0 comments/ 24615 views/ 0 favorites Understanding By: Stormhawk The rain had just stopped falling outside the tent as he tightened her bonds and blindfold. With her wrists tied above her head to the ceiling ridge pole and her ankles spread and tied to stakes driven into the ground, she could barely move. That thrice damned charm of weakening keeps her as weak as any human. This vampire hunter has her at his mercy as the bite gag in her mouth keeps her from sinking her fangs into his throat and the blindfold from her taking control of his mind. Why doesn’t he stake her and be done with it. Or, if he couldn’t stomach "riding the wood" into a woman, all he would have to do is open the tent to the morning’s sky and she would be dust. Why delay? She hears the blade being drawn, the sharp "sheeng" as it tastes the air. "So it’s to be decapitation," she thinks, and is wrong. The blade doesn’t cut her flesh, but rather, it lightly caresses it as it probes under the light shift she wears. And then a straight cut, a ripping of fabric and she stands nude, helpless in the control of the mortal. Again she feels the blade as it touches her, follows her curves, explores her body, a lover’s kiss by the cold metal. The blade is withdrawn and next she feels the warmth of human flesh as a hand takes up the search. Then she feels the teeth as they sink into her. Not the teeth of a fellow nighter, but a round-tooth! The bites! Oh the bites! And the tongue as he covers her entire body. He squeezes and pinches her nipples, bites her thighs ,vagina , and clitoris and then, stops. It is then she feels the first bite of a new lover, the whip! It burns across her ass and legs, as holy water has never burned before, it bites deep as and as longingly into her skin as a newborn nighter on it’s first kill. What pain! What pleasure! A throbbing begins in her groin, is this the heaven the mortals speak of or is it hell? She arches her back with each stroke. A moan escapes the gag. "Yes, my dear. I see you understand now," says her captor . "Many of my pets couldn’t endure the journeys I would wish to undertake and so I was left frustrated and unfulfilled, until I learned of your kind. Until I learned of you." He reaches up, she feels the heat of his hand near her face, hears the pulse and pounding of his blood as it goes through his wrist. She smells the scent of the living as he touches her face, then strokes her hair. Suddenly, he fills his hand with it, wraps it around his fist, and pulls back her head, exposing her neck as she has done to so many of her prey. He laughs. A slow, haughty laugh, so like her Sire, her Master. So in control. "Let’s see those pretty teeth, shall we?" Still holding her head back he starts to loosen the ball and rope. "My Master Sire will come for me and you will die," she says, when the gag was removed. He plays his finger across her teeth and traps her jaw in his vice-like grip when she tries to bite. "I think not, my pretty one. I am not anything, if not thorough and your ‘Sire’ has, I dare say, ‘seen the light’. Oh , how does that scene go, ‘What light through yon window breaks, it is the dawn and Juliet is the sun’. And another lash is laid across her hips . Another thrill goes thru her. She starts to hunger. Not the hunger for blood that she has long known. She hungers for the next touch, the next stinging lash, the next pain that makes her feel…alive! Yes! Alive, she feels it, life, the pain, the anguish, she knows now, she understands. To truly live is to feel the pain, embrace it, even welcome it as once she welcomed the coming of the night. He has brought her life! He introduces her to the crop and the rope and the cat of nine. She learns quickly to love the feel of the braided riding crop as it smacks against her thighs or is drawn through the valley of her maidenhood, the roughness of the tightening hemp as it entwines her limbs, and the stings of the cat as it rakes her bare white skin. Later, he gives her some release, then, kindness, comfort, a place to rest. And to her surprise, blood. Once she thought it the ruby, velvet wine of life. Now it is only food . "Do you understand now, my little one?" ask he. "Yes, my master," says she. Understanding My love, my only, my one and true… I love you so much, and I don’t know what’s going on inside your head. I don’t even know what’s going on in my head. I don’t know anything anymore. I’ve never been so helpless in my life, I don’t think, nor so miserable. I love you so much. I need you, but I don’t need you, but I want you. Do you understand? I want you so bad that I feel that I need you. I want you beside me, I want you in my arms, and I want myself in your arms. I want in your life, I want in your future, I want in your mind and in your heart and in your head more than I want anything. I yearn for you. I ache for you. I want you. But maybe I don’t need you. You seem to accuse me of being dependant on you. You say that I think I need you but that I don’t. So maybe I don’t need you. What does that mean? That doesn’t mean anything. I don’t need you, I can live without you, I wouldn’t die or cease to exist if you walked out of my life forever, but I don’t want that to happen. I know what I want, and I want you. Scare you as it does, I want to marry you. I know with every fiber in my body that I want to be with you. I want to be with you now, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, and next millennia. I want to be with you for my eternity, for my forever. I want to be together. I want it to be us. You don’t want to marry me. You don’t see me in your future. Okay. What does that mean? Does that mean that I can turn off my wants and desires for you? Does that mean that I can flip the switch in my brain and say, hey, he doesn’t want you, get over him? No. There’s nothing like that. I’m heartbroken right now, sick to my stomach. All I want to do is cry and sleep, sleep and cry, but I can’t. I have to go to work and be around people, pretend to be happy, watch the clock and count the minutes until I can see you again. Oh, god, it hurts so bad. And I don’t know how to fix it. There’s no way to fix the way I feel. I’m broken, broken. I feel like I’ve been squashed like a bug, I feel about that tall. I don’t know anything anymore. Not that I ever really knew anything. But I felt as though I knew that next week we’d be together. Next week, next month, and next year. That’s what I knew. Now I don’t know anything. Every time I see you, all I can think is fear. Fear that you’re going to open your mouth and say it’s still not working. And the worst part is that I thought it was. I was happy. I was content. Everything was so perfect. I thought I knew. And this whole time you’ve been miserable with me? I don’t understand how this could happen. I confided in a friend at work and she suggested that a relationship is based on communication, and if we didn’t communicate well enough for you to tell me before that our relationship wasn’t working, the obviously it wasn’t working. That seems like backwards logic to me, but I don’t know anything. She said I should pray to a higher power, and I didn’t bother telling her that I didn’t believe in any. It’s you and me, and we’re alone in this. We’re alone together, and I don’t know anything. I feel like more of a burden than ever. Now I fear that every time I need help, you’ll resent me. I fear that every time I’m sad, you’ll resent me. Everything needs to be perfect for me to keep you, but I can’t make it perfect. I can’t do anything. I can’t touch anything. I can’t feel anything. All I feel is pain inside and hurt and yes distrust. You’ve never done anything to make me think that I couldn’t trust you. Never. It’s not your fault that now all I can think of are scary things that could be happening. I know you say you have no one else but all I can picture is you and Jen together, happy. All I can think of is what could have happened when you saw her again. All I can think of are the girls that you spend most of your time with, the girls you’re happy to see. And all I can think of is calling home last night and your listless voice, coming home and not getting any greeting. Coming home and not knowing whether you wanted to see me or not. Sitting in the living room waiting for you to make the next move because I was too afraid that you would push me away. I’m so scared. I’m scared that for the rest of my life I’m going to be unhappy. I’m scared that I’m going to lose you. I’m afraid that every morning I’m going to look over, and be grateful that you didn’t leave me during the night. I want to be able to sleep without nightmares of your loathing, but instead of dreams of love, safe in your arms. I don’t want to be alone, but I definitely don’t want to be without you. Understanding Copyright 2007 by madengineer3 ( It is interesting that some of the understandings that truly set us free to be ourselves can be some of the most painful experiences that we can face. All the way through high school and college I was on the heavy side. It was unfortunate that all of the people around me, in my social and cultural milieu tended to be interested only in the girls that looked like they had modeled for Playboy centerfolds or guys that were either rich or physically powerful and handsome. Heaven help the young woman or young man who had physical limitations or who was, on the whole, plain. Now please note I did not say ugly! Just being plain was enough to limit your possibilities. If you also happened to carry a few extra pounds, well let's just say that your social life was almost non-existent. I went to a relatively prestigious technical college majoring in physics and minoring in mathematics. My name is Paul, and at that time I was about 5'6" and weighed about 170 pounds. Unfortunately I was also very shy around the opposite sex and was not the sharpest student in my class. All I had going for me was a desire to succeed and relatively good common sense. After graduation with my B.S. I went to work in industry. In fact I went to work doing work as an electrical engineer. (If you get back to the true fundamentals of any type of engineering you end up at physics. It is a good study for a generalist. And generalists are in relatively high demand where practical solutions are needed.) For a time I made the typical mistakes that come with being on a steep learning curve. For example I had never worked with the core architecture of digital processors before. I became relatively adept at processor design. Again, my social life was limited. We were working on government projects for several "hush hush" programs. We had to watch out with whom we socialized for security reasons. I had to interface with representatives from NSA, the NRO, and one of the largest military digital telephoto camera manufacturers on earth. I had little free time. All thorough this time I had the nagging feeling that there was something wrong with me. After all, people always talked about their "conquests" and wild party life, and I simply lived and worked at what I was good at. After a while my life became quite routine, not truly satisfactory, but routine. That is until we had a new engineer join our group early last year. Susan was not a stunning knockout. She wasn't rich. She didn't drive a fancy car or talk a smooth line that would make you think she was someone special. She was, however, real! Now, I can't fully describe this quality of "realness". She didn't seem to have a vain bone in her body. If she heard something in confidence, she didn't repeat it. If she told you she would do something, she would do anything in her