2 comments/ 36152 views/ 0 favorites Siren By: WFEATHER her body, visibly marked by the myriad lashings, is practically rigid; My bite marks all over her breasts are mesmerizing as those soft feminine orbs quiver teasingly with each violent heave of her lungs. The black rope encases her upper torso tightly, providing a very stark contrast with her snow-pale skin while also making her breasts appear more prominent. Propped upon her elbows and forearms, My view up her body provides a heartstopping vision of pure feminine ecstasy. her eyes are open, but clearly unable to see or even focus. her soft, black-painted lips are open to nearly the point of what must be at least slight discomfort, yet nary a sound escapes from the opening. A few strands of her fire-red hair lay upon her sweat-dampened cheeks, but otherwise her long mane sways seductively as her torso bucks violently. A growing red flush expands from her face down her neck to her chest, and creeps slowly lower toward Me. I am surrounded by her quivering. her thighs tremble on either side of My face, not quite crushing My skull but definitely exerting a solid pressure, signaling for Me to continue My actions. Deep inside, the slickened fleshy walls quiver around My fingers. As My tongue laves upward along her feminine folds once more, her chest heaves rigorously once again, a motion which cascades upward to her head and her hair, and downward to her taut stomach. her eyes blink several times, yet she still clearly is unable to see. The shape of her lips changes rapidly several times, yet the sound of her hard breathing is just barely audible. her nipples stand up proud and tall upon her breasts. The small pink buds have never been so erect and seem to scream for attention. My free hand glides forward over her sweaty thigh and stomach, up her ribs to her chest, and I grab her right breast viciously, pressing down hard so that the nipple seems to attempt to pierce the skin of my palm. her body bucks hard again as she gasps loudly now in her quest for air. "No mercy for you now, little one," I whisper up to her, not knowing if she is even able to focus upon the sound of My voice. Then again, it is not an important statement, as she will momentarily feel the results of My upcoming actions. I plunge a pair of fingers deep into her body, the tip of My middle finger just barely brushing up against her cervix. Simultaneously, My tongue works furiously upon her clitoris, battering it without restraint while My other hand shifts position to pinch and pull harshly at the nipple. her cry is beautiful - nearly as beautiful as she - and intense. her entire body lurches viciously, and I must work to keep My mouth affixed to her dripping sex. With another brushing of her cervix, her orgasm is swift and strong. Yet I do not relent, continuing to piston My fingers within her, purposely curling them up toward her G-spot as my tongue continues its rapid tap dance across and around her hardened little bud. My left hand switches to her left breast, roughly squeezing, scraping the nipple with My fingernails. In a way, the experience is for Me not dissimilar to what a bronco rider must feel once the bell rings and the gate swings open, for I must truly work to stay with her as she bucks and twists and heaves in her bonds. her screams of passion thrill Me as I try to extend the string of orgasms as long as possible, for she has truly deserved this after the lengthy and intense whipping and biting administered to her earlier in the evening. If not for the chains connecting her wrist and ankle cuffs to the bedposts, her thighs would surely crush My skull as her hands yanked at My short hair; she has some freedom of movement, but not enough to potentially harm Me. she can become dangerously rough when in the throes of passion, and when she is this excited, it can be a true challenge to keep up with the rapid and changing movements of her body. I hear another primal sound, and My face is bathed with a new wave of love from deep within her. It is now that I give up trying to keep My lips upon hers; I now simply stroke her with one hand and probe deep within her with the other hand. I now just continue thrusting deeply into her willing body as I watch and listen to her reactions. her sweet broth drips down My face and onto My forearm as I watch her intently, listening to and being drawn in by her orgasmic song. I may be the Master, but this siren has Me trapped within her realm, within My own awe of her. The sight and the sound of this siren seizes Me, propels My efforts ever further, perpetuating her twists and her cries, and continuing the evening's circle of strange passion. Siren from the Sea The mermaid was thrown out of her watery bower by the tsunami and ended up high and dry on the beach. Good God, what a nightmare for her. But the mob she drew was engrossed by her beauty and seeming fragility. They didn't know she had the strength of the sea at her beckoning. When she awoke from her dazed dreaming she was sore afraid. There she was set ashore by the tide with nothing but her tail and her magic to sustain and protect her. She opened her sea-green eyes and gazed at the vista before her with trepidation and courage. Then she was caught in a net thrown over her by a fast-thinking beach comber who happened by just at the right moment. For him. And now everything was a tangle. What am I going to do? she thought despairingly. Should I cry for my mother, the tide to come and wash us all back into the sea? But no. These are innocents. They don't deserve to be swept away just because of their natural curiosity. Do they mean to hurt me? Nay, they're just curious. But I've got to get out of this net so can bring forth my power. She was trembling now with not fear but restraint "Give me two minutes and a conch shell," She thought, and I'll settle the matter. Those up close to her must have seen something in her eyes and started to back off. "Lookit her eyes one boy whispered to his mate. She's got somptin up her sleeve. Pretty as she is I ain't staying around long enough for her to get er senses back and start getting angry. I seen enough – and more of the mermaid. Let's bugger out. "Chicken" his friend replied. Of the two of them he was the comer. He'd had the idea of staying long enough to get some tangles of her hair or maybe even some scales from her legs. "We ain't got nuffin' from er as yet, Dubin. Gor. She ain't even barely opened her eyes." "Yer she did. Din you look into them? She ain't from this world and we gotta either 'elp er back into the sea or at least do no 'arm. Don't you see?" "Yer daft. Fallin' for a mermaid," the other by retorted in disgust. "Gowan 'ome then. But I'll get sompin' worth sellin at a fair high price by tormorror. You'll see. And you'll be out of luck. "I don't want what I think you're planning to sell." He wrapped his tattered cloak round him to cut the steady slapping misty rain and left a long lingering look at the mer-lady as he headed back to his own boat. She even seemed to smile and lean his way as he walked off the peer - but that was bleeding fancy. Nothin you could take 'ome to the bank. Help me she seemed to whisper as he slid past the area where she was netted. "How?' The question was flung from his throat unwanted and unexpected. He stopped up short and got a good, solid look into the merlady's eyes. He knew he was lost. He'd to whatever it took to get her back to the sea. "You'll find a way," the mermaid assured him more through what she said with her eyes than what she spoke through her lips. "Just get the net off me. Then I'll be alright. I need my hands free. All this was said in a manner quite foreign to Dubbins's word. Gor, She's speaking in my mind. How can she do that? He wondered fiercely as he looked about trying to find a way to kick loose the net without getting himself kicked clean into the drink by his erstwhile buddies. Then he noticed that the two far edges of the net were slipping over the side of the pier. He looked around. No one else was looking his way. If he could just bring order to them and pull them up just so. Lay them next to the lady's hand she could slither out from under the net and with my help she'd be back in the sea in