doing in trying to get him off orally - and then, after waiting a few minutes and tormenting her, he had intended to get himself hard again and take her in the ass. His theory was that having just cum, he would be able to ride her ass for a good 20 to 30 minutes, because there would be no semen built up. But the interruption by the workers had spoiled this, and as a result, Steadman found himself on the verge of cumming after only a few minutes of hammering his cock into the helpless cheerleader.
"Oh, man, I'm gonna cum!" he announced to the room. Poor Tiffany could feel the mushroom-like head of the doctor's erection swell up even larger, and she grunted with a feeling of fullness as he rammed into her over and over. "Oh, fuck, fuck FUCK!" he yelled, and began to empty a torrent of boiling seed up inside the girl's rectum.
"A little bit of Tiffany, what a whore/
"A little bit of Tiffany, her backdoor," Elliott sang along with Bega.
Tiffany gasped as she felt the penis explode in her bowels. She could feel the monster pushing in relentlessly, gushing out spurt after spurt of sticky semen that coated her insides. She moaned in helpless self-pity, and quickly realized that her moaning was increasing the pleasure she was giving to Gary's cock as it thrust into her mouth. Every time she moaned, it was like she was giving him a "hummer." God, she couldn't win!
"A little bit of Tiffany, in so deep/
A little bit of Tiffany, make her weep/
A little bit of Tiffany, up the bum/
A little bit of Tiffany, make her cum," sang the demented workman.
"Hey, that's a great idea!" Steadman said. He had withdrawn his dick, which was rapidly wilting, and Tiffany's ravaged butthole gaped open. "I'm gonna make her cum while you guys keep doing her. Gary, you come around here and have a go at this sweet little teenaged ass. It ought to be nice and slick and easy to fuck now that I've creamed up the inside. Elliott, you can keep singing if you want, cause I love the way you're doing that song, but you can have a shot at her mouth now!"
The men rotated, like members of a volleyball team after a point. Gary pulled his cock out of Tiffany's mouth and walked around to the base of the table, where her exposed asshole provided the perfect target for his throbbing piece of meat. Elliott, who was humming along while Bega sang a verse, waiting for another chorus, stepped up to Tiffany's face at the head of the table. Dr. Steadman, his dick now drooping, leaned over Tiffany's crotch and plunged his face hard down into her pussy.
"Ohhhhh my Godddd!" Tiffany bellowed when she felt the doc's expert tongue make contact with her clit. The girl had been sexually revved up, and hadn't even been how good it would feel to have her hungry snatch stimulated.
"I got a little change of plans, babe," Elliott informed her. "I can get my chick to suck my dick any old day, but she won't give me a rimjob no matter what. Since you don't have much of a say in things, why don't you stick that sweet tongue of yours right up Uncle Elliott's nasty old asshole?" With that, the construction worker turned around, presenting his backside to Tiffany's face, and spread his cheeks with both hands. Tiffany was staring right into his horrible asshole.
"Do it, princess!" Steadman ordered. "Or I'll grab those nipples in some tweezers and let you feel some real pain!"
Hating her powerlessness, Tiffany stuck her tongue out, and Elliot shuffled backward, impaling the girl's tongue deep up his ass. "Oh yeah, baby, work that mouth! Ream my ass!"
"A little bit of Tiffany, suckin' ass/
A little bit of Tiffany, got no class/
A little bit of Tiffany, she's so young/
A little bit of Tiffany, what a tongue!"
The three men all laughed uproariously at Elliott's sick satire of "Mambo No. 5."Gary was hammering away on the spread-eagled adolescent's ass, but his cock didn't hurt nearly as bad as the first one because her anal opening was now well-greased with semen. Steadman used his hands to pry apart her sticky labia and worked his tongue frantically up and down Tiffany's ever-stiffening clit. She could feel her pussy juices flowing freely now, running downward and further lubricating the cock that was reaming her asshole. Elliott sang loudly and lewdly, wiggling his hips from side to side while encouraging Tiffany to dig ever deeper with her tongue.
"A little bit of Tiffany, what a girl/
A little bit of Tiffany, do that swirl."
She knew he was referring to the way she was swirling her tongue up inside his disgusting ass. But she no longer cared about the rimjob she was being forced to give or the forced fucking she was enduring. All of Tiffany Daniels' attention was focused on her pussy, specifically on her clit, which Dr. Steadman was flicking back and forth with his tongue, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm.
"Mmmmmmmmm, ohhhh, mmmmmmm!" she moaned, giving a little anal thrill to Elliott.
"Oh, man, I'm gonna shoot inside the bitch!" Gary shouted, and for the second time that day Tiffany felt a male penis swell inside her ass and begin to convulse. The feeling of fullness, which at first had been painful, was now part of the overall sexual experience and closely associated in her reeling mind with the powerful feelings radiating from her young crotch.
"Ohhhh! Ohhh!" Tiffany was practically yelling into Elliott's ass as her orgasm approached. "Hey, buddy, let her vocalize!" Steadman told Elliott, who at first didn't understand what he meant, but who then stepped away.
"Ohh, yessss, that feels so gooood!" Tiffany wailed, her mouth free for the first time in quite a while. "Yes! Yes Yes!" The only thing she could move was her head, and now, without even knowing what she was doing, she began lifting it and dropping it to the table. "Don't stop! Don't stop!" she screamed.
Steadman reached down with his thumb and rammed it up inside her pussy while he sucked on her clit as hard as he could. It sent the cheerleader careening over the edge, driving her into a fierce orgasm. Her nipples were as hard as rocks, her chest went bright red, and she pounded the back of her head over and over onto the table. "God! God! Jesus! Jesus! Fuck! Fuck!" she screamed as her pussy convulsed over and over.
"Man, she's havin' a head-bangin' orgasm," Gary observed, watching the youngster's spasms.
After about 20 seconds, Tiffany quieted. It was Elliott's turn at her ass, but by this point, it was almost anti-climactic for everyone. Except Elliott, of course. He began plunging into the girl as hard and as fast as he could. Steadman, his face all greasy with her love juices, bent down and began nibbling her clit again, and Tiffany rocketed quickly to a second orgasm, then a third, then a fourth. She felt the third cock of the day start to cum inside of her, and this time she had a simultaneous orgasm with the singing workman, who was no longer singing, just turning red in the face and grunting loudly.
Finally, they were done. Steadman told the workers that the drug would be wearing off soon, and they dressed and cleared out, but not before each gave her a deep and lingering French kiss that disgusted Tiffany all over again. By the time she was able to twitch her legs a little, Steadman too was dressed, once more looking professional.
"The drugs are wearing off, Princess, but remember our deal. Not a word to anyone, or I'll drag your past sexual history out for the whole world to see. I think a little bitch that cums as hard as you just did has some real experience that a 17-year-old wouldn't want everyone to know about."
"I won't tell, I promise," Tiffany told the doc, as she realized she could flex her fingers. In 20 minutes, she was dressed, and Steadman was helping her off the table, making sure she could stand and walk properly before he let her get in her car and drive. He didn't want her driving with the drug still impairing her motor coordination.
"After all," he thought with a smile, "that would be irresponsible."
THE END
"Are you crazy?
Are you high?
Or just an ordinary guy?
Have you done all you can do?
Are you with me, doctor? | 4 |
3,415 | Mail Call | "Mail call!" cried my roommate John, "looks like you've got a package from your hometown honey."
"Let me see that." I tossed the book I was reading onto the desk and swung the swivel chair around in time to catch a fat mailing envelope. I beamed.
"I tell you it can't last," said John, "I've never heard of anyone staying involved with their high school girlfriends longer than the first semester."
"We'll last."
"I'm sure that's what they all say. Hell, Tom, she's just 16!"
"Seventeen next week," I corrected.
"You're going to find the older women on campus a bit more interesting," he insisted.
"Alice is interesting," I said simply. By this time I had gotten the package open in time to find a short note and a video tape. I started reading the letter.
"Gotta go to lab," said John, "back later."
"Right." Now where was I?
Tom,
In this high-tech day and age, I thought I would send you
a tape instead of a letter for a change. However, I must
warn you: the last 20 minutes are X-rated. Please use
discretion when viewing it.
Love,
Alice
I lifted my eyebrows. Alice was a sexy, uninhibited girl. Although I was her first lover, she had been fairly knowledgeable about sex when I met her. "I've read books," she once told me, "and I've explored my body. I know what feels good for me." Together she and I learned how good partner sex could be. I could only imagine what she had done. I shoved the tape into the machine.
In a few moments, the familiar sight of Alice filled the screen. She was beautiful. Her long, dark blond hair framed her slate-colored eyes. I had almost forgotten how sexy she was.
She was standing in the street in front of her house. The cool autumn wind was blowing leaves in the background, and she had her hands in her coat pocket.
"Hi, Tom!" she began cheerfully, "I hope this works out okay. Lisa is helping me... here, give me that..." She reached toward the camera. Suddenly, the view jumped and twisted in a wild vortex: grass, road, sky, Lisa.
"Hi, Tom," she said, waving, "I'm the camera woman." More sky, road, feet, grass, back to Alice.
"As you can see," she continued, "we're not too professional. But I don't think that matters too much under the circumstances."
The tape was great. We walked down the street a bit while Alice talked about some of the things that had been going on. As we walked, the camera panned about so that I could see that everything looked more or less as I had left it. I would have preferred more footage of my girlfriend.
"I guess that's about all I have to say for now," Alice was saying, "stay tuned, however, for the second feature." She smiled.
There was a blank spot on the tape, and then a new scene came up. This time it was Alice's bedroom. It seemed to be night; the lighting was definitely from incandescent lamps. I sighed in anticipation. The camera was focused over the main section of the room. No one was in view.
After a few moments, Alice came in from the right. She was wearing her nightgown. Her hair was let down, and her eyes were shining.
"If you haven't read the note that came with this tape," she said, kneeling close to the camera, "you may want to do so now. Don't continue until you have."
I pressed the pause button on the VCR and consulted my roommate's schedule. He was in physics lab. That lab took hours. No problem. I locked the door. It was common to get unwelcome guests barraging in like they owned the place. I returned to the tape.
Alice waited for a few seconds. Then she stood up and walked to the center of the field of view. The camera did not move --- like it was on a tripod --- but the field of view was such that she was framed nicely as she stood.
She smiled and winked at me (or rather the camera) and then she spun on her heels so that her back was turned to me. She cocked her head back slightly and shook her hair. Then she looked down, and I could see her elbows move as she undid the knot in her gown. I was starting to get an erection. This was good.
Slowly, she let the gown slip from her shoulders. Inch by inch, it exposed her back --- a back undisturbed by a bra strap. The gown slipped by her waist and over her buttocks. White bikini underwear accentuated the firmness of her ass. Finally, the gown slid off her arms and into an inconsequential pile on the rug. She looked exquisite.
She paused for a moment. However, instead of turning (as I hoped), she pivoted on her heels slightly and brought her hands to her waist. She began stroking her sides. My cock was very erect.
Up and down her sides she touched herself, letting her hips jut first to one side and then to the other. I could hear her breathing deeply and smoothly. After a few moments, her hands moved up the front of her body --- I had only her elbows to watch. Her hands stopped at the level of her breasts. Her head moved to look at them for a moment. Then she turned her head slightly, and I could see that her eyes were closed.
"Ohhh," she moaned softly. I shifted in my seat. This was very good.
Her hands began moving more quickly. She massaged her breasts, slid her hands down her torso, and ran them inside her underwear to knead her buttocks. She rose up on her toes and arched her back.
"Mmmmm," she purred. I wished I was there.
She kneaded her ass for several moments. As she did, she rocked her upper torso in a slow circle that caused her hair to slide back and forth across her back. She knew I liked her hair. Occasionally, I could get a glimpse of one of her breasts when her body tilted toward the camera. Once I even imagined that I saw her left nipple. I shifted in my seat a little as if that would get me a better view.
Her motions slowed. With a graceful sweep, she slid her underwear down her legs and onto the floor. She casually kicked them away, leaving me with the sight of her beautiful naked buttocks. She was gorgeous.
She slid her right hand downward into her crotch. She placed her other hand against the wall in front of her for support. God, was it erotic! She spread her legs slightly by bending her knees. She rested her head against her arm near the shoulder.
"Oh," she said softly.
I watched her right arm move slowly back and forth. Soon, her hips were moving with the same rhythm. She was breathless.
"Oh, oh, oh."
She started rocking on her toes. She rolled her head. Her whole body was undulating with the same slow rhythm as the arm that was nestled between her legs.
"Oh, oh, oh."
Suddenly, she moved forward a couple of steps and leaned more fully against the wall. She spread her legs a little wider, and she cocked her buttocks upward slightly. I was just able to see her labia and the opening of her vagina. I could also see the tips of her fingers as she massaged her clit. It was wild. Incredibly wild.
The pace of her stroking quickened. Her breathing grew more frantic. Gradually, she slid down the wall into a kneeling position on the floor. Sitting up straighter, she began to masturbate vigorously. She brought both hands into the act, and soon her whole body was riding them with great abandon. I could see a film of sweat forming on her back. I was amazed. I wondered if this was the way she usually masturbated.
"Oh God," I heard her gasp between pants. "Oh God." Suddenly, her pace slowed to almost a standstill. She took one arm out of her crotch and put it against the wall.
"Oh, Tom," she said as she leaned her head against her arm, "Oh, Tom! I'm going to come!"
"Unnnnnnnnnnggghhhh!!"
Her body hardly moved during her orgasm. Her feet lifted off the floor slightly, and her toes curled. I could see the muscles in her buttocks tense.
She crooned softly for several seconds. Then, with a long exhale, she started to relax. I was breathless. The whole scene would have been unbelievably erotic regardless. But the fact that she was my girlfriend and that she went to some trouble to prepare such a tape for me. It touched me in both the heart and the groin.
She rested for several more seconds before turning around to sit against the wall. For the first time on the tape, I was able to see her breasts and her triangular patch of pubic hair. God, did I want to fuck her! She looked serene, however. She smiled at me.
"So what did you think?" she asked, "Did you like it?She took a cloth down from the table and started to swab herself down. After a moment, she paused and looked into the camera again. "Send me one of you?"
"What?" I said in surprise to the TV.
"Well," she said as she put the cloth on the floor and reached to the table again, "think it over." She smiled and added, "I love you."
She pointed a remote control at me, and the screen turned to static. | 5 |
3,428 | Caryn | "Mmmmm. Oh, Terry! Ahhhhh...." Kris shuddered with pleasure as Terry slipped her fingers into Kris' panties and tenderly stroked the girl's mons. Terry brought her other hand quickly to Kris' mouth to muffle the girl's gasps and groans as her fingers gently caressed the sensitive skin of the girl's labia and the fleshy folds of her vulva. Terry never ceased to be amazed at how sensitive and responsive her young friend was to her touch. Even here, in the middle of Tucson's busiest mall, surrounded by hundreds of busy people, Kris was focused completely on the gentle ministrations of Terry's fingers as they stroked and caressed her genitalia.
If the shoppers in the mall had slowed long enough to notice the woman and girl sitting close together on the bench, they would have seen nothing too unusual. The woman looked to be in her early thirties, with dark hair cut in a wedge style. She was wearing a stylish short business skirt and an expensive leather jacket. She was an attractive woman, with bright, wide-set eyes, full lips, and a pleasantly oval face. The girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, seemed to be too old to be the woman's daughter. She had blonde hair tied into two tresses that cascaded past her shoulders. And she had a beauty that radiated outwards from her on all frequencies. She was beautiful as only a young girl can be, when she is at that indeterminate, post-pubescent, pre-adolescent age. As Bob Seger would say, she had the looks that could open doors with just a smile. It was more difficult to see the short denim miniskirt that she was wearing, because of the large Macy's advertising circular that was spread out on her lap. Perhaps she was the woman's kid sister, or her niece. The two were obviously close friends, if not actually related, judging by the way they huddled together on the bench, the woman with an arm across the girl's shoulders, their heads close together as they gazed at the circular on the girl's lap.
"Shh, sweetheart. I know the chance of discovery makes it all the more exciting, but let's not press our luck, ok?" Terry took her hand from Kris' mouth and let it fall onto the girl's chest. She cupped the girl's breast briefly in the palm of her hand, squeezing it gently before bringing her hand back up to the girl's shoulder. "Now, spread your legs a little, Kris, so I can get my hand all the way into your panties. I think you are wet enough now. Mmm, that's it baby." Terry, feeling Kris' precoital lubrication beginning to flow, slipped her hand deeper into Kris' panties. Gently, she eased her middle finger past the teen's labia and penetrated her vagina, inserting her finger as deeply as she could. She felt Kris shudder, the vaginal muscles instinctively clamping around her finger. Terry flexed her wrist slightly, bringing her finger up against the ventral surface of the girl's vaginal cleft. She found Kris' clitoris and slowly rubbed it with her finger, sliding the length of her finger back and forth over it. Kris came almost immediately, a series of small orgasms that would crescendo to a mind-bending climax if Terry continued the stimulation.
But Terry knew there was a finite limit to her friend's self-control. And the middle of the mall was not a good place to test that limit. As Kris began to fidget, and then to writhe her hips in a steadily increasing rhythm, Terry slipped her finger free of the girl's vagina, and gently tugged her panties back into place. She gave her mons a reluctant final caress. She brought her hand to her face, and inhaled the heady aroma of Kris' little girl muskiness. She brought the finger to her lips, and felt her own body respond to the remembered salty sweetness. She licked Kris' lubrication fluid from her finger and then turned to regard the young girl.
Kris gazed steadily at her, and said, "Ahh, Terry, this is incredible. All those people, and they didn't even know. I was frightened and aroused at the same time. Weird, but not unpleasant. And you were right, about the way the sensation, the pleasure, seems to intensify." She paused for a moment, lost in thought. "I feel so, so...." She stopped, shivered and smiled slowly up at Terry. "I think I finally understand what my brother meant about all the sexually repressed half-humans around us, and why he warned me against doing stuff like this."
Terry arched an eyebrow.
"It was something my brother told me once. When I was trying to figure out how to tell you how much I wanted you to caress me again. He told me that if I had sex with you, I'd probably want to show it off somehow in public. He was more worried about the legal ramifications, than the social ones, though. He told me to be careful. I think we are being careful enough." Kris moved the circular off her lap, onto Terry's. She smoothed down the hem of her mini, and decorously crossed her legs. Still smiling, she said, "Mmm, now it's your turn. Ready?"
"I hope you never understand anything that even remotely includes the concept of sexual repression, Kris. You are all innocence and curiosity. I hope you hang on to your innocence forever, sweetheart. And no, I'm not ready yet."
As much as she wanted to be on the receiving end, Terry declined. This was the first time she had had public sex with Kris, but not the first time she had ever done it. Her first female lover, Lisa, had convinced her to give it a try. She'd been a little shocked at the suggestion, but Lisa had been very persistent. When she finally acquiesced, she had been very apprehensive, but that just seemed to make her orgasm, when it happened, that much more intense. Kris, on the other hand, was enthusiastic from the start.
She shook her head and said, "Let's get that present for Caryn, instead, and you can owe me one when we get home. The fact is, sweetheart, I want to taste you on my tongue. I can't do that here -- I almost want to drag you out to the parking lot and do you in the Pathfinder. But I firmly believe that the patient are always rewarded. I can wait till we get home. Can you?"
Kris nodded happily. Then, with a speculative look, she said, "What's wrong with the Pathfinder? It has a big cargo area, and we can pull the curtains...?"
"Tease. C'mon, let's get to the store while I can still think straight. Do you know exactly what you want to get?"
"Yep. It is really erotic. Too erotic for a fourteen-year-old to buy for another fourteen-year-old, I think. Thanks for helping me with this subterfuge."
"Hey, I told you I'd help you out anyway possible if you wanted to become intimate with your friend Caryn. I think she is a very pretty girl, with a very sharp mind. I think she just pretends to be shallow and vacant so she won't scare the boys away."
"I know, and thanks again. I think I love Caryn. As a friend. And I want it to be more. I want it to be like what we have." She took Terry by the hand and looked steadily at her. "I want her to feel the same way I feel, when you are touching me, and caressing me. I want her to feel the same pleasure that you give me."
"Oh my, Kris. I think I just came. When was the last time I told you that I love you, very, very, much?"
"Oh, about ten seconds ago, when you told me you wanted to drag me out to the parking lot and do me in your Pathfinder."
Terry laughed. "I think that was more lust than love...pure, unadulterated lust at that. There is a difference, you know."
"I know. And I would know the difference. And I know you love me, and not just because you like to have sex with me. I can feel it in the way you touch me, and I can still feel it when you are a hundred miles away."
I think she would know it, Terry thought. What a treasure you are, Kris. She leaned down and brushed her lips against the girl's cheek. "Just wait till I get you home. Now, before I really do drag you out to the parking lot, let's go.Hand in hand, Terry and Kris strolled through the mall, making their way steadily towards the Victoria's Secret outlet. Once at the store, Terry asked for a catalog and browsed through it. Kris stood outside the store near one of the display cases and watched her through the glass of the case. Terry stood with the catalog held up and out, as if trying to get more light. Kris could see each page. Terry browsed through it, keeping an eye on Kris. Kris waited until she saw what she wanted and quickly nodded. Terry slid her finger down the page until she saw Kris nod again. Terry gave out a low whistle.
Hmmm, I like it, she thought. It was a very brief, very erotic bit of lingerie. The model seemed to be clad in a close-fitting cloud of pink fog. The top hung from her shoulders on two very thin straps, and it was secured across her breasts with a single tie. The panties were a brief triangular cloud clinging intimately to her hips. As any sexually aware woman would know, Terry knew that the most erotic lingerie always leaves something to the imagination. It should conceal as enticingly as it reveals. Terry tried to imagine what Kris' friend Caryn would look like in it and felt her knees get weak. Oh, I wish I could wear something like that, she thought. But you really have to be anorexic to look good in something like that. Or fourteen years old.
Terry took the catalog over to the clerk. For some reason, Terry found herself somewhat embarrassed as she showed the picture to the clerk. The clerk pretended not to notice Terry's momentary discomfiture and asked Terry what her size was. Terry said, "Thank you for that vote of confidence, but I can't wear this, though I wish I could. It's for my friend, who is much more petite than I am."
The clerk nodded, saying, "Oh, I don't know. I think you'd look ok. But you're right. This really belongs on a very petite woman. Do you know your friend's size?"
Terry said, "She's a three."
The clerk disappeared into the rear of the store and reappeared very quickly. "Would you like it gift wrapped? You get a free deluxe wrap at That's a Wrap with any purchase over $75."
"Oh, yes. Thanks."
"Cash, check, or charge, then?"
Terry handed her AmEx to the clerk. The clerk rung up the sale, gave the card back to Terry, and then called another clerk over. "Amanda, take this over to That's a Wrap." Turning back to Terry, she asked, "Christmas, right? Or is it a wedding or birthday gift?"
"Christmas. But that's ok, I can take it there myself. Thank you anyway."
"Oh, certainly. Here. Just show them your receipt, Ms. Reynolds. Happy holidays!"
Terry left the boutique, and Kris joined her. Hand in hand again, they walked towards the gift-wrap boutique. At the boutique, they had to stand in line for service. After finally getting to the service window, they were told it would be about an hour wait.
Kris giggled as they walked out of the boutique. "Where shall we wait? In the Pathfinder, maybe?"
"Don't tempt me. C'mon, I'll buy you a Coke while we wait." At the Food Court, they got their drinks, found an unoccupied table, and sat down. Kris periodically got up to go check with the boutique for their package. Two Cokes, a plate of nachos, and three-quarters of an hour later, the gift was wrapped and ready for pick up. Terry claimed the gift, and they left the mall for the parking lot.
As soon as they were in the Pathfinder, Terry leaned over towards Kris, slid her hand under Kris' skirt, cupped her mons, and squeezed it gently. Kris spread her thighs and sighed happily. Terry caressed the girl for several moments through her panties and then slipped her hand back out from under her skirt. "That is for being so patient back there. I can hardly wait to get you home."
Kris caught Terry's hand and held it against her pubis. "Can you drive with one hand?"
"Oh. Mmmm. But let me get out of the parking lot first, ok? Put your feet up on the seat, and pull your panties down for me while I get us out of here."
Kris happily complied, slipping her panties down around her thighs. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she placed her feet on the edge of the seat. Terry maneuvered the Nissan out of the mall parking lot and onto the boulevard. Reaching over to Kris, she lifted the hem of Kris' denim mini-skirt and gently cupped her mons in the palm of her hand. She frictioned her hand across the sensitive tissue of Kris' labia. By the time they reached Terry's house, Kris was flowing with pre-coital lubrication.
Terry parked the Nissan and pulled Kris' panties back into place. Kris smoothed her skirt down. They both walked quickly to the house. As soon as they walked in the front door, Terry took Kris by the hand and led her into the living room. Terry threw several bolsters and cushions from the sofa and loveseat onto the floor in front of the fireplace. Growing more excited by the second, she quickly undressed Kris, removing her skirt, blouse, and bra, barely managing not to break any zippers or pop any buttons in her mounting passion. Taking a large cylindrical bolster and a smaller rectangular cushion, she had Kris lay down, slipping the bolster under her hips and the cushion under her neck and shoulders to support her head. Kris' pelvis was now raised several inches in the air. Her mons swelled against her panties, the curves of her labia delineated by the taut material. Terry knelt on the floor next to Kris. Reaching forward, she slipped the girl's panties down until they were resting across the middle of her thighs. With her back arched by the bolster under her hips, Kris spread her thighs, stretching the panties to their elastic limit. Terry gazed for several seconds at Kris' deliciously exposed pudenda. Reaching down with her hand to the girl's mons, she gently spread her labia apart with two fingers. The girl's vaginal cleft gleamed with moisture. Leaning forward, she extended her tongue and slipped it between her parted labia and thrust it as deep as she could into the girl's vagina. Terry sighed as she gently probed Kris' vagina with the tip of her tongue. Kris was lubricating freely, so Terry gently ran her tongue along Kris' labia and mons, delighting in the girl's delicious flavor. Kris began to come, sending a fountain of precoital lubrication geysering across Terry's tongue.
Terry continued to caress the young girl's mons, labia, and vagina with her tongue for several minutes. She felt Kris come several times. She was mildly surprised at the length and duration of the girl's climaxes, since she had not touched the girl's clitoris. At length, Kris sighed heavily, rolled onto her side, and gazed at Terry through half-closed eyelids.
"Mmmm. I don't know what you did, but that was one of the best ever. Like the first time you did me, but different, somehow. Thank you. Now, it is your turn. I owe you two."
Kris raised herself to a kneeling position in front of the still-kneeling Terry. She quickly unbuttoned Terry's blouse and then unhooked the front closure of Terry's bra. Kris knew that Terry's breasts were the most erogenous zone on her body and knew that Terry really enjoyed having Kris suckle them. Kris leaned close to Terry and took a nipple between her lips. She fluttered her tongue rapidly over the nipple, flicking it up and down, and side to side. She raised Terry's skirt up around her waist and then slipped both of her hands into Terry's panties. Terry was soaking wet, so Kris slipped two fingers of her right hand deep into Terry's vagina, while her left stroked and caressed Terry's labia. She quickly found Terry's clitoris and began to caress it with her fingertips. She brought her left hand back up to Terry's other breast and began to gently caress the nipple, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. Terry was quickly overwhelmed with the sensations pouring into her brain from her breasts and vagina. Her orgasm rocketed through her mind in an intense, prolonged burst of pleasure.