power to do exactly what she had said, or more, without expecting to be praised for it. If Susan saw someone who needed a hand, she would supply it without feeling that they owed her anything. When she engaged in a conversation she could be very "witty" without using crude language or putting anyone down. I am sure that she had heard plenty of crude words and crude jokes, but she never indicated that she did. Except for some very close family members I had never run into a person like this before. I wanted to know her better. A chance to do that came along after several months. Susan was commenting that she was going to move from one apartment to another. She had shared an apartment with another woman who didn't share her values, although she had "talked the right talk" prior to moving in. In fact the other woman turned out to lie, be a borderline alcoholic and used "recreational drugs" on a regular basis. This wasn't Susan's lifestyle. Susan finally had to find a place to move to. Her roommate was falling behind on her half of the rent and utilities every month. More and more of the operating funds were coming from Susan. Over lunch, in the company cafeteria, she indicated that she couldn't see a way around the problem she faced. Since the economy in the city where we worked was booming the cost of single apartments was astronomical. She couldn't afford the price of a single apartment and succeed at her attempt to repay her student loans early. I thought that maybe I could help. Now, I live in a somewhat unusual set of circumstances. I live out of town in a large, old, farm house. When my father died, I had decided to live at home so that my mother wouldn't have to be uprooted. My father had been a pastor of a small rural independent Congregational church. If you don't know about the salary scales in such churches suffice it to say that minimum wage would have constituted a significant raise. My mother is somewhat hard of hearing and is quite visually challenged, so a change in location would not be good for her. I purchased the house from the my father's estate, for more that it was really worth, and put the money in long term bonds and securities in my mother's name. That way she would have the funds to do most of the things that she might like to do, in her old age. I had the money since I am single and had been working for a good salary for several years. It also doesn't hurt that I have been rather successful as an investor in the stock market. My house, an old farmhouse, has five bedrooms. My mother, of course, has her own room, as do I. I have an older sister who was born with some serious genetic problems. She never learned to read, and with her memory there is no chance that she could find gainful employment in anything but a sheltered workshop. She is, however, gifted in one area; she likes to clean and does a very good job at it. The bus from our local sheltered workshop picks her up every week day for work. Anyway, we occupy three of the five bedrooms. That leaves two bedrooms that have been largely unused for as long as I could remember. I finally made up my mind on what I needed to do. I asked Susan if she would join me for dinner on Friday. I told her that I would like her to meet some people and that maybe there was a solution to her housing problem. She thanked me and said that she would have to think about it. On Thursday she came in to work, obviously upset. During a break I wondered over to her area and asked if something was wrong. She almost broke down. Her roommate had brought drunken friends in for an overnight and one of them had tried to sexually assault her during the night. She was at her wit's end. I asked her about Friday and reminded her that there might be a solution for her problem. On the spur of the moment she told me she would join me for dinner. I had already bought the various provisions that I would need for the meal. I had assumed that she would come. It was, at this time, late fall. What I had purchased were the ingredients for a very nice old fashioned beef stew. Both my mother and sister really like the way I make stew. Anyway, when quitting time came around on Friday I offered to give Susan a lift to where we were going, since there are a fair number of turns on roads with no lighting. I told her I would drive her back to her car at the end of the meal and any conversation that we had. I could see that she was a bit reluctant, but she finally agreed to do this. When we arrived at my home, my sister was just walking toward the house after taking one of her late afternoon walks. Susan immediately wanted to know about my sister. After all, some physical problems are relatively easy to spot. I explained that the people I wanted her to meet were my sister and my mother. Susan looked confused. When we got in the house I directed Susan to the main bathroom so that she could wash her hands before dinner. While she was doing that I brought the huge crock pot, containing the stew, and set it on the dining room table. My sister had done a very nice job of cleaning. Everything looked just right. Susan came into the dining room and joined us at the table. As is our custom we said grace and then I started to serve the stew. Susan had never had stew the way I make it. Many people don't put rutabaga and turnip into beef stew, along with the cabbage, onions, carrots, potatoes and beef. With this stew the idea is to mash the vegetables with your fork and load them up with good butter and coarse ground black pepper. As the meal progressed I explained the way our house worked. I especially explained that there were two spare bedrooms that had not used for decades. I also indicated that since they were next to each other I could turn one of them into a private bathroom. It was about that time that Susan started to see what I had in mind. The first question that she had to ask was a bit pointed. "What would the total cost be for me if I were to take you up on this kind offer? What types of things would you expect me to do?" She asked the question in a very polite way, but the unsaid question was there. She wanted to know if I would expect any special physical favors from her for the ability to use the room. "Susan, I value you way too much as a co-worker and as a person to try to take advantage of you. This house is paid for. All I have to supply are maintenance, heat, electricity, insurance, and taxes. I would suggest that the room, with a bathroom I can put in, would cost you under $200 per month. Of course if you want to eat with us every day, that might go up to cover the extra food, but even that is negotiable. I'm not trying to get rich, and having another woman around as companionship for my mom and sister would be great. There are no strings, of any sort, attached to this offer. Your rooms will have good locks on the doors. Your things will be safe, and you will be safe. You can think about this offer for as long as you wish. Would you like to see the rooms?" She indicated that she would, so I turned on the back hall light and led her to the rear two rooms. They were typical of large old farm houses. The rooms themselves were the better part of 16' by 13' with nine foot ceilings. The floors were typical old wide plank wooden floors. The heating system in the house used steam radiators. Each room had a large walk in closet that was almost as large as a small dormitory room. I could tell from her face that she was seriously considering this! She turned to me and said; "Let me have the weekend to think about this. If you would drive me back to my car I'd appreciate it." So, I drove back into town and waited until she was safely in her car. I waved to her and headed back home. It was Saturday evening that I got her call. She sounded like she was beside herself. I had never heard so much pain in her voice before. "Paul, I need help. My roommate brought her friends over again, and I couldn't fight them off. I called the police and they sent me to the hospital for a rape evidence kit to be done. I can't go back to my apartment until I have someone with me. They know the name of the guy who did this, but he is still out there somewhere. Is there some way that I can come out there tonight? I want to take you up on your offer of a room." I told her that I would be at the company parking lot in thirty-five minutes. She said that she would pick up some things, with a policewoman with her for protection, and see me then. I hurriedly dressed. Just in case, I put my 12ga pump shotgun in the back seat and pocketed five shells loaded with buckshot. I was in the parking lot thirty-three minutes later. She was waiting for me. A police car had accompanied her, and on her signal the police left. It was then that I noticed that there was a older van parked in the dark rear corner of the parking lot and it looked like it was running. I got out of my car and went over to tell her the route we would be taking to my place. As I was heading back to my car, the van started to drive over to her. She had parked under a light so as the van approached and turned broadside to us we could see the occupants. Susan became very pale and said; "those are the guys that were in my apartment earlier. What are we going to do?" I told her not to worry. As the van came to a stop, and the guys started to get out I lifted up the shotgun and started to feed shells into the tubular magazine. I didn't even point it at them but they piled back into the van and left the parking lot in a real hurry. They hadn't left fast enough to prevent me from jotting down their license plate number. Susan had the business card of the detective who had talked to her earlier so I got out my cell phone and called the officer. When I got her on the line I told her what had transpired, including the part about loading, but not pointing the shotgun, and then gave her the license number of the van. I explained where Susan would be and the number she could be reached at and then wished her "good hunting". I unloaded the shotgun and put it back on my rear seat. Then we started to drive home; my car in the lead and Susan following very closely. I was silently praying that we had seen the last of those hoods for the evening. The drive to my place turned out to be uneventful. When we arrived I helped her get her things into the house. The spare bedrooms still had very old beds in them. I brought in fresh linens for the bed, reminded her of the location of the bathroom and kitchen, closed the curtains in her room and went to my bedroom for some sleep. In the morning I was up at my usual time. I went to the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee and whipped up some bacon and French toast. As each piece was cooked it went onto a plate in the oven. (For warming I set the oven for about 200 degrees with a small pan of water in the oven so things won't dry out.) I had almost finished the cooking when Susan walked into the kitchen. I turned to see who had came in and saw a rather unusual expression on her face. "Morning Susan, did you sleep well?" "Yes, it was comforting to know that I was in a safe place. What are you doing?" "I'm finishing up making breakfast. Mom and my sister will be up soon and we will eat so that we can get out of here by 9:00 to get to Sunday school and church on time. You are free to ride with us if you like, if not that's o.k. too." "Where did you learn to cook?" "Well, Mom's eyesight has been pretty bad for many years now, and my sister doesn't get along with cooking at all, so since I like to eat I have had to become a pretty good cook. This morning's breakfast is French toast