no time flat. He didn't stop to think what his mates would do to him after he threw the lady back in. He didn't really care. His heart was pounding so loud and he swore it was thumping in syncronicy with that of the mer-lass. He scrambled down the slippery stairs away and pulled his jacked color up against the cold. Then he nabbed the errant edges of the net and with his back to the crowd at the pier he started fixing and arranging the edges of the net so it wouldn't cover her ladyship when he tossed it back on the deck. He carried it round so's her tail was now uncovered by the net. Then he dropped the whole she-bang next to the lady like he was trying to make her life tougher. Her eyes whirled in gratitude. He could see she was just about ready to gather her strength and take things into her own hands. But then he saw black Billy what run the place heading over with what looked like at tranq gun. No He shouted mentally as loudly as he could. The mermaid caught his thought and damned if she didn't pull out a bit of Poisiden's power and FLASH, Billy was sent across the pier and into the drink. Then all hell began to break loose. Those that really wanted a piece of the mermaid were scalded badly with her internal energy. Those that were mere hangers on went home with headaches and very little to remember about what happened out there on the pier. But the few who helped. Like Duban, reaped vast rewards which they were not to know of, at least for a while. All of them went home, thought with the voice of the bravest sea siren in their ears. Several of them with a musical bent tried to capture the song but fell far short. All of them ached deeply within their souls to see the mer-creature just one more time. Siren in Stockings Agnes had always told herself that nothing would change her, that no matter how high her star rose and what plaudits were heaped upon her she would still be the same girl who had been given her first break on the bill of that off Broadway play all those years ago. There was a part of her that at least wanted that to be the truth, but in her most honest moments, even she could acknowledge the reality that no one could experience a rise to fame like her own and remain the same person they had been when they set out on the path they had chosen to follow in life. She comforted herself with the thought that things could have been far worse, she had managed to avoid the more common clichés that characterised actresses of her generation were savaged on account of in the media. There were no messy divorces in her past, no history of being caught applying a five-fingered discount in Hollywood boutiques and no habit of jetting off to remote parts of the world in search of a fashionable adopted child either. She had even been able to keep her dalliances with alcohol and illegal substances behind closed doors, a real achievement for someone who was not afraid to admit that she liked to indulge on occasion. But of course there were some trappings of the trade that Agnes had been unable to avoid, things that became necessary when people started to recognise your face on the street. Perhaps the most obvious was her apartment on one of the highest floors of an exclusive building, which took security only slightly less seriously than Fort Knox. Others she hoped were less obvious to the casual observer and thus supported her belief that she was retaining a subtle quality to her character that connected with the real world on some level. Whether or not Agnes chose to include the habit she had developed for wandering around the apartment in her underwear in that same category would have been an interesting subject for debate, but it was a habit she indulged on most days. And today was no exception. A large part of the habit came from the fact that there was a streak of exhibitionism buried deep inside her personality, tied up with the complicated need to be seen that had spurred her on to become an actress in the first place. This was amplified by the fact that her apartment had become a place where she felt totally at ease; free to express herself, in the décor, the layout and what she did within the space. Agnes was sure that the chances of someone getting a clear glimpse into the interior of her home was almost impossible and if she was honest, the idea that someone might was a little shiver of excitement that she was happy to keep alive. Agnes also liked to indulge in the private habit because on a basic level she was exceptionally fond of underwear; it was as simple as that. It had always seemed to her that clothes were designed to be the prelude to the naked human form in the same way that the narrative of a film began with scenes and dialogue that hinted at the story to come. Clothing lay on top of the body and created the illusion of a skin, while in reality it was nothing more than a covering that took its shape and derived its movement from that which lay below. Some might have seen such a philosophy as deriding the role of clothing, describing it as a language of deception and a barrier between the observer and the truth. But that was far from the way Agnes saw things. To her the way in which clothes ghosted the outline of the human body was a fantastic story that gave veiled hints and fleeting clues to the naked truth below. For her the need to observe the layers that it created and penetrate them one by one only served to make the final revelation of the flesh all the more wonderful. In the realms of her philosophy, underwear occupied a special position that nothing else could claim. Of all the clothing in existence, none came as close to the actual reality of human skin or followed the lines of the human body in the same way. Both literally and figuratively underwear strove to be a layer of skin that came as close as possible to being part of the person wearing them as possible. There was no chance for concealment with it, save for the ability to pull things tighter to the body, and instead the contours of the stomach, the curve of the buttock and the line of the leg had to be followed and accentuated. No other type of clothing was made with the same diaphanous and almost weightless material and no other type of clothing was ever as close and intimate, spending more time clinging to a person's body than the most devoted of lovers. No man or woman had ever cupped her breasts as softly, covered every inch of her legs with sensation or brushed her most intimate parts with such devotion. Unlike many other things in life, underwear was an indulgence that Agnes allowed herself without a hint of restraint either. While she was never short of outfits required for her professional engagements, her stock of underwear ran far wider and deeper as she felt the need to have access to whatever kind of garment might take her fancy at a particular moment in time. Agnes hoarded bras, panties, tights and stockings of every description and from every corner of the world she had visited. She owned corsets of all shapes and sizes as well as outmoded and antique pieces of clothing that had no modern equivalent and was quite able to dress herself as a Victorian lady denuded of her outer garments, often doing so for her own amusement. Sometimes she even dispensed with the need for certain elements of underwear, substituting nipple caps for the more common bra just for the thrill of bearing her breasts proudly. Today she had opted for simplicity over extravagance, a pair of simple panties, strapless bra and hold ups all in black beneath an opaque dressing gown. Agnes did not have a figure that could be described as voluptuous; rather she was slender and possessed of a curving backside and pert breasts. But she was secure in the knowledge that a figure like her own could inspire far greater levels of appeal than a typical hourglass if only one knew how to prepare and position it properly. In her hands, the shape of a petite body was dynamite. There was no sense in dressing up more than necessary on this day in particular anyway, not when all she was doing was waiting in for a delivery. Apart from lingerie, the contents of the delivery represented one of her other major weaknesses in life, another indulgence that she tried to keep in check and more often than not failed. Agnes was awaiting the arrival of a small piece of antique jewellery. She was not a woman who had time for piles of expensive and showy jewellery, not interested in the kind of rocks and flashy items that could be seen from orbit. Rather Agnes had a passion for authentic and intriguing pieces that caught the eye rather than poked it out upon first sight. Her collection was dwarfed by her underwear obsession, but the occasional item that she acquired became part of a small and well chosen array of jewellery that complimented her whether she was fully dressed in public or clad scantily in private. If she was honest, Agnes was particularly excited at the thought of her latest acquisition arriving on her doorstep. It was an unusual piece that looked in the images she had seen and the write up of the item to be a kind of brooch made of a tarnished metal and set with a small black pearl. Had the metal been pristine or the pearl a more common colour, she would have had no interest in the thing at all, but the combination made it stand out and had sealed the purchase. An added dimension was the fact that the brooch came with nothing in the way of a back story and the sellers had been unable to find any makers mark on the thing no matter how hard they tried. So in addition to being unique in appearance, it was a complete mystery into the bargain and had stirred Agnes' imagination no end as a result. As it happened, she was pouring coffee when the intercom sounded and left the cup half filled as she made her way to the door. Agnes scooped up another dressing gown that was really more of a kimono as she passed through the lounge and into the hallway. She shouldered the thing on and tied the belt around her waist, making sure that she was covered as much as possible by the garment. Wandering around the apartment in lingerie for her own amusement was one thing, but there was no way that a random courier was going to be treated to the sight of a nationally recognised actress in her underwear. She keyed the intercom and was about to tell the courier to leave the parcel on the matt, when she caught a glimpse of the man's face on the small screen. The picture was terrible as usual, but she had become something of an expert at the art of filtering out the effects of the grainy image after seeing the mess it made of her friends and relatives in the time she had lived there. Her instincts told her that the face on the screen was a lot more interesting in the flesh than the poor quality of the image she was looking at. Agnes was a complicated person on most levels, many of her characteristics seeming to be contradictory in nature when taken out of the context of her personality as a whole. It was nonetheless quite true to say that at heart she was something of a flirt, always secretly pleased and a little validated by the recognition that she received of her status. Though she valued her privacy and thought of herself as a woman not easily given to making an exhibition of herself in order to attract attention, there was always a part of her that wanted to know that she could inspire such emotions if the need arose. She had noted the fact that the courier was male and no more than a year or two her junior. She had also noted that he was one of those men who, if you managed to get hold of them and straighten them out somewhat, could have been called pleasant in the face department. Last and most important of all she had noticed that he had that look on his face that was a pretty poor attempt to disguise the fact he had read the name on the delivery slip and made the leap of logic that put a face to it as well. Agnes was more then used to the expression, the one that people used when they wanted to seem as though they had not recognised you until you were introduced. After the introduction they acted in the same manner as any of the more honestly star-struck, but the attempt was always amusing. She weighed the elements in her mind; she was in a good mood on account of her new trinket having arrived, the guy was cute to look at and in awe of her already and she was doing nothing for the rest of the day and would probably be bored at some time in the next twenty four hours. There was no reason she had to be bored right now. "Wait there," she spoke into the intercom, "I'm opening the door." Agnes swung the door open and saw that she had been right about the courier. He was quite tall and attractive in an intelligent rather than burly manner and his only drawback was an untidy brown goatee that bristled from his chin. He wore a uniform of a khaki shirt and black trousers, hair tousled from a cap that was evidently a loathed part of the ensemble and shoved into a pocket at his side in quiet protest. At the sight of her he tried to look professional and unconcerned at the same time, failing to manage either as he proffered a small plastic box for her attention. "Ms Maidenhead," it was more of a statement than a question. "That's me," Agnes was aware of the fact that she had allowed a leg to emerge from beneath the folds of the kimono. Though it was black against black, the nylon of the stockings caught the artificial light in the corridor, tracing the length of her leg and having the desired effect of pulling his eyes down from her face for a moment. "Package," his head jerked back up as if he had just remembered why he was there at all, "would you please sign?" "Okay," she accepted the box and gestured into the hallway behind her, "step inside a moment and have a drink?" "Oh," whatever the courier had been expecting it had not been that, "I couldn't." "Why not?" "Well...I guess I could." "Of course you could," she turned and led him into the apartment. Agnes prided herself on being a good judge of character and this was a man so scared of her fame that he would have jumped out of the window if she had asked him rather than cause offence. She was just after a little fun, after all, and the security in the building was so keen that they could have been in through the front door and tying his neck into a knot before he knew what was happening if she hit the panic button. No, all she intended to do was sign for the package, give him his drink and see him on his way. The fact that she'd be making him squirm with the presence of her body all the time was what made the whole thing worth it. "Sit down for a minute," she handed him a glass of mineral water and pointed him to a high stool. In response he handed the package to her and watched as she signed the slip, making no effort to take a sip of his drink or utter a single word. "Cat got your tongue?" "What?" he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. "No, sorry...just not sure what to say." "You could start by telling me your name?" "Mitchell," he shook his head, "my name's Mitchell." "Be honest, Mitchell," Agnes could not help but be amused by his fumbling around her, "I can't be the first famous person you've run into in LA; the place is infested with them." "No," he smiled and she noted it was a pleasant one, "I bumped into a guy who I thought was Alice Cooper last weekend, but my friend swears it was just some crazy drunk. If he's not right then that makes you the second." "You can't have lived here long," she started to make her way towards the bathroom. "Just over a month," he watched her go as if disappointed at the increase in the distance between them. "I'll be back in a second," Agnes assured him before she disappeared around the door, "just need to powder my nose." It was a lame line to use, but she wanted the chance to take a look at her prize. In addition a retreat to the bathroom meant that the kimono could be left behind when she returned and no reference to the fact be made on her part. That way he would have to either draw attention to the fact or simply keep quite while she watched him twitch. She shrugged the kimono off and sat down on the toilet, the box on her lap. Eager hands soon removed the plastic to reveal a far older box beneath padded on the exterior with faux leather and worn by the passage of time. She flipped this open and was rewarded with the sight of the brooch sitting in the middle of dark red padding, looking every bit as unique and intriguing as it had in the pictures. Agnes plucked the thing out of the box and turned it over in her hand. Up close the combination of the uncommon black pearl and the tarnished metal that might have been any number of things beneath the accumulated wear and residue of years, made the piece even more wondrous to her eye. She was surprised however, to find that upon turning the supposed brooch over and examining its back there was no sign whatsoever of the pin or even the remnants of one as would have been expected. Indeed there was no trace of anything that might have given a clue to how the piece was supposed to be worn at all. But as she held the thing in her hand and the metal began to warm, she was struck with the idea that perhaps the purpose of the piece was not to be worn in that manner at all. Agnes looked down at her stomach, folded into itself as she sat. For some reason she was becoming ever more convinced that the piece was supposed to be worn there, but from where the conviction came she had no idea. Almost without a conscious thought, Agnes pressed the black pearl brooch into her navel. It fitted perfectly, sinking in a few degrees before she removed her hand and looked down at it with a sense of triumph at having found a use for it. Suddenly there was an intense pain in her stomach, so deep and unexpected that the sensation turned her bowels to water for an instant. In that moment she felt as though searing wires shot out from the brooch and sank themselves into her flesh, burrowing through her insides in a matter of seconds. She was ready to scream with all that she had in her. But moments later the pain was simply gone, as if it had never been at all. Agnes looked down at the brooch, expecting to see a horrific mass of melted metal and burnt skin. But instead she saw that the thing was intact and her skin was as smooth and unblemished as normal. The only difference was that, if anything the pearl was now sitting more snugly in her navel than before the mysterious surge of pain. She shook her head in disbelief and went to pull the thing out. A yelp of pain saw her stop almost as soon as she started, pulling the pearl causing her a stab of agonising discomfort. She let go and tried with the other hand only to feel the same pain once more. Puzzled, Agnes poked and prodded at the pearl and soon came to the conclusion that any attempt to remove the thing would be as painful as trying to pull a fingernail from her own hand. Was that what the terrible pain had been? Was this some bizarre scheme or an unfathomable prank? But then who would want to orchestrate a situation in which an actress was sent an item of jewellery that attached itself to her navel and refused to be removed? What could anyone hope to gain from such a ridiculous scenario as that? Agnes had to admit that she was at a loss to think of an explanation for the whole thing. But on some level she was thankful that nothing more serious had befallen her. After all there was nothing outwardly problematic about having a small pearl brooch stuck in her belly button. It was far from in the way down there and she could not say that she hated the sight of it staring back up at her. For the moment she was perfectly happy to leave the thing where it was and worry about it later rather than try to pry it out and cause herself another jolt of pain. Suddenly the thought occurred to her, was the architect of the strange scheme sitting in the next room? It seemed unlikely that a man so nervous and unsure of himself could be the brains behind the entire thing, it would have required a consummate actor to hide his true intentions behind a façade the likes of that. She was sure that the possibility was less than zero as far as that actually being the case, she was a good enough judge of her own profession to know that his emotions were real enough. All things considered she was sure that Mitchell was no more than a courier simply doing his job. But where should she go from here? She was sitting on the toilet with an item of antique jewellery stuck in her navel and a nervous courier in the next room. Was the idea of flirting him to death still something that appealed to her? Agnes glanced at her reflection in the mirror, at her delicate lingerie on top of pale skin, the dark curls that fell to her shoulders and the contrasting shades of her makeup. If anything the addition of the pearl seemed to make her feel subtly more exotic and interesting than ever. It was a small addition to the whole, but somehow she felt it lent her the air of a harem girl or a bejewelled courtesan who was used to being adorned in such a way. She gave a satisfied smile to her own face and decided that under the circumstances, this was just what she needed. After all, she thought, I have to live up to my reputation as a siren of the screen. Before the thought had faded from her mind, Agnes became aware of a sensation of warmth emanating from the pearl and spreading slowly outwards. It seemed to sink into her body, reaching her very bones while touching the outermost surface of her skin and setting both alive with a flush of sudden heat. Siren in Stockings The feeling was like nothing she had experienced before in her life. It charged her body with a sense of fluidity that felt as though she were being turned into supple clay while stimulating her to the point of physical excitement at the prospect. Agnes truly believed in that moment that if she had not fought to hold herself together, she might have simply lost her form entirely and melted into a formless liquid of pure and liberated pleasure. It was the realisation that the intense heat of the experience was building in her lower body that finally made her open her eyes and glance downwards. Agnes stared at her legs in a half dazed state and watched as the living flesh began to shift and change before her eyes. Perhaps an inch below her vagina the skin of her legs pulled together and simply merged into one, creating a single limb. If watching the transformation was a strange experience for Agnes, feeling it happen to her own body was far more so. As her flesh shifted and reformed, she felt everything without a moment of pain and could do nothing but simply watch in silence as her body changed more and more with each passing second. When the merging of the limbs reached her stockings, they were not pushed downwards with the motion of the transformation. Instead they seemed to almost imperceptibly ripple for a fraction of a second before they were simply absorbed into the new shape of her legs. The texture and colour of the stockings sank into the surface of her skin and became continuation of the curving shape. Soon the merging of Agnes's legs reached her knees and she raised what was left of the two limbs into the air to watch the changes as they happened. But her knees proved to be no more of an obstacle than her hips had and they soon sank into one another as her calves followed moments later. Once the change reached her ankles, Agnes felt her feet being forced into alignment with her legs and she was soon staring at the tips of her toes as they too merged together. But the change did not stop there; something in her unconscious mind told her that it was not yet over. Agnes was proved right when she felt an odd sensation of pressure in the sides of what had until recently been the sides of her feet and her toes. She heard a sound something like nylon being pulled over skin and saw a broad growth emerge from either side of her new limb. These quickly grew in a motion that was somewhat akin to a sail opening or a fan being unfurled, spreading out until they extended a good two and a half feet from the point where her feet had been. She pointed the new growths upwards and realised that they were joined in the centre and moved in a slow, gently swaying motion reminiscent of movement under the water. It was then that she realised what the growth was. A tailfin, sprouting from the end of a tail...or to be more precise, her own tail. Agnes was amazed to realise that the patterns on the tailfin were swirls and knots of lace, almost identical to those that banded the point where the tail began across her thighs. She had seen many images of mermaids in her time and been shown costumes in her line of work, but she had never even contemplated the idea of a tail that seemed to be formed of nylon and decorated with lace. She was sure that she should have been more worried than she was at that moment, but instead she found that all she could do was look at her strangely altered reflection in the mirror. She was a mermaid. There was no way to avoid the fact; she had been turned into a mermaid and her tail seemed to be made of the stocking she had been wearing when the change took her. Agnes had never really given much thought to mermaids in general; she had seen the films and come across them in the media. Perhaps she had thought they were cute when she was younger, but there was no way that she had ever entertained a wish to be one. Or was there? She loved the attention, revelled in the chance to show off her curves on her own terms and was amused by the idea of wrapping others around her fingers with her charms. Was not that what a mermaid was supposed to do in all the legends and fairy tales? Charming sailors from rocks was not high on her list of priorities, but was the idea of a mermaid limited to such narrow confines? The idea was almost too ridiculous to consider, but could the pearl have been magical? What's on the scale of ridiculous, Agnes chided herself, when the scale's being totted up by a mermaid? Then she recalled the thought that had been uppermost in her mind just before the transformation had begun. She had thought of herself as a siren, so had the pearl simply tapped into that mental image and transformed her as a result? Agnes began to run a bath without thinking as her mind raced. Was this where the whole idea of a mermaid came from? Perhaps this was a power common to all black pearls, to see into the minds of women and transform them as a result of their passions. Had these pearls washed ashore in past ages, or been found by divers and from there into the hands of women who dwelled on the shores of the oceans? If they had seen into the depths of desire in those long dead women, touched their passions and inflamed their bodies, what would they have seen but the images of sleek fish and graceful dolphins as a metaphor of their physical needs. Had those first mermaids been such women, transformed by the magic of a black pearl into a creature half human and half aquatic? Did the pearls retain the memory of the women they had been possessed by and changed? Now that one had fallen into the hands of a modern woman, had it simply responded to her declaration that she was a siren and changed her accordingly? Agnes realised that in her own mind it would not have found the simple, primal images of ancient times but rather more complex thoughts of lingerie and the fine art of teasing. Where the mermaids of old would have grown scales and lured their prey to the rocks where they sang, this one would seduce with the flash of satin and the hint of impish enticement. Searching her unconscious mind, the pearl had done as best it could to reconcile the two things and in the end reached a compromise. With the bath full, she slipped off the dressing gown and unhooked her bra before sliding into the water and feeling the sensation as it soaked her tail. Water cascaded over the side of the tub, but Agnes took no notice as the new experience of her changed form took hold. Her hands roamed over the new textures and shapes of her tail and fingers found their way to her exposed vagina as the sensual appetites that seemed to be a natural element of a mermaid's nature slowly seized her mind. Suddenly there was a rapping at the door. Agnes was shaken from her reverie and rudely reminded of the hapless courier, still waiting outside and ignorant of what was going on inside the bathroom. "Are you okay in there?" Mitchell's voice sounded worried despite the effects of the door between them. "There's water seeping under the door." "It's okay," she shouted, "the sink just ran over." "Okay," there was all of a sudden a strange quality to his voice, as though his words were being read off a script with no real conviction, "the sink just ran over." "Mitchell," Agnes was oddly aware of the responses he was giving before he spoke, "are you alright?" "I'm alright." She screwed her face up in thought for a moment before speaking again. "Mitchell," this would answer her question, "you're a talking, purple elephant." "I'm a talking, purple elephant." Agnes supposed that some of the legends had to be true, so why not the tale that sirens were able to bend mortal men to their will with the power of their voices? There was no hiding the fact that this had potential to make her current predicament a little less drastic than she had first thought. If she could command poor old Mitchell out there simply by using the power of her voice then she might be able to just tell him that he had not seen a mermaid in a bathtub and get him to disappear back off on his rounds. Longer term she really had no idea what she was going to do, but in the here and now she had a plan to make things a whole lot easier for herself. "Come in and give me a hand," she called. A moment later the door opened and Mitchell stared down at the sight of a mermaid, reclining in the bath and ashamed in no way, shape or form about the fact that she was naked save for her shining black tail. Agnes noted that although Mitchell did seem to be under the effects of a spell cast by her voice, his expression was not that of a stunned animal by any means. She could tell by the way he was looking at her that the effects must have been limited to his ability to reason on a higher level as his more base instincts were reacting just as she would have expected them to under the circumstances. "I'm tired," she was surprised that she almost pouted the words, "I don't want to walk to the bedroom...carry me?" Mitchell said nothing, but made his way across the small room and plunged his arms into the water. He scooped the mermaid up and carried her out into the apartment, heedless of the water that soaked him and rained onto the floor. Agnes was still shocked from the way in which she had asked to be removed from the tub. She had wanted to be deposited on the leather couches in the sitting room, but the words had refused to come out in any other way. Now that she was being carried in his arms, the same impulse was getting stronger all the time. She found herself wrapping one arm around Mitchell's neck, while the other stroked his chest, the hand undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. At the same time she could not help breathing into his ear, so close that her lips brushed against his skin. Was this the other side of the coin as far as being what was known as a mermaid? It seemed that she could wrap another person around her little finger with the shape of her body and the power of her voice, but there was no way that she could stop herself now. Deep down, Agnes knew that whatever she had set in motion with the idea of flirting for amusement had been turned into something far more serious by the forces that her new from possessed. She had gone too far and there was no turning back. Inside the bedroom, he lowered her onto the covers, neither of them concerned for a moment as the mermaid's still wet body soaked the bedclothes beneath her. By this time she had stripped him of his shirt and he completed the job, not caring where anything landed in his haste to hold her again. Agnes raised a hand to stop him for a moment and pulled herself backwards up the bed until she was able to reach a drawer and rummage inside. He waited obediently as she retrieved a condom and handed it to him with a nod. The spell did not seem to have affected either of their deep seated common sense and the sheath was soon rolled over his erect penis. He did not enter at first, but instead simply brushed her vagina with the head. The feeling was light and filled with intent of what might follow this first attention, as though he had managed to turn the instinct to flirt and tease around on her for a moment. Agnes felt the helpless desire she had been building in him as he tormented her and she arched her body towards him, trying to catch his member, but to no avail. They kissed lightly, lips mirroring the delicate contact between their genitals and the very tips of tongues passing, but never delving. Occasionally he would turn his attention to her delicate breasts, fingers stroking and cupping them as if enchanted by the fact that he could cover them with the breadth of his palms and yet be aroused by their femininity. Agnes was satisfied for a while to be the object of his attentions, petted and flattered by the manner in which he attended to her body. But soon she felt her appetites rising and knew that she would not be content to take a passive role for much longer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gently pushed him sideways with the weight of her body. He complied and allowed himself to be guided onto his back as she turned herself over and crawled across his body, her tail pressing down on him as she did so. Once he was where she wanted him, with his back against the pillows, Agnes began to climb him an inch at a time. What might have been an easy task for a human was a considerable effort for a mermaid who lacked legs to brace herself as she climbed. Agnes was forced to rely on sheer strength and the contours of his body to make her progress, not that the experience of being climbed by her was anything but a pleasure for him. Finally she placed her hands on his shoulders and arched her body, lowering herself onto his penis almost as slowly as she had climbed his own body. For a time it seemed that the sensation would never end as her own weight sank the length of his member into her body. Agnes was no stranger to this act, but the effect of her transformation had rendered the whole experience and every feeling it inspired like a euphoric drug and she felt each movement as she never had before. She felt his hands grip her buttocks just above the margin of her tail and his thighs take her weight as they began to move together. Afterwards she could not have said how long they managed to hold the position, but she would not have complained if the thing had lasted for so long she had been frozen in place like a statue. She was sure that she climaxed there, bent like a bow and braced with her tail against his legs. Afterwards she curled her back against his chest and lay still, expecting to sleep. But she was surprised to feel his penis slipping between her buttocks and finding her once again, his instinct revealing that the transformation had left her vagina as accessible from behind as in front. Agnes was drowsy now and in no mood to reject his renewed attentions, so she simply submitted to them instead, lazily allowing him to stroke her body and wrap his legs around her tail as he tried to cling as long as he was able to the experience of making love to an exquisite mermaid. When he was spent, she turned and commanded him again. "Mitchell," he was awake and alert at once. "Yes?" "Get dressed and let yourself out of the apartment." Agnes watched as he obeyed her orders. She knew that it was callous to simply throw him out after she had used him like a vibrator, but he had hardly hated the experience and she needed to think what her next step would be. He was done sooner than she expected and before he turned towards the door, she called out to him. "Mitchell." "Yes?" "Give me your mobile." He handed the phone to her silently. "You won't remember a thing about this afternoon, not where you were or what happened," she was keying something into the phone as she spoke to him. "Until you hear your mobile ring and see that the call is from...Black Tail." Agnes handed the phone back to him and he left without another word. What she had done amounted to keeping him around for when she was in the mood for some attention, but she could live with exploiting him so long as she was sure he was getting something out of the deal as well. For some reason, once she was alone the panic about becoming a mermaid did not seize her as she thought it would. She soon saw the reason when she looked down and saw that her legs were slowly returning to normal, the tights becoming mere lingerie once more and the tailfin disappearing into her redefined feet. A quick tug and yelp confirmed that the black pearl was still firmly stuck in place. She lifted the surface of the tights and wondered to herself; would the tail appear if she were naked? For some reason she thought not, convinced that her transformation had been so closely tied to her love for such sensual clothing. But she was sure that it could not be limited to just those stockings alone. Suddenly her wardrobe had become something more than a collection of outfits; it now had a new world of possibilities and she was potentially the first mermaid in history capable of changing her scales with the seasons. Siren of Love 1 week ago. Lyra sighed. She might as well give up now rather than find some other guy who might be the one and might not be the one and then end up going through the whole process over again. It was the same with every guy she met. She really liked them, and she wanted to try and go further with them, but that one dammed secret just kept getting in the way! She could never become so close to a guy with a secret that big hanging on her shoulders, and the guys being totally unaware of it. If she wanted a serious relationship, and we're talking marriage here, she would have to tell them the secret and out of all the guys she'd met, none of them were the one that would be able to bear the weight of the secret with her. She wanted to cry. She was doomed to live a lonely life with nobody to comfort her and love her, cherish her and hold her. She would die alone, still bearing the horrible weight of her secret. She just wanted to curl up and die. She was all alone in the world. 1 week later. She couldn't help but think about it. About what she had thought one week ago, and yet here she was, about to step in a club and restart the process all over again. Obviously she was addicted to thinking she found the one and then realizing it wasn't, crushing her hopes and causing her to have to build them up again she that she could be ready for when the one really came. She laughed a little, bitterly. "Lyra! Would you quit hanging in the past and focus on the present?" "What?" said Lyra, Jena's voice snapping her out of her morbid thoughts. "Oh yea. Sorry. Um, hey. I don't really feel up to this tonight so I'm, um, just gonna go home and relax." "Oh no." said Jenna, grabbing Lyra's arms as she turned to walk away. She loved her best friend but sometimes she could really be a stubborn hard ass at times. And this was one of those times. But Jenna wasn't just going to let her best friend go home and sulk and be depressed and lonely. She was going to help her find the one no matter what it took. "You are going to hang out here tonight with me and have fun and even if you don't find the one that's okay, because, news flash, just cause you meet a guy who's not the one doesn't mean it's time to be sad and depressed. If you meet a guy and you two just screw and never see each other again, as long as it was good and you enjoyed it, that's okay." Lyra laughed. Her friend could be so simple at times. Nothing with her was ever complicated, it was just go with the flow. And that's what Lyra loved about Jenna. Her friend never over complicated things, unlike Lyra whose life was anything but uncomplicated. She wished just for once that her life could be simple like Jenna's. "Oooh. I spy with my little eye, a sexy god, oh my oh my." Said Jenna, slyly checking out a sandy blonde headed man with a muscled chest and a mouth that was twisted up at the ends in a smirk, as if he knew that a girl was checking him out right now. Lyra burst out laughing. In fact, she laughed so much that she fell off the bar stool. Suddenly, strong hands grabbed her waist and caught her before she could plummet to the ground. She leaned against a chest that, even through the back of her dress and his shirt, she could feel was muscled. His chest was warm and his hands were still wrapped around her waist. Whoever he was helped her up and when she looked backwards she felt her legs grown wobbly and she almost fell again. He had long dark brown wavy hair like mahogany that fell down to just above his shoulders. His eyes were dark emerald green and his mouth made her want to just press her lips to it. He was wearing a dark blue long sleeved shirt with rolled up sleeves and hot Abercrombie pants that made his ass look so fine, ending with sandals. And behind him was what had to be his twin, or if not then his clone, because the man standing behind the one that had caught her looked almost exactly the same with the exception that his hair went to just below his chin and his eyes were the color of the Caribbean sea, and they never seemed to end. He was wearing the same jeans and sandals but had on a plain white t-shirt with a dark bluish gray green tinted vest like the color of a stormy sea. She looked at him, then his brother who caught her,( and it had to be his brother because if he wasn't then they had to be cousins or relatives in some way to explain their similar appearances), and then she looked back at him and then his brother again. (She was just going to go with brother.) She blushed and then mumbled thank you and turned away, completely embarrassed at her klutziness, but the man who caught her wouldn't let go. He and his brother stared at her like she enthralled. She blushed again, feeling her underwear starting to get wet from the small contact of his hands on her hips. She imagined those strong hands holding her down by her hips while his brother kneeled over her head and slowly slid her top over her head and slipped her bra off, rubbing her breasts, his thumbs rolling her nipples and his eyes staring at her with intensity as he captured her mouth. His brother would slowly move her legs apart with his hand, slid her pants and panties of and began teasing her by grinding his hips against hers. She snapped out of it and noticed him looking at her intensely and grinning, as if he knew what she was thinking. She blushed. He looked over her, staring at her breasts and pussy a little longer than with the other parts of her body. His eyes darkened to a deep forest green and she could swear she heard him growl faintly. The look he and his brother were giving her was so openly sexual that she felt that she would either melt or throw herself at them. He leaned down to her ear and liked the tip of it before whispering in a deep and a little husky voice that flowed like silk and made her shiver with heat rushing down to her pussy. "My name is Pallo." "Lyra." She let out breathlessly. Her knees gave out and she stumbled into his arms again. He just smiled devilishly and she knew he knew he had caused that. His hands wrapped just a little tighter around her waist as she slowly stood again. She had not had this type of contact in almost three months, staying in her house or in her fenced backyard alone, and now, suddenly, contact of the sneakily sensual kind. It was too much and too fast after having been alone for three months. She felt uncomfortable and a little faint. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and inhaled the sweet scent you find outside right after it rains, and the smell of forest, moss, grass, and she almost fell over AGAIN! Damn! What was wrong with her today! She was bold, never shy, and could easily be around other. She was a social bird, and she had never felt so suddenly attracted to two guys before, never felt like this before. The spark that the little bit of contact set off in her. She was never like this in front of handsome guys. And here she was, losing it because of two god like creatures standing before her. She mentally shook herself. She smiled sexily. "Thanks. I prefer sneakers over heels and these heels are like they were made specially for me so I could trip and tumble face first whenever I wear them. I am usually quite graceful." He arched his eyebrows at her slightly and the corners of his mouth turned up in smile. "Well then I guess asking you to dance would be a very bad idea." He said in his deep voice. He glanced over his shoulder at his brother who nodded slightly, got up and walked towards the bar to get a drink. Lyra felt bad about his brother but forgot about it when she noticed Pallo looking at her .He looked down at her beautiful face. She felt his eyes caress her face as he gazed at her long flowing hair that framed her face that was the color of chestnut brown mixed with sandy blonde and she had a cute button nose and light brown freckles speckling her cheeks. Her lips were full and looked soft and so kissable. His gaze lowered to her chest which wasn't too big and wasn't too small. She imagined his hand running over them and gently grasping them. They would fill his hands perfectly. She snapped her eyes open to see him smirking at her and knew he had guessed what she was thinking. She blushed and lowered her head but he tilted it back up and slowly kissed her lightly before stopping to smile at her. He was teasing her and she knew it. Luckily for her, she knew just how to play too. Her waist was thin and she had a toned stomach with a matching pair of toned legs and a toned ass to go with it. She was beautiful and oh so sexy. He growled, his eyes darkening in color. He pulled her closer and slowly led her to the dance floor where they began to dance with him leading. But not for long. She pulled back a little, arching her back just a bit to brush her breasts against his chest, swaying her hips to the beats of the music. Her small feet moving gracefully and never stumbling. Two could play at this game. He growled again and pulled her close to him, smushing her breasts against his chest. He ground his hips into hers in perfect time with the music, leaning over and whispering in her ear, "Are you enjoying yourself, little kitten." He nipped the tip of her ear, grinding into her harder. "You are so delectable. I could just take you home and devourer you. I'm sure you'd love it wouldn't you. You would not mind a bit about letting me do what I want with you, isn't that right, little kitten. You'd let me have my way and you'd love every minute of it." His voice was deep and husky. He licked the inside of the tip of her ear. She moaned and tilted her head back just a little and Pallo immediately dove in and covered her lips with his. The moan allowed him slide his tongue into her mouth and lick her tongue. She moaned again, now grinding against him. He moved her hips with his. His hands wrapped around her waist tightly pulling her even more closely to him. He broke the kiss, his eyes dark green. "I'd love to continue but my turn is over." She looked at him confused until he spun her around and she stumbled, falling onto a warm, hard chest, as warm strong arms wrapped around her and the scent of the ocean and suntan lotion washed over her. She looked into Caribbean sea green eyes as his hands lowered until they grabbed her waist, just barely above the top of her ass. He pulled her close to him and held her tightly, holding her pussy to his hard on, leaning down to her ear and whispering in a deep husky voice, "I am Siden." The way he said it was like side-in. It was tipped with a slight accent and it sounded hot. She almost moaned as one of his hand traveled up her back, causing her to shiver, and griping her silky soft hair, he tilted her head back to kiss her slowly on the neck, making his way up to her mouth as he slowly, sensually grounding into her. She moaned into his mouth. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and rubbed it against hers, sending chills down her back. She arched, pushing her breasts into his chest and he growled, sucking on her tongue and grinding into her slowly but harder. His grip tightening and pushing her into him harder. She was lost. Pallo was all about fast and hard, and Siden, though about going hard too, was also slow, and gentle sometimes. She was lost as to whom she should choose when she felt a body press against her back. She moaned as a second pair of hands grabbed her by her ass in a tight grip and ground himself into her ass. She was lost as his hands moved up to the sides of her breasts where they gripped her tightly. He leaned down and whispered into her ear. "Oh, my little sexy kitten. You are so delicious. I want to take you home and pleasure you. With help from my brother of course." He added when Siden broke the kiss to look at him suspiciously. "Now brother. You're not planning on stealing her all for yourself now are you? Because then I'd have to steal her back and that would put me in the position of prince charming and she my beautiful damsel in distress." As he said this he gazed back down at her with soft eyes. "I hate to break it to you but I am no damsel in distress." She said with a spark of defiance in her eyes. "You object?" said Siden, raising his eyebrows. "My damsel in distress objects to me saving her from the evil twin brother?" he said this with a smile and Pallo laughed and said "If I am the evil twin than you are the sly one that sweetens the girls up so you can make love to them." Lyra blushed but Siden laughed heartily, before turning back to look at her. "You can come to rescue me but I will be gone because I will have rescued myself." She told him. "My little damsel should not speak like that. She is mine and I will rescue her whether she likes it or not." He smiled devilishly. "She will wait for me to rescue her or I won't be so gentle when I find her." Her blush widened and she felt a new wave of heat dive down to her pussy, but Pallo only laughed. "Brother, you are not making this any easier for her to choose to come home with us. Am I right kitten?" He turned her around to face him and Siden's hands gripped under her breasts, rubbing the underside of them, while Pallo's gripped her waist moving them along with his and grinding against her as he whispered in her ear "Or maybe you'd like that." He said huskily. "To be spanked like a naughty little girl by my brother. My brother would love to punish you little kitten. He may seem the gentle lover but when he punishes he does it so well it's hard to tell whether its punishment or pleasure." Behind her Siden grinned, leaned down and whispered in her ear "It's true, so be good little one." Lyra groaned loudly, her panties were almost completely soaked by now. She couldn't believe how much these brothers were turning her on. "Hey, Lyra! You don't socialize for three months, locked away in your house and now your smushed between two guys? When I said go crazy I didn't think you would go spontaneous too." Said Jenna standing a couple feet away, though the smile on her face showed that she couldn't care less as long as Lyra was enjoying herself. Lyra blushed. "It's okay." Said Jenna. "Go with them and go crazy." She said, smiling knowingly. Then walked away. "I like your friend. Leaving you to us." Whispered Pallo in her ear. "Me too." Whispered Siden in her other ear. She shuddered. He took her hand and guided her outside to a Camaro where he opened the door and she climbed in, but before he could climb into the backseat with her Pallo beat him to it. When he got back there he laid her down on the seat, and laid on top of her, careful not to put his full weight on her. His legs slipped between hers and pushed her legs apart as he pressed his hard on against her, lifting her legs up and putting them on either side of him on his hips. He rocked against her panty soaked pussy, taking her mouth in his and playing with her tongue. "Guess I'm driving then." Said Siden. In response, car keys flew at his face. All the way to the house their tongues dueled with each other. His hands moved down from cupping her neck to cupping her breasts and rubbing them through her thin dress. She moaned in his mouth, rolling her hips against his causing him to groan and reward her with a nip on the lip, chin or neck. By the time the car finally stopped they were both panting. He thrust against her. She gasped loudly. Siden grinned, looking at them in the rearview mirror. Pallo smiled devilishly. He helped her out of the car and when she saw the house her mouth dropped open. It was a two story mansion with plenty of windows and a vineyard in the backyard! On the side facing her were big bushes trimmed to look like a minotaur, a centaur, a satyr, a nymph, and even Cerberus. And she only came up to the centaur's knee. That's how tall they were. In the front was a giant pool and Lyra could smell the sea salt of it from over here. Siden and Pallo looked back at her grinning. Lyra inhaled the sea salt smell and her eyes flashed iridescent sea green for a moment before she closed them and they turned normal. Siden and Pallo stopped. They blinked and shook their heads. They thought they just saw Lyra's . . . but never mind that because they were probably just seeing things. Pallo smiled. "Welcome to our home." Siden walked over to her and gripped her waist, pulling her against him. "I think we should go inside to continue this and this time with my brother. What do you say brother" he said, his mouth against her ear. "It's fine by me brother. I that okay Lyra?" asked Pallo. Lyra gasped because one of Siden's hands had drifted too far down and it brushed her clit. Siden, noticing where his hand had drifted , smiled devilishly and brushed a little harder. Lyra sucked in a breath and moaned "Ooh yes! Yes!" Pallo smiled and congratulated Siden for wooing their girl, in greek. Siden smiled and answered in English so Lyra could understand. "It's nothing. I only want to please Lyra in ANY way that I can." He whispered against her ear causing her to moan again and arch her back outwards, pushing her luscious breasts out. The brothers groaned. They were getting very turned on by this small, skinny, beautiful creature that was in Siden's arms. Pallo scooped Lyra up in his arms causing her to shriek and giggle as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Walking to the house, with Siden in tow, he stopped when he saw her quiet for minute and inhale the sea salt scent of the pool, and for the second time that night, her eyes flashed iridescent sea green before quickly returning to hazel eyes. He looked at his brother, who had seen it too, and they both thought the same thing, who is the girl. They knew her name, but not where she lived, what her last name was, or even her if she was italian. Pallo shook his head and Siden nodded, agreeing that they would ask her about it later. Siden started walking but he paused when he thought of something. Tomorrow, he would take her out to the pool. She obviously liked it. "Siden?" asked Lyra. He smiled immediately and growled "I love it when you say my name." She smiled but it didn't seem as bright as before. She seemed uncertain now. Lyra was a little uncertain. Her other form had tried to gain control to run towards the water and dive in twice now. It had reminded her of why she had never had serious relationships before. She looked at them hesitantly as they looked at her curiously. "What's wrong Lyra?" asked Siden curiously. "Oh it's nothing." She said sighing. A screw. That's what Jenna said she could do with a guy and then never see him again if it would make her happy. Not everything was about finding the one, but. . . But she had been so lonely for so long and being here she felt good. "Lyra." Asked Pallo, lifting her chin up to his where she could see concern starting to edge in the corners of his eyes. "What's wrong? Tell us what's bothering you." She was lost in the sincerity of his eyes. He meant it, but didn't she only mean sex to him. She was contemplating this when he kissed her lightly and then deepening it. She felt another pair of lips kiss her neck and she moaned a little. Pallo and Siden smiled. Happy that they had distracted her from whatever had troubled her. Pallo carried her inside to a curved chaise where he laid her down. He kneeled to one side of her and Siden on the other. Pallo took her into a deep kiss, his hands kneading one breast while Siden kneaded the other. They're free hands roamed down and Pallo followed the example that he saw Siden do when they were outside and brushed his hand against her clit. She gasped in his mouth. Siden started to rub her pussy through her dress. "Oh god, oh YES OH GOD YES!" she screamed when Siden bit into the little hollow in her neck. She arched her back up, pushing her pussy and breasts harder against the massaging hands. She moaned loudly. Pallo and Siden grinned. Her voice moaning grew higher in tone, almost as if she was singing her excitement.