As Terry's orgasm attenuated, Kris slipped two fingers into her own vagina, coating them with her moisture. She then brought her fingers to Terry's lips. Terry could smell Kris' muskiness and eagerly took the proffered fingers into her mouth. Kris slid her fingers in and out of Terry's mouth as Terry eagerly sucked at them. As Kris' salty tang flooded over her tongue, Terry felt another orgasm swirl to engulf her.
"Oh, mmm, you taste so good. How did you know I wanted to taste you again, right at that moment?" Terry's first female lover, Lisa, had had the same talent; a seeming ability to know what Terry was thinking and feeling as they made love.
"I...well, I just thought that was what you wanted. I just felt like it was what I should do to make you happy. I just want you to feel as wonderful as I do when I'm with you, and it seemed like the right thing to do." Kris shrugged. "I sometimes think I can read your mind, especially when one of us is coming."
Terry encircled the young girl with her arms and pulled her close. She gazed down at the young girl as she leaned back, pulling Kris into her lap. You are a jewel, Kris, she thought to herself. Priceless beyond compare. Kris snuggled against Terry, her back resting against Terry's breasts, her legs, still bound by her panties, resting over and across Terry's. Terry reached down to where Kris' panties still clung halfway down the girl's thighs and slipped one of her legs free, leaving the panties bunched around her other leg. Now, as they lay together on the floor of Terry's living room in front of the fireplace, Terry reached around Kris and eased the girl's thighs apart. Then, gently, she inserted two fingers into the girl's vagina.Kris twisted her upper body to the side and gently nuzzled Terry's nipples with her tongue and lips. The woman and the girl were both sated now and were just caressing each other for the sake of the intimate physical contact.
Kris enjoyed this post-coital intimacy as much as the passion of the sex itself. Right now, with Terry's fingers gently probing her vagina, she didn't feel any urgency at all. Cradled in Terry's arms, she felt safe and happy. And it was this intimacy that she wanted to share so much with Caryn. Kris closed her eyes and thought about Caryn.
Kris had wanted to get intimate with Caryn since the summer, when Terry and Kris had first made love to each other. Kris, who'd never actively pursued a boy, much less a girl, just didn't know how to let her best friend know that she wanted to make love to her. But with Terry's help, she'd finally come up with a way to let Caryn know how she felt. The problem, Kris reflected, was not so much in letting her know how she felt, but in managing whatever reaction Caryn would have when Kris made her desire known.
After discussing the situation with Terry, she'd come up with a two-step plan, involving a gentle hint followed by an opportunity to explore that hint. Granted, the lingerie she'd just bought for Caryn was a not very subtle hint. In fact, it might just be a little too obvious. But Kris wanted to provoke a reaction. So the Christmas gift of lingerie was step one. Step two was providing a situation where Kris and Caryn could be alone together and explore Caryn's reaction. Terry solved that by suggesting that Kris housesit for her the next time she was out of town on business. Kris would naturally invite her best friend to keep her company while she was housesitting. Now, with Christmas only a week away, step one of the plan was almost complete.
Kris opened her eyes and looked up at Terry. "Oh, I really love this. Thank you so much. Will you do me one more time before I go home?"
"Of course, sweetheart. With my tongue?"
"Oh, I don't want you to let go of me. With just your fingers, please?" Kris settled back against Terry, spreading her legs even wider in anticipation.
Terry smiled and tightened her arms around the little girl in a hug. She placed her free hand on Kris' chest and closed it around one of Kris' small but deliciously firm and prominent breasts. She felt the nipple erect almost immediately against her palm. Terry quickly found Kris' clitoris with her fingers and lightly pinched it. Kris responded immediately, thrusting her hips upwards. Terry finished what she had started in the mall, her fingers alternately pinching and then sliding against the girl's clitoris. Kris came in a crescendoing series of climaxes, each one more intense than the one before. At length, Terry felt Kris go rigid, her vaginal muscles clamping down tightly on Terry's fingers. Terry waited for the orgasm to run its course and then gently removed her fingers from the little girl. Kris sighed heavily and then rolled off Terry's lap.
"Mmmm. Oh Terry! I wish I could stay." Kris reluctantly started to gather up her clothes. Terry got up and went into her bedroom and got out of her clothes. Putting on a robe, she returned to the living room. Kris was already dressed and waiting by the front door.
"Have a happy Christmas, Kris. Give me a kiss, and I'll see you in a few days, alright?"
Kris smiled and kissed Terry goodbye. Reluctantly, she opened the door, not wanting to leave. As she stepped outside, she said, "When does Carrie come home? Is she still in Vancouver?"
"Yes, and she'll be going straight back to the academy from there, so she won't be coming home until March. You'll have all the privacy you need for Caryn." Knowing Kris was reluctant to leave, and admitting that she was reluctant to see her go herself, she said gently, "I'll see you soon, sweetheart. If you happen to hear from those two remarkable brothers of yours, please give them my best."
"Ok, I will. Bye, and happy Christmas, Terry. I love you."
"I love you too, little one."
Kris bicycled over to Caryn's house several days before Christmas and presented her with the gift. Caryn had a gift waiting for Kris. The girls talked about their plans for the Christmas vacation, which centered mainly on the book reports they both had to write during this vacation. Kris was doing yet another book report on a novel by Robert Heinlein, and was still trying to convince Caryn to read him. Caryn, who'd summed up her one experience with Heinlein in three words, was still refusing to read anymore "pseudo-pornographic elitist nonsense," and was doing her report on the new David Brin Uplift trilogy, of which she'd read the first two novels.
"It has adventure, and a plot I really dig," she told Kris as they sat together in Caryn's bedroom on her bed.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to read that. Does it have any good sex in it?" Kris asked with a comical leer at Caryn.
"Yeah, it has sex, but not with humans. Or, at least, not much with humans."
"Mmm, sounds kinda kinky. And you consider Heinlein pornographic? Hmm, you must have some interesting ideas on sexuality..." Kris paused, wondering if Caryn would shy away from the subject of sex once again, like she usually did when it came up. And, as per normal, Caryn didn't respond to Kris' conversational gambit. Kris sighed, thinking I hope I don't blow it with her. If Caryn rejects me, what will I do? Live with it, I guess. Kris changed the subject. The two teens chatted on, until Kris had to go home for dinner.
The days until Christmas passed slowly for Kris. Her older brothers each came to Tucson for the holidays, which helped make the waiting more fun. She was delirious about both her brothers, and treasured every moment she got to spend with them. Her brother Sean, an Air Force pilot, could stay for only a few days. He was enroute to a new duty station and managed to wangle a few travel days to stop by and say hello to his parents and sister. Her other brother, Jason, was well on his way to making a modest fortune with the ISP that he founded in San Francisco. He flew into town for the holidays in his new corporate turbo-prop, which Sean immediately demanded a check ride in. They took Kris along, and at her request, her friend Terry. While the two brothers flew the plane, Terry and Kris cuddled in the cabin, hands and fingers dancing across each other's bodies. By the time they landed, Terry and Kris were both flushed and giggling. They politely refused Jason's invitation to dinner, claiming other plans. The woman and the girl drove from the airport straight back to Terry's house. Once in the house, Kris made a detour into the kitchen to call her parents and tell them she was going to have dinner with Terry. Terry disappeared upstairs.
Kris found Terry in her bedroom, already nearly undressed. Kris quickly slipped out of her skirt, blouse and bra. She knew Terry liked to remove her panties herself, so she left them on and climbed into the bed with Terry. Almost instinctively, they arranged themselves in a 69. Kris felt Terry pull her panties down around her thighs, and then felt Terry's tongue eagerly probing her vagina. Kris buried her own face against Terry's mons, using her fingers to part Terry's labia. She quickly located Terry's clitoris and eagerly began to flick it with the tip of her tongue. Almost simultaneously, she felt her own clitoris encircled by Terry's tongue. Together, the girl and the woman climaxed, two distinct entities, but linked to each other via the pleasure they shared. Now, they shifted out of the 69, arranging themselves face to face, Kris lying on top of Terry. Terry slid her hands down Kris' body, tracing her spine with her fingertips, pausing to caress the round globes of her pert bottom. Gently, Terry penetrated Kris from the rear, her fingers probing softly inside the girl's vagina.
Kris began to thrust her pelvis against Terry, as Terry probed even deeper into Kris with her fingers. Kris captured one of Terry's nipples in her mouth and began to suckle. Reaching down between their bodies, Kris inserted two fingers into Terry's vagina. The girl and the woman quickly came again. Next, Terry slipped her little finger into Kris' vagina and covered it with lubricant. Then she had Kris get on her hands and knees. Slowly, Terry brought her little finger against Kris' anus and applied pressure until the sphincter relaxed. Kris gasped as she felt Terry's finger enter her rectum. With her other hand, Terry again penetrated Kris from behind, quickly finding her clitoris. As she gently pinched her clitoris, she forced her little finger deeper into the girl's rectal canal. Kris came quickly, in one long, convulsive spasm. Terry slid her fingers out of the girl and then wrapped her arms around her and hugged her close. Terry lay down on her side, and Kris spooned against her. Terry ran her hands lightly across Kris' small breasts, caressing them with her palms, tugging on their rigidly erect nipples with her fingers. Terry felt Kris sigh and snuggle even closer. She slipped one hand down to the girl's stomach, probing her navel with her forefinger. She continued downward, until the tips of her fingers were just touching Kris' vaginal cleft. Lightly, she ran her fingers along the slit, applying pressure slowly, until Kris' labia parted. Gently, Terry penetrated Kris's vagina, first with one, then two fingers. They lay together like this for a long time. Every few minutes, Terry would lightly caress the girl's clitoris, bringing Kris to a gentle climax. Eventually, they fell asleep, Terry cupping Kris' mons in her palm, two fingers still buried deeply inside the girl's vagina.
Much later, as they showered together, Terry asked Kris about Caryn."I'm going to be out of town from the 27th until maybe after New Year's. Are you ready for step two of the plan?" Terry was kneeling in front of a standing Kris, soaping the girl's thighs and calves.
Kris nodded, lifting her leg and resting it on Terry's shoulder as Terry began to soap the inside of her thighs. "I think I'm ready." She paused and then said, "Would you mind giving me a douche? I want to be very fresh for Caryn, if it works out that way."
"Of course, dear. Can you reach the medicine cabinet? The applicator's already been sterilized."
Kris, balancing on one leg, reached past the shower curtain and into the mirrored cabinet on the wall. She quickly retrieved the bottle, applicator, and a packet of Summer's Eve. She handed them to Terry, who quickly prepared the douche. She brought the applicator tip to Kris' vagina and said, "Okay, are you ready? Here it comes."
Terry gently slipped the tip of the applicator past Kris' labia and squeezed the bottle. Kris felt the spray erupt inside her. Terry waited for the spent douche to trickle out of Kris, and then squeezed the bottle again. Again the spray geysered inside Kris. Kris enjoyed this intimate, personal service as much as Terry enjoyed providing it. When the bottle was empty, Terry leaned forward and gave Kris' labia a quick kiss, saying, "There, sweetheart. How's that?"
"Oh, it always feels good when you douche me. You are so gentle. Thank you. I feel all tingly inside."
"Well, we better get out of here and get dressed, or you are going to need another one real quick."
Kris laughed as they both stepped from the shower. Terry threw on a robe, and Kris slipped into her clothes. Kris said goodbye and walked home.
The day after Christmas, Kris got the call she was expecting from Caryn.
"Kris? Oh my god. Thank you for the babydoll! It's too much! But I don't dare wear it around here! My parents would probably disown me. It's a good thing I didn't open it in front of everybody else!"
"Oh, how did you manage that?"
"We always open one present on Christmas Eve. I just happened to choose yours. I took it into my bedroom to open it. Gosh, Kris, it is so sexy. But I don't know how I'm even going to try it on. I'd be mortified if my folks or one of my brothers saw me in it."
"Yeah? Well, I'm glad you like it. Look, if you want to wear it, I might have a plan. I'm house sitting for Terry starting tomorrow night. Why don't you come over, and we'll rent some movies or something, and you can model it for me. I kinda actually want to see you in it. Would that work for you?"
"Oh yes! Wonderful! What time?"
"Terry is leaving for the airport at 6:30. So anytime after that. How's seven sound?"
"Great. I can hardly wait. Thanks again. See ya'!"
Hmm, thought Kris. I don't think she suspects any ulterior motive. Ah well, let's see what happens.
Promptly at seven the next day, Kris heard Terry's doorbell ring. Well, here we go, she thought.
The evening progressed rapidly. They watched TV, called several friends, and played computer games on Terry's PC. Kris seemed more acutely aware of Caryn than usual. Each gesture she made, each toss of her head, or shrug of her shoulders seemed to arouse Kris. As they sat side by side in front of the PC, Kris could barely concentrate on the game when it was her turn at the keyboard. Caryn's close proximity was all she could think about. When she saw Caryn yawn, she decided it was time. Reaching across Caryn, she grabbed the mouse and closed the window on the game.
"Enough. Let's go light a fire, and call it an evening."
Caryn yawned again. "Hmm. Okay. I'm a little sleepy, but I'm not quite ready for bed yet. But I think I will go put on my new babydoll. Back in a minute."
In the living room, Kris knelt in front of the fireplace and leaned down to blow into the embers. Soon, the fire blazed up, crackling cheerfully. Kris began to make her own preparations for bed. As she undressed, she reached into her overnighter, she pulled out her "pajamas" -- a tee shirt cropped one centimeter beneath her breasts and a very brief pair of panties. She slipped the tee shirt on and stepped into the panties, and then went into the kitchen and started steaming milk for some hot cocoa. Caryn seemed to be taking her time changing. Kris finished making the cocoa and brought both mugs out into the living room, along with a bag of marshmallows. She curled up in front of the fireplace and waited for Caryn.
While Kris went downstairs, Caryn walked to the master bedroom and undressed. She put on the babydoll and then looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the wall. She liked what she saw. The panties were a thin triangular wedge of pink that didn't quite conceal the gentle swells of her pudenda. Caryn took a deep breath, and the two sides of her top parted slightly, the soft curves of the lower halves of her breasts revealed in the gap, the soft satin of the top gliding against her nipples. Reaching up, she caressed her breasts through the thin material, delighted at the sensation. Almost without thinking, she slid one hand down towards her panties. Her fingers had slipped under the waistband and were gently rubbing against her labia before Caryn realized she was masturbating. Shocked, she quickly withdrew her hand. Summoning her composure, she walked briskly towards the door.
But she hesitated with her hand on the door. She was suddenly acutely aware of how much of her body was revealed by the babydoll. The top only veiled her breasts, and the panties were briefer than any she'd ever worn before. What am I afraid of, she wondered. Kris has seen me naked hundreds of times. Go on out there.
She found Kris in the living room. She struck a Playboy-esque pose by the mantelpiece, one leg forward and slightly bent, with one hand on her hip, the other holding her red hair in a pile on the top of her head. "Well? Think I could be a centerfold in Playboy?"
Kris looked up and gasped. As casually as she could, she took a sip from her mug of cocoa and tried to collect her thoughts. Incredible. Kris felt her nipples crinkle against her crop-top.
"Oh, wow. Definite centerfold material. All you need is a staple in your navel, and you would be set. Do you feel as sexy as you look?"
Caryn blushed. Caryn felt very aroused, and marveled at the feeling. The only time she'd ever felt this aroused was late at night in her bedroom, when she masturbated. With a shock, she realized that she wanted to go back upstairs and finish what she'd started. Geesh. Get a grip, girl. She nodded quickly, then dropped her pose and walked over to her friend.
Turning to Caryn, Kris said, "Throw some cushions down here. And get the lights." Caryn pulled several cushions from the sofa and love seat, and dumped them in a heap next to Kris. Kris began to spread them around in front of the fireplace, as Caryn went around the room, extinguishing the lights.
Kris and Caryn sat side by side in front of the fire. They talked and laughed, two close friends celebrating their friendship. Their conversation moved from topic to topic. The topics were always the same, school, music, movies, boys, books, parents, siblings, religion -- life in general. But their substance always changed. The arousal she'd felt when she first put on the babydoll had plateaued, and Caryn was able to concentrate on their talk. Occasionally, though, she'd open her mind to her arousal, and then she'd lose the thread. Once, she even drifted so far that she discovered she was slowly stroking her mons through the thin satin of her panties. Surprised, she jerked her hand way from her lap, and then realized that in the flickering firelight, it was doubtful Kris had noticed. She sat up suddenly, realizing that Kris had just asked her about the gift.
Caryn sat up, cross-legged on the cushions. She took a sip of her cocoa and said, "Thank you for the nightie, Kris. I love it."
Kris took a sip of her cocoa and said, "Well, I'm glad. You look sexy, Caryn. Remember that black string bikini you gave me this summer? Now I know how Terry felt when she first saw me in it. It really turned her on."
"Hmm. As I remember, you did look truly sexy. Uh, Kris, now that you've brought it up, I've been meaning to ask you about that...wasn't it kind of weird having another woman tell you that you look sexy?"
"No. I just told you that you look sexy. Do you feel weird now?"
Caryn shook her head. "Not weird, but I do feel turned on." A pause. "I never told this to anyone before, but I can tell you. I was so turned on when I saw myself in the mirror upstairs, I almost started to masturbate." Liar. You *were* masturbating.
"Hmm. I think I know what you mean. My brothers almost made me wear something different when I modeled that bikini for them. I know it definitely turned them on. And I know it turned Terry on."
Caryn remembered having lunch with Terry and Kris at Terry's house, that day that Kris had worn the bikini. Kris had been the center of attention all morning at the pool, and Caryn had basked in the reflected glow. Caryn enjoyed attention, especially from the boys. "But you seemed more interested in staying with Terry after lunch."
Kris laughed. "And you were anxious to get back to the pool and flirt some more with the boys."
"Well, yeah, that's right. I was. So what happened after I left?"
"I told her I was confused about the way I felt after I kissed you that day. Do you remember?"
Caryn remembered. Kris had come to her, asking to borrow a black string bikini. Caryn had been rather surprised at this request, since Kris had steadfastly refused to play any of the flirtation games Caryn and her girlfriends indulged in at the community pool. Caryn had been more surprised at how sexy her best friend looked in it.Much to her consternation, Caryn realized that her surprise was tinged with jealousy and envy. Kris was her very best friend, and she didn't want anything to jeopardize their relationship. But then Kris had done something extraordinary. Kris had kissed her...softly and gently on the lips, and then thanked her for making her aware of her own femaleness. The girls had kissed each other before, hello and good-bye kisses, and even thank-you kisses, so why did this one feel different? And how come I didn't feel jealous anymore? And why did I kiss her, a few minutes later?
Nodding her head, Caryn said, "I remember. And I remember how jealous I was at first, and how after you kissed me, I didn't feel jealous at all. But you told Terry that you were confused...?"
Kris continued. "Yeah. I was confused. So I told Terry. Actually, I wanted to be kissed again, so I asked Terry to kiss me."
She paused, trying to gauge Caryn's reaction. Kris searched her friend's face intently, but Caryn didn't respond outwardly, saying only, "Go on. What happened?"
"She kissed me. And I kissed her."
"Like with a boy?"
"I wouldn't know...that's more your territory. But I enjoyed it. And so did she."
Now Caryn was really curious. What did Terry have that any of a dozen boys who would die to kiss Kris didn't? "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"If you were confused, why didn't you ask me about it?"
Kris nodded. "Because I didn't realize at the time that I could. Because I thought you'd think I was perverted or something."
"I didn't think you were perverted. I was just glad I didn't feel jealous anymore. And if you will remember, I kissed you back, and not like a friend either. But it felt right. Were you really that confused by it?
"Well yeah. But Terry helped me sort out my feelings."
"How?"
"By kissing me and telling me it was okay to demonstrate my affection like that."
"Hmmm." Suddenly, Caryn realized that Kris was trying to tell her something. She gazed at Kris for a few seconds, and then said, "You two did more than just kiss, didn't you?"
"Yes."
Caryn thought about that. Ever since that day, Caryn had wondered about all the time Kris was spending with Terry. "Tell me about it...everything, ok?" Caryn could feel herself becoming aroused. Startled, she realized that whatever Kris and Terry had done, the idea was turning her on.
Kris described what happened that day last summer in a matter-of-fact way. She skipped nothing, only blushing at the more intimate revelations. When she reached the part where she'd left Terry that first time, needing to think about what was happening, she stopped and looked inquiringly at her friend.
Caryn was fascinated. Caryn found herself growing increasingly aroused as Kris related her story. Seeing Kris looking at her, she said, "Hmm. I think I would have done the same thing. But after that day, you started spending a lot of time with her. You obviously decided that it was something you wanted. What happened next?"
Kris picked up her story from that Sunday morning, when she'd went to Terry's to finish what she and Terry had started. Caryn was hanging on every word. Kris described in intimate detail exactly how Terry had led her upstairs to the bedroom, and then undressed her, and then made love to her. She paused in her story, remembering the sensations. Unconsciously, she trailed one hand down her body as she was speaking. It slipped across her breasts, coming to rest as it reached her panties, the tips of her fingers just disappearing under the waistband. Caryn took this in, wondering if Kris was going to start to masturbate right in front of her. But the fingers remained motionless, and Caryn refocused on Kris' face.
"The way she touched me, Caryn. So gentle. Her hands were touching me all over, and her mouth was on my breast. She took my nipple between her lips and sucked." Unconsciously, Kris began to caress her mons, her fingers sliding deeper into her panties in a circular motion. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Kris stopped. She blushed all the way to her breasts. But Caryn's eyes were closed. Caryn had slipped her hand inside the babydoll's top, and Kris could see that she was lightly pinching her nipples.
"Did my story really turn you on?"
It was Caryn's turn to blush. Her eyes flew open, and she withdrew her hand quickly from under her top. Kris kept her fingers in her panties, lightly stroking her labia.
"Yes, I'm really turned on right now, as you probably noticed." Embarrassed, but beginning to recover. Kris was her best friend. No secrets.
"You should be...I got turned on telling you about it. What is wrong with being turned on?"
"Kris! I don't know. Everybody from the minister to the principle to my parents think that being turned on is only supposed to happen when you want to make a baby."
"Well, can I tell you something?"
"Of course...?"
"They are missing out on one of the best parts of being human."
Caryn nodded. Kris was right. "Uh, you know, I'm so turned on, would you think me too weird if I wanted to go back upstairs and masturbate?" A small smile. "Do you think Terry would mind if I used her bed?"
"No. I don't think it is weird at all. I feel like joining you. And why should Terry mind? We certainly used it."
Startled, Caryn thought, oh yeah. What was I thinking?
Kris realized that her moment had come. She moved next to Caryn. Caryn was sitting on a wide cushion Kris had taken from the sofa, bare feet towards the fire, leaning back against some more cushions propped up against the recliner behind her. Kris sat down facing Caryn, and then leaned to the side, legs extending towards the fire, her left shoulder supported by the same cushion that supported Caryn's head.
Softly, Kris said, "What's wrong with right here?" She took Caryn's hand and guided it towards Caryn's panties. With a gentle pressure, she flattened Caryn's palm out over her panty-clad mons, and then slid it back and forth. Softly, she said, "I'd like to do it right now."
Kris tugged the crotch of Caryn's panties to the side, and then slid her fingers along Caryn's exposed labia. She paused, and then suddenly slipped the panties back into place.
Caryn was surprised at how calm she felt. Nobody had ever touched her like this before. Some boys had tried, and Caryn had adamantly refused their advances. But a girl? Kris? Marveling at the steadiness of her voice, she said calmly, "What did you do that? I mean, then you stopped."
"I want us to share our bodies, the way we've always shared our thoughts. But it is up to you."
Caryn looked at Kris, and was simultaneously aware of Kris' hand, poised lightly near her panties. She came to a decision. She said, "I think I want to, too. But take it slowly, ok?"
"I will, Caryn. As slowly as you want it." She leaned over and kissed Caryn on the lips. She parted her lips slightly, silently inviting Caryn to reciprocate. She slipped her tongue across Caryn's lips, laving them with gentle flicks. Caryn reached up, and she thought Caryn was breaking off the kiss, but Caryn's fingers danced lightly across her lips, which increased her arousal enormously. After a few moments, Caryn let her recapture her mouth, and this time Caryn reciprocated, Caryn's tongue darting against hers, hesitantly at first, and then more firmly.
Caryn had kissed lots of boys, open-mouthed and eager. But this was the first time she'd kissed a girl. The first thing she noticed was how much softer Kris' lips were than a boy's. In wonder, she broke the kiss long enough to reach up and caress her friend's lips with her fingers. She spent several moments marveling at how soft and yielding they were. When she took her fingers away at last, she parted her lips, eagerly responding to Kris' tacit invitation. Caryn felt her arousal grow as their tongues met and entwined. Though Kris was clearly in control of the kiss, Kris wasn't aggressive about it, like most of the boys in Caryn's experience. It was more like a dance, with Kris leading and Caryn eagerly following.
Both girls finally had to come up for air. Caryn was the first to speak.
"Kris! That was incredible! Let me catch my breath, and then please, kiss me again?"
Kris smiled at Caryn. "Breath control is a good thing. Ready?"
Caryn nodded and parted her lips in anticipation. This time, Caryn maneuvered herself until she was in the dominant position, with Kris relaxing her head against the cushion. Again, their tongues met. And once again, they stopped only to come up for air.
As their lips separated, Kris said, "Mmm, I like kissing you. I knew I would. Are you ready for something a little beyond this?"
Caryn hesitated for a fraction of second before nodding her head.
Kris sensed the hesitation. "Or do want keep it right here? I don't want to push you...."
Caryn was trying to sort out her feelings. Why are you doing this to me, Kris? And why do I not want you to stop? In answer, Caryn took the back of Kris' neck in her hand and pulled her down, mouth open and eyes closed.
As their lips met and their tongues fenced, Kris slipped her hand beneath Caryn's top and took one of Caryn's nipples between her thumb and forefinger and rolled it from side to side. Kris could feel Caryn respond immediately, the nipple erecting as she gently tugged and pulled it. When it was firmly erect, Kris switched her attentions to the other nipple. Soon, both of Caryn's nipples were straining upwards against the soft satin. Once again, both girls surfaced for air.
"Caryn?"
Caryn opened her eyes at the sound of her name. Her breasts were tingling, and she was hyper-aware of her nipples as the soft satin of her top slid across them. She recognized the first stages of an orgasm beginning to drift through her body, and marveled at it.Kissing was one thing. But she'd never let a boy, much less a girl, go this far. Absently, she caressed her breasts. "But I never knew it would feel like this." She looked at Kris.
"I want to take your top off, Caryn. Is that ok?"
She crossed her arms behind her head and closed her eyes. She whispered, "Ok," and waited for her friend's touch at her breasts.
Kris began to untie the single pair of laces that bound the top closed across Caryn's breasts. Caryn was breathing slowly and deeply. Kris could feel the rise and fall of her friend's breasts as she untied the laces. Now, with a lace in each hand, she parted the top, baring Caryn's breasts completely. Kris dropped the laces and cupped each breast in her hands. Caryn's breasts were larger than her own, and almost conical in shape, compared to her own nearly spherical breasts. She began to massage them, squeezing them, gently at first, and then more firmly. Caryn's breathing became more rapid. Leaning down, she captured a nipple between her lips and began to suckle at it. She smiled at Caryn's gasp of pleasure.
Caryn felt Kris cup her breasts and tried to relax. Caryn wasn't very adept at introspection; she had always relied on behavior learned from her parents. But this was unprecedented. All she had to go on was the fact that she trusted Kris implicitly, and that her body was responding to Kris' touch with no conscious effort on her part. She suddenly felt Kris' lips on her nipple, and involuntarily gasped at the sensation. Again, she wondered, "Why are you doing this to me, Kris? Why do I want you to keep doing it?"
She opened her eyes and watched Kris as she deftly used her lips and tongue to caress her nipples. She had often wondered about what it would feel like to have her breasts suckled, and had even fantasized about it once as she masturbated. It felt so good - far more pleasurable than any fantasy. It suddenly hit her...Kris was doing this because she knew it would be pleasurable for her. But why do I still feel hesitant?
After several more moments of introspection, Caryn realized it was because she was still focusing on the cultural taboos learned from her parents. Those values were in direct conflict with the signals her body was sending her. "Ok, so now what?" With that, the hesitation was replaced by an entirely new feeling -- curiosity. Caryn felt the hesitation leave her, and bid it a silent farewell. With the hesitation gone, she was able to concentrate on the sensations coursing through her body. Her orgasm continued to build inside of her, and instead of resisting it, as she realized she had been doing, she surrendered to it. It pulsed through her body, seeming to echo back and forth as it crossed and recrossed her awareness. As it slowly attenuated, she opened her eyes, and gave out a long, luxurious sigh.
Kris watched her friend as the orgasm took her. "Oh Caryn, I knew you would enjoy this. And we have just begun." When Caryn opened her eyes, Kris said, "Ok?"
Caryn nodded her head and said, "More than ok. That felt wonderful."
In response, Kris kissed her gently on the lips. She slipped her hand, which was still cupping Caryn's breast, down Caryn's torso to her mons. Stroking Caryn's labia through the satin of the panty, she whispered, "That is just the beginning. Ready?"
Caryn felt Kris' fingertips at her panties, and felt her arousal soar. Again by way of answer, she reached up and drew Kris down and kissed her.
Kris captured Caryn's mouth with her own. Gently she slid her hand into Caryn's panties. She nestled a finger in Caryn's vaginal cleft, frictioning it lightly against the inner surfaces of her labia. She knew from experience that Caryn's labia would soon part and that her vagina would relax to admit her finger. Soon enough, Caryn's vagina relaxed, and Kris' finger encountered the sensitive tissue of Caryn's inner labia. She rubbed her finger against them, and felt Caryn shudder at the sensation. Caryn was beginning to lubricate freely, so Kris prepared to penetrate her fully. Disengaging from their kiss, Kris trailed her lips along Caryn's neck and shoulders, and then down to her breasts. She circled the aureole of one breast with her tongue, and then closed her lips around the nipple. She smiled as Caryn gasped at the sensation. Applying a very gentle pressure with two of her fingers, Kris penetrated Caryn's vagina. She felt the muscles in the vaginal walls instinctively contract around her fingers. Slowly, she thrust them as deeply as she could into Caryn's vagina, and then slowly withdrew them, until only the very tips remained inside Caryn. She thrust again, more firmly this time, burying her fingers deep in Caryn's vagina and then withdrew them again. This time on the return stroke, Kris crooked one finger a little, and dragged it lightly across Caryn's clitoris. Kris repeated the cycle, thrusting and withdrawing her fingers in a slowly increasing tempo. Caryn was gasping with each breath now, and as Kris penetrated her over and over again, the gasps coalesced into a low moan.
Caryn felt Kris' fingers gliding gently across her stomach and into her panties. Kris stroked her labia, and Caryn felt the muscles in her vagina relax. She felt an orgasm begin to spiral across her consciousness, and as Kris penetrated her vagina, she came. Kris was sucking at her nipples now, and Caryn felt the friction of Kris' fingers in their passage into and out of her vagina. Suddenly, Caryn's pleasure spiked, and she realized Kris had just touched her clitoris. The sensation was exquisite. She gasped as Kris touched it again. And again. Caryn marveled at the sensation flowing up from her vagina. She knew she was gasping and moaning like the soundtrack of a cheap porno flick, but she did not care - her attention was focused on Kris and the fingers plunging in and out of her vagina. When she came, it was a rocket through her mind. She felt Kris withdraw her fingers, and then cup her cheek with her hand. She could smell her own musky odor on Kris' fingers. She glanced up at Kris, who was smiling down at her.
"Oh, Kris...Oh, that was wonderful...I had no idea."
"Well, I knew, and now you know too. Are you ready for something more?"
Caryn raised her eyebrows. What more could there possibly be? She nodded.
Kris rolled over on top of Caryn. Kris began to stroke Caryn's breasts with her tongue, as she slid her body down Caryn's. She trailed her tongue down Caryn's breasts, across her flat stomach, until she could feel Caryn's navel with her chin. She began to kiss Caryn's tummy lightly, rimming her navel with the tip of her tongue. Caryn began to squirm beneath Kris, and Kris knew it was time. Kris reached between their bodies and untied one set of the laces that secured the panty across Caryn's hips. She folded the nearly translucent material to the side, revealing Caryn's pudenda to her eager eyes. Gently, Kris extended her tongue and began to lave Caryn's mons and labia with long, slow strokes. Kris could taste Caryn's pre-coital lubrication, and reveled in the salty-sweet musk of Caryn's rising passion.
Caryn felt Kris' fingers at her panties, and realized almost instantly what Kris was going to do. But before she could react, she felt Kris' warm breath on her mons, followed by the most exquisite sensation she ever experienced: Kris' tongue gliding wetly along her labia. She moaned aloud.
Kris heard that moan, and smiled to herself. Reaching around Caryn's hips with her right arm, she rested the palm of her right hand on Caryn's pubis just above her vaginal cleft. With her index and middle fingers in a V, she parted Caryn's labia. Kris touched the tip of her tongue to the sensitive tissue of Caryn's inner labia, and felt Caryn respond instantly. Caryn arched her back, thrusting her hips upward against Kris. Kris centered her body more exactly between Caryn's thighs, giving Caryn more room to move her hips as her passion grew. Kris then began to stroke Caryn's inner labia with her tongue. Caryn began to lubricate freely, and Kris eagerly lapped it up. In short order, Caryn arched her back in a paroxysm of pleasure, and Kris knew she had climaxed. While Caryn was experiencing her orgasm, Kris slipped her crop top off and slid forward, until her small breasts were nearly in contact with Caryn's mons. With her free hand, she cupped one of her own breasts and lifted it until her nipple was in contact with the hooded mound of Caryn's clitoris. She teased the nipple back and forth across the hood, coaxing the clitoris out. As Caryn's clitoris erected, so did Kris' nipple. Kris felt the first shimmering wave of an orgasm pass through her body.
The touch of Kris' nipple against her clitoris started another wave of pleasure coursing through Caryn's mind. Caryn was somewhat more prepared this time, and was determined to ride the wave of pleasure as long as she could before being inundated by it. She opened her eyes and glanced down at Kris, lying between her legs. Kris, chin on Caryn's tummy, was gazing steadily back at her. For a moment, Caryn lost herself in that gaze. She felt a sensation of love commingled with desire emanating from Kris that was so potent, she almost felt that she was somehow in Kris' mind, watching herself as Kris pleasured her. It was disorienting, but not unpleasantly so. Her point-of-view switched back to her own eyes, and she watched as Kris lowered her chin, and slipped backwards between her legs until all Caryn could see was the top of Kris' head. Then she felt Kris fasten her lips around her clitoris, and Caryn surrendered to the wave of pleasure that suddenly overwhelmed her sensorium.
Kris sucked gently at Caryn's clitoris, teasing it with the tip of her tongue. Caryn was writhing her hips beneath her.Kris penetrated Caryn with her index finger, probing as deeply as she could into Caryn's vaginal canal. She brought her finger against the ridged walls, feeling the muscles ripple as Caryn approached another orgasm. When Kris felt the muscles clamp down against her finger, she sucked Caryn's clitoris as far into her mouth as it would extend, and then bit down on it, grinding her teeth gently against the sensitive tissue. She heard Caryn scream, and looked up to see Caryn thrashing her head from side to side. Kris kept Caryn's clitoris clamped between her teeth and teased it with quick flicks of her tongue. She held her suspended in her orgasm for a long time, finally releasing Caryn's clitoris when she felt Caryn's vaginal muscles relax slightly from around her finger. She crawled up to a position next to Caryn, wrapping her arm around Caryn's shoulders, and pulling her head gently against her breasts. She waited for Caryn to come back from her orgasm.
Caryn's eyes fluttered open. In her fourteen years on the planet, the last two of which as a sexually aware young girl, she had never felt anything as intensely pleasurable as what Kris had just done to her. Her body was tingling all over, with concentrated nodes of sensation at her breasts and vagina. She turned towards Kris and threw her arms around her. Hugging her close, she whispered, "Oh Kris. Thank you. What an incredible sensation." She said to herself, "I should find some way to thank Terry, too. But I will worry about that later." Aloud she said, "But I think I will thank you -- right now." Reaching down, she began to caress Kris' mons with her palm. Kris spread her thighs, and placed a palm on the back of Caryn's head and pulled her head towards her. She kissed Caryn deeply, her tongue probing far down Caryn's throat. She broke the kiss, and moaned softly as she felt Caryn tentatively, and then with firm intent, penetrate her vagina with her fingers. She thrust her pelvis in counterpoint to Caryn's rhythmic penetration of her vagina, feeling an orgasm building up deep inside of her. Kris rode the wave of pleasure, and delighted in the new, physical dimension that had been added to her relationship with Caryn. When her orgasm had run its course, she opened her eyes and gazed intently at Caryn.
"Yes, I think so too," she said and laughed. Caryn raised her eyebrows quizzically.
"Think what?"
"I think you should find some way to thank Terry. She will be back next week. I think showing up for dinner wearing that babydoll will let her know in no uncertain terms how you want to thank her."
"But how did you know? And do you mean thank her... like this...?"
"Oh yes, Caryn. And I want to watch. And help thank her."
Kris captured one of Caryn's nipples between her lips, and as Caryn's body began to respond, Caryn realized that making love to Terry was exactly what she wanted to do. She looked down at Kris suckling gently at her breast and sighed. | 4 |
3,468 | Just Another Day At The Office | "Come in," Danny called without even bothering to look up from the papers on his desk. Although he heard the door swing open, he didn't acknowledge that someone had entered his office. He was a managing partner...whoever it was could wait until he finished what he was doing. After almost five minutes of playing the waiting game, Carnie finally spoke up. "Mr. Givens? I'm from network support, and I need to..."
Danny was outraged; he could not believe that some network support person DARED speak to him before she was addressed. It had been a long time since he'd been a "little people"; he'd forgotten how to be polite. "Young lady," he interrupted, "I don't know who you think you are barging in here with your little task, but...JESUS!"
During his tirade, Carnie had moved in front of Danny's desk, waiting patiently for it to end. As he was just getting revved up, he made the mistake of looking up, only to find the most stunning set of breasts he'd ever laid eyes on. Danny had never really been attracted to black women (in fact, he didn't think he'd ever had any desire to sleep with one), but Carnie was definitely capable of changing that.
Since she was not a member of the consulting staff, she wasn't held to the stricter blue suit, white blouse dress code that women normally had to adhere to. She had a little more flexibility, and used it to her advantage. On a woman of average height, her 44DD breasts would have been large, but not exaggeratedly so; however, Carnie barely stood five feet tall, and might have weighed 100 lbs. with a brick in each pocket. Her skin was a deep, healthy tan, light enough that Danny could see the veins tracing through her magnificent breasts clearly through the pale blue blouse that clung erotically to them. Her nipples were a dark chocolate brown, almost black, about 3.5 inches in diameter, and came to a point almost a half-inch long.
It was easy to tell all of this because Carnie wasn't wearing a bra. Carnie's nipples slowly crinkled, growing harder and longer as Danny's intense stare. She smiled as he reflexively licked his lips. "Yes Mr. Givens?" she asked sweetly, her voice sounding both innocent and inviting at the same time. By this time, her nipples were straining so hard against the material of her blouse that Danny was certain they were going to punch right through.
"Did I do something wrong?" Danny struggled to regain his composure. In business, he never let the other person know that they'd had an effect on him. "I'm very busy today," he said evenly, his voice calm and level. "What is it that you need in here..." he scanned her employee badge, which hung at an obscene angle off of her chest, "...Carnie? Can't it wait until after I've left for the day?" He put in an impressive performance, one that would have been totally believable, except for the fact that, other than when he read her name, he stared at her hardening nipples the entire time.
"Well actually, sir, I need to look at your laptop," Carnie said apologetically. "I have to run an inventory, but I promise it will only take a minute." Taking advantage of his apparent distraction, Carnie made her way around to the side of Danny's desk, over to the network port, as she spoke.
Danny turned to follow her movement, pleasantly resigned to "endure" the interruption. Hell, this girl was hot! As if to emphasize the point, his cock stirred in his lap, lightly twitching as Carnie's lower half came into view.
To Danny's amazement, the rest of Carnie was equally impressive. Her waist was very slim; Danny suspected he could probably encircle it with his hands. Her hips were slender and slightly rounded, and her legs seemed unbelievably long for a woman so small. Her slight heels supported toned, well-muscled calves attached to thighs that could only belong to a distance runner. Once again, Carnie had taken liberties with the dress code, and had opted for a burgundy skirt that showed off her skin color well and, although pleated, stopped at mid-thigh.
She turned and smiled at Danny, and looked over at his laptop, pushed aside to the far corner of his desk. "Good, you're not logged on. That will make it go even faster. Let me just plug my laptop into the port and fired it up, and I'll be out of here before you can shake a stick." She turned back toward the wall.
Was she making fun of him? Danny adjusted his trousers, but kept his eyes on Carnie's back. In a fluid motion, she bent from the waist, unzipped her laptop bag and removed her network cord. She then attached the cord to her laptop, fiddled around for a minute, powered it up, stood up and walked toward Danny's desk. There was no way to hide the effect she was having on him. The front of his suit pants were rigid, his cock filling the slight area tightly, discomfort clear on his face.
While she was bent over (which couldn't have lasted more than a minute or two), Danny's cock got harder than it'd been in years; not just hard, but steel bending, rock splitting hard! He confirmed that she wasn't wearing any pantyhose, because when she set up her computer, her skirt rose clear to her ass. Carnie's sense of style extended to her underwear; today, she was wearing a burgundy t-strap to match her skirt. Calling the t-strap clothing was being generous. From what Danny could see, it consisted of a piece of material no thicker than a shoelace that went down the crack of her ass (which was firm, and round, with no hint of flab) and met a similarly small piece of material that should have covered her pussy in the front. However, this material was not up to the daunting challenge, and could only manage to gently separate her outer pussy lips, spreading them so that Danny could see the pink edges when she was in that position. He also saw that she was aroused. Her pussy glistened and the material of her t-strap was damp where it spread her lips.
He was surprised that he didn't shoot right there in his pants. The problem was, how could he sleep with this woman without ending up on the bad end of a sexual harassment inquiry, if not a racial discrimination charge as well. Carnie walked behind him to his credenza, seemingly oblivious to the raging hard-on he was sporting or the obvious lust in his gaze. As she connected the two computers, she bent slightly, and Danny was immediately rewarded with the musky odor of pussy seeping from between her legs. That was more than he could handle. With a soft throaty groan his cock exploded, showering his boxers and suit pants with thick jets of cum.
Never in his life had he ever cum without someone at least touching him! The beeps and tones indicated that Danny's computer was nearing the completion of the boot-up sequence. With Carnie's back to him, Danny hastily slid his soiled lap under his desk. Breathing deeply to steady his voice, Danny asked as casually as he could manage, "So, how is this inventory different from the one that my assistant did last week?"
"Oh, that was a property inventory. This is a software inventory."
"Software inventory?"
"Yes, a software inventory. We have to make sure that all of the software loaded is properly licensed, and that there are no files present that are against company policies."
"Files?" Danny asked uneasily.
"Yeah, illegal software, pornographic pictures, that sort of thing. There is a lot of strange stuff out there, and sense the laptops are company property, we periodically check to make sure that there is nothing on them that could unduly expose the firm. I have auditing software on my laptop that scans your hard drive, and then uploads the results to the central system."When I went back to my office, I downloaded the results and submitted my reports to corporate. Danny hadn't heard a word she said after "pornographic pictures." Shit, did he have any on there? It was amazing what you could find these days on the Internet. Once or twice a week, he would go out to the websites and newsgroups and download some pictures, then jerk off as they scrolled across the screen. What harm did it do? He'd always thought. He usually deleted them when he was done, but he couldn't remember if he did the last time. Shit!
Danny realized that he hadn't heard any noise from the computers in a little while. "Everything OK?" "Almost done. Just one more test to finish, but it's the longest. We have software that can analyze a hard drive and retrieve any files that have been deleted, unless certain precautions were taken, which they almost never are." As if on cue, Carnie's laptop started to beep. "Hmm, what's this?"
Danny's heart fell into the pit of his stomach. He decided that it was better to pretend that he was still working and that he wasn't paying attention to anything that she was doing. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a way to get out of what he now knew was inevitable.
"Ho-ho Mr. Givens, it appears that you're pretty good with a search engine," Carnie chuckled. "You've got quite a collection of files here." He could hear her fingers pressing a series of keys as she retrieved the pictures Danny thought had been erased. "And varied interests, I see..."
Believing that the best defense is a good offense, Danny interrupted. "Look, Carnie, there are a couple of pictures on there that I looked at on the road, to help me relieve the stress of a long day. There's no crime in that."
"True," Carnie admitted as she walked around the credenza and perched her cute little ass on the edge of the desk facing him. He was still sitting with his lap under the desk to hide his cum-soaked lap. "But it is in direct violation of company policy. I think it's grounds for dismissal, but I'm not sure what would happen to a managing partner. Never caught one before; most scrub their drives."
Shit, Danny thought again. "You know I could have you fired before you got back to your desk, don't you?" It was true; in a firm this size, there were 4 managing partners, each with absolute dominion over all but the other 3. Carnie nodded. "True, you could. But it wouldn't help. The information has already been fed; my work would just get reassigned and the data would still be accessed."
Danny slumped in his seat. The worst thing was, he really couldn't be fired. He could, however, be humiliated in front of the 3 other managing partners, as well as the partners on the discipline committee.
In his dejection, Danny failed to notice that two thick points hard enough to cut diamonds now capped Carnie's nipples. As she reached across him to pick up the photo sitting on his desk, they brushed against his arm. He snatched his hand away; the heat and the hardness actually hurt!
"This your family, Danny?" Danny nodded. He noticed that she had dropped the "Mr. Givens" and had now assumed a tone of familiarity reserved for peers. "It sure would be a shame to drag them through something public and embarrassing." Danny looked up, a glint in his eyes. He was, after all, first and foremost a political animal, and recognized the opening of a negotiation when he heard it. "Yes. Yes, it would be too bad." He had no misconceptions about the awkward control Carnie now held over him. "I care for them very much; I'd rather spare them that."
"I could understand that. We may be able to work something out." "How?" Danny asked. "Danny, Danny, Danny. I told you, I have to file a report. As long as I am employed here, no one has access to the files but me. Even Everett can't get to them as long as I am an employee," she said, referring to the managing partner responsible for internal IS.
"Oh?" Danny saw floodlights go on in the tunnel. Hell, there wasn't light at the end, there was a whole fucking sun! "So, how much is this going to cost me?" She was reasonable. He couldn't imagine her asking for some ridiculously unjustifiable amount.
Carnie slowly shook her head. "Oh Danny, it's not going to be that easy. No, not that easy at all." Still leaning against the desk, Carnie crossed her legs at the ankles. "We are talking about the career of a managing partner here."
"Oh please, let's not get melodramatic!" Danny felt like he was on a roller coaster, scot-free one minute, facing the inquisition the next. Carnie uncrossed her legs and stood up and walked back to the credenza. "Fine. I've got work to do anyway." She began humming to herself as she powered down her laptop and began putting the peripherals away.
Danny panicked. Forgetting the wet spot in his lap, he pushed the chair back and whipped the chair around. Because of her height, it was easy to grab Carnie's shoulders. "Look, I'm sorry. This is hard for me. What do I have to do to get you to fix this for me?"
Carnie smiled as she snapped her case shut. She'd won; they both knew it. "First, you need to tell your assistant that you are going to be on a conference call for a while, and that he is to take any calls for you until you call him back. Then put your telephone on 'Do Not Disturb.'" While Danny picked up the telephone to comply, Carnie went back around to his desk and hopped up on it. As he placed the receiver back in the cradle, she slid over so that she straddled his chair, one leg on each arm.
"Carnie, shouldn't I lock the door?" He had a good idea what was coming. "No. It's more fun this way. Let's see how good your assistant is." With her legs spread, her skirt rose above her hips, revealing a very thin piece of material failing miserably to cover a totally shaven pussy. Her outer lips were swollen from arousal, and the material was soaking wet. Enough moisture had collected behind her inner lips that when she spread her legs, it slowly dripped out and pooled in a puddle just under her ass.
The scent coming from her pussy now was 30 times stronger than it was earlier; Danny felt dizzy, it was so overpowering. "So Danny, are you just going to sit there, or what?"
Danny wasn't sure what she expected, so he just went with his instincts. He leaned forward, using his index fingers to move the t-strap aside and spread her outer lips, and slowly began to trail his pointed tongue up her crack, starting down near her asshole and moving all the way up to her clit. She shivered, then grabbed hold of his shoulders for support. Encouraged, he flattened his tongue out, covering more of her pussy as he lapped. He probed deeper, tasting her, feeling the warm wetness of her pussy. He was rock hard again, but he knew that this was all about her, and it might jeopardize things if he tried to relieve himself. She scooted forward a little, giving him better access to her asshole, which surprisingly was clean but musky tasting. He darted his tongue several times into her asshole on his way up, and was rewarded with a low guttural moan from Carnie.
Her pussy was getting wetter and wetter, and he hoped that she would let him fuck her soon, because he was going crazy with her writhing and rocking in his face like this. After a while, he started to spend more time around her clit, which was hard and throbbing and peeking up through her inner lips. He began to suck her clit strongly, then to nibble, while she whispered encouragement to him.
On a whim, he reached up and slid an unlubricated finger into her asshole while he nibbled on her button. Involuntarily, her hips bucked and she mashed her pussy hard into his face. He responded by thrusting the finger in and out of her asshole rapidly, while softly biting on her clit to the same rhythm. Carnie started fucking Danny's face and whimpering. She reached over and grabbed a ruler Danny had been using to do his work earlier, shoved it in her mouth and bit down.
Then she grabbed a thick black nipple between the thumb and forefinger of each hand through her blouse and started to pinch them forcefully in time with the thrusts in her ass and the assault on her clit. Within moments, a low, guttural moan wafted up, seeming to start from her pussy and move up and through her chest.
Danny had never heard anything like it, and immediately came in his pants again. He moaned deep into her pussy, setting Carnie off again. When she'd finished her second orgasm, she pulled herself back into a sitting position, leaned forward, and kissed him deeply on the lips. "Not a bad start, Danny. That was amazing."
"Start?" Danny asked breathlessly. Carnie chuckled. Reaching down, she rubbed her t-strap between her pussy lips, and tore it off. She then wiped around his mouth and nose, and dropped it in his lap. "That's what I said. Start."
Danny sat back in his chair, dumbstruck. "Now, pick up the phone and call your wife. Tell her you have to go out of town on business, and that you'll be back tomorrow night." She smiled. "I'll be done with you by then, and you'll have your life and career back."
Woodenly, Danny picked up the telephone, punched in seven digits, mumbled something lame about a client emergency, and hung up. "Let's not cause any suspicion," Carnie said as he replaced the receiver. "I'll meet you at the, let's see...," she thought a moment. "I know, the Embassy Suites on Wisconsin. There's a firm suite there that you guys use for out-of-town muckety-mucks. I'll meet you there at 6:30." It was 11:45 now.
She hopped off the desk, walked over to the credenza, and grabbed her laptop. At the doorway, she stopped before she pulled it open and turned back to him. "Eat well, today. You're going to need your strength." She smiled, pulled the door open and left, leaving it ajar.Danny looked down at the t-strap laying in his lap, and his cock stirred again.
End of Part I
This is my first try after lurking for all these years. Should I continue? I hate being forced to wade through crap, so if nobody thinks it's worthwhile, I'll let the Part I stand alone. Let me know! | 3 |
3,472 | First Swing | "Watching Don fuck your ass was even better than I thought it'd be!" Judy said.
I laughed. "Well, feeling him fuck my ass must've been even better than that." It was true. I had dildoed myself many times, but each time I could predict each thrust my hand made. Having Don do it made it impossible to predict his thrusts, making it deliciously better. At the same time, his cock was flesh and blood, and I could feel (I thought) the blood coursing through it, filling it with life. When he came, the splashes of jism were a sudden spot of warmth, giving me tremendous satisfaction.
Judy wriggled her way over to me. She kissed me, her tongue hot and wet. She pushed my head to the side and began chewing on my lobes. I felt her begin to probe the inside of my ear, the sounds loud. Oh, I loved having my ear explored like this! Below, my muscle began to twitch. I guess Judy felt it, because she whispered hotly in my ear if I liked what she was doing. I groaned out a "yes," and she redoubled her efforts. Now, though, she climbed more fully onto me and was rubbing her wet bald slit against me. Heaven!
"Let's go wake Don up," I suggested to her. Don was in a drowsy state, laying on his back adjacent to us. Judy rolled off, and I flipped over. We positioned ourselves on either side of him, and Judy held up his cock for me. I slid it into my mouth, surprised at how soft he was in a flaccid state. Last time he was in my mouth, he was pumping hot joy-juice down my throat. Definitely not soft then!
I popped him out, and as she took him, I fondled his hairy balls. In a minute, when she gave him back to me, he was half erect. I pressed my lips against him and slid him in. I stayed there, nose breathing, and sucked him. It was amazing, feeling him swell in my mouth. In another minute, his head was pressing against my tonsils. I bobbed a couple times, then gave him back to Judy. I looked up to see Don watching us.
"So, Don," I started, "am I doing OK?"
He smiled. "You can suck me any time, Dave."
Judy had stopped. "I want to see you guys suck each other." I wanted that too, so I swung my hips up and lay on my side, my crotch at his face. Then, I grabbed his side and pulled him into a similar side position. I didn't really care if he sucked me or not at that point. I'd give him the opportunity if he wanted, but I was exploring my bisexuality, not his. I bent my head, and slid him into my hot mouth as deep as I could. Don let out an extended moan, and I tasted pre-cum. Excellent! I tongued the eye of his cock, daring him to ooze more. I stroked him once or twice to milk it out, and then sucked him deep again.
I was busy making slurping sounds when I felt his hand grasp my cock. He stroked it, almost idly, driving me crazy. I moved my hips, fucking his hand. Then, glory, as he started to blow me. I paused, reveling in the feeling. Then, we began my first MM 69.
It was tremendous. Each took pleasure from the other, and then giving it when we neared completion. Don's mouth was so very hot and wet. His cock and balls were coated with my saliva. But, I didn't want to drink him or have him drink me. I had another fantasy to live out.
"Don," I said, puffing with breathlessness. "Come into the bathroom." We got up, and Judy looked at us. Her hands were slick with her own juices. Her hole was completely open, as if her fingers had stretched her out. "C'mon Judy, you too!"
We went into the bath, and I had Don sit on the stool. Then, I had Judy sit on him, facing him. She let out a groan of pleasure as she sank slowly onto him. Don gritted his teeth to keep from cumming. When she was on, they began to slowly rock, an inch of his length moving in and out of her. Judy was purring with pleasure.
I went to my bag and got my tube of Slippery Stuff. Then, I knelt behind Judy. The plug was still there, filling her up. I grasped the end and pulled it out.
"Oh! Shit!" Judy exclaimed. She began to cum, and I was fascinated to see her anus pulsing with her orgasm. Don still gritted his teeth, trying to hold off some more. After a minute, Judy sank onto Don, panting.
"God, that was great!" she told me.
"You're not done yet, babe," I said. "It only gets better." As she sat still, I dabbed some Slippery Stuff on my fingers, and then stuffed them into her. I pulled my fingers out, and put on some more lubricant, then slid them back in. I slowly pumped her ass, lubing it up. Her pussy was fairly creaming, her juice dripping onto the floor. Don was sucking her nipples. In a few minutes, she was rocking back and forth, urging my fingers in more deeply. Yes, she was really relaxed and loose.
I pulled Don's head away, and then help her stand up. I grasped Don's cock, and applied a liberal amount of Slippery Stuff. Judy's eyes opened wide, half in fear and half in expectation. I told her to turn around, and positioned her so that she merely had to sit down on Don. Supporting her, I helped her ease down. The thirty seconds she took to sit all the way down was spent as one long, low moan. Not of pain, but of pleasure.
Finally, she was down all the way. She sat still, loving the full feeling. Then, maybe another couple minutes later, she began to rock again. His lubed up cock was sliding in and out of her ass, making slurping sounds of its own.
Time for me to fulfill my own fantasy!
I squatted a little, and positioned myself at her front opening. She opened her eyes, and watched as I placed the head inside. Then, as she rocked forward, I jammed myself all the way in. She shrieked, from fear and surprise. I had been so gentle until then. But as she knew my intentions, I began to rapidly pump her. She tossed her head back against Don's shoulder, riding both of us.
Don lifted her a little so that he could pump more fully. What a feeling, his cock moving against mine inside her! Don grasped her right nipple between his fingers and pinched hard while pulling it out. She let loose a gasp, then a moan. He released and grasped the left. I took the right in my mouth and wetly, gently, sucked it. When he released the left, I did the same there. We alternated on her nipples, and she was moaning and begging for more.
Soon, I felt my balls tighten, and I knew my fantasy was about to come true. That thought sent me over the edge and I began to fill her with my seed. Spurt after satisfying spurt came out. Still half erect, I popped out and sank to my knees. I began to tongue her hole and suck my juice out. Inches away, Don was pumping her ass!
This was my fantasy, to suck out my cum from a pussy. I also fantasized about licking a woman to orgasm as she rode a cock. To satisfy both at the same time...!
I sucked her, willing her to orgasm. If she could cum with a cock in her ass, she might be hooked on anal sex. I licked, I sucked, I probed, I tickled. I two minutes, her pussy grabbed my tongue and held it fast. She was cumming, and the contractions were squeezing my cum out of her and into my mouth. I savored the sticky glops, feeling like a complete slut.
Then, Don began to cum. He held himself in, filling her ass just as he had filled mine earlier. In a minute, he pushed her up. I saw her asshole, red and stretched, dripping lube and cum and fecal matter. For a second, I thought about servicing her, and I would have had she asked, but I chickened out. She sat where Don had sat and soon had expelled most of the discharge filling her. I knew she'd find still more the next day.
I went over and laid on the bed, feeling about toast.Judy, and then Don joined me. They looked at the clock: 1:48. Then Don spoke.
"I guess we're going to go home. We'd sleep better in our own bed." I nodded, tired. I watched as they got dressed.
Judy leaned over and kissed me. "Can we call you tomorrow?" asked Judy. I told her I'd like nothing better. Don gave a jaunty wave as he and Judy passed through the doorway.
I closed my eyes, tired but reliving the night. In a couple of minutes, the phone rang, jarring me. I grabbed it.
"Hello?" Who would call me at that hour?
"This is the front desk." Oh yeah, the clerk. "I saw your friends leave, and wondered.... I mean, she was walking a bit bowlegged.... Jeez, I'm sorry, but I'm so curious." The words came out in a rush. A smile crept across my face.
"Why don't you bring up something to drink and we'll discuss it?" It was 1:59 and she said she got off at 2:00.
"OK. Be right up!" The words came out very quickly, like she was afraid I'd change my mind. I thought about putting something on, but it'd be a bit hard to describe my stretched and cum-leaking asshole; she'd have to see it to believe it. If this worked out, tomorrow night could be even better than tonight.
We'd just see. | 4 |
3,474 | Kathy | "What do you mean, why did I do it? You and Tommy were in trouble and needed help. I helped. Big deal."
Cindy pursued it, "The Mafia connection, Miss Smith. You've heard of the Mafia. It's an organization that runs things. Why did you do it? You are the straightest straight arrow alive! I think you're incapable of doing anything dishonest. Why?"
"Do you mind if I call you Cindy?" Kathy asked.
The girl smiled and said, "Not at all. I love the name, even if Tommy and I are the only ones who do. I would love it!"
Kathy continued. "Where are you in school?"
"I graduated from Rosemont College last June."
"How about Tommy?"
"He graduated from Lafayette College three years ago." Cindy was puzzled at the line of questioning.
"What have you been doing since graduation?"
"I loafed during the summer. Now I'm involved in the Junior League on the Main Line. And I'm getting ready for the wedding, of course."
"When is the wedding?"
"In June... in just two months!"
"Do you like Tommy?" Kathy chose her words with care.
"No, Miss Smith." Cindy replied coldly, "I don't 'like' Tommy! I love him! I adore him, perhaps... But no, Miss Smith, I don't just like him."
Before she could move, Kathy had the younger girl in her arms. "I'm sorry. That was nasty of me. I had to know and you answered my question." By this time the girls had finished their meal. "Cindy, I may shock you. I am dying for a swim, but I don't wear a suit in the pool, so I hope you don't mind being around a naked woman. You probably wouldn't care to, but you're welcome to join me." With that Kathy went to her room, stripped off her clothes and stepped into her shower. She was interested to hear the sound of the shower running next door as well. She stepped out of the shower dripping and made for the pool. The April day was glorious with the temperature in the eighties with low humidity.
Then she saw Cindy emerge from her bathroom, also dripping from the shower and also nude. Kathy could see that the younger girl was quite tentative, like a young bird just trying its wings. Kathy dove in and stroked back and forth. She heard the other girl hit the water an instant later. They continued swimming laps companionably until Kathy pulled herself from the pool with Cindy following. Kathy dragged up two mats. As she did, she could feel the younger girl's eyes following her as she moved. When they were settled on the mats, Kathy asked, "Do you approve?"
Cindy jumped. "Approve of what?"
"Me. I could feel you studying me. What do you think?"
Cindy smiled and relaxed. "I think you are the most beautiful district attorney in the country, is what I think. No wonder you don't wear clothes! I would never wear clothes, either, if my body was like yours!"
Kathy grinned, "Well, it just goes to show you. If you fish for compliments long enough, you'll eventually get one. Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment, it's the truth! Just look at me and look at you. I didn't think I was too bad, but compared to you I'm ugly!"
Kathy accepted the invitation and studied the girl. She was about five feet three. Kathy guessed her weight at less than 110. Her face was oval with sensuous lips. Her breasts were proportionately fuller than Kathy's giving way to a small waist with very trim hips and beautiful legs. Her hair was light brown and -- judging by her pubic hair which was a slightly darker shade -- it was her natural color. Her body was lightly tanned with the tan accentuated by the white strips across her breasts and loins.
Kathy got up and returned a moment later with tanning lotion. "If you're going to lie in the sun like this, you'd better use some. It's obvious you never lie in the sun nude and, believe me, you can burn in a hurry." She grinned at Cindy, "You better believe it's embarrassing when you can't sit down because you fried your ass and your breasts are jiggling like Jell-O because you can't possibly wear a bra!" Cindy took the lotion and started spreading it on her breasts and loins. When she rolled over, Kathy applied it to her bottom which was trim and firm. Cindy started laughing. The laughter grew in intensity as Kathy looked at her. "What's so funny?" she asked, puzzled.
Cindy rolled over on her side to face Kathy. "I was thinking about what you said. The more I thought about it, the funnier it seemed! I can just see myself with fried boobs! And they would wiggle like Jell-O! I'm bigger than you, Kathy, but not nearly as firm."
She made a startled face. "What was that?" Kathy asked.
"That was Tommy squeezing one of my burned buns! He's an ass man. At least that's what he says. Whenever he thinks he can get away with it, he takes my buns in his hand and gives a gentle squeeze."
"What do you do when he does it?" Kathy asked.
"Well, the first time he did it I slapped his face hard and started to cry. Then I progressed to slapping his hand away. Now..."
"Now, what?"
"Now, I just melt! Kathy, I'm awful, but I do. I try to move his hand away because... because..."
Kathy looked at her with understanding and said, "Because you feel that if he doesn't take his hand away you're going to melt. Your loins are on fire. Everything is getting wet. If he doesn't move his hand you're going to want more..."
"You know! Oh God, Kathy, I want him so... I just want him inside so badly it hurts! I'm on fire here," she placed her hand on her crotch.
Kathy could tell she was feeling the sensation as they spoke. She said softly, "Your cunt's on fire."
Cindy's eyes widened for an instant, then relaxed. She lay on her back with her right hand still over her moist slit. "My cunt's on fire..." She went back up on her elbow. "I said it! It's true: my cunt's on fire." Kathy lay back to soak up the sun. The two girls slept.
Kathy awakened the sleeping girl at four o'clock. Several times while Cindy slept, Kathy had applied more lotion to her breasts and loins. Cindy was still half asleep as Kathy led her into her oversized shower. They showered and soaped and rinsed. At that point when Kathy cut the hot water, the shower was suddenly ice cold. Cindy jumped and squealed. Then she just turned in the sprays, seemingly oblivious to the goose bumps that appeared all over her body. Kathy turned off the shower, gave Cindy a towel and took one herself. After toweling off her body and towel-drying her hair, she ran a comb through it and left the bath. She noticed that Cindy had put down the towel, reentered the shower and shampooed and conditioned her hair, too.
Kathy was sitting in the library cross-legged watching the evening news when Cindy padded in and joined her. Kathy had made herself a martini and had left the pitcher at the bar. There was no mention of the rape arrest. It was what Kathy had been watching for. She turned off the television set. "I made myself a Beefeater martini. There's more in the pitcher, but I have almost anything else."
"May I try one, please?" I've never had the nerve before. I had to wash my hair. After the day in jail yesterday I would like to be skinned to get rid of that... that..."
Kathy held her tightly. "It's over. Don't think about it. Think about your wedding!" She released the girl and went to the bar. She returned with the drink and raised it in a toast, "To you and Tommy: Long life, love and happiness."
Cindy blushed. "Thank you, Kathy." She took a sip of the martini and beamed. "I like it! It's good."
"And they can be lethal," Kathy added."I think it's a better drink than what I see a lot of girls ordering today, though. I'm talking about those alcoholic milkshakes with every possible mixture of strange cordials. Some of them taste pretty good, but you have no sense of the alcohol content in what you're drinking. With the strange mixtures, it can be a good formula for getting sick, passing out, or both." When Kathy went into the kitchen to prepare steaks for dinner, Cindy followed with her drink. Kathy said she needed no help, so she sat down and watched the preparations.
"You are a strange and wonderful person, Katherine Smith. You don't normally wear clothes in your apartment, do you?"
Kathy looked over at the girl, startled. "You're very perceptive, Cindy. How did you know?"
Cindy smiled fondly at this tall girl who had become her friend. "Two reasons. First, you move so naturally around the apartment. You are not only unconcerned about your nakedness, you're unaware of it. Secondly, the furnishings -- I love your taste, by the way -- feel good on my bare skin. I figured they were chosen with that in mind. I was serious, earlier. You have a perfect female body. Not a good figure, not good boobs, not pretty: Perfect, as in perfection!"
"Cindy, how do you feel, by the way. I put more lotion on you while you slept. Are you okay?"
Cindy put a finger on a breast and pushed. The finger mark indicated that the breast had received sun, but was not burned. "I'm fine," she said and started to laugh, "I wonder what fried boobs would taste like? Speaking of which, I'm ready to eat a horse. Will we be ready to eat soon?"
For reasons she could not explain even to herself, Kathy served the dinner in the dining room. The meal was served on fine china and eaten with sterling tableware. She dimmed the lights and they ate by candlelight. When dinner was finished, she served coffee and cognac. "That was exquisite, Kathy. Is there anything you can't do well? And may I see your pistol I heard so much about on the news?" Kathy returned with her purse-holster. She withdrew the gun, unloaded it, and passed it to Cindy. The girl studied it with care, Kathy noticed, not as if it were some form of snake, and passed it back after deftly flipping it to pass it butt first. "It's a nice weapon. You used this to burn three men with five shots. Utterly incredible!"
"You're familiar with firearms, I see," said Kathy. "Frankly, I'm surprised."
Cindy grinned, "Shh! For God's sake, don't tell my father! He would absolutely freak out! *His* daughter handle a .38? The idea! The fact is, Kathy, I like to shoot. You know, I'm really looking forward to being married. Tommy's different. I don't think he would particularly like me to handle guns, but he would go along if there were a reason. It's like the sun. My father would freak out over tanned boobs! With Tommy, it would depend how they looked. I like yours, Kathy. They look so much... so much healthier when they're not pasty-white like mine. Do you mind if I try to tan mine?"
"Of course not! In fact, I'm flattered, I guess." Kathy refilled the coffee cups and cognac glasses, and sat down again. "Cindy, do you feel like talking?"
"Of course," she replied. "About what?"
"About what you were doing in that dump yesterday with Tommy."
She could see the younger girl start to tense and then relax. Cindy smiled, "You are a master of psychology, too, whether you know it or not. You ask *the* sensitive question! But first, we swam God knows how many laps. That's a great pool for swimming, by the way. Then we soak up the sun, have a magnificent dinner eaten while we're still nude, then have a couple of cognacs that taste like ambrosia. Now how in hell can I say 'I can't talk about that: It's too personal.'? The fact is, Kathy, Tommy was trying to help me lose my virginity!" The statement was made defiantly with a toss of her head. Her eyes were bright as she watched for a shocked reaction from Kathy.
There was no reaction, as Kathy continued to swirl her cognac in its snifter. She looked up and said softly, "The way you say that, I gather it didn't work?"
"No, damn it, it didn't!" Cindy suddenly started to cry. "Why me, for God's sake!? Every girl I know lost hers at age fifteen. Or at least it sounds that way. In the dorm at school these dumb bitches lie around in bra and panties and talk about how wonderful it was when Charley stuffed them or something stupid." She looked up at Kathy forlornly, "That's unfair and unkind. They're nice girls, really. It's just that I'm so jealous! Every time I hear this stuff, I get upset. Kathy, I have a very strong hymen. The damn thing just won't rupture. I'm pleased, really, that I'm a virgin for Tommy. I want to pop it, but it hurts so damned much. Then I had to watch that tape with that obscene man, Hannigan. We watched the tape of me and Tommy in bed together. That shit was creaming in his pants... and he made me watch it, too, the bastard. I feel dirty, thinking about it. What can I do, Kathy? Tommy's sex is so long and massive! I want it inside me desperately, but when we tried, the pain nearly killed me! Kathy, I'm like a girl dying of thirst, inches away from a crystal-clear lake, stopped by this awful membrane that I can't penetrate." The poor girl started to cry like her heart would break, "Kathy, please help me! Please!"
Kathy held her until the sobs quieted down. Finally, she said, "You're serious, aren't you?"
Cindy's head jerked up, with her eyes lighting with hope, "Can you? Could you help me..."
Kathy stood up from the table and asked, "Would right now be soon enough?"
Cindy jumped up, "Last year wouldn't be soon enough! Let's do it!"
Kathy led her into the exercise room and had her lie on her back on the massage table with her legs spread wide. Kathy went to a cabinet, put on a pair of sterile surgical gloves, and took out a scalpel and a supply of surgical cotton. She returned to the table. "Cindy, you know what's going to happen. I'm going to need your help as much as possible. Open yourself as wide as you possibly can." Cindy spread her thighs wide apart to open herself and used her fingers to open her vagina as wide as she could. Kathy inserted her fingers with the scalpel tip exposed. She encountered the expected resistance, made a slit, and withdrew. "You can put your legs down now, Cindy."
Cindy was crestfallen. "I was all ready. What went wrong?" She looked like she was ready to cry again.
"Nothing went wrong. It's done. See." She showed Cindy the blood on the cotton.
Cindy's eyes got as big as saucers. "That's all there is? It can't be. I didn't feel a thing. With Tommy it's like my insides are being torn out. Why?"
"Honey, it's the difference between a scalpel tip and a male member. The scalpel just cuts. The member, in conditions like yours, batters." Cindy still looked skeptical. Kathy went off and came back with a vibrator that looked like a combination of a male sex organ and a flashlight. Cindy was sitting on the table cross-legged watching with fascination as Kathy assembled her gear.
"Here," said Kathy, "Do something productive. Put this condom over the head."
It was obvious in an instant that the girl had even less experience with condoms than she did with male sex organs. Notwithstanding, she did it. She unwrapped the condom and examined it carefully. She looked up at Kathy and smiled brightly, "Do you charge for educational services? This is wild! Whenever I'm with Tommy, we're both so hot and anxious for something to happen that nothing good ever does. Here I'm relaxed, the light is good, and most of all, Kathy, you don't treat me like I'm a little fool. Kathy, this is the way it unrolls, isn't it?" She showed the condom to Kathy, who nodded. The girl looked so proud as it neatly rolled down the imitation organ. "What now," she asked.
"Now you put K-Y over it and put it into your vagina. You haven't got all sexed up, so you're probably very dry inside."
Once again the girl approached the task with great seriousness, smearing K-Y jelly over the condom and then putting as much of the lubricant into her vagina as she could. "Now what?"
Kathy grinned and then laughed. "Now you insert imitation male member (A), into real Cynthia Agnelli's vagina (B)." Cindy grinned, and carefully started to insert. Since she had spread the lubricant generously, the fake slid in easily to its handle.
Cindy asked earnestly, "What do I do now?"
Kathy could no longer control herself. She started to laugh, and her laughter continued and increased in intensity to the point she could no longer even stand. Tears of laughter started to roll down her cheeks. Cindy lay on the table with her thighs spread wide looking bewildered. She obviously didn't understand. Finally, Kathy regained control. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't help myself. Look at your cunt, Cindy. What do you see?
Cindy quickly extracted the device, then she, too, started to howl with laughter. She was laughing so hard Kathy had to catch her to keep her from rolling off the table and falling to the floor. The girls returned to the apartment still laughing. They went back to the dining table where Kathy poured more cognac and coffee. "Kathy, how did you keep a straight face for so long while this hopeless idiot has an imitation cock all the way up her cunt and wonders what to do next? My God, it's like that Polish sex manual that reads (1) Insert, (2) Withdraw, (3) Repeat, if necessary. I'm so sorry, Kathy!"
"I thought it was so cute!" Kathy exclaimed. "You are such a sweet girl, Cindy. You're a virgin who doesn't want to be one. You're going to your husband untouched. Yet, it's so obvious that you have physical needs that you desperately need to satisfy. I think you two will do just fine."But Kathy," Cindy wailed, "we're not married yet! We won't be for two whole months!
"You travel a lot, don't you, Cindy?" The girl nodded. "Have you ever checked in at a hotel by yourself?" The girl shook her head. "Has Tommy?"
Cindy looked puzzled, but said, "I don't really think so. He's supposed to do some traveling on business, but he hasn't yet. I guess he travels pretty much like I do. Why?"
"Cindy," Kathy replied, "I love you! Please don't lose that lovely innocence. But, Hon, what do you think happens when you and Tommy check in to a hotel? Do you think they ask to see your marriage license? Cindy, they really don't! They couldn't care less, and if they *did* care, they wouldn't do anything for fear of being sued. All they really care about is being paid. Honey, Tommy could register, 'Thomas Donetti and friend', and as long as his credit card is accepted by their machine, you're in!"
Cindy's reaction took Kathy by surprise. "Do you mean to tell me that after Tommy and I get married, he could take any bimbo off the street into his hotel? That's not fair! I'll... I'll... I'll make him wear a chastity belt, that's what I'll do!" Then Cindy looked up and smiled forlornly. "Kathy Smith, do you mean to say Tommy and I could have just walked in off the street and had a suite at the Omni? With room service.... and champagne... and breakfast in bed...?" Cindy jumped out of her chair and started pacing the floor. "I'll kill him! I'll castrate him! I'll never speak to him again... Kathy, it's not right! Men are supposed to know how to do those things! After what he put me through..."
"I think it's wonderful, Cindy," Kathy interjected quietly.
Cindy stopped short and wheeled on Kathy, "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Kathy replied, "that Tommy hasn't been shacking up with every bimbo he could get his hands on. If he had been, he'd know what to do. And Cindy, Tommy is a *very* handsome man. He could have dozens, and we both know it!"
"Kathy Smith, you're some kind of wonderful person, you know that? I'm a dimwit for not thinking of that. You mean while I've been so hung up on being a virgin, Tommy's been waiting for years, too?"
Kathy asked, "How long have you two been going out together?"
"Eons! My God, I can't remember the first time. Kathy, you know about the family connection. Well, our families have been talking about it for as long as I can remember. I live in Bryn Mawr, and Tommy went to Lafayette which is just up in Easton, so we could be close. When I was at Rosemont, poor Tommy was practically commuting from Norfolk. And all this time... Of course!... Oh, the poor dear!" Cindy took Kathy in her arms and kissed her. "Thank you, Kathy. I've been such an idiot!"
The next day was a repeat of the first, except it lasted longer. The weather was holding, so they swam, soaked up the sun, swam some more and just relaxed. That evening, Kathy called Tommy. He picked up anxiously on the first ring. "Tommy, this is Kathy. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Kathy. I even have my skin. How... how's Cindy?"
"Aside from being madly in love with you, she's fine. Why?"
"Could I speak to her, please?"
Kathy couldn't resist teasing him. "I'll see if she's free to come to the phone. Just a moment please."
Kathy passed the phone to Cindy and sat down across the room. She watched Cindy open up like a flower while she talked to Tom. It was a pleasure to watch because they were obviously so madly in love. She put the phone down and looked at Kathy, "Tom would like to know if you would have dinner with us tomorrow night. Please say yes!"
"Tell him I would love to," Kathy replied. | 4 |
3,481 | Time Of Possession | "Straight" she said, her voice tolerant yet firm.
Ralph instinctively felt his spine straighten, his head lift, his shoulders square, though his hands remained lightly placed on his folded thighs, relaxed and at rest. Donna sat in the chair before him, leaning back, legs crossed, fingers laced, eyeing him as he knelt, naked, on the floor at her feet. She had on her corset still but the thong and boots were discarded somewhere for the moment.
"Do you feel silly, baby" she said quietly.
"No, Miss" he said.
"Why not. You're kneeling, buck naked in the middle of your own den, at the feet of some strange woman. You don't feel the least bit foolish?"
"No, I don't."
"So.... what do you feel."
"I - " he hesitated, unable to find the correct words. "I don't know, Miss. Not foolish."
"Happy? Aroused? Warm?" she asked.
He did not respond but she could see from his face that he was probing his own reactions to this completely new situation. She smiled at him.
"Well, don't worry about it for now, pet. We don't know what your nature is yet, do we. But we will. We will."
She studied him for a long moment then...
"What do you want, pet. Right this moment. What do you want."
He hesitated only a split second.
"My wife" he said, quietly.
"Why" she said.
"Because I love her. I need her."
"In spite of everything she's done."
"Yes."
"In spite of all the pain she's caused you."
"Yes."
"In spite of the selfishness she's shown. The disregard for your feelings."
"Yes."
Donna nodded slowly, considering all this.
"Well then" she finally responded with a sigh "we have a lot to do, don't we."
She uncrossed her legs and extended a foot until it was pointed at his face.
"Kiss" she said.
Ralph leaned down, taking the heel of her bare foot gently in his grasp and brushing his lips along the top of the arch. A light sigh escaped from Donna as she felt herself relax into the chair, and then she felt his teeth, lightly raking the skin of her foot, the tip of his tongue tickling between the faint scratch they produced that rippled up her leg as a shiver. Her gaze fixed on him, now almost wary, as his lips trailed down toward her toes, and then they parted from her skin and he leaned back up, still holding her heel, his thumb gently stroking it.
"Why did you do that" she said, a touch of amusement and surprise in her voice.
"I wanted to make you feel good, Miss" he said and she could see the smile that he wasn't allowing to be displayed on his lips.
"Did you."
"Yes, Miss" he said, and now the impudent little puppy was actually smug, she thought.
"Well, if that's the case" she said, lifting her buttocks and sliding down in the chair so her pussy rested just on the edge of the seat and spreading her legs "then you'd better do it properly."
And now the grin flooded his face and he began to lean down onto all fours, his head approaching her openness.
"Stop" she said, suddenly, sharply and though his body jerked to a halt and his gaze flicked to meet her, questioning, she could see the disappointment in his eyes.
"Stand up" she said.
He rose, his brows beginning to furrow in confusion.
"Turn around."
Slowly he rotated until his back was facing her.
"Hands back" she said, reaching down beside the chair to scoop up the short length of rope she had placed there along with the other little items before he had arrisen that morning. Ralph slid his arms behind his back and grasped one wrist with the other hand. She smiled to herself, knowing that he was in for a bit more of a surprise than he must have been thinking.
Deftly she took his wrists, pulling his hands apart and bending them, pressing them up and into the small of his back until the forearms crossed along their length. His body bent back slightly and he cried out in surprise and pain.
"Shh!" she hissed, sternly, gripping both of his forearms in a single firm hand and quickly swatting his backside with a resounding crack. "Relax!" she said, forcefully.
"I - it hurts!" he whined.
"And it will as long as you fight against it, now relax!"
The pain of the strained joints of Ralphs shoulders throbbed through him and he wanted to pull away, forcefully, knock her away, get to a safe distance... but instead he struggled to focus and will his muscles to unbind and stretch. The pain peaked for a brief moment but then it began to flow away, like a sound fading into the distance, and soon he was merely aware of the tightness, the sensation of restriction as he felt her expertly feeding the rope between his arms and spine, over and over and drawing it tight, roping his arms together in place and immobile behind him. He felt odd, his chest forced out in an unnatural posture as he allowed his shoulders to ease back, the discomfort slowly dissolving to.... to what, he thought.... not pain any more... not even particularly unpleasant. Just an odd feeling... a helplessness that was, in a way, strangely appealing.
"Now" he heard her say behind him "turn around".
He slowly rotated in place and saw that she was once again leaning far back in the chair, her legs thrown up over the padded arms, her naked, smooth pussy open and glistening before him.
"Now... please me, pet."
He slowly, carefully lowered himself to one knee and even as he moved he felt a sense of gracefulness, his need to control each shift of weight and angle of his body as it descended, lest he topple over, forcing him to make each motion smooth and fluid, as if he were some sort of dancer. The wonder of the sensation, the realization that possibly for the first time in his life such a simple act was so much more significant than it had ever been before flooded through him and by the time he came to rest on his knees between her spread thighs, he felt a sense of glowing within himself of... what... pride? Wonder at his own grace?
His eyes fixed on hers and she could see his startled confusion.
"I know, baby" she said quietly. "It doesn't feel at all like you thought it would, does it."
"No, Miss, it feels.... good" his tone full with surprise.
"Good. Now, make me feel good, pet."
Ralphs eyes fell to her pussy, flicked up to catch her own once more, briefly, then slowly, carefully, he bent over from the waist, until he could smell her arousal, feel the heat of her and finally scoop the tiny drops of her lust onto the tip of his tongue.
She closed her eyes and allowed her body to loosen, melting down into the chair as the firm yet soft and flexible tip of his tongue slipped along the lips of her tingling pussy, oozed between them and found her clit. When it slowly, deftly, began to stroke back and forth over the tight, throbbing nub of flesh she felt herself shudder with the tingles that flowed through her body.
"Oh baby, you know what you're doing, don't you...." she moaned, allowing the waves of tingling pleasure to sweep over her. "Don't spill a drop, pet... not a single drop..." and she allowed herself to float on the pleasure until she felt the icy-flaming stab of her climax shudder through her....
He was resting back on his haunches, his face beaming with pride and adoration when she slowly slipped her eyes open with a sigh. She saw him, kneeling there, glowing at her, and arched an eyebrow.
"What" she said.
"Nothing, Miss" he said, airily, his voice smug.
"Oh" she said, hoping her tone was sarcastic instead of simply admiring "you like making me cum, do you?"
"Yes, Miss" he said.
"Why, because it pleased me?"
"That too, yes."
"But also.....?"
He glanced down, a blush rising in his cheeks, before fixing her with his gaze again.
"Also..... I'm good, Miss. I'm damned good at that."
"Oh ARE you" she said, trying to sound cross but in spite of herself the laughter bubbled out and he joined her, the moment floating between them with a kind of magic. At last she moaned, stretched and pulled her ass back into the chair, straightening, becoming more business-like.
"Now, pet, how are your arms."
"Fine, Miss" he said, mild surprise in his voice at this admission.
"You sure?"
"Yes Miss. In fact...." Again the blush rose in him.
"What, pet" she said, coaxing.
"Well... I kind of like it. It feels... that is, it makes me feel.... I don't know. Something... something good."
She emitted a wise sounding "hmmmmm" and stood.
"Well, in that case..."
She extended a hand and flicked it, indicating for him to rise. His face positively glowed as he planted a foot and pushed himself up to his feet, slowly, magestically. She turned and moved toward the doorway and he fell into step... no, more of a proud prance, he thought with an inner smile, behind her....She looped and pulled the last of the knots tightly, then stepped back to admire her work. God, she thought, lust boiling up in her, how she wanted to own him, rape him, have him screaming and sobbing and hers.
He was on his back in the bed, his still bound arms pressing into his spine causing his chest to bow up obscenely, his legs bent double and lashed tightly from upper thigh to ankle but spread wide and held in place by the rope running under the bed that pulled his knees outward. His mouth was held wide and sealed by the bright red ballgag and when she reached down to scoop the chain connecting the nipple clamps over her finger and lifted it until it tugged on him, the muffled groan that welled from him, the tightness with which his eyes locked shut and the straining arch of his body almost caused her to cum right there. But not yet, she thought. Not quite yet.
She gently laid the chain on his chest and saw his body relax as the wave passed, his eyes opening, now not quite as focused as they were before and she grinned with her own smugness as she picked up the candle and lighter, igniting the wick and moved back to slip onto the bed, coming to kneel beside him.
"So, pet" she said, her eyes fixed on the flame before her. "Are you scared?"
He nodded his head sharply, a small whimper bubbling from him. She looked down at him, her expression probing him.
"Are you? Really?"
He hesitated and then his head shook, his face flushing.
"Do you trust me" she said quietly.
His nod was emphatic, even though his eyes were wide and doe-like.
"Good" she said, and tipped the candle. His body arched and he shouted into the gag as the first drops of the molten wax splashed against his stomach, but she saw his already hard cock twitch and swell. She reached out and wrapped her hand around it, beginning to stroke it lightly even as the wax pattered onto his flesh like burning, pure rain. She could tell when he was about to cum and she quickly slipped down to tightly pinch the root of his cock while she righted the candle, allowing him to drift on the overwhelming flood of sensations. As he began to calm and relax, she tipped the candle once more, drawing more screams...
By the time she blew the candle out and gently released his cock, he was cooing quietly behind the gag, his eyes shut, his head lulling back and forth in slow, steady rhythms that seemed to match the pulsing swells of his hard cock. Quickly she scooped up the vibrator, already glistening with the lubricant and placed the blunted tip of it against his ass. He whimpered at the sensation but was not pulled back from his drifting. She turned the switch and the toy leapt to life in her hands. Instantly his body tensed, his head pressing back tightly into the mattress and slowly she pressed the invader against his virginal opening.
"Relax, pet" she crooned "just relax and open... you can't prevent it... it's going to happen.... just relax and open and take it into you, take me into you, feel me fuck you, deep inside you and welcome me, pet.... take me inside, baby...."
She pressed gently on the toy, slowly adding force and then she felt him relax and open and the toy was sliding into him and he was gasping and shuddering and whimpering and melting all at once as slowly his final sense of virginity flowed from him and into her, the toy slipping deeper and deeper until only the end remained outside his body. Quickly she shifted, lifting a leg and straddling him, holding the impaling impliment deep inside him with one hand, reaching out to lightly slap his face with the other. His eyes shot open and the expression they bore was that of an animal on the point of joy and death.
"How does it feel, baby" she crooned, beginning to slowly stroke the humming vibrator in his ass "does it feel good?"
His head thrashed, shook and nodded in sequence, confusion overwhelming him.
"Your ass is getting fucked, baby, fucked so good..."
He nodded sharply, every muscle tensing at the onslaught.
"Just like Debras' ass got fucked, right, baby?"
A sharp nod, then his eyes rolled back, head pressing hard into the mattress and the tears began to well and spill down his face.
"Look at me, baby" she said, quietly but sternly "look at me."
His eyes opened and fixed on her once more and there was the pain, flowing out with the tears, but not the pain of hurt or loss. This was the pain of growing understanding.
"And you want it, don't you, pet. You want it so badly..."
He nodded deeply, tears splashing into small puddles beside his head on the sheets.
"You never knew, did you, baby... never knew...."
He shook his head, violently, now the sobs starting behind the gag to flavor the flowing tears.
"Look at me, baby.... Look..."
She shifted, nestling down between his spread legs, as if in a hammock, facing one captured thigh, her own ass resting on the other as she continued to work the vibrator slowly, steadily, gently raping his now open ass. She reached down and took his cock in her hand, raising it and positioning it against her pussy.
"I'm going to fuck you now, baby" she said, her voice low and hypnotic. "You're going to feel my cum flood over your cock, and you're going to spray your cum deep inside me."
His gaze was fixed on her, but the tears flowed in rivlets down his face, the moist stain beneath his head growing. And she could see it in his eyes... his deepest core... his private, secret place where no one had ever touched, not even his wife whom he loved and cherished and thought he knew... he was open now, helpless and hers to take and possess and own and devour...
"Do you want that, baby? Do you want that?"
And the sobs burst forth from him even as his head snapped up and down, as if in the last act of a man dying in agony, pleading, hopeless...
She pressed down just enough to pin the head of his cock against her pussy and leaned to slip her hand quickly behind his head, unsnapping the gag and pulling it free, tossing it aside, then her hand was back on his cock, holding it captured and hers to consume with her body.
"Say it, baby... say it" she whispered.
"I - LOVE - YOU!!!", the words boiling out as a desperate cry between the sobs and she plunged down, his cock filling her, splitting her, joining them as one flesh, one heart, one soul, one sensation... one undreamed, fiery, blazing, screaming, blinding of explosion of cumming... together... | 5 |
3,538 | A Change of Direction | "Where the hell was he?" his still sleep-fogged mind demanded. Slowly, he fought his way to full wakefulness and tried to take stock of his surroundings. Nothing was familiar. Nothing was as it had been when he had fallen asleep or as it had been for the last four years of his life. Only his window that overlooked Mum's garden was where it belonged, but everything else was... wrong.
His basketball poster, his model planes and cars, his sports memorabilia - every single thing that had been his was gone. In their place were odd, fragile-looking little knick-knacks, crystal statues, dolls, and a rock singer poster. A male rock singer that Jack could not stand in the least.
And all *his* furniture was gone, too, replaced by a very feminine, ivory-colored ensemble. Even the bed he'd fallen asleep in was gone, replaced instead by a frill-laden canopy bed.
Mother. It had to be Mother. His hands came up to cup the soft mounds of flesh that were now a part of him. It had not just been a dream, after all. A nightmare, maybe, and from the looks of his room, Mother had used her magic to up the ante while he'd slept.
He started to get out of bed and nearly fell when instinctive movements learned over the course of a lifetime did not take into account his new center of gravity. Overbalanced by his new weight distribution, he only just caught himself on the bed frame. Carefully, and with a great deal of conscious effort, he rose again and moved about to inspect "his" room more closely.
His large dresser had been replaced by an ornate armoire, while his desk had become a vanity table covered with a variety of tubes, bottles, and pots that held things he really did not want to think about. On entering his walk-in closet, he was greeted by nothing but rows of empty hangers and shelves.
Every hint of his male identity had been ripped from the room, as ruthlessly and as completely as his masculinity had been ripped from him.
In stunned disbelief, Jack stood there in the door to his closet and quietly mourned the loss of all the little prizes and treasures of a lifetime. A stray lock of hair fell across his face and resisted his best effort to clear it out of his eyes.
Slowly, he walked over to the vanity and found the very feminine hairbrush he knew would be there. His mother was nothing if not attentive to the fine details. Jack quickly came to rue that he'd never gone through a "long-hair" stage as a male so that he could have known how to deal with the shaggy mane. Brushing that tangled black mass was itself a tortuous experience in self-abuse. He quietly admitted to himself he should have listened to Mum's advice and brushed it out more thoroughly the previous morning.
He brushed it furiously until he could not find any more snarls and then tried to figure out how to keep the damn stuff out of his face. Rubber bands seemed the simplest solution, and soon his mane was gathered behind his head. It was not elegant, but he could see again. A butch cut was looking better and better to him.
What to wear was the next question, and there was only one answer immediately evident. A pair of white panties and a folded white cotton terrycloth robe rested on the cushioned stool in front of the vanity table. A pair of pink rubber shower slippers rested beside the stool on the floor.
Jack stripped off the sweatshirt and man's jogging shorts he had worn since yesterday and donned the garments his mother had left for him. He was disappointed, but not especially surprised, when his discarded clothes had simply disappeared before his eyes.
As ready as he was likely to be, Jack moved out of the relative sanctuary of his room and went off to face his Mother. He found her seated at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, a plate of toast in front of her. Her chin rested heavily in the palm of her free hand. Dark smudges bagged under her half-open eyes, and fatigue lines cut starkly into her normally smooth face.
Walking past her to pour a cup for himself, he turned back to her. "Busy night, Mother-darling?" he asked with heavy irony, as he sat down across from her.
She cocked one of her eyes at him, but displayed no other emotion at his jibe. "Obviously, Jacqueline. There was a lot that had to be done if we were going to be able to start your training today." She reached down and pulled up a stack of papers from the chair beside her and slid them across the table. "You will need these. IDs, driver's license, health insurance card, and all your other personal effects and accounts, but all now set up in the name of Jacqueline Donovan instead of John."
"And my friends? The people who know me?"
"Now remember only Jacqueline, and as for friends, some adjustments had to be made there, too. You have a history of being one of the girls instead of one of the boys. You are the cheerleader instead of the cheered. And before you jump on me, no, you don't have a boyfriend. Given your looks, that may raise some issues for you, but I figured you would rather deal with those questions instead of having to deal with a man."
Jack's face fell as he took it all in. Finally, he sighed and took a bracing sip of his coffee. "So, my life is wiped as clean as everything that was mine was blotted out of my room. Is nothing mine, anymore, Mother?"
She was simply too tired to argue with him. The magic she had expended the night before had taken its toll on all her resources. She was exhausted and needed rest. "Had to be done. Step one of your trip back to your old male self. Every little reminder of your masculinity will set back your progress. Remember, the requirement is that you must fully acclimate to being a woman." She looked up and saw the pain in her daughter's face and immediately understood. "Oh, don't look that way," she said disgustedly. "None of your things are gone forever. The instant your chromosomes are XY again, they will reappear. Just like magic."
Jack could not quite hide the glimmer of a smile at her little joke, but tried anyway. "So, what is the plan for today, teacher? What little punishments are on the docket, today?"
Laurie wanted to scream, but didn't. It wouldn't do any good, and she needed to conserve what energy she still had. With a calmness that did not remotely resemble her actual feelings, she answered, "As long as you consider it punishment, Jacqueline, we might as well do nothing. Get this straight, okay? You have to work at this. Moreover, you have to want it. It would be best and perhaps even easiest if you could want the experience for itself, for the simple pleasure of being a beautiful woman. But if you cannot want it for that, then at least want it because it is the only way you are going to achieve your goal."
With great effort, Laurie used both hands to push herself to her feet. She kicked a shopping bag over to Jack. "You have two tasks today, one fairly simple; the other will apparently not be so simple. In that bag, you will find a full set of clothes in your new sizes. Skin out. You need to learn how to dress yourself, and to get used to how women's clothes feel on your body. I suggest you dress and undress yourself several times until you get the hang of it." A sly grin momentarily lit her face. "There are several pairs of hose in there since you will probably run the first couple of pairs. Try to get it right before you ruin the last pair."
"It might be easier if you would try not to have quite so much fun with this at my expense, Mother," Jack said darkly.
Her momentary pleasure instantly evaporated. "I wanted to have fun doing all of this with you, Jacqueline. I'd always believed that when this time came for us, I would relive through you all the lovely and joyful things I discovered with my own mother when she taught me. Can't you let me have what little crumbs of pleasure that fall my way in this?"
Jack was not going to let her make him feel small in this. He wasn't - this was her fault, and if it was not as pleasurable as she had wished it would be, well, that was a small thing compared to what she had done to him.He ignored her question and instead asked one of his own in a toneless, inflectionless voice. "You said there were two things I had to accomplish today. What was the other task?"
Recognizing the implicit rejection of her request, Laurie responded in equally cold tones of her own. "You need to start thinking of yourself in the feminine. Understand that I can hear your thoughts, feel your emotions, Jacqueline. You are trying to perpetuate the image of yourself as a man stuck in a woman's body."
"Well, that is exactly what I am, thanks to you!" he snarled.
"As long as that is what you think you are, that is all you will be, daughter. And we can go no further in your training until you start accepting the reality of your female state." Laurie turned and walked back to stand before her child. "Believe me, Jacqueline, if I could somehow undo the Transformation, or if I could somehow go back in time and make it so that none of this ever happened, I would do it. No matter what the cost to myself. If my last drop of heart's blood would make you what you long to be, I would cut my wrists here and now. But those are not options. Only you can do what needs be done." She absently brushed an escaped lock of black hair from Jacqueline's eyes. "Only you. I am going up to bed and get some rest. Later today, we will go out and get you some more clothes." She spun on her heel and left the room.
Jack, no, *Jacqueline* sat sipping *her* coffee in the eerie silence. *She* was at a loss about what to do next. This thinking in the female tense was going to be a bitch.
*She* sat there for a little more than an hour, practicing *her* feminine thinking. Toward the end of *her* mental recitation period, *she* only had to correct *her*self about every fifth or sixth time. Progress was progress, *she* supposed. Maybe it would even be good enough for a start, anyway. There was one problem, though. Maybe it was a holdover from the way *her* Mother had introduced *her* to *her* new self, but one thing was very, very clear.
He/She/Whatever *hated* the name "Jacqueline" and He/She/Whatever *always* would!
Well, there was not much to be done about it now. Not with all those records already done. *She* did not know much about how magic really worked, but *she* did know that changing all those records and memories had cost *her* mother dearly, and the strength Mum had expended doing that magic would not likely be replenished any time soon.
Sighing, *she* decided that it was not a battle worth fighting and picked up the bag with *her* new clothes and trudged off to practice dressing.
Five hours later, Laurie, alert and refreshed, came downstairs where she found her daughter sprawled on the sofa watching the 24-hour news channel. Apart from her ungainly and totally unladylike posture, Laurie's discerning eyes (and other, less common senses) could find definite improvements since that morning. The simple knit sweater and skirt set had been selected because they would not pose too many challenges for her daughter who still thought and acted like a son. No buttons on the "wrong" side, no zippers in the back - just a simple, loose pullover sweater blouse that draped casually over the waist of an equally loose, knee length skirt that zipped up the side. The pantyhose weren't rent from ankle to thigh with ladders and runs, and the simple black pumps with only the merest hint of a heel fit perfectly.
Jacqueline had not ventured so far as to try any of the cosmetics her Mother had carefully selected and arrayed on her vanity, but she had made a fairly good attempt at taming that gorgeous hair of hers. She had done a reasonably good job figuring out how to put on the hair band that pulled the curling mass away from her face. Of course, that particular invention was probably the daughter of necessity since seeing clearly through long hair was annoying at best.
"I can see that deportment and posture will be among our first lessons," she said aloud. Her voice obviously startled her child for she jumped and nearly slipped off the couch in her surprise. "Well, Jacqueline, stand up, please and let me get a good look at you."
The eyes that met Laurie's were still cold and distant, but with great deliberation, the body moved to obey her request. Stage one begins, she thought - sullen, malicious compliance to any order, intermixed with enough body language to show just how obnoxious you and obeying you really are. Laurie moved behind her daughter, as much to gain a moment's respite from those eyes as to check out the rest of the outfit. "You need to be more careful with laying out your skirts before you sit, dear. The back of your skirt is frightfully wrinkled and crushed from the way you sat upon it, Jacqueline."
"Jackie."
The response was not at all what she was expecting and Laurie was momentarily at a loss for words. "I beg your pardon?"
"I wish to be called Jackie. I detest the name Jacqueline - it reminds me too much of our confrontation yesterday and last night and therefore is non-productive - like the possessions I *used* to love and own. Since I suspect that you won't have the strength to change the world for me again anytime soon, Jackie is the best compromise I can come up with."
"I see. That may be difficult for me as Jacqueline was the name I had chosen for you since you were born. That is really why you were called Jack. Since I always knew it would be my duty to bring you to your full powers by exposing you to the Transformation Spell, you have always been Jacqueline in my heart."
That had been the wrong thing to say and Laurie knew it the instant she saw her child's face. "I was not born female and I will not respond to Jacqueline, so get used to calling me Jackie or perhaps just 'hey, you' will do. What is in your heart is not something I am greatly concerned with at this point in my life, Mother."
Laurie coughed to choke back the sob. "Very well. Jacqu... I mean, Jackie. I will try."
The love Jackie still felt for his Mother twisted inside her own heart and *she* tried to make it a little easier for both of them. "It will do you good, Mum, to have to stop and consider *your* words before you speak or even think. It will give you an idea of how hard thinking of myself as *she* and *her* has been and continues to be for me. Tell you what, we can spell my new call name with a 'cq', instead of a 'ck'. Jacqui." She spelled the name out aloud. "How's that for a compromise? Best deal you are going to get today."
A little bubble of hope rose in Laurie's breast. "Okay," she whispered and then added. "Sounds fair." She shook off the emotion. They had much yet to do this day. "So, I will ask how the dressing up practice went since I can already sense your effort to think 'girl'. I applaud you progress there, by the way." You only have about 99.99% of the way yet to go, but that is further then I expected to find you given the way you reacted this morning, she thought. "So, are you ready to go shopping for new clothes? You need skirts, blouses, dresses, shoes and of course, some lovely knickers and other undies," she dropped her eyes to Jacqui's legs. "How many of your pantyhose are left intact?"
A rosy blush crept up her daughter's cheeks. "Ummm. Just these." Laurie cocked an eyebrow. "They, uhhh, seemed to run awfully easy."
"Those were the industrial strength, heavy weave nylon, dear, designed specifically *not* to run. I suppose you just tried to pull them on like trousers?" A hesitant nod was her answer. "Yes, well, there are tricks I will teach you before you put on any of the really silky stockings we will buy today. Any other troubles?"
Another, even redder blush and a cough to clear her throat. "The bra. I am not flexible enough to reach behind me and latch it while trying to look in the mirror. I finally had to hook the thing in front and then spin it around behind me."
"Good on you, girl. That works, particularly with everyday things. Some of the frilly stuff might need a little gentler hand, but we can work up to those. Other than that, how do you feel in those clothes?"
"Underdressed. I notice drafts a lot. Very uncomfortable."
Laurie nodded. The answers were honest and were to be expected. At least Jacqui was talking with her with some degree of openness again. "All right, then. You will get used to those feelings. We'll have you turned out to a fair-thee-well after today and you will have ample opportunity to get used to skirts and their little foibles and traps."
"What about trousers, jeans? I would like some jeans, Mother."
That was a problem. Mentally saying goodbye to their momentary peace, Laurie answered. "That is not in your best interest, dear. You already know how to wear pants. You will learn what it is to be a woman much more quickly if you work at being an especially feminine woman. You have so much to learn in a short time. Don't forget, besides your own goals in this, you will start school again in a few weeks. You will need a whole range of behaviors at your command to deal with school as a girl instead of as a boy."
"Just one pair? For knocking about? Won't it seem strange to my girlfriends if I never wear anything but dresses and skirts?" Jacqui pleaded. "How about if I promise to always wear my frilliest bra and knickers when I wear the jeans?"
Pleased that Jacqui had not gotten her back up, Laurie smiled. "All right, but just one pair. They will be very, very tight and you will also agree to wear only high heeled shoes when you wear the jeans, too." That would serve two purposes, Laurie thought. It was nearly impossible to forget you were a girl when wearing jeans that were a couple of sizes too small, and it would get her daughter into real heels more quickly.
"Heels?" Jacqui momentarily bridled, but then deflated."Okay, I agree."
"Let's go get ready to leave. Your purse is with mine in the foyer, and your new ID is already in it." Laurie turned toward the front door.
"Mum?" The name she had not heard without sarcasm in over 48 hours brought her up short. She turned and cocked a brow at Jacqui. "Two things, first. One, I want to see a doctor - a real one, not one of your witch cronies. I want advice on birth control, and I don't want you to interfere in any way or to try to stop me."
Laurie understood where that was coming from. Jacqui was starting to understand the full erotic potential and demands of her new body. She was still female because she had been unable to resist the demands of her new sexuality. Conceiving a child was not on her agenda, *yet*, and she was trying to take action to avoid getting caught between some guy and her own burgeoning hormones.
"All right. We can select one of your choice from the phone book, completely at random if that will make you feel more comfortable. However, you should understand that the proper term for the type of doctor you want is a gynecologist." The "so-what" look that revelation elicited made Laurie decide to change the subject. "One other thing, dear. You need to know something about Transformed women. Whether we use contraception or not, we get pregnant when we want the child of the man making love to us."
"I want to see a doctor, Mother, and I want birth control." Jacqui's tone brooked no further discussion on the issue.
Sighing, Laurie wondered what the girl was thinking. Obviously, she did not believe her regarding the effectiveness of the contraceptives. "Very well. We can set up the appointment right now and go as soon as the doctor can see you. I can go with you or you can go alone, but you have my personal word of honor that I will do nothing to influence or impede you in any way. And the other thing?" The look of relief on Jacqui's face was painful to Laurie, who was only just beginning to really understand how thoroughly she had shattered her only child's faith and trust in her.
"I'd like to get my hair cut. Lots of women have short hair. I don't want to have to deal with this mop for the rest of my time as a woman."
Damn, damn, damn! thought Laurie. "Jacqui, could we hold off on that, please? At least for a little while, until you have had a chance to learn how to care for your hair? You can always get it cut, but it will take months and months to grow it back. I think you should wear it long, just as I think you should stick to skirts and dresses, but if, after a reasonable attempt to live with it, you still want to cut it, then I won't stand in your way."
"I could just hack it off in my room, Mother." The frustration was back in her daughter's voice.
"Yes, you could. If you get to the point where you are that unhappy with it, then tell me and we will go straight off to the beauty parlor. Please, Jacqui, all I am asking is that you give me a chance, luv." Her eyes were wide with entreaty as she looked at Jacqui. "Please," she said again.
The pleading in his, *her* mother's voice touched that hurting core of love inside Jacqui. "All right. I will give it two weeks, halfway until school opens. That should give you time to teach me how to deal with it so that it does not get in my way. If it is still a hassle after that, it goes. Fair enough?"
"Fair enough. Now, can we please go? I want to go **SHOPPING** with my daughter."
"Shopping." There was a world of difference in the way the two women said the word. "You sure you can't just get everything mail order? I'd wait."
"Over my dead body, young lady. I am determined to enjoy this, and nothing is going to ruin it for me. Now move that cute butt and let's go." | 5 |
3,542 | tonytony3's Maria's Revenge 1/2 *(cheating, revenge) | "Go to Boston Center now, on 118.05"
"Center on 118.05 for triple X-Ray."
I dialed the new frequency into COM 2, switched over to that radio, pressed the mike switch on the yoke, and reported in.
It was the expected response. "Roger, X Ray cubed, radar contact." Yeah, they saw me.
What an unusual day. Just four hours ago I thought I'd be spending another night in Cleveland. Then, we had a breakthrough. If I'd be willing to accept an equity interest in the company, as well as a bit less money, they'd license my patent. "That way", John explained, "we'd be sure you'd be around when we wanted you. You'd have a vested interest."
Damn right. It would make me truly independent, independent of my wife's family for that matter, and we'd live 'happily ever after'.
Hey, I'm within a hundred miles of home! Fly the damn airplane, stop daydreaming, plan ahead.
"Boston Center, Mooney six niner triple X Ray would like lower, please."
"Triple X, descend now to 7000 feet."
"Triple X out of 11 for 7."
Close the cowl flaps, pull an inch or so off the manifold pressure, trim a bit nose down. . . there it is, a 500 feet a minute descent. That'll burn 8 minutes, and get me 24 miles closer.
So, we signed the letter of intent. Our lawyers would see to the details. I made a quick call home, and told Maria I'd be home about 11 tonight. What a life!
I called flight service: an Instrument Flight Rules plan would be needed: Rain and clouds and shit all the way. I filed a flight plan, ETD in an hour.
John's wife offered to drive me to the hotel, and then to the airport. You bet I accepted: a big mistake. She came up to the room with me, watched as I started to pack, went into the bathroom as I continued, and she came out, wearing only a towel, just as I finished filling my garment bag.
"You're in the big leagues, now, Al. Time for some big league perqs", she said.
Until then I was a faithful husband.
But when she came closer to me, and my arms automatically went around her, and felt the towel on her back. The towel opened, and I touched her skin. Then only our bodies close together held the towel up, and I saw, in the mirror, her nude back, her naked ass, and those wonderful legs, and she said "Don't you like me?", and stepped away, and then the towel was gone, and her breasts were as lovely as her legs, and her waist was so slender, and her hips, and her figure, and. . .
and I couldn't resist.
She drove me wild, and then drove me to the Burke Lakefront airport, and drove out to the airplane to help keep me dry, and then, after preflight she climbed into the cockpit with me to "Tuck me in", and I was never sucked off like that before.
I'll have to change my night time pre-start check list. Let's see, right after "verify gear switch is set to down" I'll add "Extinguish all interior lights, position pilot seat fully aft, undo pants, have passenger test alternate joy stick for freedom of movement and lick-off"
and. . .
I could still smell her, still feel her mouth, feel the sensation of that first penetration. And, I missed my scheduled ETD by only a half hour! A life changing half hour. I don't want to be an unfaithful husband, as great as that sex was. I won't let it happen again.
Back to the real world. I had to call home. I pushed one side of the headset off, pulled out the cellular phone, and called. There's never a problem with cell phone connections when you're a mile and a half up in the sky.
"Maria, I'm 20 minutes out. Will you pick me up?"
"Sure, Al: be careful, viz is awful, it's windy, and dark, and raining. I'll see you soon." Maria's a pilot, too. More than that, she went through the bother to become a CFII: she was licensed to teach, including flying on instruments.
ATIS, the automatic briefing broadcast, confirmed what Maria reported. 300 feet ceiling, a mile visibility, winds 140 degrees at 23 gusts to 35. It would mean flying the approach to near minimums: as low as I care to go. Then, I'd have to fly the airplane onto the ground in those cross winds. There'd be nothing subtle about this landing.
"Triple X, continue decent to 3000."
"X's is out of 8 for 3."
As expected, a few minutes later, the next hand-off: "Triple X, Boston Approach now, 122.25."
"Twenty two, twenty five for X cubed. See Ya."
I twisted in the new freq on COM 1, switched radios, and made the call.
"Approach, Mooney six niner triple X Ray out of 5 for 3, with Hanscom information Bravo", confirming I listened to the ATIS broadcast.
"Triple X, radar contact. Continue decent to 2,500, expect an ILS to one one. Current ATIS information is Charlie."
The weather was changing quickly, I guessed, for the worse. It sucks, but the instrument landing system to runway 11 had the lowest landing minimums at the airport. I should get home.
All was going well. This WAS the big leagues.
"Triple X, you are 4 miles from the outer marker. Cleared for an ILS to Hanscom runway 11. Contact tower on 119 point 5 at the outer marker."
"Roger, cleared for the ILS, tower on nineteen five at the outer marker."
The localizer reported I was lined up, and here comes the glide slope. . . centered, and there was the "beep beep beep" of the outer marker, the ADF needle swung around and pointed to the tail, and gear down and flaps at thirty percent - no full flap landing in these winds - and mixture and prop forward, fuel pump on, get the decent rate on the glide slope nailed, and switch the radio to tower and
"Triple X is at the marker inbound."
"Mooney Triple X Ray, Hanscom tower, cleared to land."
I checked and rechecked: the airplane was all set up for a missed approach in case I don't break out of the clouds in time to land. "Always treat finding the airport a happy accident" my wife/instructor says - that way not finding it when you are as low as you can go won't be a surprise.
Hey, that wasn't so bad. 400 feet above the ground and a mile from the runway threshold I saw the VASI, the strobe lead in lights, got my landing lights on (you keep them off when you're in the clouds, the glare can really screw up night vision), and on to the runway without bending or breaking anything, and taxied to the tie down. God didn't punish me for fucking around! At least, not yet.
I saw the headlights, and my wife drove the minivan to the airplane. She was tying down the tail before I was out, and in a moment the airplane was secure. I got a welcoming kiss, and then, when the lights were on in the van, it started.
"Al, there's lipstick on your mouth. And on your collar!"
There's no washroom on a little airplane: no way to alter evidence, and there was no time to think of an excuse.
It was a silent ride home. Then we were in the door, and she looked at me, and - they always know, don't they?
"YOU WERE FUCKING AROUND!"
I can't lie to her. I tried to explain. I rationalized. It was no big deal, a one time event, it would never happen again, and I was sorry, so sorry, and. . .
She wasn't buying it.
Maria is Sicilian. She has old country values. So do I, for that matter.
"Not a big thing. Big man, telling his wife it's not big thing for him to screw around."
From a high to as low as possible in a couple of hours.
I love my wife. She's the most important thing in my life to me. I told her all of that, but somehow those explanations weren't carrying any weight.
I slept in the guest room for the next two nights.
Maria was still angry. "I can't even tell my family!"
Her family! I forgot about that! I could be a dead man.
I flashed back to our wedding, and her dad taking me aside as he gave me keys to our house: "A little wedding present".
And I remembered what he told me. "I like you, Al, but if you ever hurt my Maria you will regret being born!"
And I remember her three big brothers talking to me later.Well, yes, I do call him Mario. He did say family didn't have to use his honorifics.
"You don't have to worry about him," Vincent, the lawyer brother said. "If you do anything bad to her, by the time we're done with you, there won't be enough left for pop to hurt!"
Mario added "I was happy to celebrate your Wedding Mass, I'd hate to have to do your funeral one."
And Jack, the brother with the construction company - Big Jack, he's called - didn't say anything. He just shook my hand, nodding congratulations on marrying his little sister, and it only took a week for the pain in my hand to go away.
That was the family I prayed she wasn't going to tell!
Finally, four days after Cleveland, I was summoned by her.
"Sit."
I sat.
"Tell me every detail."
I did.
"OK. I decided I want this marriage to continue." She stated.
Thank God.
"Me too", I agreed.
"But, I'm Sicilian. Every fiber in me demands revenge."
"Maria, it wasn't a big important thing, it won't happen again. . ."
That argument wasn't going to work.
"Not a big thing! If I screwed around you'd go crazy!!"
"No, no."
That was the wrong thing to say.
"We'll see about that!"
She stormed out. There are times when I think I'm pretty smart, and then there are times when I prove I'm not.
Like just then.
The next evening Maria threw the contract, the one that came from Cleveland, that brother Vincent just reviewed, on the table. "Vincent says you've got a good deal here. This is fine for us. Sign it."
Well, that part of the trip paid off. I signed.
"I've decided on how I will have my revenge."
"Anything, Maria."
"You've always been a jealous man, Al. I am a jealous woman. We'll see about your 'anything' Be here when I get back from the gym."
She left, wearing that damned spandex workout suit that made her look so good. I had not been near that body since Cleveland.
Ninety minutes later a slammed front door announced a sweaty Maria returned.
She marched into my den.
"Do you remember about Frank?"
"Frank?"
"Frank's that detective who's always propositioning me at the gym."
"Oh, that Frank. Yeah, I do remember."
"You're the bastard who said fucking around is no big deal. Frank's on his way here. Let's see just how big a deal it is!"
"What?!"
"You just let him in when he gets here. I'm taking a shower!"
"But.. ."
"No buts. It's my revenge!"
"But. . ."
But nothing. She was gone up to the bath room.
I was left standing there, mouth open. Stunned.
I was still standing there when, in a few minutes the bell rang.
I opened the door, and Frank: great big black Frank, wearing his Members Only jacket, boat shoes, chinos, and a golf shirt, pushed his way in.
"You gotta be Al. Christ, you fucked up big time."
"What the hell?"
He interrupted. "I've been wanting to screw your wife from the first time I laid eyes on her. I told her a long time ago it could be any time, any where, any way, the kinkier the better. Tonight she told me you screwed around, and if I still wanted to, tonight was my night, this here was the place, and showing you what it's like to have your wife screw around is the way. I like parties like this. Where is she?"
"She's in the shower, but. . ."
This big man just said "Shut up. Get me a beer."
I heard a voice from upstairs: "Do what you're told!"
And then Maria appeared, wearing a long robe.
She took Frank by the hand - no beer, a success!- and pulled him angrily up stairs.
At the top of the stairs she turned, and saw me standing there, mouth open.
"Get up here" she demanded. "You're the one who said this was no big deal."
The grin on Frank's face was lecherous as he beckoned me with his finger. His middle finger.
He was led and led me to the guest room. The bed was turned down, the lighting was low.
Maria drained a drink she had in the room. Poured another.
"Let's get this over with," she said. | 5 |
3,543 | Celeste's Top 100 Stories of 1997 | "The Stepford Wives" by Rhett Dreams (reposted by [email protected]) Guest review by Piper
Funny. I've learned more about classical literature from reading "smut" in ass than I did all through school, university, and the many years of normal reading since. That's probably because my interests lie in other genres, like sci-fi, fantasy, comic books, and the like. This means I have absolutely no bias when (and no basis for) comparing this story with the original. Having said that, I think that Rhett's version is probably not as literary as the original, but it is probably much hotter and more titillating.
If you've never read the book or seen the movie (there is a movie, isn't there?), there is something strange going on in the town of Stepford, Kansas. Something very strange. All of the women are perfect. Not physically perfect, of course, but perfectly made up, perfectly dressed, perfectly mannered, and perfectly wonderful wives and mothers. Too perfect. Scary perfect. There's a reason for this perfection. He's called Dr. Richard Poulson -- aka Joseph Mengele, Jr.
He's controlling their minds, using drugs. But if you think this might be a normal run-of-the-mill mind control story, you would be wrong. Dr. Poulson has much greater ambitions than a small town like Stepford could ever contain. Who else is in on this plot? Just about every male resident of the town, of course. When will his ambitions break loose? Soon. Very soon.
Into this cauldron of depravity comes a couple of strangers and their little girl. These are normal, everyday people. The doctor, in order to protect his dirty secrets, must incorporate these newcomers into his web. The husband must be seduced and compromised. The wife must be processed. All without their knowledge, of course. He orders his minions to see to it. When they try, complications arise.
I liked this story. There are plenty of plot twists. There are genuine bad guys and good guys. There is evil aplenty. There is tons of sex of all types and varieties and degrees of heat. Being an MC story, naturally a fair bit of it occurs without one or more of the participants' informed consent. Sometimes it occurs without their knowledge. Sometimes it involves whips and chains and crops and the like. Definitely not for the faint of heart, but definitely interesting and engrossing.
There are a couple of things that bothered me. One was the need for a final, thorough, proofreading. I hate getting deeply involved in a story, only to be thrown out of my carefully built up mental world by a wordsmithing problem. Another was the ending. I don't know how closely this story mirrors the original, but the ending was a little hokey. Minor hokey, but hokey nonetheless. Maybe that's just me and my non-literary judgmentalism. I'm sure there will be lots of folks who will enjoy the ending.
Despite these minor flaws, I loved the story. It's worth a read. But be warned -- it's long. 410k long. I don't know how many words that translates into, but it's a lot! (I just got told it's around 75,000 words by one of my lady friends. Even she liked the story!)
"Stocking Filler" by Bronwen ([email protected]). The husband has promised to get the best Santa costume ever. The wife has skipped midnight mass and has sexed herself up to give Santa the ride of his life. The rest of the plot is easy to guess: the wife will fuck the brains out of the wrong person. Right? 'Tis a simple plot, but Bronwen will make it interesting. Right?
Well, close - but way off! This is an extremely imaginative, highly sexy, magical, just plain erotic story of Christmas sex. I'm not even going to try to summarize it any further. If you're interested in Christmas or sex or pagan gods or anything in between or all of the above, you'll love this story!
"Sucker" by BronwenSM ([email protected]). Live and learn, that's what I always say. I've spent my life on this side of the pond. I always thought the British were much like the rest of us. I read Shakespeare, of course, but I always figured he's been dead for nearly a hundred years now, and I figured the British didn't really talk that way. I have always been pretty sure that the people of the UK really liked us over here in the colonies, because after all the American Revolution was really a fight between a group of British subjects and a German King - the Germans, don't get me off on them or I'll never get back to this review. I figured MAYBE the British talked in iambic pentameter and expressed their love in sonnets and could actually understand what John Milton was talking about and sang "Singing in the Rain" on those occasions when they raped somebody. But even though I often wondered how they got along with almost no real television and why all the good musicians left the country as soon as they grew up, I knew that deep down they were ordinary blokes, although I wasn't really sure whether it was proper to refer to a female Brit as a bloke.
I could go on, but the point is that along came BronwenSM, who has two capital letters at the end of her name. So right away I knew that I was going to learn things about my confreres from the Mother Country.
Anyway, this is a story about a 16-year-old girl {that would probably be 17 in ordinary years, eh Mate?} who was formerly what we Americans call a plain Jane. While she's laid up {no sexual connotation, even in England} with glandular fever, her body goes through what American talk shows {BBC Channel 2} sometimes call adolescent metamorphosis. In short, she comes back a babe - a young femme fatale, one might say - after spending some time convalescing at a huge, tatty mansion on a cliff with a private beach of Aunt Dolly in Wales. Or, as a more astute British author might put it, during her hiatus she had gone from the plainly porcine to lithe and lascivious loveliness. When she returned to school, her impact on society was emphatic if not traumatic. Great gangs of men on building sites shrieked at her like gibbons, old men slipped off their Zimmer frames when she went into the post office, and her terrifying chemistry master went red all the way up his neck whenever he looked at her and then left a really embarrassing poem in my pigeon hole.
So when this bloke she fancied asked her to go swimming with him, she nearly dropped down dead with delight. See what I mean? American teenagers would simply cum in their panties, which doesn't even alliterate, as if they would know what that means! Way gone, dude! I think I'm going to give up trying to imitate the British style in this subtle manner and simply get on with it. After all, I have viewed the dismal situation and it is ours, as the Great British Poet once said.
The boyfriend's name is Oliver, which is sometimes another name for John Thomas (or, in America, Johnson or more informally Dick), and so this reminds me of another story that I heard back in the 70's. A man and a woman went on their honeymoon - in Wales, I think. After several hours of what the man considered to be a most excellent First Night Experience with his virgin bride, she went to the bathroom - I forget what the British call it - you know, the crapper. Anyway, the man looks over the newspaper for something to do the next day, and he comes across an interesting movie. So he shouts, "Would you like to see "Oliver Twist," Luv?" The wife replies, "You do one more trick with that bloody thing, and I'm going home to my Mum." {By Jove, I think I got it!}
Anyway, Oliver develops an infirmity (the blood suddenly rushes to his thing), and the young lady has to give him first aid. She quickly becomes so good at first aid that the boys are pretty much lining up to be serviced.
This is an excellent story - both sexy and humorous.
Before I end this review, I'd like to say just one more thing about British speech, which gets especially awkward when they ride bicycles. For example, I picked up this anecdote on another newsgroup:
I was walking down the street with my wife the other day when we saw our neighbor (a very genial Jamaican bloke) riding by on his bike. Suddenly the bike flips and our poor neighbor finds himself spread eagled on the pavement.
My wife immediately said: "That black bloke's bike's back break block broke."
British people can actually SAY things like that! Just imagine if the Jamaican bloke would have been a bleached blond!
"A Summer Romance" by Jim Fix ([email protected] was actually posted as two separate stories: "A Summer Romance Part 1" and "Summer Romance Revisited." I shall review these as a single story, and I advise you to read both parts together.
Paul (a bright student going into his sophomore year in high school) and his Mom have been living together since her messy divorce from his Dad two years ago. Paul and his mother have always shown mutual affection, but during a stay at some relatives' mountain cabin they realize that their attraction has a physical and sexual component. With his mature consent, Mom decides to treat Paul as a lover, and their life together becomes happier. They each contribute to the other's intellectual and personal growth, as well as to each other's sexual happiness.
The second half of the story moves more rapidly than the first half. Life changes; Paul goes to college; Mom gets a new job; their love affair comes to an end; Mom remarries; and Paul falls in love. This is a very good story.
I think society's general taboo against incest is reasonable; that is, it makes sense to have an initial reaction that incestuous relations should be avoided. In general, incestuous relationships are likely to be coercive and exploitive, even though the participants may be unaware that something bad is happening. Nevertheless, it also makes sense to consider the possibility that such relationships could be productive and growth-producing. This author has gone to great lengths to build a good story around a set of circumstances in which a mother/son sexual relationship is not only harmless but also beautiful.
"Susan" by Uther Pendragon ([email protected]). I think what we have here could be entitled "Everyman's Wet Dream"; but it's also a poignant story. The narrator stumbles upon a beautiful woman who essentially believes that each person should seek his or her own pleasure, but seek it by offering pleasure to others in exchange. Susan brings Joe to heights of pleasure he has never experienced before. The poignant part is that Joe eventually falls in love with Susan and wants an exclusive relationship; but exclusivity is not part of her repertoire.
Even taken in isolation, this is one hot story. But what amazes me to the point of incredulity is that this story is written by the same person who has been posting the Bob and Jeanette Brennan stories. I think this level of versatility is wonderful. As I read a Bob and Jeanette story, I say to myself, "This author really understands simple, monogamous passion." As I read the present story, I say to myself, "This author really understands hedonism." This same author has written about an exploitive guerrilla officer in "Duty"; and "Wagtail" contained bestiality, incest, and rape, but was just a good, creative story. This kind of versatility is wonderful.
"Sweet Home Chicago" by Gregarious ([email protected]). The man goes to the park near Lake Michigan in Chicago for a blues concert. He meets a young woman in the crowd whose ethnicity is different from his but whose love for the blues rivals his own. They become friendly, and when the rain begins to fall, they find it necessary to cuddle up under a blanket. It turns out that people can do some wonderful things under the influence of good music in a pouring rain. The curtain call takes place at her apartment. This is an exceptionally good story.
"Tabitha" by MountainTop ([email protected]). This story is a blend of what appears to be accurate information about some of the women who work in stripper bars and the narrator's fantasy about what he would like to have done with one of these women. The narrator visits a bar while he is away on a business trip, and he meets Tabitha, who has sexual interests that are similar to his own. At first she gets to know him by reading his stories and then she ventures off to his motel with him. They don't actually copulate, but they engage in several erotic D&s activities together.
My criticism of many D&s stories is that they often don't make sense to an outsider. That may be fine for the author, if he wants to write only for insiders - people who are already turned on to D&s and simply want to see some stereotypical rituals performed in a different context. This author avoids that pitfall: as I read the story I got the impression that I was experiencing some aspects of life that were not familiar to me, and they made sense to me. I'm not inspired to go out and try the same things, but I have a slightly better understanding of people who do so. I appreciate that in a story.
I might add that my own experiences with stripper bars have been far different from this. I have visited such establishments only when I was out of town (far from my students, their parents, and school board members) and in the company of my husband.My impression has been that these are often tawdry places where the dancers are extremely artificial and not all that attractive and have a lot more pressing things on their rather mundane minds than revealing their titillating personalities or having philosophical discussions with fascinating customers. Of course, maybe one gets a different response if one selects the establishment more carefully, tips more robustly, and isn't obviously accompanied by one's spouse.
"Trip" by Plainman ([email protected]). This story uses a completely narrative format to offer an excellent blend of hot and sexy romantic fiction with several levels of voyeurism and reality. By several levels, I mean several levels: we even have critiques of other a.s.s. authors worked into the storyline. I simply had to keep reading to see if I came up. {Or as my husband put it, "God, you even smell sexy. Why don't you just use the search function to check for 'Celest' and come to bed with me?" I did; Plainman did not; we did; but I got back up to finish the story after I exhausted my husband while I was describing a bisexual fantasy to him.}
In this story, there are two sexy married couples. In each family, the husband and wife are passionate lovers in a predominantly monogamous but still open marriage. They enjoy incorporating fantasies into their love life; and as the story develops, they bring their fantasies into their real lives in very sexy ways. This author does a wonderful job of using the narrative format to blend flashbacks with present action in such a way as to fuse sexy events into even hotter images. In addition, the action outside the sack is often as hot as the actual lovemaking.
There are many interesting and sexy scenes in this story. Here I'll quote only the one that makes a point that I myself have tried to make several times in these reviews:
"Joe: ...She (Joe's wife) says it herself - most women are bi, more or less.
Princess: So are most guys, but you have more incentives to hide it from yourselves - so anyway, how bi IS Amy?"
My allegation has always been not that most people should have sex with people of both genders, but simply that most people could enjoy having sex with people of both genders if they wouldn't suppress those urges - and perhaps suppress them for perfectly good reasons, such as ethical beliefs or a commitment to a monogamous relationship. But if I enjoy diddling my own clitoris and having my husband eat me out, why in the world (aside from conditioned, emotional reactions) would I find it unpleasant to have a beautiful woman do the same things to me while I returned the favor? And the same goes for guys - except, as Princess says, they have more incentives to hide or suppress their interest.
Oh well, my own commitment to this principle extends only to reading and enjoying both kinds of stories. As Joe and Princess put it, I'm hetero and monogamous in my real world but bi and polyamorous in my reel world. Anyway, I feel an urge to expound my theory at least once every six months. And this story is an excellent example of my theory in practice.
These couples represent a hedonistic lifestyle that I personally reject in real life because I know it would ruin something beautiful with my husband - but a story like this presents the case for the temptation in a very persuasive manner.
I strongly recommend this story. It's a clever, narrative mixture of Mark Aster, Tom Trilogy, and Uther Pendragon in a SueNH atmosphere with about thirty-five Dulcinea stories blended into the plot.
"Truckstop" by The Bear ([email protected]). This author is different from the other Bear, who has also authored several well-written stories. This New Bear wants to make sure we distinguish him from the Old Bear, whose stories have included sex with teenagers and children. The current Bear wants to make it clear that he's not into that sort of thing.
The present story takes place in the general area of Sulfur Springs, Texas, which is the Mecca of smut writers throughout the world. More dirty thoughts and imaginary orgasms have occurred per square foot of inhabitable space in Sulfur Springs than perhaps anyplace else outside of Great Britain. Amy is a businesswoman who pulls into a lonely truckstop for a bite to eat. The only other customer mistakes her for a hooker, and she decides to play the role. She gives him his money's worth and then some.
"Tryout" by Friar Dave ([email protected]). The reader immediately gets immersed in the action right from the start - Jerry comes out of the shower, finds his wife already turned on from reading a sexy magazine, starts fucking her, has her read the magazine out loud to him, and then finishes her off. In her pre-Jerry life, Connie was interested in other women; and Jerry has a liberal attitude in this regard: Be sure she's clean, don't cut their time together, and talk about it if the attachment seems to be getting more than essentially physical. In other words, Jerry "is able to remain sanguine in the face of Connie's sapphic escapades." I'd say he goes beyond sanguine to just plain buoyant when he joins the ladies himself. Read the story for details.
This is really hot stuff. It almost makes me suspect that the author delights in the thought that maybe his readers will get turned on while they read this story.
The only flaw in this story was that either Connie or Kim had nice "areolas." I guess Friar Dave wrote this story before my seminar on areolas. However, because I learned some interesting things about sex toys, I won't even dock him for his misspelling of the a-word.
"Under Cover" by Mike Hunt ([email protected]). I know some of you readers think that I am Mike Hunt. That's possibly because I enjoy Mike Hunt so much and have great respect for Mike Hunt. But to be honest, I have to admit that my admiration for Mike Hunt is based primarily on the fact that in a sophomoric way, sentences like the previous one are a lot of fun to read out loud. My brother used to have a similar affinity for people he referred to as I.P. Daily and Seymour Heine, the reputed authors of "The Yellow River" and "Under the Cheerleaders' Bench," respectively.
No, Mike Hunt is Mike Hunt - a unique author whose imagination sometimes astounds me. Take the present story, for example. Where would anyone get the idea for a plot about a guy who decides to do some investigative reporting on phone sex and then finds himself talking to a former classmate during his first interview? Then when he visits her for an in-person interview, the phone-sex goddess builds a fantasy for a caller around her alleged experiences with Mike Hunt, who, of course, is sitting there in her "office" getting himself off while listening to her end of the conversation. Where would a person get an idea for a story like this? The simplest explanation is that it must be true. However, the best explanation is that he probably got it from his cellmate. <Celeste 1, Mike Hunt 0>
One question I have is how did Jenny Sue get out of paying taxes? I thought I was being really clever by managing to get out of taxes for my profits on Celestial Reviews. But my method {making no profit whatsoever and therefore being obligated to pay no taxes at all} pales in comparison to this woman's method. I suspect her technique wouldn't really work; at the very least she'd have to have sex with several IRS or Bell Atlantic representatives.
Anyway, this is another good story. And I haven't told you the half of it! Well, actually I have told you just about half of it, but you might as well read the story anyway.
"An Unforgettable Evening" by Gary Ray ([email protected]). The man and woman are in love - deeply in love. Tonight he is going to pop the question: "Do you love me enough to trust me?" "Yes!" she replies. And out come the handcuffs, the blindfold, and an accomplice named Dominick. "Wait a minute!" says I. "This is bullshit!" "Wait a minute!" says she. "This is bullshit!" But they persist, and we come to a surprise ending.
I don't exactly recommend what this guy does - too much could go wrong. But then I personally reject cybersex for the same reason, and a lot of you enjoy that activity. Anyway, this is an excellent story.
This author ends his disclaimer with "Do I have hope as an erotica writer?" Hmmm... Is the pope Catholic? Does the bear shit in the woods? Do teenage nympho queens want big cocks up their asses?
"Ursula" by Friar Dave ([email protected]). Guest review by Mike Hunt.
Well, in a.s.s. there are writers and there are writers, and if you want a big long list go get Ole Joe's compendium. Then there are GOOD writers and there are a few GREAT writers, and Friar Dave would have to be on that short list. As Ole Joe says, Friar Dave tends to write long stories mostly about very young experiences, and "Ursula" is no exception. It's a multi-chapter story that ran 70 pages with the topic as predicted.
"Ursula" is the story of a 12-year-old just discovering her sexuality, and we are led through episodes in which she experiences her first masturbation, first blowjob, first cunnilingus, first sex, and first anal entry. It's a tour-de-force of "firsts" and they're all erotic, stimulating, and downright lewd. Friar Dave connects the dots with believable characters and realistic settings, and the words flow and chapters link and draw the reader eagerly through the action, of which there is plenty.
Normally I'm a little uncomfortable with stories about 12-year-olds, but having written a "first sex" story or two myself, it would be a quibble to complain. I will pick a nit about Ursula's multiple orgasms in multiple settings, and about the over-rapid development of her breasts in a one-year span of the story, but as I say, it's a nit.
This is not a new story; in fact, it carries a 1986 copyright.It's been reposted by Ole Joe, apparently, and he shows exceptional taste in bringing it back for your entertainment. Enjoy.
I really liked it. Or maybe it's just because I woke up at 3:00 this morning with an erection. I don't know.
"Vortrek" by Uther Pendragon ([email protected]). Bob and Jeanette Brennan are moving out of their apartment. It was "Bob and Jeanette" who had moved into this apartment; it is "the Brennans" who are moving out. These two people are really in love. Sometimes it's nauseating. I sometimes feel the urge to exit one of these Bob and Jeanette stories and read a more wholesome, realistic rape and torture story. But then I keep reading, and I am invariably glad I did.
I have friends who tease me about my own marriage. They are certain that I am either simple-minded or lying: nobody can be this happy all the time sleeping with the same man. {Actually, some of them are certain that nobody could be this happy sleeping with ANY VARIETY of men.} They say it would get boring, and sometimes it does. Some of my friends know what hell is really like because they have been married. What's nice about the Bob and Jeanette stories is that they are realistically and blissfully happy. They have their ordinary lives where they struggle together with mundane problems, but their genuine love for each other is a source of strength, stability, and happiness. At times it gets to where their sex life would HAVE to become boring; but by God, somehow it gets even better.
I had a friend who was in the perfect marriage. She got divorced last year. I was disillusioned. This author has a responsibility to keep Bob and Jeanette together. They're the main source of stability in the lives of millions of readers throughout the uncensored world. Please, please - don't let them go the way of Bo and Billie or the other people on the soaps.
These people have become my friends. I was actually excited to hear that Jeanette has learned French! Oops... I don't want to spoil the surprise for you. They keep t'aiming and t'adoring as they drive across the country to their new home in Boston, where Bob will continue his education and Jeanette will get a job to continue to make that education possible.
The story is a really outstanding blend of current events and past memories; and the memories themselves are a wonderful blend of things I myself know (from previous stories) and new information from the Early Life and Courtship of Bob and Jeanette; and those memories are a delightful blend of ideas and events that overlap with my own life and things completely new to me. And the blends are very sexy.
Come to think of it, in some ways Bob is even better than my husband. For example, as far as I can see, Bob never farts during really intimate moments. I think Bob may also be better with his hands, although my husband still seems to have the edge with regard to his tongue.
I am reminded of my daughter, who makes a similar comment about her birthday each and every year - this is the best Bob and Jeanette story ever!
"Watching" by Tom Bombadil ([email protected]). Excellent story! This one is going to make the final cut for the short story contest. It's hot and imaginative - with several double whammies. I can't tell you anything else without ruining it for you. Check this one out!
"Watching - Book 2" by Alan Mathews ([email protected]). This story is a sequel to "Watching," which I ranked number 16 among my Top 100 stories of 1996. You probably should read the original (Book 1) first - if only because it's enjoyable and was reposted at the same time as this sequel; but Chapter 1 of the present Book provides a good recap of Book 1.
This story takes up the adventures of the very young couple and their baby as they return to their old hometown. They encounter some new problems, overcome some obstacles, grow closer together as a family, and have some great sex.
Skyla is only two years old and is becoming interested in what Mommy and Daddy do in bed together, and the parents do an exemplary job of answering her questions in a way suited to her developmental level without introducing her prematurely to the rites of Venus. However, I believe some of the ideas that the author puts into Skyla's head would be much more realistic if she were, say, two or three years older. {I might also point out that there are almost certainly no two-year-olds in the real world who win at Monopoly against intelligent twelve-year-olds who are making a serious effort.}
The scene in which Alex deflowers his young sister-in-law with Jenny's consent is best described as Pollyanna with an Attitude. But it's sexy stuff.
The author consistently makes an interesting grammatical mistake. He uses "I" in situations that call for the objective case. Sportscasters do this all the time, but a.s.s. authors are supposed to be above that sort of thing. The easy way to deal with this problem is simply to mentally restate the sentence without the compound phrase.
It's incorrect to use "me" as the SUBJECT of a sentence, and so it is WRONG to say, "Bill and me went out looking for some action." {Omit the compound subject. You would never say, "Me went out looking for some action."}
On the other hand, it is correct to use "me" (and incorrect to use "I") as the OBJECT of a sentence or as the object of a preposition. Therefore, it would be WRONG to say, "John invited Sue and I over to his house for a quick threesome." {Omit the compound phrase. You would never say, " John invited I (or we) over to his house for a quick threesome."}
It's that simple. I think the reason people make this mistake is because using "me" as part of the compound subject is the error that they make (and for which they get corrected) earlier in life; and so they overreact by saying "I" even in situations where "me" would be appropriate.
"Wet T-Shirt Contest" by Mike Hunt ([email protected]). There are some things that people just don't really think about. For example, the guy that pours the water on the young ladies in a wet T-shirt contest has a hard job. Not only is it hard, it's also difficult. He has to wet down the right parts and only those parts of the contestants. This requires technique. This requires savoir faire.
Which reminds me. Mike Hunt gets really pissed when my reviews are funnier or sexier or more literate or all of the preceding than his stories. I'll try to stop that, but it may be hard. Nevertheless, since I've used a hard word - I mean a difficult or unusual phrase - I think I had better explain what "savoir faire" means. My dictionary defines the concept as "knowing just what to do in any situation; tact." That definition doesn't do the term justice. I can do better with a series of examples:
If a Frenchman comes home and finds his wife in bed with another man and says, 'Pardonnez moi!' that is ALMOST savoir faire.
If the same Frenchman instead says, 'Pardonnez moi. Continuez, s'il vous plaît!' that's EVEN CLOSER to savoir faire.
But if the Frenchman says, 'Pardonnez moi. Continuez, s'il vous plaît!' and then the other man - if he continuez, that IS savoir faire!
Anyway, savoir faire and gaucherie aside, Mike Hunt was assigned the responsibility of wetting the T-shirts during the contest, and he was working hard <literally> while he performed his chores.
I have a friend who used to be a priest. He once told me that he used to put ice cubes into the baptismal water, because then the baby would yell out in shock at the actual moment of baptism, and this would make it sound like the devil was indisputably going out of the child. Symbolism is wonderful. Mike Hunt likewise used ice cubes in his water during the contest, also to bring out the devil, so to speak. Cold tits are rich in symbolism.
Mike Hunt found that his job was easier if the girls cooperated. For example, if they stuck their chests way forward, then it was easier to keep the water on their tits where it belonged, rather than on their hair or the floor.
Big problem. Contestant Number 3, a major character in this story, was Frances from Phoenix, AZ. I guess people can spell their own names anyway they want; but unless this is a TG story, Number 3 was probably Frances. Sometimes people named Francis call themselves Fanny. That name is in the punchline of a joke about St. Peter and ladies applying for heaven, which was told to me by the priest with ice cubes to whom I referred earlier in this review.
Well, as time went on, Mike Hunt got better and better at his job - I suppose because he was working harder and harder. He became really great at tit-watering. His main job during the contest was to bait the crowd, and he quickly became a master at this task. There may already be even more puns in this review than there are in the story itself, and so I'll let you complete this one about being a master at baiting.
So you may think this is a story about strippers and voyeurism and such. But it's not! It's mostly a combination elevator-sex and phone-sex story. That's right. After the contest Mike Hunt gets stuck on a crowded elevator with Frances, and the elevator gets stuck between floors, and Frances's fanny (see above) gets stuck into Mike Hunt, and.... Never mind, you can read the story yourself. I'll just tell you the other joke.
So these three women have died and have arrived before the gates of heaven, where St. Peter interviews them. {Peter could actually be a funny name in this story, because some people refer to a dick as a peter, but that's not relevant to this joke; so just assume that Peter is really the name of the "person" who keeps a book of good and bad deeds at the gate of heaven.
Q. Who keeps the book at the Gate of Heaven?
A. No. What is the name of the person who keeps the book at the Gate of Heaven. Who is seated at the right hand of God.Anyway, the first lady comes forward and St. Peter says to her, "You were so selfish and avaricious that you were named Penny. Depart to hell for all eternity." To the second lady, St. Peter says, "You were such an excessive and immoderate drinker of wine that you were named Sherry. Depart to hell for all eternity." The third woman just walks away. St. Peter says, "Where are you going?" She replies, "Why bother? My name is Fanny."
Sir Englebert the Ungainly is in the midst of a rather hectic adventure when he comes upon a naked woman - I mean fair maiden - tied to a stake. The young lady is the nearby village's offering to one of the great beasts of the forest to persuade that monster to spare their homes from destruction. If the dragon devours her, he cannot then in good conscience attack the village. It was a sensible thing for the villagers to do, and the good knight very nearly rides on by. But there's something about the fragile beauty of a damsel in distress with her naked body dangling like a misplaced modifier from a stake so that her breasts.... The (new) third episode dwells in detail on the treatment of forest witches. Having sex with a forest witch was a tricky matter for a knight. Unless he knew exactly what he was doing, he could become permanently diverted from his quest - or even worse.
The only significant problem with the story was this sentence: "I told her that I labored under a curse; that I could not enjoy a woman who was well and recently spanked." Actually, the opposite was true: he could not enjoy a woman UNLESS she was well and recently spanked. It's a big difference, but I figured the curse correctly from the context. Since the story was otherwise so good, I decided to forgive this one sin.
To her horror - and pleasure - she is recognized by some of the people who take advantage of the opportunity to beat her naked body while she has several public orgasms.
Kim and Anne have decided to exchange sexual instructions via email. First we hear the challenge Anne poses for Kim. It involves a vibrator, Kim's boyfriend, and some difficult but enjoyable positions. Then Kim takes her shot at Anne. To make a long story short, Kim's demands are rather severe; and so Anne's next set of instructions requires Kim to make up a list of hooker prices at which she will offer herself to her boyfriend. That is, she must list several services, including some she doesn't really think she wants to do, and will charge Ron more for those things.
A zipless fuck occurs when the fucker doesn't know the fuckee, there is no meaningless chatter, and there is no playing games. The two people see each other, they are attracted to each other, and they fuck each other. In the quintessential zipless fuck the participants don't even speak to each other. They may never even see one another again, but it doesn't matter, because they both got what they wanted. A zipless fuck is extremely romantic in an unromantic sort of way. | 4 |
3,556 | A Most Unusual Afternoon | "You want me to WHAT?" Darren spoke with incredulity evident in his voice from his seated position on the floor.
Darlene sighed, afraid of this reaction. His harsh words did absolutely nothing to help the butterflies fluttering through her guts. In fact, the damn things nearly flew up her throat at Darren's words. She bit down her sharp retort and lay back on her bed. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her erratic breathing. Getting upset wasn't going to help her cause.
Her parents had finally left for the afternoon. She'd tried her best to find out when they'd be back, but they had been vague, as usual. She didn't need to arouse their suspicions, so she had let it drop. They would be gone for a few hours at least. That's all she knew for sure, but it should be plenty of time.
Ever since her parents had announced their plans this morning, her stomach had been in knots of heady anticipation. But everything had to go right, and Darren was the key. And he was sitting there on her floor, fidgeting and waiting for her to confirm her request.
She took stock of herself. Did she actually want to go through with this? Darren's reluctance bothered her. He was rarely wrong. The insistent throbbing between her legs bellowed a resounding yes, while her more rational mind agreed with Darren - it was dangerous. But since when had she ever played anything safe? Safe was Boring, with a capital 'B'. She'd been seeing Bradley forever. And she wanted to do this. It was safe, dammit.
She slowly opened her eyes and glanced down at Darren still sitting cross-legged on her beige carpet. Darren looked up at her with those eyes that she saw in the mirror every morning. Their eyes were the only way that you could tell that they were twins. His piercing blue eyes, full of life, full of intelligence, were the same as her own. Beyond the eyes, they shared a special bond of complete trust and sharing, like only twins could. She often felt like they were one, despite their interests diverging over the years. She could feel him almost as though he was part of her. She cherished that.
And there he sat, his face open in dismay, unable to fathom what she'd asked of him. She couldn't do it without him, and she trusted nobody else enough to ask. She felt the butterflies leave her to bother someone else far away as her mind collapsed into the inevitable. She had known that he would balk. He had always been protective of her, despite being essentially the same age. Fine, he was two minutes older, but that didn't give him the right to ... she forced herself to check her emotions. He was only doing what he thought best for her. She couldn't blame him. Had he asked the same of her, she'd have balked just as surely as he had. She had no choice but to accept his reaction.
She took a deep breath, too aware of her breasts rising as they rubbed against her sweater. She let her pent-up breath out in a big whoosh and turned back to face him.
"Darren, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked at all," Darlene spoke quietly from the pillows. Her eyes had begun to tear up, her disappointment evident. She tried to will it away; she honestly wasn't trying to make Darren feel guilty. She loved him too much for those silly games.
He swallowed carefully and licked his lips. "No, sis. I'm sorry. We've never kept anything from one another. Why should sex be different? You ... just surprised me, is all." Despite his words, he still looked awkward sitting down there.
She felt the butterflies begin to return at the prospect that he hadn't outright refused her. She pressed her lips together, thinking.
"Do you know what you are doing?" he asked quietly.
She thought about it. She'd been seeing Bradley for over a year. She trusted him, and she wanted to do this. At least, her body wanted to do this. And she felt safe enough. Darren's uncertainty was enough to make her pause and think. What if ...? But time was ticking away for her. Her parents would be back eventually and that didn't leave her much time if she wanted to keep a safety zone. She had to be sure, and quickly.
She propped herself up on her elbow and tried her best to smile at her brother. She nodded carefully in the affirmative.
Darren seemed at war with himself as he sat there looking over at Darlene. His face was a mask of concentration and uncertainty. He would do anything to protect her, she knew that. They had been together all the way from the womb to this juncture - a journey spanning from before kindergarten to this last year of high school. And he'd always been there for her. She knew that they'd be apart soon anyway, his interests being at Queen's, hers at Lakehead. She was going to miss him terribly. It hurt to even think about that.
Darren had been unsure of Bradley since she'd introduced them about a year ago. He'd kept his opinions to himself, but she could tell. With twins, it was nearly impossible to hide your true feelings. She'd tripped over it enough to know. Luckily, she approved of Beth, his current girlfriend, and he was well aware of that. In the same manner, she knew that Darren had some reservations about Bradley. It wasn't that he didn't like the guy, but he wasn't as openly enthusiastic as he had been with previous loves of hers. She didn't know the details of his apprehensions, but assumed that he was simply being over-protective, as always. She didn't mind too much. He'd never tell her who to go out with, and no matter what he'd support her wishes unless, God forbid, she managed to get into an abusive relationship. God help the guy. It was nice to know that he would be around if she ever got herself in with an unsavory character.
She could see Darren mulling over his problem - her. She could read his face like a book. He was wishing desperately that he was somewhere else, out with Beth perhaps. Anywhere but here stuck between disappointing the person he loved more than life itself, or going along with her and getting her hurt. Maybe badly.
"I. I don't think this is such a good idea. I ... I know Bradley ..." the words fell softly from his lips.
She took a deep breath, not wanting to get into an argument over Bradley. Darren had tried to keep his feelings about Bradley under wraps but she had always known what they were. And she loved Darren for trying for her. She sighed. What had she really expected? She didn't quite know. She only knew what her desires were right now.
She whispered quietly, "I understand." And she did. It was unfair to ask Darren at all. She'd figure something else out.
Darren inhaled deeply, his blue eyes watching his sister. She was hiding her disappointment well, but it was there. She had been unable to completely hide it, though God knew she had tried. She watched him as he slowly rose to his feet. She held back as long as she could, until he had completely turned to leave. She felt the single tear of hopeless disappointment as it coursed down her face. It wasn't just the failure of her afternoon plans but more importantly that the twins had separated a little further. They had always been there for one another, no matter what, and that was beginning to end. She felt responsible. Her request had been too much for him, and she was truly sorry that she'd imposed. Yet she had wanted to be honest with him, share her desires with him.She felt a deep sadness, as though she was losing a lover as he moved away from her bed.
He turned at the doorway, and she wasn't quite quick enough to wipe away the tear. She hadn't expected him to turn. He stood outlined in her doorway, a similar sad set to his face. She sensed that he was feeling the same things as her - regret at refusing her, a sense of moving apart. He didn't want this any more than she did.
She was about to apologize again to him when he opened his lips to speak. She was almost sure that he was going to apologize to her for refusing her, then walk back to his room to suffer.
"Call Bradley," he whispered to her instead of the expected apology.
She heard his feet as he moved away from her room. She thought she heard him moving down the stairs, towards the lower floors.
Suddenly, she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She didn't want to drive Darren away by asking things that made him uncomfortable. Bradley wasn't worth that. It wasn't worth an afternoon of experience and pleasure. She nearly called Darren back, but she again felt the throbs of anticipation between her thighs. Darren would understand, and perhaps ask her a harder favor someday. She'd do her best to help him when he did. She swore it, no matter what he asked. She'd still give him a chance to back out of this, though. She owed him that.
She paused for a few moments, gathering her courage. She had to steel herself to ignore the residual sadness and heartache she felt for Darren. It wasn't easy, but she managed to fight it off, determined to feel it later instead of now. There were other things to do, and not much time. Darren would understand, he always did.
She picked up the phone sitting on her bedside table. It buzzed insistently in her ear until she dialed the number that she had memorized so many months ago. Bradley picked up with a gruff greeting.
"Hi, Bradley. Guess whose parents are away," she spoke quickly before she lost her nerve.
His voice seemed distracted. "Um. Yours? Mine are downstairs."
"Yes, silly. Want to come over?" she continued almost as though she hadn't heard his reply.
He seemed to be missing the point here. "I've kind of got plans."
Shit, she thought. Why can't my plans ever turn out simple for me? It isn't the world I'm asking. First Darren's reluctance, then Bradley being dense. What else could possibly go wrong? Well, nothing worth doing was ever easy.
"What plans?" she asked patiently.
"Waxing my car. You can come over to help, if you want," he grudgingly offered.
Christ. Was he being purposely dense?
"My PARENTS aren't home. Hello?" she had to fight down the urge to scream at him.
It finally dawned on him, but he was still reluctant for some reason. "Darlene. What about Darren?"
Darren is supplying the surprise element, she thought to herself, her guts churning even thinking about it.
"He's, uh, going out as well. Leaving in a few minutes."
Bradley sighed and spoke heavily. "Alright. I'll be over soon."
She couldn't understand his lack of enthusiasm, but she was quite sure it would return as soon as he saw her and her surprise.
"Let yourself in. It will be unlocked," she added quickly before she forgot.
He hung up without a good-bye. She slowly returned the receiver to the cradle, unsure of herself and whether she actually wanted to go through with this after all. The phone call hadn't gone exactly as she'd planned, but then again nothing had today. She felt a little uneasy, but wrote it off to those silly butterflies. She touched her breasts through her sweater, noting that they were heaving erratically again. Step two complete. The butterflies intensified for a moment, then resumed their normal nervous fluttering. Her decision made, she settled back to wait for Darren to return.
She could hear Darren moving around in the basement, digging through the old boxes in her father's workroom. She could almost see him shoving through the crates, cursing at their lack of organization.
She rose off the bed and began to pull off her sweater. She wasn't shy of her body, never had been. Darren had seen her nude many times, and she him. If her parents weren't at home, she never bothered with modesty if she had to take a shower, or was simply lounging about. It seemed natural to her. They'd been naked in the womb together, after all. What did she really have to hide? But this time she sighed and lowered the base of the sweater before it revealed her breasts. She was going to give Darren one more chance to back out, and it wouldn't be fair if she was sitting here nude when she gave him that chance. She forced herself to be patient.
In minutes, she heard his motions clomping up the stairs. She held her breath until he appeared in the doorway, carrying some items in his hands. His face looked pained, but he stood in her doorway trying to be strong for her.
"Darren? You don't have to do this. I promise I won't be disappointed."
"I'm just worried about you. At least let me stay in the house?" he pleaded.
"Yeah, and Bradley won't do anything then," her voice was accusing, though she desperately tried to control it. She forced herself to look at Darren.
"I didn't mean ..." he stammered, taken aback a little by her sudden ire. He sensed it more than most people would have, as she had actually done a decent job of burying it.
"I know. If you don't want to do this, that's alright. I'll find some other way to keep him amused. I already phoned Bradley," she spoke softly, more gently, her voice apologizing for her earlier tone. She honestly hadn't meant to snap at him. She was on edge a little.
Darren looked at his sister. It was so hard to tell that they were twins. She was so small and delicate. He was tall and strong. Her hair, long and chestnut brunette, curled gently over her shoulders. His hair was coarse, short and beach blonde. His face was rugged, hers feminine and soft. Male and female - fraternal twins. No reason for them to look the same. Why they had the same eyes was a mystery to both of them. But they cherished the qualities they shared. Her eyes were looking at him now, intense and full of her desires.
"I'll be alright," she whispered to him. It seemed to make him more accepting of it, and he entered the room.
He showed her what he had in his hands. "Will these be alright?" he asked.
She nodded, trying to control those pesky unwelcome butterflies. "You ready?" she asked quietly.
He watched her as he nodded. "Are you?"
In answer, she completed the maneuver she had started earlier. Her sweater fell from her body in one fluid motion, fluttering to lay on the carpet. She had dressed casually on a Saturday, no bra. He made no comment on her firm body. Being her brother, he was somewhat immune to her sexuality, though he knew exactly how desirable she would be to anyone else. She stood and slipped her jeans down her legs. No panties either. She had been ready for this. She smiled and pirouetted for him, even though she was well aware that he was immune to her nudity. She wouldn't have been doing this otherwise. He whistled in mock admiration and waited for her to settle herself. She pulled off her socks with her toes and took a deep breath. She lowered herself slowly to the bed, spreading herself out, reaching for the bedposts with her bare toes and fingers.
Darren sat down on the bed beside her. From the pillows, she watched his face. He seemed to be in a dilemma. He wanted to chastise her for being dangerous, and yet didn't want to condemn her for her choices. He was at a loss for words, she could tell by the tiny dimple forming in his left cheek. She nearly spoke some words to reassure him, but nothing came to mind. How? She was old enough, his age, to make these decisions about her own body herself. Anything she said would only make him feel more guilty. She kept silent and waited patiently for him to either say something or do what she had asked.
He leaned over her body and began to wrap her right wrist with the soft cord he'd dug up in the workshop. Without looking at her, he moved around the bed and secured her other limbs to the bedposts. She tested each restraint, ensuring that she could neither reach the knots nor pull free.
The butterflies multiplied as she realized just how vulnerable she was. She was open, and naked, and helpless. Tiny shivers and thrills pulsed down her body as she imagined Bradley's face as he walked in.
She pulled idly at the ropes and looked up to see Darren staring at her. She flushed a bit, but only at his scrutiny. She was used to being seen naked.
He spoke quietly, shaking his head. "Sis. I hope you know what you're doing." She looked so small and helpless lying there. His eyes betrayed his emotional state. How could he protect when she was like this? She felt his dismay and felt badly for him. How else could she do this with any semblance of safety, though? She'd wracked her brain, but this is ultimately what she'd wanted.
"I do, Darren. I know what I'm doing. Bradley will let me go when we're done. He would never hurt me. And he'll be here soon. What are you going to do?" She forced her voice to be strong and sure for Darren. He seemed to need the reassurance.
"Maybe dinner and a movie with Beth," he replied quietly. The twinkle in his eye said that dinner and a movie could easily be only the beginning.
"Have fun," she smiled up at him, waving her trapped fingers.
"I will. You take care. Last chance ..." he cautioned her.
"I'll be fine. Enjoy your movie," she tried to reassure him.
He bent and kissed her chastely on her cheek. She tried to give him one back, but he'd moved away and she couldn't follow.
She heard her bedroom door closing and then a few minutes later the front door closing. The house was silent around her. She again tested her bondage, wondering what drove her to do this. She fantasized about it nearly every night. Being restrained, being totally helpless. Where do these fantasies come from?At least she trusted Bradley to not hurt her. She smiled as she considered what his face would look like when he saw her.
***
She couldn't see her clock radio. It was angled away from her, and she couldn't exactly reach out to turn it towards her. Bradley was taking a long time. She squirmed on the bed. What if he didn't show up? What if someone else showed up? The front door was unlocked. Shit, she hadn't thought of that.
Her heat intensified. She didn't want to be raped, but fantasies flew unasked for through her mind. She squirmed a bit more, trying to reach the knots her brother had tied. She couldn't and realized it was a lost cause. She'd told him to make it so she couldn't get free. She was stuck here until someone let her go. She just hoped that it would be Bradley. She tried to settle herself a little more comfortably to wait.
She tried to amuse herself by closing her eyes and picturing the sky. The outdoors. She pictured her nude body bound hand and foot to a tree while a hot wind gently caressed her. It didn't help with her arousal, but it helped her pass the time. Bradley should have been here by now, dammit.
A vague noise broke her concentration. A car? A knock? Someone breaking a window? Dammit, she hadn't been paying enough attention while in her erotic daydream.
She held herself still, straining her ears to pick up the slightest noise. The front door suddenly opened, sounding like a cannon through the silent house. She had to bite back a scream.
Who the hell was it? Bradley? Her parents? Darren? A burglar?
She held her tongue, not daring to cry out. She was so damn vulnerable. Why had she done this? Her arousal was beginning to fade with her fear. Not much, but she felt the constant heat between her legs diminish a little as she strained to detect the slightest vibration in the house.
"Darlene?" It was Bradley's voice floating through the quiet house.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. She kept quiet, hoping that he'd be smart enough to come up to her room. It wasn't as though she'd been subtle on the phone.
"Darlene? Damn it?" his voice called more urgently. A trace of anger tinged his voice this time.
She whispered, "Up here." She quickly realized that he couldn't hear her if she whispered. She cleared her throat. "Bradley?" she called in a stronger voice. "I'm up here."
"Come down. I'm here," Bradley shouted up from the bottom of the stairs.
"Come up here," she responded back, trying to put a sexy waver into her voice. She didn't think she'd succeeded with the waver, but at least she'd tried.
"Damn it, Darlene, we have to talk. Come down here," Bradley sounded exasperated downstairs.
Her mind flipped into overdrive. Have to talk? Shit... no good conversation ever started out like that. The last thing she wanted to do was talk.
"Bradley? Please? Come up here. I can't come down right now," she called out. She tried to put some authoritativeness into her voice. She didn't feel particularly authoritative the way she was, naked and bound. Great time to want to talk, Bradley. Don't let him leave. Please?
She heard him muttering as he began to climb the stairs. Closer and closer.
She felt her body quivering. She couldn't stop it. Her arousal was back, and she couldn't wait to see his face as he saw her like this. She couldn't remember if she'd ever felt this aroused before. Her nipples were like chips of stone which she couldn't reach.
Almost in slow motion, her door knob gently turned and the door swung open. Bradley stood there, the sight of Darlene naked and tied to the bed stunning him. His mouth dropped in a cartoon-like gesture. Darlene giggled as she pictured him using a hand to prop back up his jaw. She squirmed in a way that she hoped was inviting, pulling against her restraints, wiggling her breasts as best she could.
"My hero, come to rescue me!" she giggled at him. The butterflies again had disappeared as the moment of truth had come and gone. Bradley was here, he hadn't panicked, and there was no turning back now. He'd definitely seen her.
He actually did push his jaw up with his hand, almost absentmindedly. He stepped into the room, his face a mask of concern.
Darlene giggled even more at his gesture. She felt giddy and aroused. God, what if he sucked on her toes? She couldn't stop him, and she felt sharp spikes of arousal running down her spine as she lay there and considered it.
He swallowed and spoke quietly from the center of the room.
"Are... are you alright?" he asked her.
"I'm fine, silly. What did you think?" she spoke from the bed.
"Who? Never mind. I think I know. Why, Darlene?" he asked her quietly.
"For you. For me. I wanted to surprise you," the naked girl squirmed a little in her ropes, wondering if perhaps she'd made a mistake. Wasn't it every guy's fantasy to have his girlfriend helpless for his affections? She was sensing something odd from Bradley, something she hadn't ever sensed consciously before. Not danger... he wasn't going to hurt her. Or was he? She tingled again.
Bradley bowed his head and sat down heavily on the floor, exactly where Darren had sat earlier. Completely out of reach.
"Darlene. I..." his voice trailed off.
"Shhhh. Just come here and touch me. Okay?" Darlene whispered.
"I... I can't," Bradley seemed miserable.
"Excuse me? I'm here. Hello? Naked, willing female, tied to her bed?" Darlene couldn't quite understand this reaction. She was prepared for rejection. If he just wanted to release her and then make love, she would have been fine with that. She'd prefer being tied down for it, but simply being helpless this long had aroused her enough. She'd even been prepared for condemnation. Why was the lummox just sitting there when she was up here, willing and able? Didn't make sense.
"Perhaps it's better this way," he remarked almost casually.
"Huh?" she couldn't think of a more intelligent answer. She was getting a really bad feeling about this. She could sense it. Didn't take women's intuition to see that this wasn't going according to plan. She couldn't even rise off the bed to find out what the matter with him was. She pulled at her bound ankles.
"Darlene?" he seemed at a loss for words. He never was at a loss for words. There was only one reason for his hesitation and she knew what it was. Somehow, she simply knew. She'd been through this before, though never tied down naked to a bed. Her heart began to beat faster than her arousal had previously driven it. She could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears.
"Please no. Not like this," Darlene raised her head, trying to see Bradley more clearly. He wasn't looking at her.
"Darlene? I... I appreciate this. More than you can know. And I really wish that I could take advantage of you like that. But I can't," he spoke with regret filling his words.
"Bradley? Let me go? Come untie me and we'll talk," the inevitability of talk was sinking into her. She didn't want to talk, especially not about what she feared this was about. But she couldn't do anything about it if he truly wanted to talk to her. May as well accept it, for now. Maybe she could still reason with him. The insistent throbbing was still buried between her thighs where she had no hope of reaching without his help.
He took a deep breath and sat still, not making the move she had suggested. The damn ropes bit into her wrists and ankles. God, how could she have been so dumb? How could she have let herself be so vulnerable? So helpless? Christ. Why hadn't she worn old clothes at least? Something he could have cut off her if it all worked out? At least she'd be clothed now. Who had these kinds of talks when you are defenseless and naked? She was at a loss, completely off balance mentally.
"I... we have to talk, Darlene. We do. I tried to tell you earlier," Bradley's voice began earnestly.
Tears came in a rush to her face. She lay back her head into the pillows. Not much she could do about this if he wouldn't untie her. Tears of frustration had formed in her eyes. All her previous arousal had finally faded to a slight pulse between her legs. She felt cheated and frustrated. Even her sensitive nipples had flattened on her still heaving bare breasts.
"Bradley, please untie me," Darlene spoke to the ceiling. She knew what was going to happen, and it was probably inevitable, but she couldn't do anything about it while tied to this damn bed. She fought down a flash of anger. Anger wasn't going to get her anywhere, either.
"It's better if you are like that. Do you want me to cover you?" he asked gently.
Anger welled up again at his suggestion. "I want you to untie me," she struggled again unsuccessfully for the authoritative hint in her voice. Her words came out like a pleading whine, at least to her ears. She pulled ineffectually at her bonds, chafing her wrists.
"If I do, then you'll hug me and kiss me and try to make me change my mind. And I will. I won't be able to help it. But it's not right. I'll untie you after we talk. Okay?" he almost pleaded with her.
She held her anger in check, pulling again at her wrists. She shook her head. It wasn't okay, but there wasn't much she could do about it. The bitch of it was, he was right. She would do everything he said she would to avoid a disagreement. Then, she'd never know what this really was about. Maybe she could salvage this. She'd listen to him, and she'd tell him whatever he wanted to hear, as she should have done from the moment she had telephoned him to begin this mess. She just hoped that it wasn't about what she thought it was.
She unconsciously tried to turn towards him, but her left wrist and ankle prevented that. She turned her head, seeing his face over her right arm.
"Darlene... we... God, this is hard. We can't see each other anymore," he spoke in a whisper so low she wasn't even sure she'd heard correctly. Maybe she simply didn't want to hear it.Even though she'd been expecting it, she suddenly felt insecure, helpless to stop it. It was a tidal wave of emotion washing over her, and she couldn't even move to avoid it. Her heart skipped a beat. She loved Bradley, or she thought she did. How couldn't he love her back?
She forced back the tears and tried to speak in a normal voice. "Was it this?"
He looked up, confused. She saw his confusion and raised her right wrist as far as the ropes allowed. She wanted to make sure it wasn't this display that had spooked him, though she knew in her heart that it wasn't. She'd been sensing this for a week or so, and unconsciously thought that this sexual stunt might pull him back to her. She wanted it too, with all her heart, but she wouldn't have risked it yet if she hadn't been sensing a withdrawal from him lately. Realization of her behavior flooded over her with the clarity of a biblical revelation. She felt ashamed that she'd not realized sooner. Like before she'd gotten into this mess.
He smiled weakly. "Darlene, it isn't that. Actually, in other circumstances, I'd be all over you." She felt a tingle race through her body at his words. She shivered, not wanting to feel that way right now.
"What then?" she spoke quietly to him.
"I do love you..." he began quietly. She felt like screaming at him, "Then what's the damn problem?" but she knew it wouldn't do any good. It would only make him hate her.
She swallowed as his voice trailed off. She found her voice as it trembled from her throat. "Someone else?"
He nodded miserably. She felt betrayed. She'd been seeing him for over a year. Sure it was a high school romance, but dammit she deserved some loyalty. Look what she'd done for him. What other girl would tie herself to a bed for him? She pulled in frustration at the ropes holding her. Maybe it was best that she was tied down. She would have slapped him. Maybe he deserved it, maybe not. But either way slapping him would have been wrong. It wasn't as though he'd ravaged her and then told her. For once he was actually trying to be a gentleman. His only fault was that he just wouldn't untie her. Hot tears ran down her face as she struggled to control her raging emotions. If he would just untie her.
"Please Bradley. Untie me," she pleaded through her tears.
"Darlene, I'm sorry."
She couldn't tell if he was sorry for not untying her or sorry about his betrayal.
She sighed as she fell back into the pillows under her head. She wanted up from this bed. She wanted her clothes. She wanted Bradley back. Part of her was telling her good riddance, but most of her was aching.
"Who is she?" Darlene asked again to the ceiling.
There was a silence from the man she thought she knew so well. She squirmed around after a few minutes, again trying to adjust her position. So shamelessly open.
"Bradley? Who is she?" she repeated quietly.
"I ... I can't."
"I'll know eventually, and I promise I won't do anything stupid," she whispered as tears again overtook her senses.
"You won't know," he mumbled.
She licked her lips. "I have to know. I deserve to know." But she didn't want to know. Not really.
"It's not just someone else, Darlene. You'll be going to university next year. I won't. You'll meet new people. I ... I can't do long-distance relationships. You knew that."
I didn't, Darlene thought to herself bitterly. Do you think I'd have put myself in this position if I had known that? She took a deep breath.
"Why now, Bradley? Why with me like this? Please untie me," she pulled again at her bound ankles in frustration.
"I tried, Darlene. I thought we'd be alone without your parents. I didn't know you'd be like that. I just wanted to talk to you. I tried..." his voice trailed off as though he was ashamed of keeping her like this.
Darlene sighed. He was right. She'd put herself into this. He was simply taking advantage of it. He wasn't leering at her or anything. He was just taking advantage of having her immobile to talk to her. She was well known for avoiding an argument. How many guys would give their eye teeth to break up with a captive female? No worries about being slapped. Plus, she had to listen to him, like it or not.
"Who is she?" she repeated through her tears. At least she wasn't sobbing. Instead, big fat tears slowly rolled down her face. She couldn't stop them. She couldn't wipe at them. They simply rolled slowly and unheeded down her cheeks.
Bradley ignored the question, continuing in hushed tones. "And we aren't quite right for one another. I'm ... I'm not sure I'm in love with you anymore."
"I still love you," Darlene spoke almost by instinct and without hesitation. She thought she did still love him. A part of her did, anyway.
"But that isn't enough, Dar. Don't you see that?" Bradley implored her.
She did. She didn't want to, but she could see that. Her love wasn't enough to build a relationship. He had to love her, too. She couldn't love for the both of them. She'd been blind, just like Darren had been trying to tell her. When was she going to learn to trust Darren? If she'd listened to him, instead of forcing the issue, she wouldn't be tied to this damn bed. These words had been coming for a while, and she'd been ignoring the warning signs and avoiding the issues with Bradley. Just like she always did. Darren had seen it. He just didn't know when it would happen. He'd probably seen it a year ago. He'd tried to warn her and she hadn't listened.
She cried for a while silently on the bed. Bradley sat and tried not to look at the girl he'd loved. Darlene knew that he hadn't wanted to hurt her, but these things hurt. No matter if the girl was tied to a bed and frustrated, or not.
She turned her head, sensing that this was it. It was over.
Completely.
Irresistibly.
Over.
There was nothing more she could do. She would accept that, given time.
"Bradley?" she called quietly.
He looked up at her face.
"Who is she? The other girl?" she pleaded. For some reason it was important to her. She wanted to know as much as she didn't.
She half expected to hear that it was her best friend. That would have capped off this lovely afternoon.
He spoke quietly, flushed. "His name is Adrian. You don't know him."
Her mind whirled at the words, not quite understanding, but understanding too well. She'd caught him a number of times looking too fiercely at a guy on the street - guys she'd look at if she'd seen them first or wasn't with Bradley. It made sense now. She knew that somewhere deep inside herself, had she been looking at a woman that way what it would mean. But she hadn't seen it. Hadn't guessed. Hadn't realized. God, at least she'd protected herself when Bradley and her had first ... oh God.
Bradley rose to his feet and walked over to her. He tried to keep his eyes on her face but didn't quite succeed. She felt a hot flush rising over her as he approached.
"I loved you, Darlene. And I didn't want to hurt you. I never cheated on you," he spoke as softly as a summer breeze. She still loved his voice.
She swallowed. He'd hurt her badly. But she'd survive. She always had survived before. Her tears fell hard down her face and into her hair and the pillow beneath. She wanted to curl up, to forget about today, to lie in the dark, make it go away, and cry all night. She couldn't even bring her arms in to hug herself.
Bradley bent and softly kissed her wet cheek. "But I love him more," he whispered into her ear.
She felt his fingers scrabbling at her wrist, attempting to let her free finally from her bonds.
She swallowed, a lump in her throat that wouldn't go away. Her brain wasn't functioning properly.
"Just go," she whispered.
He continued to work at Darren's knots. She tried to pull her hand away from his touch and succeeded in only tugging the knots from his fumbling fingers.
"Bradley? Just go. Please?" she begged through her tears. She didn't want him to see her like this any longer.
He rose silently to his feet, looking one last time into her tear-streaked face.
"Are you going to be alright?" he asked.
She nodded. "Somebody will untie me. Probably Darren. I don't care. Just go."
He turned one last time, asking a different question with the same words, "Are you going to be alright?"
"I hope so," she responded in a whisper before the tears that she couldn't wipe away flowed from her eyes again.
She vaguely heard the front door close quietly in the silent house as she lay on her bed and wept.
***
She'd regained some sanity after a few more hours stuck on her bed. She had enough sense to try and hope that Darren showed up before her parents. God, how would she explain this? She wished that she'd let Bradley release her. She wished for so many things that she ached. She pulled for the millionth time at the cords holding her down. What a stupid, stupid idea. But she didn't regret it. Not really. She at least had time to think. She lay there, feeling her bed, feeling her helplessness, aware of her body. Her face, dirty and tear-streaked, stared up at her ceiling in the fading light. Afternoon was quickly fading to evening.
The phone had rung twice since Bradley had left. She idly wondered who it had been. Her parents? Darren? Or Bradley? She mentally shrugged. Not much she could do about it. They'd leave a message if it was important. She would regret it if she'd missed a call from Bradley, but perhaps it was for the best. Her arms ached from her immobility, and her feet had fallen asleep a while ago. What if nobody came by to release her? What if Darren and her parents stayed out all night?
She felt fatalistic and helpless lying there. Not much else she could do. They'd come home eventually. She just hoped that it was Darren, first.
She closed her eyes and dozed, fending off another wave of grief.
***
The soft closing of the front door woke her from a hazy dream of flowers and hay.A summer rainstorm had been approaching, and someone, she couldn't remember who, was waiting for her in the hay. Her mind was still a little foggy. Linda? She didn't know anyone named Linda.
She held her breath, hoping beyond hope that the front door had been locked. It was pitch dark in the room. Her night vision hadn't kicked in yet, and night had fallen while she had slept. In other circumstances, she might have fantasized a blindfold and been aroused, but now the darkness was simply frightening. She glanced over. Her bedroom door was wide open; she could see the soft glow of the night light her parents kept in the main bathroom through the open doorway. Bradley hadn't closed her bedroom door on his way out. If it was her parents, she'd have some explaining to do. If it was a burglar, well, not much she could do about that either. Prepare to be raped. She shuddered at the thought. Her earlier fantasies were far less palatable in the middle of the night. The front door had been shut with care to be silent. Still, it could be anyone. It was only because she'd been in a light doze that she'd awakened at all.
She couldn't tell if it was one set of feet or two climbing the stairs. Her parents? Her brother? Someone more sinister? A male form silhouetted in her door frame. Her breath caught in her throat as she envisioned the big, dark-clothed break-and-enter artist who wouldn't hesitate to break and enter her. She shuddered. She didn't want to be raped. She silently prayed to herself and bit back her voice that wanted to scream out in terror. A tiny moan escaped her throat.
"Darlene? You awake?" a male voice spoke quietly. It took her a moment to place the whisper. She tried to calm her hammering heart.
She swallowed and nodded. Realizing that her nod couldn't be seen in the dim glow of the clock radio and the bathroom night light, she whispered instead. "I'm awake."
He stepped into the room quietly. She could hear his stocking feet whispering against her carpet. She flexed her numb toes. She was thirsty beyond belief.
"Oh my God. You're still tied there?" Darren whispered to her as he settled onto her bed.
She nodded. This time he was close enough to see her. She couldn't see well in this light, but her night vision was improving the longer her eyes remained open. His night vision was probably improving as well.
"What happened?" he asked urgently as his fingers found her right wrist. "I knew this was ..."
She cut him off from saying the equivalent of "I told you so."
"Bradley broke up with me," she spoke quietly. Her words again brought tears to her eyes, and this time she began to sob as she hadn't allowed herself to since Bradley had left her.
Darren's fingers abandoned her wrist, leaving her bound. He gathered her into his arms as best he could and hugged her tight. "I'm so sorry, Sis. I may not have liked him, but I knew he was important to you."
She cried on his shirt until her shoulders ached so much that she had to lower herself back to the bed. She wanted out of the ropes, wanted to be held properly. She lay still while he released her. It didn't take long, even though he left her bedroom lights off and had to work some of the knots through by feel alone.
She sat up crying, reaching for her brother. He moved to get up.
"Please? Where are you going?" she asked quietly through her tears. Her voice betrayed her concern that she'd disappointed him so much that he was going to leave her, the same as Bradley had. She accepted it, couldn't blame him, but it made her cry even worse. She felt so terribly alone.
"Just getting you a robe," his soft voice came from above her.
She reached and pulled his sleeve. In the darkness, he couldn't see her anyway. And she didn't care. She'd been nude the entire day. She wasn't shy. She wanted to be held now more than she wanted clothing. She cried out softly as feeling began to return to her numb hands and feet.
He settled back to the bed and let her melt into his strong arms. He gently stroked her hair as she cried, letting her soak the shoulder of his rugby shirt with her hot tears. They rocked silently together for an hour or so, words unnecessary, until she finally sighed and squirmed out of his arms. She was mostly cried out. There simply weren't any more tears. She knelt up on the bed facing him, knees pressed tightly together, her hands clasped together in her lap.
"You were right," she whispered. "It was a dumb thing to do."
"He didn't ..." Darren began awkwardly.
She shook her head.
"But he left you like that? Jesus Christ. I'll tear him limb from limb." His voice was full of anger and hurt. He couldn't understand, couldn't imagine what Darlene had been through this unusual afternoon. Rage seethed behind his eyes at Bradley. How could he have done something like that?
"Darren. You can't. You can't hurt him. He tried to untie me. I wouldn't let him," she softly explained.
Darlene watched silently as the sudden anger faded behind his face. His face became softer and more concerned for her.
Darren just stared at his sister as his anger faded. She'd never cease to surprise him. Here she was protecting the guy that had just dumped and rejected her. Despite her trembling, her inner strength was ... admirable.
"I. I wasn't exactly thinking straight. It was my fault," Darlene continued with regret in her voice.
She could see his remorse flashing across his open features. She wasn't quick enough to prevent him from speaking softly. "I'm so sorry, Darlene. I shouldn't have left you." For perhaps the first time in their lives, he'd failed her. He hadn't been there to protect her when she had desperately needed him. His voice was brimming with his regrets.
Darren leaned forward and kissed Darlene gently on her wet cheek. She was still crying gently, but most of it was out of her system. She wiped gently at her eyes, finally having the freedom to do so. She kissed his cheek softly, accepting his apology though it wasn't required or expected as far as she was concerned. Her eyes felt heavy from the tears that still leaked slowly from them. She felt drained, emotionally and physically.
"You need some sleep, kiddo," he remarked gently as he held her.
"I've been resting and sleeping all day. What time is it?" she asked.
"3:30 in the morning."
"Excuse me?" she exclaimed in disbelief.
"3:30 in the morning," he repeated, turning her clock radio and pointing at it glowing in the darkness. Sure enough, it winked out '3:28 AM' at her in dim red digits.
"Oh my God. Where's Mom and Dad?"
"Asleep in their room, I guess," Darren spoke softly. "As we ought to be."
"You're kidding." They had to pass her room to get to theirs. They couldn't help but see their daughter naked and roped to her bed. Her door had been wide open. Why hadn't they woken her and freed her?
"Have you ever known them to be out later than midnight?" he ventured. He didn't want to upset Darlene, but he couldn't lie to her either. The parents were home. No doubt about it. Their car had been in the driveway as he had quietly walked in.
"Christ," she swore to herself.
"We'll deal with it tomorrow, if there is anything to deal with. Go to bed. Okay? Things will look better in the morning," Darren tried to reassure her.
She reluctantly crawled between the covers that she'd laid upon most of the day. She realized with a start that she was cold, her nipples aching as they touched the cool sheets. She didn't bother with her nightgown. Her family respected her privacy as long as her door was closed. Even Darren knocked. She pulled the covers up to her chin and curled up like a kitten.
Darren tucked the sheets around her body. Again, he kissed her cheek, softly. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Me too," she answered as he slipped out of her room and shut the door quietly.
***
She hadn't done this for years. But she couldn't sleep. The tears wouldn't stop, and she didn't want to cry herself to sleep again. She had to distract herself, somehow.
She felt her fingers trailing over her bare skin, igniting her through her tears. Her nipples, aroused despite her weariness and sadness, reacted to her soft pinches. She knew what and where to touch herself despite her long absence from this simple pleasure. She gasped quietly as her fingers found her soft, firm, moist lower lips. She wasn't very surprised that she was aroused down there either. Her finger found her clitoris, swollen and ready for her touch. She slowly circled herself, caressing her breasts softly while her middle finger slowly stroked sensually between her legs and deep inside. Shivering, she tilted her head back and arched her body as though accepting a lover. Her mind was filled with images of her bound to the bed all afternoon, her danger, her vulnerability, her helplessness, her absolute trust. She had been stupid, she knew that, but she was still here, unviolated, alive and well. She'd learned something about herself. She silently sent up a thank-you to the angels who had watched over her today. Her breathing slowly increased as she teased herself. She knew her own rhythms and knew her point of release. She held herself there, relishing her freedom but still feeling the soft constricting ropes against her wrists and ankles. She concentrated on her light dancing fingertips, on her hardened nipples, on her soft belly, on her aching center.
Her mind exploded in a thousand blue lights as her climax crashed over her. She struggled to control her voice, not wanting to wake the house with unbridled cries of passion. She pressed her hand over her mouth to help. Her fingers continued to stimulate her senses until the last involuntary muscle contraction had taken her. She finally collapsed exhausted back into the pillows, letting out her breath and moaning quietly to herself.
As the relaxation and peace from her climax flowed over her body, she knew that she'd be fine. She'd go on, and there would be a tomorrow. She still felt the loss, but it would fade.Her consciousness faded, and she fell into a restless sleep.
"You were home late," her father remarked at the breakfast table. There was only a slight edge of accusation in his voice. She was getting too old to baby any longer. It was getting to the point that she could make mature decisions on her own, at least in his eyes.
The rope marks had faded from her wrists and ankles as she had slept, only a faint red mark betrayed her activities of the previous afternoon. Her eyes glued to her right wrist and the faint red line there as her fingers grasped her cereal spoon tightly. In a quick flash of irritation, she almost snapped that she'd been home before Darren - that she'd never even left the house. She almost remarked that he'd been the one to wander in at 2:30 in the morning, not her. She caught a quick mischievous smile from her brother across the table. She took a deep breath and shot him a glance of malice. Why he always got away with being late, she'd never figure out. They were the same age after all. Because he was male. She knew that it was inevitable to be treated differently. As a female, she was more vulnerable? It wasn't fair. But she hadn't exactly proven the point yesterday.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," she replied quietly. She slowly realized that her parents had assumed that her darkened room had been empty. Perhaps it had been. She wanted to forget yesterday's unusual afternoon, but she knew that she never would. Darren smiled gently at her when their father glanced back at his paper. Tears threatened again, but this time she willed them back. | 4 |
3,569 | The Couple | "You'll think I'm weird."
I looked at her, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, as she fiddled with her charm bracelet, eyes cast down in shame.
"Come on, tell me. You can tell me anything. I love you, Anna, you know I do."
"You promise you won't go off me."
I folded her into my arms and dabbed kisses on the top of her golden mane. "Don't be silly, it would take all the power of a nuclear cataclysm to tear me away from you."
She took a deep breath and looked up at me, her long, lustrous hair framing an elfin face. Huge, blue eyes widening in alarm at the deep, dark secret that she was trying to wrest from her bosom to share with me. She was my wife, I the husband of two years standing.
"Are you sure?"
It was as if her very life depended on me acceding to carry the burden of her forthcoming revelation. I nodded.
Another deep breath. "I, er, I...." She tailed off.
"Tell me, I'm not just your lover, I am your friend. I made an oath to share my life with you. So nothing should stand between us."
"I want to be dominated." It came out in a rush, as if by blurting it, she was able to soften the impact or to deflect the blow from my incredulity.
"Dominated? How?"
"You know...I want to be at the mercy of a powerful man. To be totally at his whim. To do what he wants. To provide him with pleasure and to take my personal pleasures in small sips from the pool of his desire."
I stood back and held her shoulders; she hung her head in mortification. The secret was out, the Rubicon had been crossed, now she must await my verdict. I could no longer see her breathing, she was holding her breath, as she stood in my thrall.
"How far do you want to go?" I asked, gently.
"As far as you desire...Master." A tingle ran up and down my spine, and my genitals gripped tightly. Master! One little word, one huge new world.
"Would you agree to be my slave? To serve me in all ways of the flesh?"
"If my master desires."
"Would you keep your body as the temple of my lust, to forego all personal pleasures in pursuit of my happiness?"
"I am at the pleasure of my master."
"Would you allow yourself to be constrained in coarse hempen ropes?"
"I am already constrained by my master's benevolence."
"Would you be prepared to be aroused to the point of distraction and only able to fulfill your desires when it pleases your master?"
"My master commands my body. My pleasure is only within his gift."
"Would you offer yourself to others at the whim of your master?"
"If my master commands."
I pulled down my fly and prized my solidly erect penis out from its constraining lair. I swear I had never had so powerful an erection, nor such an overarching need for consummation.
"Suck me, slave."
Anna dropped to her knees before me and, doing something she had never done before in two years of blissful marriage, she took me in her mouth.I draw patterns on her button, silently declaring my attentions in loving Braille as her body tenses and her breathing echoes the sighs of ecstasy. Now my fingers again take up their fateful march, I touch the plastic rod, I feel it buzzing insistently upon my skin. She draws her womanhood around it in a gentle, but urgent, persistence as I start to draw it from her. It is as if I am drawing the very life from inside her, as her body yields up the instrument that is so gently tormenting her. I draw it out and coax it back in. Always watching, feeling, trying to get at one with the tumultuous feelings that are enveloping her body like a warm, dark, rising maelstrom. Tossing her in helpless subjugation as my ministrations yield bountiful pleasures, her muted murmurs caressing the air like the whisper of the wind through the forest.
Now I must, as I know I must, drink at the fountain of her well. I must taste her and revel in her warm saltiness. I must open her, explore her, conquer her, subjugate her. My tongue must be my weapon, my lips my shield and buckler. I must storm the gates of her citadel. With my ministrations I must entice her surrender, her portals must open and her wetness must overwhelm my senses as her desire becomes manifest upon my tongue. Now I, too, am a slave, we are at one. She the slave of my desire, me the slave of hers. I must garner the sweetness of her juices, her taste, her very essence, drenching my tongue as it dances at the humid warmth of her. Now her moans have become little cries, like the far off call of a hunting bird, they carry to me on the wings of her passion.
I the master, she the slave.
It is time to reassert my mastery of her, as my mouth traces the delicate journey up the delicate contours of her body. My tongue traces a silvery trail across the delicate parchment of her belly, retracing the journey of exploration that my fingers had forged a while before. In helplessness she awaits me. The true slave, at her master's bidding, tightly constrained with limbs drawn to the points of the compass. Each time I make this journey there are new paths to find, new pleasures to reach out for.
Finally, my mouth captures the heights of her thrusting breasts, my tongue fencing gently with the chewy nub of her engorged nipple. Dancing in the blunt grip of my maw then skipping coquettishly away like a playful maiden before a lustful swain. My mouth now draws down on its twin, enveloping it in the gulping cavern. Teasing, nipping, caressing, the tongue and the nipple dueled playfully before the nipple surrendered to the urge of my lips.
My manhood was at rapt attention and was sensing the end of my quest. It nodded, seemingly in agreement, with the lustful voices in my head that demanded that I sink within her comforting embrace.
I sank home. My whole length being swallowed up. Now it was her turn to play and tease as her inner muscles danced and squeezed at my rampant manhood.
I the Master. She the Slave. We were at one in our universe. | 3 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.