and bacon. There's orange juice in the refrigerator. Help yourself. If you are feeling super hungry I can give you breakfast before the others get here." "No, I'd like to eat with your family. What church do you go to?" "It's a small independent Congregational church. We aren't a part of any of the mainstream denominations, but our theology is somewhere between American Baptist and Presbyterian. For many years my father had been the pastor of that church. It is so small that it can barely afford to pay the utilities for heating and lighting." "How can your church afford a pastor then?" "Well, we really can't. But, our current pastor has a full time job and donates his time to give the sermon and teach the adult Bible study. It's called a "tent making ministry" since it is like what Paul did in the early church. You see, technically all you need is someone to provide the preaching. The individual members are the ones who look out for each other and try to help the needy. That is how the early church worked and that is how we work." "That will take some getting used to! I came from a main line denomination and was used to "high church" type services where the individual members did nothing about ministry, and seldom worried about each other. I'd like to see how your church works." At that moment my mother and sister came into the kitchen and went over to the table. I suggested that Susan sit across from mom. The places were already set with dishes, cups, silverware and cloth napkins. (I hate paper napkins. You have to kill trees to make them whereas the cloth ones simply need to be washed.) The food was placed in the middle of the table, grace was said, and we dug in to a good meal. At the close of the meal I removed the dishes and helped my sister wash them. As I said, she loves cleaning and is pretty good at it. As usual, my sister and I carried on a simple conversation, at her level. We were just about finished when I realized that Susan had been quietly sitting at the kitchen table, listening to and watching us. She seemed to be deep in thought. "A penny for your thoughts." "Oh, they aren't worth a penny, I was just sort of blankly daydreaming. How dressed up do you have to be for your church? For my church it is almost a fashion show." "Many of our members are lucky to have two changes of simple work clothes. Any clean clothes are more than acceptable. We even have one old member who comes to church in clean bib overalls. It isn't the clothes that make it a church. The church is in fact the people who gather together and truly believe the Scriptures." "I've never heard it put that way before. I'm looking forward to seeing it." The rest of the day went the way it was supposed to. For Sunday dinner I had cooked chicken in gravy and made up some baking powder biscuits. I still had some corn that we had frozen in the fall. We had buttered corn with the chicken and biscuits. When Monday morning came around I told Susan that she could car pool with me, or drive independently. She indicated that she should drive because, with police as defense, she needed to move much of her stuff out of the apartment. I offered to drive my old pickup and help if she wanted it. She seemed glad that I had offered. After work, I followed her over to her apartment, accompanied by a policeman.. It was good that he was on hand because some of her roommates friends were there and seemed to be unhappy that they couldn't take out some of their frustrations on us. It took two hours to get everything into her car and my pickup. I suspected that we would have no problems on our way home since my rear window gun rack held both my 12ga shotgun and an SKS semi-auto rifle. If you "speak softly and carry a big stick" you seldom need to use the stick! When we got home I pulled the pickup truck and had Susan move her car into the barn. It wasn't much to look at, but the barn had been made in 1856 and had been built well. The roof and outer walls had always been kept in repair so the structure was sound. With the doors shut and locked we wouldn't need to unload the vehicles until a more convenient time. That was fortunate since the weather had turned quite cold. After supper, I went into the living room and fired up the old pot bellied stove. There had been quite a nip in the air and with all the moving, sweating and straining we had done I wanted some nice warm radiant heat. Susan came in and sat on the opposite end of the couch. "Can I ask you a personal question?" With a smile I said, "Yes, I suppose so; but I won't guarantee that I will answer it." "How come you have remained single when you are obviously very much a home centered person?" "Hmmmmm, I suspect that is has to do with two things: one, I've never been sure that I have met the right woman; and two, I've never wanted to have a wife have to share the burden of taking care of my family. And as you can see, they do need some care. I cannot, and Lord willing will not, ever have them forced out of this house and into some form of institution or home." "That sounds like a couple of good reasons. Why do you suppose that you haven't found the right person? Where have you looked?" This was getting a bit uncomfortable. I wasn't sure of how to formulate the answer. "I'm not sure I can tell you why I haven't found the right one. As for looking, the woman I'm looking for won't be spending most of her times partying or in bars. I'm after someone with values that don't change with the calendar. I want someone I can talk about my interests who will understand what I am saying. I suspect that my problem is that I am not sure where such a woman can be found. One other reason my sound foolish, but I tend to be shy around women I don't know. That, unfortunately, is a bit of a "Catch 22". I hope this doesn't sound crazy to you." Understanding Susan just sat there and nodded. She appeared to be deep in thought. Then, she asked a very interesting question, "How will you know that you have found the person you are looking for?" I had to be honest, "I'm afraid I don't know. I just hope that I will recognize her and that she will recognize me. I know that this sounds crazy, but it is all I know." I broke the subject and asked if she minded if I put on some music. When she said no, I went to the music system and put on Rachmaninoff's second piano concerto. When I sat back down again Susan asked me another very pointed question. "How did you pick that piece? It is my favorite piece of music." "It happens to be my favorite piece as well. I bought my first recording of this when I was in jr high school. I believe it was played by Leonard Pennario." She just sat there looking at me with a strange expression on her face. Then she closed her eyes and was obviously transported somewhere else by the music. As the third movement ended she indicated that she needed to take a shower and get some sleep. It wasn't until she had left that I slowly started to realize that much of what I was looking for was to be found in this woman, Susan. I suspected that I needed to take things slowly to see if she was indeed the one I wanted and to make sure that I didn't loose her. On the following weekend I took Susan to the local mega-building supply store to shop for bathroom fixtures and such. We started with the question of what type of floor and walls she would like. For the floor we settled on ceramic tile, for the walls, we ended up agreeing with Formica sheet. Then came the question of bathtub and shower. By this time I had learned that Susan had a touch of arthritis due to old joint injuries suffered in a sledding accident when she was in high school. Knowing that it would be good to address that problem I suggested a heated whirlpool bath. At first she was reluctant, saying that it was awfully expensive, but I told her not to worry about that. The shower was the one item I selected without asking her. The unit was a "steam shower" which means that it can be run as a sort of computer controlled sauna as well as a normal shower. It was built to handle up to two people at a time, and had a fold down bench. It was expensive, but again, for stiff joints and such it was just what the doctor would order if he could. We also selected good laminate flooring and classic wallpaper for the bedroom. Since the old walls were lath and plaster I selected to line the room with a new layer of insulation and 1/4" plywood with one face sanded and guaranteed smooth. The closets were to be lined with aromatic cedar. I arranged to let the specialists from the hardware store do all of the installation for me. They would get whatever permits were needed and would stand behind their work. I could do this work, but at the price of these components I wanted it done right and guaranteed in writing. They would start the work the following Tuesday. I called my boss at work and told him I needed to use some of my saved up vacation time. He didn't mind since my vacation balance was just about at the company's limits. I didn't want to have my mom alone with workmen I didn't know having the run of the house. After the shopping I treated Susan to lunch and we headed back home to unload her car, which was still in the barn. I attached my small lawn trailer behind my riding lawn tractor and it took us only five trips from the barn to the house to get her stuff moved in, and the old beds moved out. By Sunday afternoon she was pretty well settled in, but ready to move some or her stuff when the work started. The following Monday I told Susan that she would temporarily need to swap rooms with me. We moved most of her stuff into the dining room, and I put a foam pad and sleeping bag on the floor in her room. Susan wasn't too keen on me having to sleep on the floor, but she finally agreed that it was probably the most logical thing to do. I gave her the key to my door lock, and told her that I would get dressed after she had gotten ready for work the following morning. I insisted on putting my 12ga shotgun in her back seat and having her put five shells in her glove box. Fortunately, she was no stranger to guns. ********************************** The workmen showed up at just before 8a.m. the next morning. Four different crews had arrived, the electricians, the plumbers, the ceramic tile team and the carpentry team. I had modified the order a bit and also arranged for a new eighty gallon pressure tank and a new forty gallon propane hot water heater. That way there would be no question about having enough hot water for both bathrooms to be used. The electricians went to work running the new wiring for the steam shower and heated whirlpool bath tub. The carpenters started in on the floor in the bedroom, and one plumber started the basement work while another started to install the tub and shower with the help of one of the carpenters. From the way they were working it was pretty obvious that they would have the floor done and the plywood up on the bedroom walls before the end of Wednesday. It was Friday when the last of the work was finished. The building inspector had come out and blessed the work. That day we started to move Susan's things back into her room. Among other things I had removed the locks on her bedroom and bathroom door and replaced them with really high quality, pick proof, locks. When she came home I presented her with all the keys that had come with the locks. She insisted that I keep one of the keys and put it in an out of the way place just in case she locked her's in the room or fell and needed someone to come in and help her. That sounded like a fair idea to me. The only other thing unusual about her room was the addition of a gun rack equipped with a 12ga double barrel shotgun and a full box of 12ga shells loaded with "00" Buck shot. She smiled at this. I explained that since she was on the first floor her window could be reached from outside. She now understood why the gun was there. Weeks past, and weeks turned to months. A new year had arrived and we were already into March. During this time our household just went "ticking along" like clockwork. After dinner Friday evening Susan did something unusual, she turned to me and asked me to join her for dinner on the following night. I tried to object, that I should be inviting her, but she would have none of it. I agreed to go. Saturday was to be a typical early March day, blustery and cold. When evening came around, Susan asked me to drive her, since we would be back after dark and the roads could get tricky in the snow. I agreed and we headed out to Michael's Restaurant, one of the nicest eating places in the area. When we arrived we were shown to a small side room with only one table, and its own waiter. I hadn't expected the dinner to be quite so formal. Susan smiled when she saw that I was surprised but had kept from making any comments. "A penny for your thoughts, Paul." "I was just surprised to be eating in such style. I've only been to Michael's a few times and didn't even know that dining 'nooks' like this one existed. It looks expensive, can I help you with the bill?" "No, and please don't feel uneasy about it. Tonight's meal and tip have already been paid for. I want this to be a relaxed, fun time." "O.K., M'Lady what is on the menu for tonight?" "We're starting off with good shrimp cocktails and moving on to fillet mignon, done medium rare. With the steak we are having peas and baked potatoes. For desert you have a choice of carrot cake or un-iced pound cake. How does that sound?" "You've been talking to my mom haven't you?" "Well, yes I have. I wanted to order the things that you really like, and that seemed to be the best way to find out without tipping my hand. Oh, and by the way this combination also happens to be my favorite as well." She sat there with a friendly smile. She looked beautiful. Without even meaning to speak I quietly said, "You're beautiful tonight". She looked at me with a smile on her face. It was then that I realized that I had truly been speaking, not just making the observation in my mind. I must have had a super confused look on my face. "Is something wrong, Paul?" "Errrr, not really. I was letting my mind wander a bit and had forgotten to take my mouth out of gear. I don't want to say or do anything to offend you." "Why should your saying that I look beautiful tonight be offensive?" "Well, this room is quite private and I don't want to make you think my mind is wondering......Duh, I can't seem to put words together tonight, I'm sorry." My face must have turned several shades of red, because Susan looked at me and said, "Don't worry, one of the main reasons I arranged this room was so that we could relax and speak our minds. You haven't offended me in any way. In some ways your discomfort is sort of a high compliment. Relax, and let's enjoy one another's company without worrying about stepping on toes. Remember, that works both ways." All I could do, at this point, was to nod my head in agreement. Seeing that I was still a bit shaken she started the ball rolling. "I wonder if you have noticed some strange 'coincidences'. Our preference in music is almost identical. We like similar art, with the exception of the fact you like pinups a lot. We, obviously, can talk shop; or talk about most other things. I have fallen in love with your mom and sister. I like your little church. You are kind and generous. What I'm trying to say is that we seem to be unusually compatible. What do you think?" I was in a real bind now. I didn't want to verbally fall all over my feet. "I have the same feelings. The problem is that I value you so much I didn't want to broach the subject. I didn't want to think I was 'hitting on you'. I have never before met anyone quite like you, and am approaching a firm belief that I couldn't find anyone else like you; even if I wanted to hunt for one. I'm sorry I am so inept with words.". She had a lovely soft and gentle look on her face. She reached over and took my hands and said: "I am in love with you. I don't think I could find a better man than you are. The main reason I wanted this time alone with you was to ask you a vitally important question. Will you marry me?" I was stunned. All I could do was nod my head yes. It was several moments before my speaking voice was working again. "I'm sorry that I am so emotionally weak when it comes to matters of the heart. I guess I fear rejection too much. I have been thinking of and wanting to ask you the same question, but couldn't think of any way to properly bring the subject up." "I know, your mom told me." "She told you? Thank God for mom and her care. Just in case I had found the nerve I also prepared a bit." Susan looked confused. I reached in my right suit jacket pocket and took out a small black velvet bag and handed it to her. "I hope you will like it." was about all I could say. When she opened the bag she took out the ring. It was a half karat diamond set in platinum. Her eyes filled with tears, and she said: "I love it, and I do want to marry you!" We must have looked a sight when the dinner started arriving. I'm sure that the meal was wonderful, but I was so busy looking at Susan that I couldn't swear to what I had eaten. When the meal was done we drove home. Mom and sis had already gone to bed. I built a fire in the pot bellied stove, put on some music, and we sat on the couch. Unlike previous times you could not have fit a sheet of thin paper between us. We just sat there with our arms around each other and melted into the music, the heat from the stove, and each other. I believe that both of us felt that we had never been happier. The following day, Sunday, I made the announcement at church that we were going to get married. We seriously wanted the prayers of the congregation. I think I have heard it said that 'good foundations make for strong buildings'. I asked Susan where she would like to go for our honeymoon. Her comment surprised me. She said: "I'd actually prefer to spend our honeymoon right where we are. I don't want to leave your mom and sis alone! They depend upon us and they need us to be here. I hope you don't mind." I was taken aback, but had to admit that her suggestion made a lot of sense. We fixed the wedding date to be the fifth of April. We decided to take the time for a honeymoon and use it to be together in very intimate and special ways. Our immediate boss, at work, agreed to the time off; so the ball was in motion. The urge to become physically more intimate grew exponentially. We both were trying to live out what we believe, but I won't lie to you and say that it was easy. This pressure wasn't just pure sex. It was the desire to make the loved partner as happy and fulfilled as humanly possible. The conditions for that involve sex and so much more. *********************** The wedding day came and we "tied the knot". We both knew that "forsaking all others" and "till death do us part". Weren't mere words, they were part of our foundation. We held a reception at our old farmhouse. I had invited my family lawyer to attend with some documents he had modified for me. Just before cutting the cake I got everyone's attention and said that we wanted to do one other special thing. At that time my lawyer took out the three forms that he had been working on. My Will, a set of power of attorney papers, and a set of health care proxies. Susan and I signed the documents. As of that time she could sign legal documents for me, and would have the final say in what should happen if I couldn't make medical decisions for myself. The Will gave her full ownership of the property, with the conditions that my mom and sister would be looked after, if I should die before her. We asked our friends around us if anyone would like to sign as witness to these documents. We had twenty very willing people ready, willing, and able to do so. When the reception was over, the cleanup was done by my sister and a couple of good friends from church (who, in fact, really could use the extra cash gained from this helping hand). We finally retired to her, now our, bedroom. We turned on the music system that I had just installed in the bedroom and bathroom. Obviously, the music was from the Romantic period. We started off by undressing each other. At future times I'm sure that we would take longer in this task, and be more playful; but for now we simply got naked and embraced with nothing between us. After a few moments of relative bliss I retrieved a dildo I had purchased, went into the bathroom, turned on the infrared heaters, and started to draw bath water in the whirlpool bath. When it was properly full we helped each other into the tub. (We didn't want to risk a fall at this point in time. You can guess why!) The water jet were turned on, and we embraced. My free hand was gently exploring and massaging one of her breasts. Her right hand very slowly and gently went around my scrotum and started to gently roll my balls. Within minutes my hard on had become more intense that any I could ever remember. I didn't want her to stop. I told her how wonderful it felt and how glad I was that we married. She just smiled, a sort coy smile, and told me that she was also having a lot of fun.. Susan now moved so that each of us had both hands free. She continued to gently massage my balls and gently started to play with my penis. I suddenly knew what I wanted to do, and asked her to get out of the tub, but sit on the edge of it with her feet in the water, and spread. She did that with a mischievous smile on her lips. I repositioned myself so that my face was between her thighs. I started by kissing her inner thighs and then moved up to her wonderfully shaved crotch. I spent much time kissing her pussy lips and spending extra time rubbing my nose on the fold of skin over her clitoris. After a few minutes of this I started to gently lick, suck, and nibble at her pussy lips while one of my hands was massaging the area over her clit. By this time her moaning was becoming more intense. She interspersed moans with feedback on what felt best. I slowly moved my tongue up to her clit. After a few minutes of giving that little button some loving attention I took the glass dildo (which had been pre-warmed in the bath water) and gently inserted it into her vagina. As I continued to lick her, I started to gently pump the dildo into and out of her pussy. I made sure to vary the angle slightly so that she would get the maximum joy from what was being done. It only took a few minutes of this before Susan had the first of several violent orgasms. She finally said: "Let me trade places with you." I moved up on the edge of the tub and Susan asked: "Have you ever thought of shaving the hair around, and on, your cock and balls". I indicated that the idea had crossed my mind. With a coquettish grin she reached over to the edge of the tub and retrieved a razor, soap, shaving gel, and a washcloth. She started by slowly and thoroughly washing my crotch, paying special attention to my nuts. I was in heaven. She then spread the shaving lotion all over the hair that was to be removed. For the next ten to twenty minutes she thoroughly shaved that area. The feelings were exciting and led me to feel like I needed release. Susan put the shaving stuff away and started to kiss my scrotum. She would gently suck one of my balls into her mouth and tug on it with her teeth. Then she would do the same for the other ball. She then took both of my balls into her mouth and gently tugged on them. It felt wonderful! Then it happened. She started to kiss and lick the end of my dick. I got harder than I think I have ever been before, and then she took it up a notch by taking the head of my cock into her mouth and started to suck it while licking the super tender skin on the underside of my cock's head. All this time she had been playing with my balls with her free hand. I was loosing it! I told her to finish the job with her hands, since I was ready to cum. She just shook her head no while continuing to do what she was doing. I lost it. I have never had a more intense orgasm in my life. She didn't "deep throat" me. I don't think I missed out on much. As the eruptions stopped I got down into the tub again and we kissed, long and hard. We decided to enjoy the steam shower. Half an hour later we had dried off and gotten into bed. "I want to lick your pussy again! I love its smell and taste." "O.K. but I also want to please you again. Let's do this as a sixty-nine." "Fine with me." I rolled over on my back and she positioned herself on top of me with her pussy lips just about directly on my mouth. In turn, she reached down and started to fondle my balls while she started to kiss and lick my cock. As she did this I had started to lick her beautiful pussy. I had brought in the dildo and had moved it under my back to warm it up. As we both started to get "into" this wonderful mutual stimulation I placed the dildo in her vaginal opening while I started to concentrate on her clit. We were under less pressure than last time. I know that in "stories" the guy keeps getting it up and climaxing time after time during the night. I must not be at all like them, because twice in one night is about all I can handle. I had never experienced this much physical pleasure in my life. I was so happy that I could share this joy with someone I was committed to "love and cherish" for the rest of my life. When we became too exhausted to continue she cuddled in my arms and we drifted off to a wonderful deep sleep. ***************************** Understanding As I was slowly waking up I had a sudden realization that I was not alone. It was then, as my mind started to work, that I remembered that having to sleep alone was no longer a necessity. I preyed my eyes open to see Susan laying there looking at me. "Good morning, husband." "Good morning, wife. Isn't it great that we will be able to enjoy this for the rest of our lives?" "Yes!, I've already been in prayer, praising our Lord, in response to His kindness to us." "Funny you should mention that. I was doing that as I was drifting off to sleep last night. I realize that it's a bit of a mundane topic, but; what would you like for breakfast?" "How about scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee?" "Sold!" At that I kissed her and got up to get dressed. She also got up and walked over and hugged me. It took me half an hour to get on underwear, pants, shirt, socks, and shoes. The cuddling and kissing accounted for about twenty-seven minutes of that time. When we got to the kitchen we were both surprised. Mom had gotten up, and had made the coffee, cooked up some bacon, and was waiting to see what we would want with it. I thanked her, and told her she had already done more than she should. I had her sit down next to Susan while I started the toast and eggs. I like to cook my scrambles with bits of sharp cheese and broken up bacon it them. It makes a very tasty meal. ********************* Fifteen years have now passed. We have a love life that won't quit and a son and a daughter. Mom passed away about five years ago but my sister is still with us. We have our problems now and again, but with a solid marriage and the help of the Lord I suspect that we will continue to grow together over the next fifty or so years. Over the years we have "spiced" our lovemaking up with toys, and other variations. We strictly stick with the "forsaking all others" clause, not because we are legalists but because we don't want to share this love we have for each other. Sex, just as sex, can become highly unfulfilling. Sex as a part of a deeply loving relationship is always new. Only when you see the joy within a good marriage can you see the wisdom of waiting for the right person. Only with the Lord directing our steps will we find the right path. It is often overlooked that the God who ordained chastity before marriage, also created sex and its pleasures for marriage. Sex can be one of the greatest gifts, when you take time to read "God's operating manual". Understanding "Fine, you want to know, I'll tell you." I sat back, propping the pillows against the headboard, and settled in for her explanation. At last. I knew better than to prompt her; she had resisted for so long and would resist again if pushed. If she wanted to say it, she would, but in her way, her time. I waited as she visibly collected her thoughts and prepped herself. It was likely to be long, but I had waited years, prodding and probing and beseeching. I tried to make my face show compassion and patience, and hide the eagerness I felt; inside I thought I might explode. She sat on the edge of the bed, turned away from me. I knew there was no way she could begin while looking at me; that would come as she opened up and relaxed a little. She began with her face aimed at the wall. "It's complicated, so be patient," she started, and I touched her shoulder reassuringly. She shrugged it off. "No, don't," she told me. "Just let me say it." I dropped my hand and waited, watching her bare shoulders rise and fall. She glanced around with a frustrated air, then bent for the tee shirt on the floor where it had fallen and slipped it over her head. "Sorry, not naked," she informed me, then heaved a sigh. "I resist because I am afraid, Steven. The things you want, what you want me to do, what you have made me do..." "You seemed to enjoy-" "Stop! Please, don't interrupt. You want to know, so I'll tell you, but please, just let me say it." She was silent for a while longer, still facing away from me, and I thought for a moment I had ruined the moment, that she would stuff her thoughts back inside and not tell me. In so many ways she was outspoken and opinionated, and her hesitance on this one issue seemed out of character. Sure we pushed our limits, I thought. But this felt like her reaction was out of proportion; to me, anyway. "Yes. I enjoy it. Not the way I enjoy just regular sex. A different enjoyment. That's part of it; part of what scares me. She turned to look at me. There were tears welling in her eyes. "Honey, are you all-" "No. Stop. You want this answer, you can wait for it." I clammed up. At least on that, she was certain. "I have to tell it my way." I nodded silently. My curiosity was getting the better of me, though, and I had to force my questions to silence in my head. Listen, I admonished myself. She turned her head away again, focused on some vague unknown spot in the corner of the room, but her profile was still visible. I could almost see her thinking. "There are things I have done with you, things you have made me do," she began slowly, controlling her breathing, "that I consider perverted and disgusting." I nodded my agreement; it was not a secret. Her view of sex was, like her, pretty straightforward. Over the last years I had gotten her to try some new variations. She'd seemed hesitant at first, but slowly I had gotten her to concede. Things she didn't like. Things she said she didn't want to do. But I had insisted, and over time, wore down her resistance. "You knew I didn't like those things, the idea of them," she continued. "But you insisted. And I gave in." I saw her eyes dart to mine, tentative and nervous. I nodded, showing her I understood and agreed. "I did them. At first I resisted, but you were adamant. And I did them." Her eyes flashed to me again, and I gave her another small nod. She looked back to the corner. "Oh, you were so confident, so assured," she said, more to herself, I thought, and she shook her head slightly back and forth. "How could I resist? Saying no didn't work." She blew out an exasperated laugh. "I tried. I tried to say no, but you wouldn't have it. You insisted. And I gave in." She paused; I waited. Her head angled up, as if seeing an image of her memory. "You remember the first time? When you came on my face?" Her shoulders rose with a deep breath. "Months. Weeks and weeks. And I finally agreed to it." She looked at me askance and snorted a short laugh. "You remember?" she asked, her eyebrow lifted quizzically. "Of course," I answered, but offered no more. "Yep." Her lips tightened before she looked down at her hands, fidgeting in her lap. Her thighs were still bare, and I remembered she was naked but for the tee shirt. Her words came out slowly, almost cadenced, like she had practiced it. It felt like a poetry reading. "You made me suck your cock first. You were forceful after I agreed. Then you pushed me on my back and fucked me, hard." She paused. "When you were close, you pulled out. I didn't cum, yet. You pulled me up to my knees, in front of you. You told me, ordered me, to open my mouth, to hold still. You stroked your cock slowly, right in my face. You put your hand on my head, held me still. You told me to say I wanted it, and I did, repeating your words. You made me ask for it, then beg for it." She angled her head towards me, looking at me from the corner of her eyes. "I begged you to cum on my face as you held my head." Her eyes narrowed. "And then it came, hot and fast," her voice was low and breathy now, "cum shooting on my face, on my tongue, in my mouth. You called me a slut as you came, called me a dirty cum slut," she trailed off. She looked back down at her hands, and her voice returned to conversational tone. "Your voice was harsh, demanding; commanding me. Your hand was so tight on me. And I took it, took your cum on my face, like you wanted." She finished, and heaved a sigh. I waited. "We didn't do that again for weeks, didn't talk about it. You remember?" She turned to me, and I nodded again silently, confirming the fact. My cock was hard under the sheet. "When we did it again, you just told me to kneel, and I did." She looked in my eyes as she said the words, then sighed and found that spot in the corner again. "And then the rest, the other things you made me do. You made me finger myself while you came on me. You made me finger my ass for you. You made me wear dresses, out in public, with no underwear. You shaved me. You made me swallow your cum, made me finger myself after you came in me," she recited, as though she had committed the litany of events to memory. Her voice gained emotion as she listed them. "I did whatever you said. I sucked my fingers clean. I sucked your cock clean. I flashed my tits in public, fingered myself in a restaurant. I sucked your cock in a movie theatre, in an alley, in a men's bathroom. I wore your cum on my face in public. Whatever you told me to do, I did it." I watched as she straightened her back and squared her shoulders. She took a deep breath, then turned her body to face me, hooking one bare leg beneath her, her foot between her thighs, pressing the bottom edge of the tee shirt into herself. "I still objected, and resisted, but after that first time you came on my face, not as much. I still didn't WANT to do those things. No-" she stopped herself, "no, that's not right. I still didn't IMAGINE myself doing those things. I couldn't see myself doing it willingly, wanting it." She stared into my eyes then, and heaved a resolute sigh. "But I liked it. I liked doing it; liked doing what you told me, liked doing what YOU wanted. I liked not liking it and being made to do it, I liked being dirty at your order. I liked the force you applied, the sound of your voice, the tone you used. Those things aroused me beyond my control, and I found myself wanting you to tell me the next thing, wanting YOU to want me to do dirty, nasty things, to use me." Her eyes narrowed. "Do you understand?" "I knew you enjoyed it, yes; if that what you're asking." "Not entirely, but it's a good start." She heaved another deep breath and explained further. "You asked me tonight, when you told me what you were going to make me do, why I hesitated, why I resisted." She inclined her head. "I haven't resisted strongly in a long time, but when you said," she paused, struggling inside herself. I waited. Then I spoke. "Say it," I told her. "Say it out loud. Let me hear you sat it." Her eyes flashed at my stern tone, then lowered. "You said you were taking me to a bar, and that you would pick out two men, and you wanted to watch me suck their cocks." "Very good," I told her, using the assuring tone I reserved for when she completed a command. "Yes, that's right. So what's the problem?" I put distance in my voice, commanding and dispassionate. "You want to do what I want, right? You enjoy it, right?" I lowered my voice. "You're a dirty slut, who does nasty things when she's told, and enjoys debasing herself for me, right?" She nodded. "So what's the problem?" I repeated. "I'm afraid," she whispered, "oh, Steven I'm afraid!" she repeated, desperation clearly evident in her voice. She had gotten to the crux of her dilemma. Her eyebrows lifted, pleading. "I'm so afraid," she whimpered, more softly, one more time. I looked at her quizzically. "But you like it. I know you do. YOU know you do. You said so." "Yes," she replied, timid and obedient. "And you're afraid? Of what?" I asked. "Of me?" "Oh, God, Steven; everything!" she blurted, and the floodgates opened and the words spilled from her in urgent, needy pleading. "Afraid of you, of what you make me do, of the sound of your voice. Afraid of your hands on me, how they make me feel. Afraid of what the next thing will be. Afraid I won't like it, afraid I WILL like it. Afraid of displeasing you, afraid of pleasing you too much, afraid of liking it, of liking it too much. Afraid I won't be able to stop. Afraid you'll stop, we'll stop." She blew out another breath, exasperated, but relief showed in her slightly slumped shoulders, free of her secret burden. "I like it so much it scares me," she said, reaching out and resting her hand on my leg. "I even like the fear, God help me; the fear of not knowing what's next, what you'll make me do." Her eyes searched mine, begging for my understanding. "When you told me what you were going to make me do, when you said," she paused a second, then sat up straight, steeled herself. "You said you would make me suck two strangers' cocks while you watched, I- I-" she struggled for words, "I froze. Not because I wouldn't, or didn't want to." She leaned towards me. "Because I DID," she emphasized. "God, the idea took me so hard, I thought I might cum just from the thought. And I was afraid. Afraid it was too much, afraid it wouldn't be enough. Afraid you would see I liked it, and stop me." She leaned closer. "Afraid you would see how much I liked it, what a filthy, dirty slut I am; afraid you wouldn't want me. Afraid of what else I might do, what else you might want me to do." Her shoulders slumped as the words finished. Assessing that she was done, I looked her over, examining her expression and gauging her mood, taking in all that she had told me. She looked hopeful and worried and frightened. I started slowly. "That's quite a bit to carry around," I observed, and she nodded with gratitude. "You know I would never harm you, or allow anyone else to harm you." She nodded again, and smiled, a full heartfelt expanse of lips, warming her face. "I'm glad you shared your feelings with me," I narrated confidently, "and I can assure you that I cannot solve your problem; your fear is yours. I cannot take it away. And frankly, you slut, I don't think I want to." She blinked at me, confused. "I can, however, promise you that you WILL complete my plans tonight." I leaned into her, took her face in my hand and gripped her cheeks firmly between my fingers and thumb. "When we are done here, you will dress in a short skirt and buttoned blouse and heels; no bra and no panties. We will go out, and before the night is over you will have sucked the cocks of two strangers, and swallowed their cum." My voice was low, intense and stern. "I will watch you, slut, as you suck their cocks, like the cum-loving slut you are. You will show them your tits, and you will finger yourself as you suck them, and let them know how much you love it, how you love their cocks, desire their cum." I felt her body tremble. "Do you understand?" She nodded in my grasp. I released her face. "Say it. Tell me what you want." "Oh, Steven, I want it so bad." She swallowed nervously. "I want to be a slut, your slut," she confessed hotly. "I'll suck their hard cocks for you, I'll swallow their cum, fuck myself until I cum in front of them, God, it's so humiliating. Make me do it. Make me do this for you," she pleaded. "You love it, don't you?" I asked, slipping my hand between her thighs, feeling the hot liquid spill from her as my fingers pried her lips apart. Her eyes closed and her head fell back, moaning as two fingers slid easily inside her. "You want to be a dirty slut; you know you are one," I whispered to her. "You need me to make you do it, don't you; you can't do it in your own. You want me to think of disgusting, awful and humiliating things for you to do, so you can enjoy it." I used her words against her, heightening her thrill. "You're afraid of what you really are, afraid of your desires. The fear makes you horny, doesn't it, slut?" Her lower lip caught under her teeth as she inhaled sharply, my fingers penetrating deeper, fucking her as I taunted. I pushed up hard into her and pressed my thumb to her clit and she gasped. "Say it. Admit it. Out loud." She grabbed my forearm and pressed me into her harder, fucking herself onto my hand with an urgency that resembled madness. "Oh, fuck yes," she cried, "I'm a slut, I'm you're dirty slut and it scares me to death; I want to suck cock for you and fuck for you and do whatever you want, just tell me, scare me, make me be a whore, fuck, it makes me so hot! Fuck!" Her eyes rolled back and her mouth hung open, soundless, and she came on my hand, squeezing my forearm and pushing her cunt on my hand. Her body trembled, and shook, and then she breathed again, a long heavy exhale. She relaxed and released my arm. I pulled my hand from between her legs and smeared her cum on her face, allowing her to lick her juices as I swiped her lips. "Don't clean up," I told her. "Get your clothes on. We're going out." I kissed her; hard. My tongue burrowed into her mouth and she panted into the kiss. I pulled back and stared into her eyes, my wet fingers gripping her cheeks. "And we are not coming home until you have two strangers cum in you, slut. Understand?" Her eyes glowed with fear. "Yes," she hissed, "I do." Understanding Amy The girl of my dreams, think Elisha Cuthbert with shoulder length blonde hair, beautiful light tanned skin, so soft and silky to the touch. Passionate dark green eyes, which seems to tunnel into your very soul. So eloquent and regal in appearance yet so warm and friendly, she is the whole package and more. I must admit I’m slightly biased concerning my sweet pet. Amy is around 5’7” with a beautifully curved figure toned in all the right places, yet at the same time demur. Her slender throat is ripe for nuzzling against. Her petite breasts, young and pert are enough to keep me enthralled for days on end. Her nipples so hyper sensitive they always seem stimulated. Her body is a temple for my carnal lust and emotional well being alone. Her waist is so smooth and dainty I can stroke it endlessly, legs that any man or woman would kill for always silky smooth and bronzed. She is a tiny ethereal beauty. Just to be in the same room as her was breath taking. That wasn’t her only beauty, her personality and wit were something else, wise beyond her 21 years with the innocence of a child, but understanding the reality of life. Passionate and loving Amy is a dream come true, my dream in fact. I have always known that this woman would change my world. Whilst shy amongst most people with me she is a very different person, wild and kinky to the point of being a Nymphomaniac concerning sex. A true submissive Amy enjoys serving the every whim of her master. Me. Nothing makes me happier than when Amy is on her knees naked with her check resting on the floor, hands crossed behind her back begging for release from me. Even better shackled and spread eagle on a giant four-poster bed dressed only in a tiny white bra and a pair of white cotton panties. Picture the scene. Amy writhing around as I gently stroke her body with my black gloved hands. The texture from the leather gloves heightening her pleasure. I see the wicked smile and hear the sigh of relief as I rip the bra and panties from her body roughly. As my sex-goddess thinks, her release is nearly at hand. I slowly move my hands up her legs focusing on her skin, moving closer to her glistening wet pussy. Tempted to run my hand over her small tuff of blonde hair before inserting my finger into her, teasing her until she squeal's for more. Release will not come that easy for my dear first one tho, no. Pleasure in all forms must be earned. I continue to run my hands over her legs and stomach, my temperature rising every minute knowing my temptation is growing ever more. My reasoning was slowly turning to carnal lust and finally, the loss of control would begin. As a dominatrix, my control is always a requisite in any session. I resist further mental digressions and concentrate on the sensation; I slowly take off the gloves and run my hand over her stomach. I can feel the heat from her body, I run my hand up between her breasts and halter only for a second, just a second to feel her lungs filling with air, and feel her pulse racing. The rise and fall of her chest soothes me in a way I have never before experienced. I stop to ask myself how this woman can make me feel this way. I of course already know the answer, but knowledge without understanding is meaningless. I continue sliding my hands up and down her body, never stopping for a second. Up between her breasts ascending to her elegant shoulders and luscious neck then along her arms, I hold her hands gently locking my fingers with hers. My face is mere inches from hers; I feel her breath on my face and take a second to process the scent she is wearing. Our breathing was becoming ever more laboured. As I straddle her shackled body I feel myself harden, and press against her stomach. Her body begins to quiver from the extra stimuli. I lower my face towards hers; it almost feels like time as ended before our lips meet. Her carnal lust consumes us both as we both begin to melt into each other. I pull myself from the kiss which seems to demand every ounce of my strength as I move my lips to that slender neck and begin to nuzzle it, I feel her buck her hips against me I respond only with a kiss to her neck, before moving down to her breasts. I gently lick, kiss and bite her nipples, which brings more soft moans and more bucking as I run my teeth over her right nipple whilst tweaking the left with my hand. I run my tongue down her stomach and through her tuff of blonde hair, and then back up her body following the same trail a lap of her navel up between her breasts over her chin to her lips. Savouring every moment, I kiss her again, this time nudging her thighs apart. She was on the edge, wet and trembling. I start lapping at that sweetness and find her magic button quickly. The first orgasm sent her wild, bucking like a stallion. The moan was almost a growl. The subsequent ones made her increasingly breathless. The final sigh was one of wonder. She looks flushed, dishevelled, lovely, and delicious. It is exhilarating. I trip the release of her restraints, and immediately her arms are around me pulling me closer, to her still quivering body, her lips devouring mine. I slide my hands down her back as we roll around like teenage lovers, the feeling, pure ecstasy. Rolling her onto her back as I cover her body with my own, my kisses became more abandoned. I begin to nuzzle her shoulder blades as I play with her left breast with my hand. Suddenly with all the force I can muster I thrust deep into her pussy, she squeals with delight. My thrusts becoming faster and faster pounding into her as my darling Amy holds on tight. My head begins to swim as the assault continues the sudden change of pace seems to heighten the lust. We were both back on the edge, Amy bucking to meet my thrusts, both of us panting hard. Watching the intense look of pleasure on my dear first ones face as she came, pushed me over the edge. My orgasm intensified to the point that my brain turned to mush. The alarm was insistent in waking me from my slumber. My body ached, but I managed to get myself into a sitting position. I was alone in bed. That was about to annoy me, but then I noticed my dear sweet Amy kneeling by my bed gloriously naked. "Master, she said with lowered eyes. "Permission to speak?" "Always." "I have prepared your bath for you and laid out fresh clothing in your room." I got out of bed and went for my bath. I even managed to relax which I hadn't done for such a time. When I returned to the bedroom an hour or so later fully dressed, my dear first one was still in the same position. Her deportment was perfect. Even the other masters and mistresses were in awe of her training. "Amy.” I addressed her as she raised her eye's to meet mine. "You may thank me, dress and leave." She immediately rose to her feet, thanked me profusely and slid her sheer white dress back on. "Thank you master." As I watched her luscious ass sway as she left my room, I decided to introduce other tactile experiences to her. I would need some items like various sized painter's brushes -- mink of course; various fabrics like silk, satin, velvet and lace, some feathers. The future sessions would be as interesting as they would be varied. However my dreaming up new ways to torture my first one would have to wait, others in my circle required my attention. Sosino Hopes you enjoyed this story. All feedback is received warmly. Insert DISCLAIMER here!!!! :) Understanding Amy Ch. 02 Chapter 2. Two Little Words This is the continuation of my previous story Understanding Amy. Please feel free to e-mail me any comments, or things you would like included in following chapters, all are received warmly. Also all those people whom knowingly or unknowingly contribute to my stories I would like to say a big thank you. Enjoy. --- My body tingled with anticipation as Amy inched her face closer to mine delicately, slowly, deliberately, hours rushed by in my mind. Suddenly a jolt of electricity shot through my body as I felt her lips brush against mine. My eyes closed picturing pure love, as if it were tangible like a warm blanket wrapped around my body, protecting me allowing me to feel safe. As the kiss intensified, a sigh of pleasure escaped our lips, the weight on my shoulders lifted as I drifted along. I was almost sad as our kiss broke, before opening my eyes to the most beautiful sight I had seen, Amy’s face a mere inches from mine, cheeks slightly coloured from the kiss smiling at me. We both lay back on the blanket underneath us listening to the bird’s overhead chirping happily, the sound of the river only a few feet away trickling by. I lay there taking in the beauty of my surroundings the pale powder blue sky with a few small wisps of cloud lingering content to stay exactly where they were for a few more hours. We lay there allowing our bodies to soak up the sun’s rays it was a feeling I had missed for far too long, the comforting warmth which consumes your body from your skin through to the very fibre of your being. Amy turned on her side absently running her fingers through my chest hair; I turned to face her smiling, content. I saw her eyes were closed with a smile on her face. “Do you think we can stay like this forever?” She asked almost dreamily. I looked over at my first one again her eyes were still closed. I smiled more to myself than anyone else as I leaned over and kissed her cheek and then her eyelids, slow, soft kisses before moving over to nibble her ear lightly. I whispered to her soothingly “Only for eternity”. I realised at that point it didn’t matter what had happened before or what would happen after this day, only the moment we lived in mattered, she was a part of me, completely, spiritually. I loved every freckle, every curve, every inch of her skin, I knew she was real, honesty; she loved me for being me. I had taken Amy from the manor, the formal training, and no titles for today, no sessions. We just had each other, two lovers enjoying a picnic by the river. Sharing thoughts and feelings and revealing our innermost demons to each other. I lay there staring at the beauty before me, Amy looked superb, dressed in a lovely little summer dress, her hair was up which only seemed to enhance her beauty as I lay next to her whispering in her ear whilst nuzzling her neck. I gently lowered one of the straps off her shoulder, before working my tongue down her neck. I smiled as I inhaled the scent of the perfume she was wearing, a light peach fragrance. My mind filled with lustful images, a proper session with Amy was long overdue I thought to myself. I kissed every inch of her exposed skin before slipping off the other strap and doing the same. My senses were in overload the softness of her skin against my lips, the warmth of her body combined with the soft fragrance of her perfume. I slid the top of her summer dress down exposing her pert breasts she moaned softly yet at the same time so lustfully as a slight breeze brushed against her soft skin and sent a small shiver down her body, her nipples hardened. The sun reflecting off the water created a golden aura around her body enhancing her features, the only word that came to my mind was heavenly, a chorus of angels were singing inside my head. It was that precise moment I realised how safe I felt with Amy, in the past I had never allowed myself to release the whole of my being to any one person, I felt those walls begin to crumble. It was one of the reasons I loved Amy… Yes. Yes, I do love Amy, it almost hit me like a hammer, a new level we had transcended to, together. It’s not ordinary she loves me for being me. She inspires me. I can be free of my vulnerabilities it’s… It’s meant to be, destiny. I can’t begin to explain the look on my face, but Amy smiled and leaned into me, kissing me passionately as our lips parted she smiled again, and to the day I die her words will stay with me, such a simple statement yet a hundred words couldn’t explain every level. “I know.” Two Little words. It had been four days since the picnic with Amy. Preparations for our rose ceremony were well underway. The whole manor was in an uproar; we hadn’t intended the news to spread so quickly, so much for a quiet intimate ceremony. Reservations were screaming to me for more room, bookings had almost doubled since the news had become public knowledge. I should have been annoyed about the lack of privacy but the lifestyle to which I am accustomed to usually include a willing audience. The guest were certainly more than willing to see the distinguished Master Sosino taking part in a ritual which hadn’t been performed at the manor for over 50 years since my mistress had taken part in the ceremony. I had moved Amy from her quarters to the Mistress’ room next to mine. The rose ritual was 6 days away, it was the last day I would get to see Amy before she was separated the ritual was simple enough, however it meant Amy was not allowed to perform any duties or take part in any scheduled or unscheduled sessions 5 days before the ceremony. I had woken early that morning, for some reason I couldn’t sleep. I sat in bed reading through some training logs and reviewing plans for expanding the guests wings due to the ever increasing demands for more room for guests and training from reservations. Another 2 wings on the manor would be a logistical nightmare for me but the benefits would be more than worth the discomfort for a few weeks. The extra bookings due to the ceremony would more than cover the cost of the work. I could almost picture the smile on my accountants face now. I was still reviewing the plans when Amy knocked on my door. My face immediately lit up, my mind filled with images from the picnic. The golden aura around her body seemed to have followed us from the river. She walked over to the side of my bed and slipped the sheer white dress she was wearing down to the floor pooling around her feet, before assuming the position, as ever her deportment was perfect. “Master. Permission to speak freely?” She was shaking slightly. “What’s bothering you, pet.” I was concerned she looked almost upset. “I was trying to sleep, but each time I started to drift, I thought of you and felt.” “Lonely.” I finished her sentence with the answer to my own questions as to why I couldn’t sleep. “I didn’t know what to do, so I came for your council.” “Look at me pet.” I reached out and gently and stroked her cheek whilst raising her head. A single tear rolled down her cheek. I motioned Amy to join me in my bed, holding her close to me stroking her soft blonde hair and her cheek whispering words of comfort in her ear. She seemed to sooth considerably from the contact I know my mind had stop screaming at me for the moment. We lay together for most of the morning, before Tristan rang to see if there was anything we needed. A short while later a petite redhead entered with breakfast for us, I couldn’t help but admire her. She was toned and well kept, with long flowing curls of auburn, blazing green eyes and a lovely complexion. I watched as she placed the tray down and walked out the door, her ass swayed perfectly, as she left I made a mental note to find out who her trainer was and arrange to see her logs, maybe a small session. I was still a Dom after all. I looked over to see Amy’s face studying mine with a bemused look on her face. I couldn’t resist my urges any longer before leaning in and kissing Amy passionately, I rolled her on top of me in one flowing motion. She interlocked her fingers with mine and held them above my head before leaning down to kiss me again, I allowed the role reversal to take place, mock fighting for control against her. She broke the kiss and bit her lower lip playfully. She looked at me doubtfully not moving a muscle. I nodded my consent. She smiled and ran her nails down my outstretched arms, continuing down across my shoulders and chest and down my stomach. She continued down with nimble but steady hands past my pubic hair before stroking my hardness with her hand. I let a soft guttural moan escape past my lips from the contact I craved. She lowered herself onto my hardness slowly enjoying the experience as much as possible, our pace was slow she wanted me as a lover as I wanted her. I realised our sessions would never be the same again, a small loss considering the gain. We spent the rest of the day locked in our continual embrace, drifting off to sleep for a while before waking up and ravishing each other’s bodies. Breakfast lunch and dinner were a luxury we didn’t have time for or need, our hunger was our passion. That was my final thought as I woke up the next morning aching from the mammoth session with Amy the previous day when I placed the order for the new bed that morning I saw Tristan turn a deep shade of red smiling at me knowingly. It had been a long time since he had seen me so happy and energetic, playful even. Those two little words rang clearly in my head “I know.” --- Master Sosino hopes you enjoyed your time reading some of the adventures of his life, please feel free to vote if you wish or send me feedback. All comments greatly appreciated. Understanding Amy Ch. 03 Chapter 3. The Ultimate Gift I was seated in my favourite chamber in the manor, my old mistress’ training chamber, a large circular area for the training of my personal favourites and of course my Mistress’ before me. The walls were of a rich, deep red with matching carpet. The chamber had been sparsely furnished with a heavy oak throne on which I was perched and a small armoire to the side, two oak posts were positioned about 6 feet apart with 3 chains hanging down from each at head height, 2 were to secure the wrists the other had a collar to ensure the occupants were secured. The two male servants I had with me dressed only in black loincloths secured my two new playthings before returning to my side. I admired the two beauties shackled before me. It was a wonderful present from my sweet first one. Which couldn’t have come at a better time as the rose ceremony was still 4 days away. I had to think of a suitable present for my dear pet as a reward for this lovely considerate gesture. I studied the lovelies shackled before me, battling with myself over which one to take first. It was certainly not an easy battle. Amy had indeed chose well. To my left I had a lovely Hawaiian goddess with skin the colour of cinnamon and a beautiful jet-black hair and the most intense big brown eyes. Her body was a temple in it’s self, long shapely legs, a firm stomach and lovely pert breasts. I smiled looking over to the delicious redhead who was shackled to my right, the same redhead who had served Amy and I only a few days ago. My course of action was set. “Unshackle her.” My loyal servants immediately complied. She had a face covered with the cutest freckles, and an ass that just wouldn't stop. "Present yourself." Her pale skin set off the curves of her body even better than the sheer white dress she had previously worn. Her hands crossed at her back, and her head down. “Look at me pet, let me see those eyes.” She trembled slightly lifting her gaze to meet mine. Her green eyes were full of passion. "Whom do you belong to?" Her voice was like honey. "I belong to you, Master." I paced around her, considering her. "Do you deserve me?" "I do not know, Master." "Do you believe you deserve better?" "No, Master. I belong to you. I will know when you tell me." I would not touch the slave. But it was an effort. "Your body is mine." "Yes, Master." "Your pleasure is mine. To grant or deny as I chose." "Yes, Master." "You will not have release until I so order it." That was a command. "Yes, Master." I stood before her. "You are beautiful." "Yes, Master." "Appreciate your beauty." The redhead moved her hands slowly up her own body. She ran them over her abdomen, across her neck. She felt both breasts in her hands, and ran her fingers over her nipples. They were quickly erect. She continued on, over her ass, through her hair, over her face. She touched her pussy, sliding a finger over her clit without penetrating herself. She let out a slight moan. "You are not to come until I order it." "Yes, Master." She said with a sigh. Her hands moved on, exploring her body, often settling back on her breasts or her pussy. She began breathing harder. I walked up to the slave's ear. "Are you wet?" I whispered, before moving back away from the redhead. The slave reached down, and with a moan, slipped her hand inside. She then held out her glistening fingers. "All of your pleasure belongs to me." "Yes, Master." "Down." The redhead dropped to her hands and knees. Her breasts swayed slightly as she tried to hold still. Even this was a sensuous experience for her. I clapped my hands. One of the servants, well muscled and tanned, approached and bowed before me. "Take her." Without further ceremony, the man removed his pants, revealing a large, thick cock, which he promptly buried to the hilt inside the slave. She let out a yell, as he filled her to the core. He fucked her hard and deep, but with style, varying the strokes. The redhead panted with every thrust. "Remember, you must not come until I tell you." "Yes, Master." She hissed through clenched teeth. Damn, he was good, and she loved every minute of it. Without realizing it, I reached back down to adjust my hardness. My hand lingered only a moment before I pulled it away. He kept at it, hammering her hard. She was starting to have trouble holding on. Her arms collapsed, and she dropped to her elbows. The moaning became a panting, and then a grunting. I realized the slave was close. I walked over and touched the slave on the shoulder, and with the slightest effort, pushed him away. As he pulled out of the slave, she sucked in her breath even more. I carried her into the adjacent chamber and lay her down on a bench. I walked over to a cabinet to retrieve some massage oil, before stripping off the outfit. She lay there already weak from the onslaught she had just received. I began with the soles of her feet rubbing oil into them. My palms worked oil onto her legs. She realized what I intended to do. Her eyes flashed with pleasure and amazement. I oiled her body then slid my torso upward along her slicked skin slowly and deliberately until my face was level with her. The slave looked at my lips for a long moment, and then stared into my eyes. I entered her in the next instant. We both gasped. I rode her with slow, long movements until I was as hard and full as she could stand, then I moved faster with shorter strokes. She couldn't fight me. She came with a growl. Her eyes never left mine. I came under her intense gaze. “What’s your name pet.” It was only then I realised I hadn’t reviewed her training logs. “Sarah, Master.” “Clean yourself up pet then return to the chamber.” I left at that point realising I had left the other slave shackled in the chamber. Back on my throne not 20 minutes later, I watched for a moment as Jazmin, whose name I had checked whilst cleaning myself up and redressing, reacted to the male slave who was checking her restraints. She was indeed lovely. "How do you feel?" She thought for a moment. "Very... aware of myself." "Do you fear me?" "No, Master." "Good," I said. I picked up a soft leather blindfold. "I will blindfold you to increase the sensation and as an exercise of trust. Remember, you may stop me and there will be no consequences against you." "I understand." I blindfolded her. She inhaled deeply stilling herself. “What is your safe word pet?” “Defiance, Master.” “Very well. Choose pleasure or pain.” “Pain.” “Then it begins. I will not stop until you ask me to. Is that understood?” “Yes.” I pulled away from her “Yes what?” “Yes, Master.” “Better.” I proceeded to beat her mercilessly, brutally. The strokes were hard and precise, the snaps as the cat o'nine tails struck her flesh ringing crisply in my ears. I worked her methodically, sometimes on her ass, sometimes on her legs but mainly on her back. She moaned, she gasped, she cried out, but she never asked me to stop. The flogging went on and on, until she was in tears, weeping uncontrollably. And still I did not stop. This was a crucial moment. She cried for a while longer, punctuated by sobs, as I continued to work her back. Finally, she could cry no more, and just hung there, panting, as the beating continued. "Please," she whispered. "Please, what?" I asked. I hit her again on her ass. "Please, Master." She said. SNAP again I hit her ass. "Please, Master, what?" I replied. "Please Master, stop." I did. "Are you through punishing yourself, Jazmin?" I asked whispering into her ear. “Yes, Master.” She was panting heavily, trying to catch her breath. Even with the length of the lashing I hadn’t broken the skin, due to the Elk hide cat o’nine tails I was using. It was my third favourite implement next to my Bison hide flogger and of course, the exquisite riding crop my Mistress had given to me as a gift for becoming a Master. I rubbed a soothing balm on her back, legs and ass to ease the pain from the whipping she had received. “Now you will learn control. However to know control you must know the limits of your own pleasure.” “Yes. Master.” “If you do not know the limits of your pleasure they will entrap your wits when you need them most.” I ran my hand over her lovely body. I began by touching her. I started at her face tracing her lips then down her throat feeling her supple skin. Her musculature was perfect over her shoulders and down her back. I caressed her beautiful ass then down her legs. She was tense at first, but I was very slow as I moved. By the time I reached for her hard nipples, she was trembling under my touch. I fondled them until she was moaning under my hands. Then I sucked them as my hand drifted over her stomach down between her thighs. I sucked her nipples while I worked two fingers inside her. Jazmin pulled at the restraints gasping out-loud. I had to eat her. She was so wet and throbbing. I knelt before her and attacked with my mouth lapping and sucking at her until she cried out repeatedly. It was more intense a reaction than she had had to the whip. She was delicious. I rested on the floor for a moment before releasing her. She fell to her knees before me breathing deeply. I told her to remove the blindfold and she complied. A wonderful gift I thought to myself as I headed to my chambers to retire for the day. Happy thoughts flowed through my body as I realised that Master Sosino was back in full swing any doubts I had dissipated instantly. My carnal desires eased for the day. Three more days to go. I thought to myself aloud. --- Master Sosino hopes you enjoyed your time reading some of the adventures of his life, please feel free to vote if you wish or send me feedback. All comments greatly appreciated. Understanding Amy Ch. 04 Chapter 4: Explorations I would like to take a minute to thank my great friend Master Min for allowing me to document some of his exploits for all you good people, also I would like to say, Min you will receive the bill from the cleaners and our next adventure is long overdue. Also I would like to add, the following two chapters have a lighter side than their counterparts. Enjoy. * * * * * I smiled as I watched the motorcade slowly make its way up the driveway. Ordinarily I would have left the 'meet and greet' to Tristan however this was a special case; it had been a long time since my good friend had arrived on my doorstep, and as eccentric as ever. