“When did he leave?”, she wondered. Suddenly, the phone rang. “This is your
wakeup call,” she heard him say softly. Her pussy was instantly wet at the
sound of his voice. “God, that was good last night,” she whispered. “I love
you,” she blurted out. “You kind of drifted off to sleep so quickly, I
thought I should leave you alone for the night,” he said. “I’m going down to
breakfast now – I would wait for you but I think that you had better get a
move on if you are going to show up in the workshop in time.” he said. She
glanced at the clock and saw he was right. “What time did you leave?” she
asked. “Oh, it was around 2 or so, but you were sound asleep. Did I tell you
that you snore?” he teased. “I do not,” she giggled.

She wanted to hug this man right now but he was on the telephone and she knew
she had to get ready for her work. “I’ll see you in the classroom,” he said.
“You think you can keep your eyes open all day?” he asked. She giggled as he
hung up the phone, but wondered if she would have a problem. She was used to
the 8 to 5 routine but staying up ’til 2, with plenty of the right kind of
exercise, may take its toll. “We’ll have to see,” she thought to herself!

She hung up the phone and headed for the shower. It felt good to have the
warm water rush over her body. As she soaped her body, she thought over last
night’s activities. She knew how wonderful he had made her feel and she began
to think about her husband and children. “How could I do this to Ray,” she
thought. “He’s such a wonderful man and Tommy and Billy – if I would have to
give them up……. Oh God, how can I be so careless?”

She toweled herself dry and began to dress for the day. She suddenly realized
that she was tired; “Oh cripes, and I have to go through this whole day
feeling like this!” she thought to herself. She finished dressing, picked up
her stuff for the meeting and left for the meeting room. Fortunately, it was
in the motel and she dropped by the office for a cup of coffee from the
Continental Breakfast they had set up. She saw some of the food there and
quick grabbed a sweet roll to have with her coffee at the meeting. She
quickly walked down the corridor to the main meeting room.

As she entered, she looked for a familiar face. The meeting had just begun
and the 500 or so attendees were mostly in place. A vacant chair presented
itself in the back row and she slipped in there to prevent disturbing anyone.
As she sat down, she glanced to her right and noticed that she was sitting
next to a tall, trimly shaped blonde lady whom she had really never met but
whose name was quite familiar to her, Garolynn Warren. Garolynn was extremely
attractive, divorced with one child, and eagerly sought after by most of the
men in the agency. Although Janis didn’t know for sure, it was rumored that
she had an occasional affair with different men from time to time.

She found herself a bit jealous of Garolynn because of her beauty and, as she
thought about it, her apparent freedom to have an affair if she so desired.
She knew Garolynn was originally from Montana and wondered if she knew Peter.
“I wonder if she and Peter have had an affair?” she said to herself,
unconsciously. She began to feel a little more jealous just thinking about
it.

Soon it was time for a break and she introduced herself to Garolynn.
Recognizing her position in agency, Garolynn asked if she knew Peter. “Why
did she ask me that?” Janis thought and replied that she had met him once when
he came to the home office to work on some problems. “Well, he sure has been
asking some interesting questions around here,” Garolynn replied, “Besides,
he’s kind of cute, don’t you think?” “What kind of questions?” Janis asked,
choosing to ignore the second part of the question. “Oh, like who’s in charge
and what their qualifications are, what they know about automation, and stuff
like that!” Garolynn replied. “Its refreshing to have people ask those kind
of questions, isn’t it?” Garolynn asked. “Yes,” Janis replied. She notice
that Garolynn was dressed well and had a full bust. She also noticed that she
was more than interested in Peter, which was raising the feelings of jealousy
that Janis found herself harboring.

“Ssssooooo, you can’t make it to class on time,” she heard his soft voice
behind her. “I…. have you met Garolynn Warren,” Janis asked. “Yes, we have
met at a couple of meetings, but I doubt that she remembers me,” as he took
Garolynn’s hand. They shook hands and Garolynn looked him right in the eyes.
Janis could see the flash of electricity pass as Garolynn passed on some small
pleasantries. Since this break signaled the adjournment of the large meeting
into several smaller meetings, Peter suggested that he accompany Janis to the
meeting they were holding. They both bade a “See you later,” to Garolynn and
moved off toward the smaller meeting room.

“What are you my brother’s keeper,” Janis snapped. “Whoa,” he stammered, “I
apologize for whatever!” “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, “Garolynn was talking
about you and I got a little jealous.” “Jealous? What for?” he asked “I
hardly know the woman – I mean I know who she is but I think this is the first
time that I have actually spoken to her. Good grief – get a grip.” “I said I
was sorry,” she said looking into his eyes. “Ok, ok – apology accepted,” he
whispered, “Can I kiss you here or would over there be better!” She was taken
back by this proposal but quickly realized that he was being facetious -
enough so that she knew he genuinely accepted her apology and held no ill
feelings. “You’re so damn cocksure of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Hell, no,” he replied “But if it looks that way, far be it from me ever
telling anyone different!”

The rest of the day went by quickly, although Janis began to feel as if she
was going to drop by about 3pm. She grabbed another cup of coffee and in
about 15 minutes began to feel as if she was going to make it through the day.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

While out shopping at one of the many malls located conveniently near
me, I wandered into a water-bed store. When I entered, I saw the most
beautiful woman that I have ever seen. She was as beautiful as some of your
monthly Pets. I thought of my secret fantasy of fucking her in front of the few
people in the store.
This goddess of beauty made her way over me.
“Can I help you?” she said.
You sure can. honey, I thought to myself. “Oh, yes,” I answered. I
asked her for a certain model of sheet cover and she went in the back to check
on it. I couldn’t help but stare at her gorgeous buttocks, and thought to
myself that she had to have the nicest ass in the history of split flesh. Her
body did not stop. My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed her standing
in front of me, staring at my now-erect love tool.
“I found what you were looking for. Come back with me and I will show
you.”" she said, I followed and before I could offer any resistance, she tore
off most of my clothes and threw me on the bed. We kissed passionately and
then she started to nibble on the head of my penis. She worked down my rod and
licked my balls, and she didn’t stop until I spewed my penis cream over her
face and down her throat. As I was coming, I told her my fantasy of making
love in pubic. It was easy to convince her to move our copulating to one of
the water beds outside in the shop. Since it was almost closing time, I gussed
she figured it would be safe.
We dressed and walked casually toward one of the sensual water beds
set up in the middle of the store. We lay down as if we were just a young
couple testing out the bed to see if it was comfortable. I unbuttoned her
shirt to reveal her large, firm breasts and rock-hard nipples. I was really
turned on. I slipped off her dress and panties as she disrobed me. Our sexual
act caught the attention of several customers. I lifted her up and placed her
under the sheets. She whispered in my ear to fuck her with all I had. I got
under the covers and slid my rod into her tight love tunnel. I was so aroused
that I came almost immediately, and her climax followed several seconds
after mine.
She was moaning for more. So we turned around and got into a sixty-
nine position, this time without the concealment of the cover. She began to
suck like there was no tomorrow. I slid my tongue around the circumference
of her labia and tongued her clit until she was about to climax. I finally
dove right in and tongue-fucked her until she had four consecutive orgasms. We
fucked again while standing. Our screams almost cracked all the windows in the
store.
We finally got up and dressed. She locked up the store and told me
that she would call me again. She never did, but it didn’t matter. My fantasy
had come true.

–

By Vatasyayana

Source: “The Love Teachings of Kama Sutra”
—— (Translated by Indra Sinha)

———————————————————————–

Lying Down Positions:
——————–

Indrani draws up both her knees
until they nuzzle the curves of her breasts;
her feet find her lover’s armpits.
Small girls love this posture,
but becoming a goddess takes a lot of practice.

She cups and lifts her buttocks with her palms,
spreads wide her thighs,
and digs in her heels besides her hips,
while you caress her breasts:
this is “Utphallaka” (The Flower in Bloom).

Grasping the ankles
of the round hipped woman, whose buttocks
are like two ripe gourds,
raise her beautiful thighs
and spread the thigh-joints widely.

Full of desire, saying sweet words,
approach her with your body stiff as a pole
and drive straight forward
to pierce her lotus and join your limbs:
experts call it “Madandhvaja” (The Flag of Cupid).

Catch hold of her two feet,
raising them till they press upon her breasts
and her legs form a rough circle.
Clasp her neck and make love to her:
this is “Ratisundara” (Aphrodite’s Delight).

Lift the lady’s feet until her soles
lie perfectly parallel,
one to each side of her slender throat,
cup her breasts and enjoy her:
this technique is “Uthkanta” (Throat-high).

Your lovely wife, lying on the bed,
grasps her own feet
and draws them up until they reach her hair;
you catch her breasts and make love:
this is “Vyomapada” (Sky-foot).

The round-thighed woman on the bed
grasps her ankles and raises high her lotus feet;
you strike her to the root, kissing
and slapping open-palmed between her breasts:
this is “Markata” (The Monkey).

She lies flat on her back,
you sit between her parted knees, raise them,
hook her feet over your thighs,
catch hold of her breasts, and enjoy her:
this is “Manmathpriya” (Dear to Cupid).

Lying-down Positions – Samputa Group:
————————————

If your penis is too small for a woman,
the “Samputa” group of postures should be used:
“Samputa” (the Jewel Case),
“Pidita” (the Squeeze), “Veshtita (the Entwined)
and “Vadavaka” (the Mare’s Trick).

In Samputa your legs lie along hers
caressing their whole length from toes to thighs.
Your lover may be below you,
or you may both lie on your sides,
in which case she should always be on your left.

In Pidita the lovers’ thighs
are interlaced and squeeze each other in rhythm.
In Veshtita she crosses her thighs
or rolls each one inward,
thus greatly strengthening her yoni’s grip.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

When I broke my right leg after being up at the resort for only a few
days, I thought the good times were finished. But after a day or
two, when all that was left of the skiing accident was my leg in a
cast, I started to get friendly with Elizabeth. Sleek and slender
with long auburn hair and cat-green eyes, she had the kind of boobs
that made my mouth go dry. Her ski sweater filled to over-flowing.

Everyone was out on the slopes, and Elizabeth and I were in my room,
laying in front of the fire. Elizabeth had her head nestled on my
shoulder and one leg over my cast. I inhaled the fragrance from her
hair, then I started to kiss her throat and her ear. She moaned
softly.

I slid my hand in the back of her sweater and slowly started to rub
her back. Elizabeth sighed and snuggled closer. I explored her silky
mouth with my tongue; when I found a sensitive spot, she responded
with a little shiver. Elizabeth sucked my tongue. I nibbled on her
lips, licked them, and they seemed to swell with passion.

I felt Elizabeth press her crotch against my cast. She murmured with
pleasure and pressed again, harder. I slipped my hand into her
panties, massaging and squeezing her. In slow, easy waves, Elizabeth
rubbed herself against my leg.

“This is heaven,” she whispered.

She stripped off her panties, and when I started to get up, she said,
“No, don’t move.” She snuggled against me again. Her pussy flashed a
bright pink – now I knew where the term “hot pink” came from – and
her clitoris stood out, wet and slick with her arousal. She dipped
her fingers into her lovehold and gave me a taste, letting me suck
her fingers clean.

Furiously now, Elizabeth began to hump my cast, jerking her hips up
and down, rubbing her love juice over me, grinding her clit into my
leg. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open in concentration. She
was panting, and her voice was a steady sing-song of passion.

A powerful orgasm soon shook her entire body. She gave a small
scream, her legs quivering. She twitched and pushed her spasming
pussy against my cast. “Oh, that’s so good,” she said. Later, after
she had gotten her breath back, she murmured, “Thank you.”

Since returning from the ski trip, Elizabeth has come over to my
place several times – and it is amazing how creative that girl is
with a cast!

–

You stand out on the porch in front of your remote farmhouse,
wondering how long it will be before the lights are restored, banishing
the night again for a bit. A quick breeze toys with your hair and your
skirt. You shiver slightly at the chill running down your spine, and
cross your arms over your breasts.

Off in the distance, now, you see the headlights of an approaching
car. You feel the tension creep over you as the driver picks his way
down the poorly-maintained road that leads nowhere but to you. Alone
tonight, your retired parents in town for dinner with friends, where
they will spend the night, and you are aware of your vulnerability.

A low roll of thunder distracts you, as it crawls over you slowly,
reminding you of the incredible power of nature’s display, making its
way across the flat countryside in the night.

You can hear the car’s engine now. It purrs quietly, revealing a
pent-up power that provides a counterpoint to the uncontrolled energy of
the storm on the horizon. A flash of lightning illuminates the vehicle,
and you note that it is a fine European make, black as the night, with
nobody within but the driver, whose features you cannot yet make out.

Turning the final corner, the car stops in front of you, the engine
goes silent, and the lights go dark. You hear the door open and another
flash of lightning lets you at last see the stranger’s face. Something
inside you cries out, and you feel your knees go to jelly at the sight.
He is everything that has ever attracted you — finely-styled black
hair, a proud but not arrogant face, piercing grey eyes. Eyes that are
directed straight at you, and which you can feel boring through you,
even in that scant instant of light.

Footsteps in the gravel. A rich, low voice, “Hello, miss. Could
you help me, please?” You feel a fluttering in your gut at the sound,
and your throat seems constricted as hard as a rock.

“Sure, uhm, what do you need?” you finally force out. You feel the
porch move slightly as he pulls himself up the stairs by the hand rail.
His footsteps on the plain decking of the porch are hard, rapping, and
you want them to come closer to you.

“I am lost. Between the storm and the map that I have, I took a
bad turn a while back and now have no idea at all where I am.” His
speech carries a faint, aristocratic accent. Still the fluttering
inside you continues, and you can see his shadowy outline against the
blackness beyond the house.

“Oh, okay… Come on inside. I’ve got a map.” You turn and open
the door, going into the house. It is even darker in here, if that were
possible, and he hesitates at the doorway.

“Can you turn on a light?”

“Oh — sorry. The storm knocked out the lights. I think I’ve got
a flashlight around here someplace. Okay?”

“Sure. I’ll wait here. Don’t want to trip over a lamp or
whatever, you know.” You can practically hear his smile.

“Yeah, uhm, I’ll be right back.” You make your way into the
kitchen, where the flashlight is kept in a drawer. Turning it on, you
retrace your steps, squinting slightly in the relative brightness of the
beam.

As you return to the front room, he advances into the house and
closes the door behind him. “Much better,” he says approvingly. “Now I
can see.” His eyes are drinking you in, and you feel a quiver pass
through you, wondering at the true meaning of his words.

Setting the flashlight down on the coffee table, you pull open the
drawer in the end table to retrieve the promised map. “Here, have a
seat,” you say, motioning at the sofa. You sit beside him and spread
the map before you.

This close to him, you can smell the sharp tang of his aftershave
and feel the warmth emanating from him. You point out some landmarks to
him on the map.

“Ah, yes, I see now. I went wrong here,” he says, and points at a
highway intersection miles away.

“And you’re here, now,” you say. A startlingly brilliant flash of
lightning makes you jump, and the instant reply of thunder booms between
your ears with a voice of unstoppable strength. You hear sheets of rain
hit the house almost immediately.

Recovering, you point out the place on the map to him again. Your
finger is trembling, and you look at him. He is smiling at your
reaction to the storm. “Caught me by surprise,” you say, returning the
smile.

“Same here. Well, I suppose I should be off now. Thank you very
much…”
…End of the part1. To be continued..

justice I have to be a great deal more explicit that I would normally prefer. I

prefer to flirt, both with men and with the details of my adventures. It seems

much more appropriate to say I spent the night with someone than to say

specifically what we did. I will try to overcome this as I tell you what

happened. If I seem to be skirting something, you have to be willing to interrupt

me with questions. I may evade, but I will never lie. Anyway, with that in mind,

the story really begins on a Friday night a few months back. The Chief, my

affectionate name I gave my husband, had some friends over. I was getting in

late from a conference and it was clearly his party. I knew nearly everyone

there, but they were his friends. I came in about 10:00 that night. I’d slept

on the train, so I was still fairly fresh. There they all were in the dining

room, playing cards. The Chief gave me a big hug when I came in and carried my

suitcase up to the bedroom. I washed my face and slipped out of my travel

clothes into the kind of thing I normally hang around the house in, a shirt of

the Chief’s and tights (white and blue respectively.) I’d eaten so I just nibble

at the snacks and watched them play. I stood or sat behind the Chief and one or

two of the other players seemed to have trouble focusing on their cards. I’d been

behaving myself for the past few days and this tickled me. Thinking to myself,

It’s all in a good cause (the Chief’s winnings) I would stretch or walk around or

occasionally pick things up off of the floor. They seemed to enjoy it and I

certainly did. Around midnight about half of the crew left and when the game had

gotten down to 4 players, I sat in and became a fifth. They were betting quarters

mostly and I sat down with around $20 and began to play. I was about $5 ahead

when I began to lose steadily. One of the other players ran out of money and

left. That had been the pattern. When you ran out of the money you had on the

table, you were done. This gave the game a quality that the Chief described as

friendly. There were limits on how fast you could raise, there were limits on

the number of raises, and what they described as table stakes. No checks, no

I.O.U.s, no big debts. The game had gone on for a couple of years, losing very

few players and the ‘friendly’ atmosphere was probably responsible. So, here I am

down to about $5.00 and another player went bust and left. I’d lost about 8

hands in a row. I started trying to bet conservatively until I felt my luck

change. That helped me outlast one more player who also left. It was about 1:30

in Saturday morning now. I lost all but my last dollar betting on a full house of

Queens and fives. It seemed like a conservative, safe bet, but here I was down

to 4 quarters. One went into the pot for my ante and I picked up a pair of

kings. There were 2 quarters in raises to me which I covered and I found myself

looking at a third king and two aces in my draw. I bet the quarter I had left,

the Chief raised one quarter (He’d drawn three cards) and J, the other player

raised one. So, here I was with a winning hand and nothing left to bet. Or was

I really down to nothing. I grinned at J, moved my eyes to the Chief and somehow

or other managed to say with a straight face, I’ll cover the pot with my shirt if

I lose.

The Chief was drinking something as I said. How he managed to not spray it all

over the cards, I’ll never know. He was close to losing it. When I say losing

it, I mean laughing, not being angry. He seemed to see this as just one more of

my flirtings which rather than growing resigned to, he has come to enjoy over

…End of the part1. To be continued..

Who was he? I only met him this morning. We talked briefly at our
chance meeting while browsing the shelves at a local bookstore. He was strong
and muscular. Tall, about 6 feet, with sandy brown hair. I suppose I was
attracted to him, for when he asked me to his place for a glass of wine, I
readily accepted.

As I sat there before the fireplace in his den, my thoughts drifted to
this afternoon, of the private moments I enjoyed as I prepared for this
evening. I recalled having completed my shower and feeling warm all over as I
passed the soft towel over my naked body. Standing naked before my mirror, I
admired the shapely form of my body. My rounded well proportioned breasts were
firm with large cherry-red nipples. Looking down, I could just see the
glistening folds of my vaginal lips, through the dusty blonde hairs of my pubic
mound. I remember trying to decide what to wear. I selected a sexy, loose
fitting button down blouse and matching shorts, which I laid out in preparation
for this evening. I chose a dainty bra and panty set. Both were made of red
silk with a touch of black lace. Dressing, the bra fit snugly, firming my
round breasts, the panties were briefs, ending just above the line of my pubic
mound. As the cool silk of the undergarments touched my warm skin, I felt a
tingling sensation which sent a shiver through out my body. I sat at the edge
of my bed, wearing only the bra and panties. I remember the internal stirring
I felt in anticipation of what this evening would bring. The desire within my
groin began to spread upward towards my abdomen, and slowly consumed my mind
and body. Looking at the clock, I knew I had time to lie back and give in to
my yearnings.

I remember, lying on my bed, the coolness of the silk bra stimulating
my breasts. I remember thinking of the pleasures I have come to enjoy in
private moments of solitude. I remember slowly sliding my fingers under my bra
and caressing my breast, slowly kneading the nipple, gently rubbing it between
my fingers. I remember closing my eyes and letting my mind ease into the
pleasure my caresses were creating. I remember becoming aroused, as my other
hand slipped under my bra, and I caressed both my breasts. I thought of the
pleasures I experienced as I massaged my hardened nipples between my fingers.

A crackle of a burning log returned me to the present. The thoughts
of this afternoon, along with the effects of the wine began to have an effect
on me. I could feel myself becoming aroused. As I looked into the fire, I
felt the familiar yearning deep in my groin. My breasts began to ache, as my
nipples engorged and hardened. I tightly crossed my thighs and began a gentle
rhythmic tensing of my pelvis. I could feel the moistness forming within the
lips of my vagina. I looked up at him, he seemed preoccupied with the fire,
unaware of the sexual desires slowly building within me.

Again my thoughts left the present and passed back to this afternoon.
I remembered, as I lay on the bed, reaching down over my pelvis, running my
fingers over my panties. I remembered the moistness of the thin piece of silken
underwear, as I let my fingers slip under the panties. I thought of my moist
vaginal lips, how the wetness felt. I remembered how I slowly began to gently
tease my soaking vagina, the intense feelings as I ran my fingers between the
soft labial folds, carefully sliding along side my swollen clitoris. I remember
gently stroking my clitoris, slowly forming circles around it. I could almost
feel the quivers my throbbing clitoris passed upward into my abdomen during
that afternoon’s pleasures when I brought myself to a very fulfilling orgasm.

I took another sip of wine, and my mind returned to the present. He
looked back at me as he stood before the fire, stoking the logs. A soft smile
appeared upon his lips before he turned back to the fire. I watched him as he
knelt before the fireplace and played with the burning ambers. The glow of the
fire, and the rush of the wine was slowly making my head spin. I could feel the
heat spreading through out my body. In an effort to cool off, I unconsciously
opened the top buttons of my blouse. I felt the coolness of my silk bra upon my
breasts. Through clouded eyes I looked for him. He rose, and walked from the
room, stating the need to get another bottle of wine. I heard his footsteps,
descending the stairs to the wine cellar. There I sat, the warmth of the fire,
the coolness of my silk undergarments upon my skin, alone.

I closed my eyes, and laid my head back upon the soft cushions of the
couch behind me. My head was spinning, both from the wine and the thoughts of
the pleasures I gave myself earlier. I could still feel the tingling glow from
the orgasm I had this afternoon. Opening my eyes, I starred at the burning
logs. The warmth of the fire spread up over my chest and radiated up to my
neck. The heat was stirring a desire within me. In a daze, I opened the
remaining buttons of my blouse. The coolness, as the open blouse bared my
chest, stirred me to greater desire. My hand moved again to my chest. I undid
the front clasp of the bra, and let the cups fall away from my breasts. My
fingers reached for my nipple. I began to massage the swollen tip with my thumb
and index finger, and gave in to the pleasure of the moment. My thoughts were
no longer of the pleasures of this afternoon, but rather of the intensity that
was now building deep within my groin. I could feel my nipple hardening as I
continued to massage the tip.

Slowly, my other hand moved towards my breasts. Its fingers reached
for the nipple, and I began to gently massage the hardened nipple between my
thumb and index finger. Both nipples were now engorged and throbbed with
pleasure as my fingers massaged the tips. I moaned softly as the waves of
pleasure my fingers created upon my breasts spread to my pelvis. I was in a
world of my own, concentrating only on the throbbing within my groin & abdomen
as I continued the intense stimulation of my nipples. I crossed my legs and by
tensing my thigh muscles applied a gentle pressure upon my groin. I began to
rock my pelvis, increasing the intensity of the pressure upon my vaginal lips
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Except in your dreams, fantasies, and fevered imaginings said my traitorous mind. Even now I got wet just thinking of her, and I felt a wild stab of jealousy at the momentary vision that confronted me: Tennisball Turner kneels naked at the left of a chair. Her distinctive blonde bob has been shaved, as has every inch of the rest of her, although her head has still a single long braid, almost a pigtail, rising from the top. Leather in blue and orange decorates each wrist, each ankle, and her throat. Her hands are locked together behind her in a single sleeve, almost elbow-to-elbow. She’s bound by several short chains into a painful backward arc in a framework upon which two candles are mounted. The candles are positioned so that every few seconds a big drop of hot wax drips onto each of her breasts. When this happens, sharp moans escape her stretched lips and the reading light suspended on a pole, which is shoved into her mouth, jiggles. A hand slaps her wax-splattered right tit, cracking off a large chunk of cooled red wax. “Be quite still, darling,” says the raven-haired Asian in the chair “Mummy’s going to beat you in a minute or so, and if the light keeps moving about it’ll take me longer to read this chapter,” her face hardens and her nostrils flare as she looks down at the helpless slave girl over her glasses “and you wouldn’t like that at all.”

In the tobacco-smelling little office, I checked my watch-fifteen minutes. I closed the door silently. My nipples were hard. I lifted my skirt and rubbed two fingers across my pussy, then touched them to my lips. It reminded me of being kissed by my slave just after she’d eaten me out satisfactorily; a taste like honey and jasmine, with a little hint of bitter lemon rind. I pinched one of my hard nipples through the fabric of my sweater and bra. My clit responded with a tingle. I sat back in the scuffed red leather chair and teased myself, running my finger slowly up my thigh. My mind took me back into the fantasy-only instead of the handsome Asian woman, it was me in the chair.

“I don’t have long, piggy, so get that tongue of yours to work.” In this fantasy her blonde hair is all there, although her pussy has been trimmed to a tiny ‘landing strip’ of fur. She’s wearing nipple clamps hung with two ounces of weight on each side. Her flesh is cruelly marked with red stripes. She displeased me yesterday, although I forget quite what it was. . . Oh but that slutty little tongue of hers! She’s really getting into her work. It makes her happy and wet to please me. Not that wetness does her any good. Her cunt is freshly sealed shut, pierced and padlocked only a few weeks ago, and as for her ass-well that’s currently occupied by a “triple ripple” butt plug which I’ve been training her to enjoy. I ease my haunches forward on the chair, presenting myself to her mouth. If her hands weren’t locked tightly to her collar she’d be fingering me and I’d have cum already. As it is, her tongue flicks my ass and pussy in that rhythm that pushes me over the edge. . . Voices; Outside; Shit! I stopped flicking my clit as the fire inside me banked, then died down. The window in the office door lit up as someone flicked the switch outside. Composing myself I quickly stood up, tucking my blouse back in, smoothing my rumpled skirt, and pulling up my damp panties. Taking a deep breath I glanced in the mirror on the end of the wall shelves. Slightly flushed, but nothing out of the ordinary for a first-day teacher. I sniffed surreptitiously-I always think that my smell gives me away when I’m horny. Not having deodorant with me, I anxiously sprayed a good bit of a can of “Air-Way Smoke-Out”, thoughtfully left by the previous occupant of the room for such emergencies-or maybe not, into the air and walked up and down beneath the hazy cloud.

I opened the door and stepped out into room 108 to find a small group of kids slowly getting bigger as students trickled in. These were grade 10’s-a particularly tough group for a new teacher. They’d seen it all, and were planning to do most of it; or egg someone else into doing it, possibly on video. Grade 10’s are testing adult wings that don’t quite fit yet. They’re ready to fly on their own, mostly, and resent interference, but you can’t quite leave them alone to figure it all out. So you have to be totally available and totally disinterested at the same time.

They stared when I came into the room, and I was conscious of the sudden silence. They could tell from my clothes that I wasn’t a student, but surely this chick was too. . .what? Too young, too . . . put together, for a teacher. I could almost feel the girls narrowing their eyes as I walked to the big desk up front.

I was a bit nonplussed at the attention, especially from male members of the class. After all, I’d spent several hours taking care that my clothes were appropriate for a teacher. They were supposed to be stylish but plain. My heels (a personal conceit-teachers were supposed to wear flats for insurance reasons) were only two inches high. My stockings were plain and dark with a seam up the back; being old-fashioned about underwear I held them up with a garter belt. My skirt was grey and pleated, but respectably knee-length, although it had a disturbing tendency to flare outward a bit. I wore a high-necked blouse with pearl buttons, trimmed with lace at the throat and wrists, with a simple short jacket over all, and my long dark brown hair had been pinned within an inch of its life into a bun. I didn’t realise until I was told, much later, how plain dressing can make a woman sexier than sheer stark nakedness.

The boys in the class shifted uncomfortably in their seats as I turned around and wrote my name on the board: Miss Flock. I’d expected some whispered comments about my last name, but a girl named Althea Flock either gets used to it or changes her name to Karen Smith. But the question I got asked wasn’t quite what I was expecting:

“Hey,” said a boy in the second row “what do we call you?” “I’m Miss Flock” I told him. He had on jeans that puddled around his ankles, a t-shirt with a big green marijuana leaf on it, and a red ball cap turned sideways. “Nah,” he said “what’s your first name?” I was a bit stunned, and reacted from pure instinct. “I don’t have one as far as you’re concerned Mister . .?” “Fisher,” he said “Jerry Fisher-but everybody calls me Fish.” His mouth was open, and his hair hung over his eyes beneath the brim of his cap. “I’m not everybody, so I’ll call you Mister Fisher,” I answered “and take off that hat, please.” I think it was only surprise that made him do it.

People think teachers haven’t got ears. Students will talk, even while other teachers are present, and they don’t seem to understand how much of what they talk about makes it back to the staff room. During my first year I gained a reputation as a fierce disciplinarian, but a parallel reputation for being fair and for working things through. I didn’t hesitate to give detentions, which surprised and appalled a lot of parents and brought me into a lot of conflict both with them and with the school administration. But I stood my ground, sacrificed my time, and gradually the parents came to know me as the teacher who could get the best work out of their kids. Almost all their kids.

For my part, I settled into school life like I’d been born to it, and for five years I taught high school English and History. I was satisfied and doing useful work. Eventually I got used to the loneliness too.

It wasn’t that I didn’t get offers. In the first couple of years every straight male teacher (and one I wasn’t certain about) and a couple of the gay female ones made me offers. I always felt awkward turning them down. My fling with Tennisball and the discomfort of sharing classes with her after it all came apart (after I broke it apart), or of seeing her around and the misery it brought on, were still pretty fresh to me. I cautiously accepted a few invitations, had second dates with a few men; turned down all the women.

It wasn’t that I was “denying my gay self” or something. I just didn’t feel anything for them. It was that “plain toast, no jam” feeling. Not that I got anything much from dating the few men I spent time with. I took a couple of them home; actually saw one man for several months. We had sex, and it was terrific overall, but eventually the whole relationship came down to sex. There wasn’t anything else. So I thanked him and said goodbye. It wasn’t quite that simple-I wound up sleeping with him occasionally for nearly a year before I decided it was doing me more harm than good.

Once again I said goodbye, and once again he was nice about it. We talked by phone occasionally, but I wasn’t very encouraging, and eventually the phone went silent too. I spent a lot of time working out or reading, and slowly got used to being alone. Then something happened that made my tiny flickering flame roar up and consume me.

At the beginning of the fifth year I worked at the school, I arrived early, masturbated quickly (it had become something of a habit), and walked into the classroom from my little office, which smelt less like smoke and more like sandalwood nowadays.

The new students, a grade 12 History class, were grouped around the room in the usual dribs and drabs. I’d had some of them in prior years. Clearly they’d told their friends about me, because as soon as I arrived there was a bit of a scramble to take seats. I felt the eyes crawling up my legs to my ass, then to my back as I strolled up the row, heels clicking. I deliberately put a slow wiggle in my walk-it would be useless for me to pretend any longer that I didn’t enjoy the looks I always got on the first day. At the front of the room, I wrote my name on the board and turned to face them.

“Good morning,” I began “I’m Miss Flock. It seems like you already know my general rules. I expect you to behave professionally towards me, just as I will towards you. I’m going to get your names from you now.”

The front row consisted of Jeff McWhirter, a skinny boy in a ratty t-shirt and glasses. I noted the shirt and made a mental check to remind him of the both the school’s dress code and my class dress code, which was somewhat stricter. Next to Jeff was Linda Long, who vaguely reminded me of a spaniel puppy. Beside her was Calvin Chung, a thin Chinese boy I guessed was both bright and gay, as was the long scarf he wore. The fourth seat was vacant.

Like most teachers and preachers, I hate vacant seats at the front. I looked over the room of blonde and brunette heads to the very back. I caught a glimpse of swirling black hair with a single blue streak, pale bare shoulders, and the distinctive “T” of a g-string visible above the waistband of a pair of “Sho-T” brand jeans (the hot brand for teen no-longer-wannabe-virgins that year). The owner was seated, leaning into the aisle as she rummaged in an oversized canvas book bag.

“Excuse me,” I said, pointing “Yes, you. What’s your name please?” There was a mumble. “I beg your pardon?” I said. “Sue.” “Sue who?” I heard a solitary giggle from somewhere.

The girl I’d addressed stood up, hips cocked and head tilted in that gesture that makes teenage girls look like 40-year-old hookers. Her g-string arced over her pretty hips under a half-shirt with no bra that I could see. And I was looking. God was I looking!

Have you ever heard the expression “wide-on”? It’s the female equivalent of a rampaging hard-on. But that was what I was experiencing. Deep in my mind something said Oh-oh. But my little lizard brain was raving Bite her! Catch her! Eat her up! FUCK her! My nipples were hard under my jacket, and I think anyone three feet away could have smelt my arousal.

“Sue” was what my mother would have called gammon: short and slim with wavy black hair that hid her face. Later on in the term, when I actually got to see her face, it was pixie-like, freckled and mischievous, and never far from a predatory grin. At the moment she stood with an old, old “fuck you” expression behind that hair. Her eyes sparkled with a happy malevolence.

“I’d like you to move up to the front desk, Miss. . .” I groped.

She didn’t rescue me. In my flustered embarrassment I glanced at the class list before me. It swam into focus, and after what seemed like an eternity but took only a few long seconds (which is plenty long enough if a class thinks you’ve lost the upper hand) I spotted the name “Castle, Susan”.

“. . . Castle.” I almost gasped. My eyes were swimming, and the blood pounded in my veins. I fought hard for control. I was a professional, damn it! In an effort to regain a measure of self-discipline I looked at her visible panties.

“Are you aware of the school dress code, Miss Castle?” Another mumble; more-or-less affirmative. “Speak up please.” Another mumble. “I still,” I said through gritted teeth “Can’t hear you. Shall we try once more for comprehensibility?” “I said yeah!” she nearly shouted “I know the stupid dress code!”

“Susan,” I said after the shocked pause which followed “I’d like you to take this seat here,” I pointed to the fourth seat in the front row “And I’ll see you this evening in detention.”

Her mouth, still largely hidden by hair, dropped open. “What’d I DO?” “You just said you knew the school dress code. Four B’s, right? No bellies, no boobs, no backs, no bums. Do I need to explain that you’ve violated at least three of those?”

There was scattered laughter. Susan stared at me with murder in her eyes. Then she flounced dramatically from the back of the room to the front. On the way she made very sure to brush past me closely, sure that I’d step away. But it wasn’t the first time a student had tried to physically intimidate me, and I stood firm.

Our hands brushed together. Just the briefest of touches; But she looked at me, into my eyes, and in that fraction of a second I felt an electricity pass through me. Oh no, Althea. I told myself sternly, this is poison-the worst and nastiest kind. As abruptly as it came on, the shock receded, and Sue Castle, whom I began to address as Ms. Castle from that day on, flopped into the vacant desk. I regained my composure, and finished calling the roll.

Over the first weeks of that year, Susan earned a number of detentions from me for violating the “4-B” dress code. Finally she settled into what became her uniform: Stirrup pants and an oversized sweater a la Marilyn Monroe-a look I thought was outdated, but which somehow made her even more of a sex-pot than her friends who were trying unsuccessfully to emulate teenage pop stars (while still covering the school minimum of flesh).

Susan had definitely begun discovering the benefits of being female in a crowd of hormone-crazed teen boys. She got respect from the jocks because she stood up to them, but hung out with the nerds, possibly making her the most popular girl in school. But her marks were atrocious, her conduct disrespectful, and she had serious discipline problems.

II wasn’t sure she was entirely unaware of the effect she had on me, either. When I told her to wait after class was dismissed she would deliberately stand too close to me, making me feel flustered and hot.

And horny. I was continually surprised and somehow angry at that. But damn it!-she was seventeen. Three years over the age of consent but nine years younger than me. And, I thought, she couldn’t possibly have any idea of the sort of things that crept into my head when she looked at me so insolently in class:

Susan Castle is standing outside my office door. She is wearing a thin, long cotton T-shirt and nothing else, as she has been instructed. Inside the office, I am waiting and wet. I slip the dildo into its harness, and then slide the free end into my pussy with a grunt. I tighten the buckles on the straps which cup my ass and hips. I always love the look of the dildo thrusting up from my crotch. Do men feel like this, I wonder? Apart from the dildo and its harness I am wearing a pair of stockings, a bustier, and opera-length gloves. The room has been prepared. Several candles flicker on the shelves, making my rubber cock cast shadows that would give old Sister Chang from high school nightmares. Hanging from assorted hooks along the wall behind my desk are some toys: A thick strap called a strapple, a piece of bamboo cane, a shiny pair of clamps (nipple or labia-oh no, the clothespins for naughty pussy lips are over there). Satisfied with the arrangements, I call out: “Enter”. I cross my arms and stand facing the door with my feet apart. The door swings open of its own accord. Susan enters with an old-fashioned candlestick. Her eyes are big, dark and a little fearful, riveted to the jutting phallus between my thighs. I melt inside, wanting to hold her to me and tell her its all going to be alright, that I’d never really hurt her. But I can’t-she needs to know that I am the one in control. Ordered to place the candlestick on the desk, Susan attempts to straighten up. But I have a gloved hand firmly in her hair. I push firmly downward. “You will enter this room only on your knees from now on, slave.” Obediently she kneels. I slap her face. “You will answer me with your little mouth,” such a tight little rosebud of a mouth-I want to kiss it. I want to pinch her lips with clothespins, I want to bite them “and what I will hear from that dirty little mouth will be ‘Yes Mistress’. Have you quite got that?” She almost nods for a minute. But eventually says: “Y-yes Mistress.” There’s no foreplay. “I’m going to fuck all your holes, right now, just to prove I can; to prove that you’re my property. Won’t that be nice?” “Yes M-Mmmmph!” as I drive the dildo between her lips. She resists for a moment, and I take a short sash cord from the desk and whip her vigorously. After about ten stripes have blossomed on her back and ass, to the accompaniment of shocked squeals, I feel the dildo fully inserted in her mouth. She’s looking up at me from my crotch, inquiringly. I fuck her mouth for a few strokes, then pull out. At my command she turns and presents her behind to me. I order her to put her head to the floor, tossing a textbook down so that she won’t risk wood burn. She almost wiggles in pleasure as I drive the first inch of the dildo into her cunt. But I stop almost as soon as I’ve begun, and she whimpers as I withdraw. “You cum without permission, slut, and I’ll whip you sixty times with the cane.” I hiss at her. An empty threat. She’s never been caned before, and her tender ass would bleed before I gave the tenth stroke. But she doesn’t know that. She also doesn’t know that I don’t know her anywhere near well enough to stop her from cumming if she started. But I rely on her honesty. I grab her ass firmly and spread her cheeks. Her puckered little asshole is porn-star clean, as I specified. Fingering a large dollop of lubricant into her hole, I begin intruding with the dildo. Her whimpering becomes moaning, then crying out. “If you want this to stop, all you need to do is use your safe word, slave.” She knows-but I have to be sure. As I seat the dildo inside her to the hilt, I feel the tension relax inside her as she opens up and admits her Mistress. I glory in the trust and triumph, and as the dildo slips in and out of both of us, I smack her ass triumphantly and start to cum. . . . See what I mean? What seventeen-year-old could possibly share that dream?
Susan settled into her seat, and for the entire term she never once raised her hand. If I called on her she’d either ignore me, looking out the window, or else she’d stare at me blankly. There wasn’t much I could do beyond give her another detention.

After her first report card, neither of her parents came to parent-teacher night. Since she was in great danger of failing, I took it upon myself to call her listed phone number. Receiving no reply, I attempted to contact her parents at work. At her father’s workplace number I was told that Mr. Castle was away at the moment and probably wouldn’t be back for several weeks. Her mother’s listed employer-the construction firm of Stonewall and Mason-told me that Mrs. Castle no longer worked for them. Intrigued, I pulled her file card at the office-technically a no-no but easily done if one knew the file clerk.

There were two listed addresses. The first was in a gated community at the top of the hill forty-five minutes from town. The security guard took my name and number, and then explained that he couldn’t let me in, as Mrs. Castle hadn’t left my name with him, but I could wait with him if I chose. Meantime, his eyes travelled hungrily up my legs to my neckline, but never got as high as my chin. I tried to give him a withering look, but I think he just thought I was squinting to read his badge number.

The second address was on what would normally be called the wrong side of town. It was a once-pretty single-storey wooden house, with a battered picket fence. Weeds and rusty swings languished in the backyard, complimented by more weeds and litter in the front. I would have thought it was an abandoned house except for the man coming out.

He wore a faded blue robe, and had a faded handsomeness himself. His feet were bare. He limped and had a thin black cigarette in his mouth and a clinking bag in his hand. He raised his head and no doubt caught me staring from my car, because he waved sardonically, then flipped me the bird. He dumped several bottles into the trash can at the side of the house, and went back in. I heard yelling.

I had put the car in gear when a dark mop of hair poked out the door, there was more yelling, and then the door of the house flew open, and Sue crossed the weedy yard at a run. I hammered the gas to the floor, and peeled out. It was guilt, of course. I had a semi-legitimate reason to be there, but at the same time, something told me that I didn’t want to be caught lurking around a student’s home.

But as I drove off, I looked in the rear view mirror. The figure standing on the sidewalk was just a silhouette in the late afternoon sun, its fists balled by its side. But that silhouette looked defeated, angry, hurt and unhappy. And I’m a teacher first. I put on the brakes and reversed toward her.

Sue slouched to the driver’s side, head down, not meeting my gaze. “He’s inside.” I was flustered for a moment. “Who’s inside, Miss Castle?” “My Dad. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Wasn’t it? I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to Mr. Castle. Moreover, I wasn’t sure he’d care, that he’d understand the importance of what I needed to tell him-that the years between his daughter’s age and mine were important ones, and that those years could make a difference between his daughter being successful and happy, or . . . or not.

But it wasn’t her father, or her mother I really needed to talk to. I’d had conversations before with other students, even with Sue-although not with any results that I could see. Perhaps it was worth one last try. Even now I wonder whether I might have already been seeing the little signs of how my life and Sue’s were to change.

“Get in.” I said, swinging open my passenger door. Susan climbed in without asking where we were going. It crossed my mind that I could have been a kidnapper; a rapist; anyone, and she’d still climbed in. Then I almost laughed-goody-two-shoes Miss Flock, with her grey woollen skirts and her plain blouse and glasses-a rapist, and a lesbian rapist at that!

But my oh my-did I ever want to be!

She was standing in the bathroom powdering and rubbing lotion
onto her legs. She had a dark towel wrapped around her body and
another around her head. The bathroom was warm and steamy from
the shower as she wiped the mirror to look at herself. Thoughts
about today’s presentation were running through her head. She
was excited about the topic, and felt good about the work it
represented. Lipstick, she thought, a little lipstick. The
shower door opened, and she turned to kiss her lover. “Open your
towel” he said, in a low voice. Her mind, somewhere else, came
skidding back to his words, “Huh?” She was a little confused.
“Open your towel” he said again, pantomiming what he wanted her
to do, holding his hands wide. She blushed and shook her head
no. “Yes” he said, simply, a command. She undid the towel,
embarrassed, her mind filled with thoughts of being too heavy and
being unattractive. “Wider” he said. And she complied, not
raising her eyes. He murmured something appreciative, but she
barely heard. One warm finger traced a line from nipple to just
below her navel. “Beautiful” was his last word as he walked past
her, out into the bedroom. She stood there, nude and shaking for
a moment as he shut the door. Only after he had gone, did she
realize he was naked, too, but she hadn’t even noticed.

–

“Oh, sir, I hadn’t expected to see you…you startled me.” she
lilted delicately in a surprisingly mature tone.

“I can see that.” smiled the older, silver-haired man whom she turned
to face. “I’d been told you were looking for me, so I decided to shorten your
trip. Would you prefer the lounge, or is my office more suited to the
matter?”

“The lounge would be alright, I suppose. It’s nothing of any real
urgency, but I thought you might like to hear this from me, first; it is my
assignment, after all.” she smiled in return.

“Cut! Okay, we’ve been here long enough for tonight, and that’s a
wrap for this scene. We’ll pick up at 9 am with the reshoot of scene 2 –
that footage doesn’t look as good as it could. Remember, everybody, plenty
of sleep and be ready for another full day of shooting tomorrow. We’re
doing good and we’re staying on schedule, let’s keep it up!” The director
stood as he said this and the crew began breaking up the equipment. The
actors gathered belongings, hoping to change in their trailors and have
enough time to beat the late traffic; the two on stage allowed their
characters to leave them, slowly.

“Amelia, you’re doing a wonderful job. It’s amazing to me that you’ve
never filmed before! Stage actors are rarely this poised when it comes to
making movies.”

“Yes, well, it’s new but it’s fun. I’ve been told I’m a natural,”
she replied with the nonchalance of someone who’s not sure she’s really been
paid a compliment, “but I think it’s just luck: good luck to have my founder-
ing ego boosted by some of the best actors in the business.”

Shedding his role like a lazy chameleon, Patrick resumed his natural
British accent; a reversal, of sorts, as she regained the oddly-inflected,
strangely neutral “American” accent of her own. “I think your ego is a
healthy one, no worries there.” he chuckled. “Would you like to go into town
and have dinner this evening? I’m absolutely cringing at the thought of
another repast in my cabin, and I’d enjoy the company.”

“Sleeping was my only other option tonight, someone borrowed my cards
and I can’t play solitaire without them, so, why not?” Her mischievous grin
was infectious, and the two of them laughed as they parted to their respective
trailors.

Escaping the gown was a monumental achievement, its stays and pins
being reminiscent of a straitjacket; Amelia was almost afronted at being
forced to hide her perfectly good, natural figure within its confines. Oh,
well, it was her chosen occupation and this was one of its hazards. She
smiled again, and blushed…Patrick Harrison, for all his status as an
*actor*, on stage and off, was proving a delightful new friend. He was still
the dashing, impeccably-attired, prematurely-greying hero whose exploits
shaped her life; he had, of course, grown into his grey a bit and he’d look
equally impeccable in a tuxedo or faded denims. Now, here she was, in what
was being touted as the hottest movie of the season in a year studded with
spectacular releases; the leading female role opposite the man she’d fallen
in love with when she was a little girl. A sci-fi flick, at that! The
ultra-futuristic sets made her marvel, even though they were just mock-ups.
Well, with all the praise she was receiving, as well as the prompting and
approval of others in the field whose names had been household words for
years made her feel more at-ease with her success. She rushed at the last
minute, mindful of Patrick’s waiting and aware that her own unbidden fears
of making a fool of herself in such glamorous company could prey too heavily
on her mind to allow sleep if she let it get too great an advantage.

“Oh, there you are. You surprise me, Amelia, most women take their
time and make a man’s stomach go through horrible agonies waiting for their
suppers. I approve.”

That, spoken with such a serious face, caused Amelia to break out in
giggles. He Patrick was, if nothing else, a very entertaining and diverting
fellow. If he hadn’t been there she honestly believed the “magic” would have
been missing from the film completely. Such spontaneity put her at her ease
immediately, and he seemed genuinely to like her.

Patrick cocked his head, then cocked his left eyebrow, returned her
smile and gestured to the door. They left quickly, eager to be rid of the
site for awhile and anticipating “real food” at an unspecified restaurant in
the town below.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“…and then we switched places, and soon everyone in the chorus was
playing `musical chairs’!” laughed Patrick. Reminiscing was pleasant with
Amelia; she seemed to enjoy his discourse, and found amusing those exploits
he’d all but forgotten. At forty-three he was still in his prime, but he’d
started so young that many of his memories of the stage were more than twenty-
five years in the past. She was a novice, just starting out in her first
large part and showing tremendous promise — he was happy to be a part of this
experience for her, and knew she depended on him a great deal. She was per-
haps twenty-four or -five, but commanded much dignity for one so young. She’d
go far…

Amelia laughed with childish eagerness, amazed to hear some of the
finer points of the behind-stage antics of what were some of her favorite
productions. She was dressed in a light, summery dress that grazed her
shoulders and allowed her freedom of movement, weary of the tightly clinging
garments she wore for the better part of each day of filming. She leaned
toward him in a gesture of innocence and trust, delineating even more the
small space between them. They’d almost finished their meal, a pasta made
sweet with basil and herbs and accompanied by a chickory salad and a good
white wine. The waiters brought extra tidbits throughout the evening to
Amelia, who jokingly passed them along to Patrick. They both declined a
sweet, looking forward to a coffee in the quiet of the trailers later.

“Shall we go now, before these Lotharios decide to tag along behind
you?” he quipped. It was getting late and they did have to be ready for
makeup at 6 o’clock in the morning.

“Hmm…I suppose we should. It’s a shame to have to stop our talk
here, though. I’ve been learning a lot from you, Patrick, and I appreciate
the fact that you’re here when I need you. I’d like the opportunity to get
to know you better, I think we have the potential to become good friends.
Maybe you can even be my mentor.” she teased.

“Or, perhaps, your Svengali. I’ve always fancied myself a psycho-
logical Frankenstein…” mused Patrick.

The drive back was uneventful and decidedly too short. The night
was perfect for a long walk, but they didn’t have the time to call their own.

“Would you like to have a nightcap? I really don’t want to end the
evening right now. I have a good recipe for Irish coffee…” Amelia offered.

“Alright, but we’d best part company soon. We are creatures of our
contracts, you know.”

“It doesn’t take that long to make coffee, and I’m sure you’ll make
short work of the drink…you did with everything else tonight! How you can
eat calamari I’ll never know!”

“I like squid.” was his typical reply.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You know, I’ve been a fan of yours for a long time; I can hardly
believe I’m actually working with you on a movie!” breathed Amelia, with
something akin to wonder. Her coffee was long since gone, and Patrick was
having his third. The surrealism of the past weeks’ events, coupled with
the alcohol which always made her introspective, produced a quality of
vulnerability in her expression. She leaned against Patrick as naturally
as though it were a lifelong habit, and his arms encircled her gently.

“Have you?” he whispered. It was an unusual friendship they shared,
founded on mutual respect and admiration. They had come to know each other
very well in a short period of time, and he brooded on the fact that he may
have allowed himself to become too close. She was everything he’d ever
imagined she’d be in their shared art, and would grow even more than she
already had, given the chance. And he didn’t feel the least constrained,
wasn’t bored by her chatter and didn’t dread her company as he did with most
of his leads. Amelia was, in his estimation, the epitome of the ideal
companion.

“Patrick? What’s the matter?” she asked. He stiffened a bit, a
little annoyed she sensed his moods so easily. He’d never before been an
easy cipher.

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.” He relaxed, and chided himself. It
was a lucky man who could win the concern of a woman like Amelia. “I’ve
been reflecting on how quickly we’ve gone through the traditional getting-to-
know-you phase of this relationship. It’s uncanny how easy it is for you to
read me.”

“Oh.” Grey eyes gazed out into the dim room. Then a warm body
pressed into his, and the kitten-soft lashes framing those glorious eyes
brushed his cheek. Their fluttering, and the light, shallow breath pulsing
against his throat made Patrick Harrison, a normally deliberate and con-
scientious man, renowned the world over for his ability to bring strength
to any production whose presence he graced, miss his cue for the first time
in his life; only when Amelia half-smiled, and pulled his mouth to hers, did
he realize he’d stopped breathing.

They kissed exquisitely, cherishing the contours of each others’
lips, and teeth, and tongues. Exhaling rapidly into her mouth, Patrick
almost stopped cold at the feelings she elicited in him. It was a shock to
experience such joy, and tenderness, and passion… he had been blase about
the whole issue of sex after the tumultuous three years or so following his
awkward first fumblings with a girl he’d thought he loved. Now, this sweet
creature had reawakened emotions he’d believed long-dead. He moaned against
her cheek, raining kisses along her eyelids and nose. Amelia nuzzled his
jaw, amazed at her own, intense desires. She didn’t know what she should
do, though, not being sure what Patrick would like; he wasn’t exactly a
schoolboy, he was decidedly a man who knew his own mind. Her own mind was
refusing to respond, anyway, her pleasure sensors taking over…she
abandoned reason and gave in to more primal instincts.

Amelia felt large, warm hands caressing her back. Patrick pulled
her with him as he reclined, and held her on top of him. She was writhing
sensuously against him, and teasing his throat with light nips and occasional
flicks of her tongue; he responded in kind, tracing her jaw from her chin to
her ear and sucking the lobe. Her breathing quickened perceptibly and she
ground her hips against his. She was driving the hardening, thickening length
of his penis against her swelling mound, rubbing up and down and making her
moves more precise and deliberate. Patrick, in answer, pulled the skirt of
her dress up over her thigh and began kneading her tender flesh. His penis
was so full now he felt as though he’d explode.

“Amelia, help me. Lift up so I can pull this damned dress off you!”
he whispered. His vocal cords would have been useless for anything else.

Amelia got up abruptly, lifting her dress up in one swift movement.
Her breasts were small, but high and firm and she had no need for a bra. Her
panties were tiny scraps of white cotton held together with lace, a tiny
curtain for the triangle of curly blonde hair trying to peep through. Her
eyes lowering suddenly, she blushed; it served to make her look even more
enticing, and shifted subtly the tint in her small, pink nipples. Then, with
a determined look, she reached down to Patrick’s shirt and started to
unbutton it.

Her hair fell in honeyed waves as she leaned forward, and Patrick
caught a handful and kissed it swiftly. He could barely keep his hands off
her, but he wanted to let her make all the moves. She reached in as his shirt
was half undone and ran her hands lightly over his chest and across his
nipples. She rolled her thumbs and forefingers around them gently, and gave
slight, insistent pulls until they were so erect they ached; he finished
taking off his shirt and pulled her head softly to his chest. Amelia touched
the tip of her tongue briefly to each nipple, then circled first one, then
the other before fastening on them. She allowed one hand to drift down over
the bulge she’d thrilled to earlier, to massage its length and to caress it.
Her other hand occupied itself with Patrick’s other nipple, his entire body
now sensitive to her every move.

Amelia worked her fingers underneath his waistband, teasing him. He
unzipped his slacks and pushed her away enough for him to slide them halfway
off. She rose, and pulled him by his hands; he stepped out of the pants and
positioned his thumbs inside the waist of his briefs, but she caught his
hands and pulled them away. She knelt before him and pulled down, slowly, on
the undergarment until his penis was in full view. Amelia smiled, and hugged
his thighs; then she placed her tongue on the base of his penis and began
stroking him up and down, sucking with her lips at the base of the glans and
lowering her mouth over the whole organ. Patrick wove his hands into her
hair, and held her, and thrusted into her throat whenever she covered him.
She was soft and gentle and yielding and she was doing the most incredible
things to him with those luscious lips!

With growing intensity she sucked every inch of him, wrapping her
tongue around him and massaging his tightly clenched buttocks. She had him
at her mercy, she knew; she was also aware, for the first time, that she was
the one who’d initiated contact to begin with. It was with some amazement
that she realized he was shaking and whispering her name…

“Patrick? Are you alright?” she queried with a bemused smile.

“Dear God, Amelia, you don’t know what you’ve done to me! I’m an old
man, remember? I don’t think I can move.” he breathed as he collapsed onto
the couch. Amelia leaned forward and kissed him lightly.

“Would you like to try to get as far as the bedroom? Once there you
won’t have to do *too* much.”

With that promise in mind Patrick found the strength necessary to
follow right behind her.

“Here, isn’t this better?” She held out her hands to him and pulled
him down beside her. He quickly pinned her to the bed and began kissing
her hair, her eyes, her nose, her mouth; making her gasp aloud as his lips
and tongue traveled down her throat and lit on her breasts. He circled
the dark pink aureoles, one after the other, lavishing his tongue over each
nipple and teasing them until they stood tautly away from her breasts.
Patrick was the one to take note, this time, of the effect his efforts were
having — Amelia’s mouth was drawn into a small “o” and her eyes were tightly
closed. Her skin was incredibly smooth, he thought, scented of baby powder
and glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration.

Amelia’s eyes flew open as her back arched involuntarily, thrusting
her hips out and opening herself to Patrick’s exploring tongue. She wasn’t
expecting such a sudden change in his attentions, and this unpreparedness
compounded the searing heat in her loins. His fingers penetrated the soft
folds of her labia, searching for and spreading her natural lubrication. The
tip of his tongue buried itself just above her clitoris and, having found the
rapidly swelling organ, began circling it. His lips teased as well, sucking
gently then kissing the little button of deep-pink flesh until it was nearly
double its original size. Patrick balanced much of his weight on his elbows,
which were atop Amelia’s thighs, to keep her from bucking and finishing this
game too soon…there were many more tricks to teach her before allowing her
to reach her climax.

“Patrick…more, please, more…can’t take much more of this!” she
begged. Her whole body seemed numb, all her senses centred on the remarkable
feelings his tongue and fingers were eliciting. He slipped his tongue into
her vagina, savoring the sweetness that was almost overpowering. He could
feel her muscles contract in an involuntary effort to drag his face even
closer than he already was, and knew it was time to give her what she (and
he) both wanted.

Patrick pulled himself to his knees and gazed into the fevered eyes
and flushed face of the beautiful girl who had become a part of his life in
an incredibly short time. She sincerely liked him, he could tell…and he
liked her *very* much. The emotional always enhanced the physical…

“Please, don’t stop now, I need you, Patrick! I want you to make love
to me.” Her simple plea was a ragged whisper, and her hips twitched in
anticipation of his next move. He grasped them and lifted them and positioned
the tip of his penis at the glistening entrance of her vagina. With infinite
slowness, and great care to prevent her hips from moving, he penetrated her
completely. Her creamy folds engulfed his length, and he could see her now-
protruding clitoris quiver in hopes of direct stimulation. Patrick massaged
her buttocks firmly and tightly, and began to grind himself into her; he
withdrew reluctantly, then pulled her to him as he thrust. He felt her legs
encircle him and draw him closer, but he retained his control and refused to
put down her hips. Her vagina was tight, but her natural secretions made it
wet and inviting.

He placed one hand under the small of her back and brought the other
around front. Her quiet moans crescendoed as he used his thumb to rub her
clitoris, and he felt her body shake. Amelia pulled herself forward and
grabbed Patrick’s head, drawing him to her waiting, open mouth. He moved
slowly downward, releasing her lower body and hugging her to him as he reached
for her kiss; as their lips met he began thrusting methodically and deliber-
ately, increasing his tempo quickly. Their pelvises ground together and their
legs entwined and, after that well-timed kiss, their eyes remained locked.

The intensity of their rythmic coupling made them lose track of time.
Amelia felt the first tiny quivers of orgasm building and tightened her hold
on Patrick’s back. He followed her pace, allowing himself to loosen his
restraint and begin his own climb towards release. Waves of excitement and
sexual heat rippled through her spine and focused on her vagina as his penis
stroked her insides faster and faster: her clitoris seemed to reach out to
him and was rewarded with a throbbing assault by his pelvic bones. His
testicles slapped against her with every thrust, and the backs of her thighs
and her buttocks were brushed and tickled by his thick nest of pubic hair.

Breathing heavily, and hearing his blood scream in his ears, Patrick
forced himself to hold back until he felt her vagina constrict against him,
proof of her own orgasm. It was vitally important to him to make this good
for Amelia, and watching the look on her face as she climaxed would enhance
his own enjoyment. She was caught up in the incredibly fast pace of their
lovemaking, and was thrusting back as strongly and eagerly as he. The
seeming innocence in her eyes created the strangest sensation of longing in
him, made him want to hold her forever and satisfy her every desire; that
last he could do, obviously — he grinned, then grimaced as a spark of
urgency spurred him on to even more furious lunges.

“Pat, I’m cumming…I’m cumming!” shrieked Amelia, clawing him to her
and locking him between her legs. She bucked and pushed against his back,
driving him even further inside her. His testicles demanded release, and
he drove into her with a shudder.

“Amelia…so good…oh, God, Amelia…” he breathed as he felt his
semen shoot through the tip of his penis and into her quaking vagina. They
lay tangled together until they fell asleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Patrick whispered into Amelia’s ear. It
would soon be time to be made up for the morning’s filming and his sixth
sense for time had awoken him on schedule. Her honey-colored hair fanned
across her cheek, and he brushed it away as she opened her eyes. She saw
him and smiled, then stretched and looked for all the world like a sleepy
kitten.

“Hmm…I almost thought last night was just a dream, Patrick. I feel
so *good* this morning!” she purred, “…and hungry.” as an afterthought.

“Well, you should be hungry, after all that exercise.” he teased.

“I never would have believed it would be like this if anyone had told
me…I’d always heard it would be painful.” mused Amelia.

With a start Patrick turned: “You’re not telling me this was your
first time?” The incredulity on his face made her laugh.

“Yes, Patrick, you `deflowered’ me!” quipped she with much amusement.

“Oh, Amelia, I’m sorry — I had no idea, you should have told me -”

“Patrick,” she interrupted, “I wanted you as much as you wanted me. I
still want to be with you, to go out with you, to stay in with you. I like
what you taught me about myself, and I appreciate the fact that you were
gentle even though you didn’t know I’d never done it before. I guess I’ve
just never wanted to before…you’re the only man I’ve ever been this com-
fortable with and I don’t want you to feel guilty about making me feel good!”

With a slow smile Patrick held out his arms and she snuggled against
him eagerly. “I suppose I’m too old-fashioned to take the surrender of your
virginity that lightly. I like you, Amelia, and that could turn into some-
thing more with time. And Heaven knows we have time!”

“You never know…but I’d like to have you teach me about some of the
finer points of lovemaking. I’m sure I can be a good pupil.” she said as she
pulled away and started to rise; “Why don’t we practice again tonight?”

“You know, they say you’re a natural…”

From perched upon her rock up high
the ever watchful Lorelei
was forced to give a moral gasp
on seeing Hermann swimming past.

She looked askance and flicked her hair
“Mein Gott”, she thought, “what have we here?”,
her eyesight needed no correction
when she espied his large erection.

Her limbs now seized with expectation
her thoughts now filled with delectation,
she rose serenely from her rock
and fantasized about his cock.

Too long it was since that young sailor
one night had managed to assail her.
By moonlight was she thus deflowered,
his cock most ravishly devoured.

She’d so enjoyed the feel of lust
As matelot his buttocks thrust.
Since then occasions passed her by,
the chance her female charm to ply.

But now she left her lofty perch
her reputation she’d besmirch,
for years she’d sat upon that rock
her tits squeezed tight in that old frock.

And standing now upon the bank
she saw young Hermann in mid-wank,
by now her mouth was salivating
as she watched him masturbating.

“What joy” she thought, “some sex at last!”
when just that moment did walk past
a young man, tight in lederhosen,
was he just camp, or was he posing?

The Lorelei in her vexation
now turned her thoughts to conversation,
she quickly recognised the scene
that now obtained with this young queen.

And Hermann’s eyes she must avert
from gazing on this young pervert,
whose mincing gait and manner queer
was almost more than she could bear.

But words they did now all escape her
that might deter her idol’s suitor,
for now young Hermann, so aroused,
had seen this young man in the crowd.

And turned his gaze in his direction
one flipper raised to show affection.
The young man, who was most excited,
rushed to the water, once invited.

His clothes torn off, and in a heap,
he plunged into the river deep,
then in a swirling sea of foam
in Hermann’s mouth his cock drove home.

Now mermen, though they often see men
have little chance of tasting semen,
which caused our Hermann jubilation
when young man had ejaculation.

And shot his spunk so white and thick
from his now rock-hard, throbbing dick.
That he might savour the full taste
the merman not a drop did waste.

But soon this scene of lust aquatic
which really had been most erotic,
was drawing to its natural close,
as young man left to find his clothes.

Which made poor Hermann rather sad,
he’d really fallen for the lad.
“Gott in Himmel, what a dish,
and much more fun than all this fish!”

Poor Lorelei had been deprived
of what she’d hoped would be her prize,
it had not been her lucky day
she’d picked a merman who was gay!

—————————————————————–
—————————————————————–
—————————————————————————-
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Please refer comments to alt.sex.stories.d or to e-mail. Thank you.
-=( Tommy )=-

gone and here I was back at the “old grind”. My in-basket was

piled high with memos and junk mail to sort through. I went down

to the lounge to get my morning coffee and on my way back I

thought I would stop off at the men’s room to milk my python.

I had always dreamed of the things that could happen in the

company men’s room but today the dreams were going to be more

real than I could ever imagine.

As I walked through the door I could hear a slight moaning sound

coming from the oversized handi-capped stall at the end. At

first I thought it must have been someone who had a worse weekend

than I had. I walked over to use the urinal and after unzipping

my fly and grasping hold of my rod, it happened. Something in my

mind told me that the sound I had heard wasn’t a painful moaning

but a moaning that comes from shear erotic pleasure. Just then,

I heard it again. This time it was even more distinct than the

first time. Again it happened. By now I was more curious than a

weasel outside a chicken coop. I just had to investigate.

Without even putting my cock back in my pants, I walked to the

end stall. I gently peered through the crack in the doorway and

there sitting on the toilet seat was the cutest little blonde I

had ever laid eyes on. How she got there will continue to be a

mystery but let’s get back to things at hand. She was sitting

there with her dress pulled up and she had a large cucumber in

her right hand that she was slowly pumping in and out of her wet

crack. Her eyes were closed and she was so far into her

encounter that I really didn’t want to make myself known. I

stood there for what seemed to be an eternity. Needless to say

my limp snake had heard the call of the wild and was up and ready

for battle. It was about all I could do to hold back from

blasting a hole through that stall door. Maybe it was the sound

of my shoes on the tile floor or maybe my stifled moaning, but

she finally came back to Earth and noticed me standing outside

the stall. I thought she would scream or something terrible like

that and I had visions of the CEO coming in and firing me. But

it didn’t happen anything like that. She slowly leaned forward

and smiled as she open the door and motioned to me to come inside

and service her. Being the gentleman that I am, I couldn’t deny

her request.

After entering the stall and locking the door, I learned why she

picked that particular place. You see, the handicap stall is so

nice and roomy that we could have an orgy in there and no one

would be the wiser. She first took me by the hand and led me

…End of the part1. To be continued..

I walked over and asked her if she minded if I shared her table. It
was early and there were several tables available, but I wanted to
chance it anyways. She said it was fine and then went back to her
book.

The waiter came over and I ordered just a cup of coffee as I wasn’t
in the mood for much more than coffee and her. The waiter winked at
me, smiling. I was a regular here, and he rushed off, swishing this
way and that, to get me my favorite house brand. The lady appeared to
not have noticed he was even there.

I was used to this sort of thing… lots of young, career,
professional, yuppie females come into this place, looking to meet Mr.
Right, or looking to impress this boss or that. They liked to drink
their coffee, sit at their tables and look good, and more often than
not I’d end up taking them home and using them like they wanted to be
used, then sending them on their way. Tonight seemed like it’d be
nothing out of the ordinary. I could get through her book and touch
that animalistic part of her that brought her here.

The waiter brought me my coffee and swished away, trailing his hand
across my shoulder as he past me by. I smiled and shook my head,
looking around surreptitiously. I caught her glancing my way and
smirked. She could be had…

I looked at the book she was so enthralled by and read the title. I
was slightly surprised and pleased to see that she was reading one of
my favorites, a new book called “The Living One”.

“You read much horror?” I asked her.

She looked up at me, slightly confused, and said “Beg pardon?”

“You read much horror?”

“Oh! This. Yes… I pick up a book now and then. I like coming in
here and finding some dark corner and curl up with a good suspense
story. What about you? I take it you’ve read this?” She held up her
book so that I could get a better view of the spine.

“It’s one of my favorites… in fact I have an autographed copy in my
library. Maybe you’d like to see it sometime.” I hinted with a
slight smile, just barely parting my lips.

“Maybe…. but you’ll have to do better than that.” She laughed
lightly, shaking her head and tossing her hair to the side.

With her hair out of the way I could see her ear, smooth and clean and
milky white. And pinned neatly in the lobe was a gold and silver
labrys, with a diamond at the head of the axe-handle that caught the
light and sparkled. Then her hair fell back into place and the sight
of her ear was taken from me until some later time….

I continued to look at her, roaming my eyes across her face, seeing
each line in her forehead, each little smile-crease around her eyes,
and each pore of her cheeks. Her skin was white and powdery. Her
cheekbones were high and well pronounced. Her eyelashes were just
long enough to twitch when she smiled at me.

Her eyes…. one was a deep green and one was brown, and in both the
pupils had “broken” making trails down through the color and into the
white. She looked like a cat, with those eyes.

She had sat there the entire time I was staring at her, with a slight
smile on her face, and her tongue just barely flickering in and out of
her teeth. When she saw that I was done she locked gazes with me and
asked me, “You like what you saw?”

I just barely breathed “very much.”

“Good.” She returned to her book.

I thought my chances were nill at this point so I moved to get up,
before I had even half-risen her arm shot out and grabbed mine.
“Sit,” she said. Her eyes never left the page that she was reading.

I sat back down and looked at her. Now it was my turn to be puzzled.
What did she want? Who did she think she was? Who did she think *I*
was?

So we just sat there for a little while, the waiter coming back now
and then to ask me if everything was okay, to wink at me, to get me
more coffee, and to swish in my general direction.

People came and went, talking, flirting, picking each other up,
looking each other over, and still we just sat there, not a word said.
But every time I tried to get up she’d pull me back and I’d hear that
…End of the part1. To be continued..

“When did he leave?”, she wondered. Suddenly, the phone rang. “This is your
wakeup call,” she heard him say softly. Her pussy was instantly wet at the
sound of his voice. “God, that was good last night,” she whispered. “I love
you,” she blurted out. “You kind of drifted off to sleep so quickly, I
thought I should leave you alone for the night,” he said. “I’m going down to
breakfast now – I would wait for you but I think that you had better get a
move on if you are going to show up in the workshop in time.” he said. She
glanced at the clock and saw he was right. “What time did you leave?” she
asked. “Oh, it was around 2 or so, but you were sound asleep. Did I tell you
that you snore?” he teased. “I do not,” she giggled.

She wanted to hug this man right now but he was on the telephone and she knew
she had to get ready for her work. “I’ll see you in the classroom,” he said.
“You think you can keep your eyes open all day?” he asked. She giggled as he
hung up the phone, but wondered if she would have a problem. She was used to
the 8 to 5 routine but staying up ’til 2, with plenty of the right kind of
exercise, may take its toll. “We’ll have to see,” she thought to herself!

She hung up the phone and headed for the shower. It felt good to have the
warm water rush over her body. As she soaped her body, she thought over last
night’s activities. She knew how wonderful he had made her feel and she began
to think about her husband and children. “How could I do this to Ray,” she
thought. “He’s such a wonderful man and Tommy and Billy – if I would have to
give them up……. Oh God, how can I be so careless?”

She toweled herself dry and began to dress for the day. She suddenly realized
that she was tired; “Oh cripes, and I have to go through this whole day
feeling like this!” she thought to herself. She finished dressing, picked up
her stuff for the meeting and left for the meeting room. Fortunately, it was
in the motel and she dropped by the office for a cup of coffee from the
Continental Breakfast they had set up. She saw some of the food there and
quick grabbed a sweet roll to have with her coffee at the meeting. She
quickly walked down the corridor to the main meeting room.

As she entered, she looked for a familiar face. The meeting had just begun
and the 500 or so attendees were mostly in place. A vacant chair presented
itself in the back row and she slipped in there to prevent disturbing anyone.
As she sat down, she glanced to her right and noticed that she was sitting
next to a tall, trimly shaped blonde lady whom she had really never met but
whose name was quite familiar to her, Garolynn Warren. Garolynn was extremely
attractive, divorced with one child, and eagerly sought after by most of the
men in the agency. Although Janis didn’t know for sure, it was rumored that
she had an occasional affair with different men from time to time.

She found herself a bit jealous of Garolynn because of her beauty and, as she
thought about it, her apparent freedom to have an affair if she so desired.
She knew Garolynn was originally from Montana and wondered if she knew Peter.
“I wonder if she and Peter have had an affair?” she said to herself,
unconsciously. She began to feel a little more jealous just thinking about
it.

Soon it was time for a break and she introduced herself to Garolynn.
Recognizing her position in agency, Garolynn asked if she knew Peter. “Why
did she ask me that?” Janis thought and replied that she had met him once when
he came to the home office to work on some problems. “Well, he sure has been
asking some interesting questions around here,” Garolynn replied, “Besides,
he’s kind of cute, don’t you think?” “What kind of questions?” Janis asked,
choosing to ignore the second part of the question. “Oh, like who’s in charge
and what their qualifications are, what they know about automation, and stuff
like that!” Garolynn replied. “Its refreshing to have people ask those kind
of questions, isn’t it?” Garolynn asked. “Yes,” Janis replied. She notice
that Garolynn was dressed well and had a full bust. She also noticed that she
was more than interested in Peter, which was raising the feelings of jealousy
that Janis found herself harboring.

“Ssssooooo, you can’t make it to class on time,” she heard his soft voice
behind her. “I…. have you met Garolynn Warren,” Janis asked. “Yes, we have
met at a couple of meetings, but I doubt that she remembers me,” as he took
Garolynn’s hand. They shook hands and Garolynn looked him right in the eyes.
Janis could see the flash of electricity pass as Garolynn passed on some small
pleasantries. Since this break signaled the adjournment of the large meeting
into several smaller meetings, Peter suggested that he accompany Janis to the
meeting they were holding. They both bade a “See you later,” to Garolynn and
moved off toward the smaller meeting room.

“What are you my brother’s keeper,” Janis snapped. “Whoa,” he stammered, “I
apologize for whatever!” “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, “Garolynn was talking
about you and I got a little jealous.” “Jealous? What for?” he asked “I
hardly know the woman – I mean I know who she is but I think this is the first
time that I have actually spoken to her. Good grief – get a grip.” “I said I
was sorry,” she said looking into his eyes. “Ok, ok – apology accepted,” he
whispered, “Can I kiss you here or would over there be better!” She was taken
back by this proposal but quickly realized that he was being facetious -
enough so that she knew he genuinely accepted her apology and held no ill
feelings. “You’re so damn cocksure of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Hell, no,” he replied “But if it looks that way, far be it from me ever
telling anyone different!”

The rest of the day went by quickly, although Janis began to feel as if she
was going to drop by about 3pm. She grabbed another cup of coffee and in
about 15 minutes began to feel as if she was going to make it through the day.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

When I was single, about ten years ago, I dated an attractive slim waitress
from a sandwich shop that I visited often. Sal was her name. She was divorced
for the thrid time and so was I, but only twice. I liked her naturalness and
openness…and her good figure, of course. Sal invited me home to meet her
mom and her eleven year old daughter, Betty. I liked Dora, her mom, and her
beautiful, blonde Betty. Both greeted me warmly and seemed pleased that Sal
had brought a decent guy home. We visited a while, and I got a nod from Sal.
I suggested that the two of us go for a walk in the cool evening air; and we
did…as though that was exactly what Sal had in mind.

We found a nearly deserted underpass, really a walking tunnel, beneath the
interstate. When we walked into its darkness, I felt Sal draw closer to me and
put her arm around my waist. We were both not dressed for the evening’s cool
temperature. I drew her close to me, face to face, and held her close for a
minute. We didn’t have to talk. We kissed gently, then frenched one
another’s eager mouth. Then we kissed long and passionately. She pressed her
erect nipples against my shirt so that I could feel them. I grew very hard
and hot. It seemed that Sal did too. She rubbed her tits against me some more,
so I reached up under her silky blouse and fondled those hot, erect nipples
to my heart’s content…but not my cock’s! She fondled my cock for a minute
or two and we realized that the tunnel would never do. I said, Let’s go to
my apartment…it may take a half hour, but it will be worth it.” Sal
agreed, and we rushed to my bed. It was so wonderful, undressing each other
for the first time. And Sal loved it when I sucked those erect nipples. But I
wanted much more.

I laid Sal back on my mattess on the floor and laid my head on her belly.
I looked up at those beautiful tits with their nipples pointing hotly at the
ceiling. I fondled them between my fingers and kissed her silken belly. When
Sal moaned with pleasure, I moved lower and kised her pussy, gently, while I
squeezed her hot nipples hard. She moaned some more and spread her long sexy
legs. I kissed her cunt as ‘passionately as I had her mouth forty minutes
earlier. I kissed her pussy until she “came”. She pulled me toward her face
…and I knew she wanted my hard, six inch dick in her cunt. I kissed her
mouth and she licked her cum off my lips…eagerly. I nearly shot my cum
into her right then…it felt so sexy having her eat her cum off my lips.
Sal thrust her hot hips up at me…over and over again…as I shoved my dick
into her sopping wet pussy. She loved every stroke…and so did I. As I
finally shot my hot jets of jissm into her cunt…she climaxed again with
noisy delight. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Yessssssss! Now, baby, she cried.
“I want all your cum…and I want to eat it too.” She meant what she said.
I lay back on the mattress, and Sal started licking me clean. I was in heaven
until she said, “Oh my god, it’s after ten. I’ve got to get home to put
Betty in bed. Please take me quickly. We can do this kind of loving again
soon…I hope.” I hoped so too. And we did, but that’s a story for another
night.

–

In my case it was even worse than average. I had come back to my hometown after graduating college; disappointing my parents who had expected me to move out and be a big success “away” somewhere. I explained that I’d come home to “give something back to the community”, but it was complete balderdash. What I was really doing was burying myself in my work, trying to avoid admitting something that no-one else knew.

In college I had become Mistress to a lithe blond tart named Jacqueline “Tennisball” Turner. In some way, we’d been very much in love. I’d revelled in every whipping or spanking I gave her. She gloried in the loving abuse I heaped on her. But eventually I’d convinced myself that this wasn’t what I wanted.

I was a “normal” woman, with normal desires. I wanted a husband and kids and. . . .And I wanted Tennie, or piggy, as I’d sometimes called her, crawling to lick a pair of black leather boots with four-inch heels that clung so tightly to my legs that my slave often had to yank them off me while I broke the suction with a shoehorn. I wanted her head bobbing vigorously between my thighs as the little electric shocks of pleasure shot from my clitoris. I wanted to hang her from the ceiling beam of my little house and beat her ass raw for breaking dishes, to set her impossible tasks and punish her for failing at them.

But I wanted other things too: the touch of her breath on my neck when I let her sleep in my bed; the soft look in her eyes when she knelt at the foot of that bed with my morning coffee; the contented hum of her when all the happy violence was over, the sweat and sometimes tears dried, and she cuddled into my arms during decompression.

And I wanted all of this while leading a June-Cleaver-with-a-career existence? It was too much, and I knew it. But while I sorted all this out I still had rent to pay, first to my parents, then to a landlord, and finally to a mortgage company. I found a job at a high school in town (not the Catholic school I’d attended, but a newer secular school called Park West Secondary).

On the first day of classes, I was way too early. Only the school custodian was in the hall as I entered the Old Building (the one built in 1976 was the New Building) and made my way to room 108 West. The classroom was empty, and I unlocked the door but left the light off. Instead I went to the door at the back of the class. In other days it would have been a storage space. The teacher I had replaced, one Mr. Carruthers, had been in the habit of smoking a pipe quietly in there while grading papers, and the room had that lovely “gentleman’s club” smell of old leather armchair, shoe polish, and pipe tobacco. It’s a smell I’ve always associated with luxury.

There was a little narrow window facing the soccer field, and long shelves of dusty textbooks along the wall with the door in. I put my necessary things into the desk and cupboards, my clipboard, a pack of marking pens, chalk (any teacher will tell you, you bring your own and hoard your supply), and my coffee mug.

My coffee mug.

“How have you been Greg?”
“Fine, and yourself?”
“Not bad, how’s study?”
“Ok, I’m dreading the exam results though…”
“Yes, me too.”
“I feel bad about one especially.”
“Oh, which one?”
“I think I’m gonna fail…” I started to cry. This was my final year
and I didn’t want to repeat any more topics.

I wasn’t crying that much, when I said: “I need some reasurance…”
and with a doubting voice added: “could you hold me for a while?”
“Sure.”
And over she came and sat down becide me. She put her arms
around me and we cuddled for a moment. It make me feel better.

Now, I am really attracted to Karen. She is really what I’m looking
for in a woman. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a gorgeous figure with
shapely hips. She was fit too. I bet those hips could really put
out. And she has joked about that in the past as well, though not
as crudely as I have just put it.

I was assured in less than 2 seconds of her saying “sure”. The hug
sort of turned me on. I had a hardon.

As we broke, she placed her hand on my pants to get balance and felt
something.

“Oo, what’s that?”
“Oh, sorry Karen, you gave me an erection with that hug.” I was
embarrased as hell.

“Can I see?”
“What the…” Now, I was shocked!! Karen has never mentioned this
sort of thing to me in the past. In fact, she cringes at the sight
of a males’ private parts saying that they spoil the illusion (she
attends Man Power night’s every chance she gets).

“Come on… show me.”
“Ok, ok, hang on.”

I couldn’t believe what I was doing, but I unziped my fly anyway.

Out it came. Just a little droopy, but still in good condition.
Before i could lift my head to look at her face, she dove for it!
I removed my hand from the base, and she swolled it whole.

“Jesus, what is she doing” I thought. “God, Greg, just go with the
flow, after all, it’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”

She put pressure on my penis and began to move her head up and down.
Down and up she went. Her toungue giving it a good lashing. She
removed her head and gave it a good pull with a tight grip. Oh, how
I wanted to fuck her badly. She then coated it with saliva and I was
reaching the point of no return. Faster and faser she moved her head.
I groaned and groaned. I was about to come when she lifted her head
and I came all over my stomach. Streams and streams came out, like I
have never seen before.

“Why did you do that?”
“No reason. I just did.”
“Shit, now I’ll have to wash it off. Can I use your shower please, it
went everywhere?”
“Sure, go right ahead.”

She had a smug look on her face as I took off my jumper and T-shirt.
I removed my shoes carefully not alowing any cum to get on my clean
jeans. I took off my jeans as I walked into the kitchen and on to the
bathroom. I turned on the shower and removed my undies.

“Jesus, what a mess. God, why couldn’t she have done this properly?”

The water washed the cum easily away.

“Karen, I’m just gonna take a proper shower, ok?”
“Ok” she said, her voice seamed like she was close.

I washed my hair and started on my lower body. Legs, arms, chest. There,
done. The hot water had made me horny again, but I remembered what
happened the last time, so it was fading.

“Oh, not again” I said.
“What?” cried Karen as she flung back the shower curtain fully naked.
Before I could answer, she was in the shower and had pushed me up
against the back wall. She lowered her body just a few inches and held
my dick up and pushed her stomach against it, rubbing a little. I
embraced her, knowing what would come next. She put her arms around
my neck and locked her legs around my waist still holding her stomach
tight against mine with my throbing cock between us. We kissed. I
moved the shower rose towards us, kepping the heat up and then I
turned around and pushed her up aginst the wall. I moved down and
rubbed my dick up and down her slowly. This continued for a few
minutes, then I said: “It’s time, I want to fuck you.” She nodded,
“I’m ready, fuck me now.”

I entered her. I could feel the satisfaction building. She maoned,
I groaned. We wanted more.

I decided on a better, more natural and comfortable position. After
all, the shower was a bit awkard. I thought of the bath tub. But
that was really small and I was a big boy as I thrusted once more.
“Quickly, the mat!” I exclaimed. Still inside her, we moved outside
of the shower, her legs still holding firm. I gently layed us down,
and we continued. She released her legs and arms and grabbed hold
of the corner of the bath with her right arm and the wash basin
drain pipe with her left. Her legs we flat on the floor and spread
apart. I wanted to fuck her right over to the other side of the house,
but she held firm. Thrust after thrust, I could feel the sperm bulding.
Finally, I unleashed my load into her continuing for a long as I could
afterwards. She orgasmed just after I did. Oh, that did feel good.
I’ve been wanting to do something like that to Karen for ages. Finally,
I had my reward, for it was fantastic.

We steped into the shower to wash the sweat off. Towelled off, and went
into the lounge where the gas space heater had been turned on.
We sat in the lounge facing the TV as I did before and she layed in
my arms. I was in heaven.

We fell asleep for almost 2 hours, not suprising after the sensious
exercise before hand. I awoke with a smile on my face and a hard no
on my dick. She could feel it too as she was resting her head on my
lower stomach. She must have seen it through the gap in the
shower robe I was wearing, after all, it was her’s.

She reached out for it and grabbed it. She then got up and led me to
middle of the floor about 6 feet from the heater, but still on the rug.
“Again!” she said, “I want to do it again.”
Without ANY hesitation I replied, “Yes!!”.
She let go and I undid my robe. She did the same, but erotically.
Under the robe, she moved one knee infront of the other and tilted her
hips. She put her hands on her hips and let the robe drop slowly.
“I don’t deserve this” I said to myself, by my man hood had other ideas.

She then kicked the robe back out of the way and dropped to the floor.
She got up on all fours and turned aound, exposing her arse to me.
Boy, this was a great arse, a little bigger than ususal, but I didn’t
care, more to hang onto.

I dropped to the floor onto all fours as well. I doggied on over to
her and came up slowly from behind. Her back arched with my intensions.
I stuck my toungue out and proceeded to lick her from the top of her
crack, all along her spine, to the nape of her neck. She shivered.
My cock grew harder with every lick, as when I neared her neck, it touched
her arse, but I didn’t want to go there, just a little lower was my
intension.

I moved my toungue toward her left breast. Then, back up and over to the
other. She shivered even more. So did I with anticipation.

It was time. I drew my toungue back and as I straightened up, I slid my
hands along side her body, from her breasts along her rib cage towards her
hips and finally to her arse. I then rubbed it in a clockwise direction
once, and proceeded to guide my cock into her wet pusy.

I held her hips and gently slid it in. Not all the way, we had to get
used to the new position. Out and in, in and out, slowly, until we had
the motion down pat. Then I stepped up the motion. Faster and faster I
thrusted into her cunt. Using my hands to really work her thighs up
against mine. The pounding of flesh really turned us on. We could have
done this for ages. Finally, mutual orgasm was iminient. We both
cummed like we never cummed before. Still fighting for pleasure, I,
again, continued for as long as I could, giving as much pleasure to my
partner as possible. I think I succeded. The pace eased and we broke.

“When did he leave?”, she wondered. Suddenly, the phone rang. “This is your
wakeup call,” she heard him say softly. Her pussy was instantly wet at the
sound of his voice. “God, that was good last night,” she whispered. “I love
you,” she blurted out. “You kind of drifted off to sleep so quickly, I
thought I should leave you alone for the night,” he said. “I’m going down to
breakfast now – I would wait for you but I think that you had better get a
move on if you are going to show up in the workshop in time.” he said. She
glanced at the clock and saw he was right. “What time did you leave?” she
asked. “Oh, it was around 2 or so, but you were sound asleep. Did I tell you
that you snore?” he teased. “I do not,” she giggled.

She wanted to hug this man right now but he was on the telephone and she knew
she had to get ready for her work. “I’ll see you in the classroom,” he said.
“You think you can keep your eyes open all day?” he asked. She giggled as he
hung up the phone, but wondered if she would have a problem. She was used to
the 8 to 5 routine but staying up ’til 2, with plenty of the right kind of
exercise, may take its toll. “We’ll have to see,” she thought to herself!

She hung up the phone and headed for the shower. It felt good to have the
warm water rush over her body. As she soaped her body, she thought over last
night’s activities. She knew how wonderful he had made her feel and she began
to think about her husband and children. “How could I do this to Ray,” she
thought. “He’s such a wonderful man and Tommy and Billy – if I would have to
give them up……. Oh God, how can I be so careless?”

She toweled herself dry and began to dress for the day. She suddenly realized
that she was tired; “Oh cripes, and I have to go through this whole day
feeling like this!” she thought to herself. She finished dressing, picked up
her stuff for the meeting and left for the meeting room. Fortunately, it was
in the motel and she dropped by the office for a cup of coffee from the
Continental Breakfast they had set up. She saw some of the food there and
quick grabbed a sweet roll to have with her coffee at the meeting. She
quickly walked down the corridor to the main meeting room.

As she entered, she looked for a familiar face. The meeting had just begun
and the 500 or so attendees were mostly in place. A vacant chair presented
itself in the back row and she slipped in there to prevent disturbing anyone.
As she sat down, she glanced to her right and noticed that she was sitting
next to a tall, trimly shaped blonde lady whom she had really never met but
whose name was quite familiar to her, Garolynn Warren. Garolynn was extremely
attractive, divorced with one child, and eagerly sought after by most of the
men in the agency. Although Janis didn’t know for sure, it was rumored that
she had an occasional affair with different men from time to time.

She found herself a bit jealous of Garolynn because of her beauty and, as she
thought about it, her apparent freedom to have an affair if she so desired.
She knew Garolynn was originally from Montana and wondered if she knew Peter.
“I wonder if she and Peter have had an affair?” she said to herself,
unconsciously. She began to feel a little more jealous just thinking about
it.

Soon it was time for a break and she introduced herself to Garolynn.
Recognizing her position in agency, Garolynn asked if she knew Peter. “Why
did she ask me that?” Janis thought and replied that she had met him once when
he came to the home office to work on some problems. “Well, he sure has been
asking some interesting questions around here,” Garolynn replied, “Besides,
he’s kind of cute, don’t you think?” “What kind of questions?” Janis asked,
choosing to ignore the second part of the question. “Oh, like who’s in charge
and what their qualifications are, what they know about automation, and stuff
like that!” Garolynn replied. “Its refreshing to have people ask those kind
of questions, isn’t it?” Garolynn asked. “Yes,” Janis replied. She notice
that Garolynn was dressed well and had a full bust. She also noticed that she
was more than interested in Peter, which was raising the feelings of jealousy
that Janis found herself harboring.

“Ssssooooo, you can’t make it to class on time,” she heard his soft voice
behind her. “I…. have you met Garolynn Warren,” Janis asked. “Yes, we have
met at a couple of meetings, but I doubt that she remembers me,” as he took
Garolynn’s hand. They shook hands and Garolynn looked him right in the eyes.
Janis could see the flash of electricity pass as Garolynn passed on some small
pleasantries. Since this break signaled the adjournment of the large meeting
into several smaller meetings, Peter suggested that he accompany Janis to the
meeting they were holding. They both bade a “See you later,” to Garolynn and
moved off toward the smaller meeting room.

“What are you my brother’s keeper,” Janis snapped. “Whoa,” he stammered, “I
apologize for whatever!” “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, “Garolynn was talking
about you and I got a little jealous.” “Jealous? What for?” he asked “I
hardly know the woman – I mean I know who she is but I think this is the first
time that I have actually spoken to her. Good grief – get a grip.” “I said I
was sorry,” she said looking into his eyes. “Ok, ok – apology accepted,” he
whispered, “Can I kiss you here or would over there be better!” She was taken
back by this proposal but quickly realized that he was being facetious -
enough so that she knew he genuinely accepted her apology and held no ill
feelings. “You’re so damn cocksure of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Hell, no,” he replied “But if it looks that way, far be it from me ever
telling anyone different!”

The rest of the day went by quickly, although Janis began to feel as if she
was going to drop by about 3pm. She grabbed another cup of coffee and in
about 15 minutes began to feel as if she was going to make it through the day.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

My depression prevented me from having a social life for a long time;
I didn’t feel at all like being with other people, rather be a hermit
isolated in the ivory tower of my dorm room, working my butt off.

I was wise enough not to try to suffocate my depression with a load of
alcohol or other drugs, I was too clever to cheat myself like that. I
used marijuana every now and then to enhance positive vibes, but from
experience I knew it wouldn’t cover up depression.

Finally I got fed up with suppressing my sexuality for so long. I’ve
always been a very sexual being, but before I reformed my character to
get rid of shyness and meekness I didn’t have much action. The
relationship with the career woman was tailor-made for me; she didn’t
want to bother with formalities such as marriage, but she was damn
good company both in bed and outside bedroom, as well physically as
intellectually. So you can imagine how hard it was to return to
masturbation!

So, on Saturday night I started getting myself in gear. I’ve received
some compliments for my appearance, although it is fairly moderate in
my opinion. Having a longish, dark hair makes me shine through the
masses of conservative-looking students that populate the computer
science department. That draws some fascinated looks from the few
technically inclined ladies, but I don’t care about them – mostly they
are just as much nerds as the guys.

Since I’ve been fascinated by the sixties’ – early seventies’ music,
I’ve guided my wardrobe accordingly. For the evening I wore a
turquoise silk shirt with ornamental patterns and the bellbottom jeans
I finally had managed to find in a second-hand store. As I put a
necklace with a largish copper ankh, ornamented with runes, around my
neck I was feeling HOT!

In the city I was delightfully aware of the wondering, admiring and
violently disapproving looks I received. Every face that looked at me
gave me little electric vibes. One of the little hobbies I have liked
the most is to look intensely back if someone glances at you and then
observe the reaction, especially when girls are concerned!

At the entrance of my regular club I saw her, just going in. She was a
strange mixture; she looked innocent, yet very sensual; immaculate,
yet eager to learn new ways of sinning; the good girl, yet willing to
be a desirous beast!

I decided to take it slowly and observe her from a distance; the
evening was young and there was no need to rush, unless someone else
decided to have a go at her, but I would break that up with
ruthlessness I have discovered myself to be capable of when I want it.

The club was good: they played music loud and fast. Speedmetal
followed by techno followed by classics from Hendrix was a perfect
audio cocktail for me. I like to dance – although I lack some at the
skill department I make it up with aggresiveness and force that was in
harmony with the music. If there’s enough force no one cares if you
miss a beat sometimes. When they finally played the Doors I had the
scene almost all to myself; I accelerated myself into a shamanistic
performance in the middle of the dance floor. When the music stopped I
was exhausted for a while but felt great pleasure from my dance and
the fact that I had certainly been the focus of attention.

As I moved to the bar to have a nice, cool beer I noticed that the
girl I saw before actually followed me! I turned around. – Hi, having
any fun? I asked. – Sure! You certainly pulled an act over there,
shit, for a while I thought I saw a reincarnation of Jim Morrison in
the nineties!

I was surprised. I knew that especially if I dressed right I looked a
bit Morrisonesque, but that a girl who had barely crossed the 18 year
limit knew something about him, that was a surprise. – Thanks! Let me
buy you a beer for that, ok? Then you can tell me what you know about
that particular demigod while I can stare at your beautiful eyes. She
blushed a bit but recovered with a tiny laughter. – Hey, why not…

So, we started talking. I was being a bit too straightforward to be
polite, but she enjoyed it and adapted her style to match mine, and I
loved every second of it.

She was interesting. I’ve never liked dumb chicks, and she was
definedly intellectual. I found out that she was a freshman at the
university, came from a small country town and was a bit puzzled over
the new things around her. So that’s why she looked so innocent, a
country girl… but she seemed very eager and ready to see how she can
deal with anything that comes her way.

When we came to talk about art, I revealed that some months ago I had
been so fascinated with the Giger’s demonic and erotic art that I did
some sketches of my own. – I want to see them – right now! That was a
surprise. – Huh? – C’mon, you don’t resist a crazy idea every now and
then, do you? – No! Ok, let’s go…

We walked to the bus station. I put my arm on her shoulders and
squeezed her a bit teasingly. She responed by pressing her lips
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Special thanx to: Walks-by-Night, The Unknown, Mr. Spock,
Midnight Orgy and Mad Bones

While out shopping at one of the many malls located conveniently near
me, I wandered into a water-bed store. When I entered, I saw the most beautiful
woman that I have ever seen. She was as beautiful as some of your monthly Pets.
I thought of my secret fantasy of fucking her in front of the few people in the
store.
This goddess of beauty made her way over me.
“Can I help you?” she said.
You sure can. honey, I thought to myself. “Oh, yes,” I answered. I
asked her for a certain model of sheet cover and she went in the back to check
on it. I couldn’t help but stare at her gorgeous buttocks, and thought to
myself that she had to have the nicest ass in the history of split flesh. Her
body did not stop. My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed her standing in
front of me, staring at my now-erect love tool.
“I found what you were looking for. Come back with me and I will show
you,” she said. I followed and before I could offer any resistance, she tore
off most of my clothes and threw me on the bed. We kissed passionately and then
she started to nibble on the head of my penis. She worked down my rod and
licked my balls, and she didn’t stop until I spewed my penis cream over her
face and down her throat. As I was coming, I told her my fantasy of making love
in public. It was easy to convince her to move our copulating to one of the
water beds outside in the shop. Since it was almost closing time, I gussed she
figured it would be safe.
We dressed and walked casually toward one of the sensual water beds set
up in the middle of the store. We lay down as if we were just a young couple
testing out the bed to see if it was comfortable. I unbuttoned her shirt to
reveal her large, firm breasts and rock-hard nipples. I was really turned on. I
slipped off her dress and panties as she disrobed me. Our sexual act caught the
attention of several customers. I lifted her up and placed her under the
sheets. She whispered in my ear to fuck her with all I had. I got under the
covers and slid my rod into her tight love tunnel. I was so aroused that I came
almost immediately, and her climax followed several seconds after mine.
She was moaning for more. So we turned around and got into a sixty-
nine position, this time without the concealment of the cover. She began to
suck like there was no tomorrow. I slid my tongue around the circumference of
her labia and tongued her clit until she was about to climax. I finally dove
right in and tongue-fucked her until she had four consecutive orgasms. We
fucked again while standing. Our screams almost cracked all the windows in the
store.
We finally got up and dressed. She locked up the store and told me that
she would call me again. She never did, but it didn’t matter. My fantasy had
come true.

–

The second day of driving, he stopped for lunch and realized
that he would run out of gas before the next town. The more he
looked around, the more he came to realize, this place was
different.

In the town he had left the day before, the women were still
wearing coats and sweaters. Even though spring had just started,
hear the women were running round in Bikini’s and shorts. Tim
looked around and found a casino to go into.

Tim had just finished loading his remaining quarters into a
slot machine, when over at the bar, he noticed a petit oriental
woman staring out onto the gaming floor, sort of looking off at
nothing in particular.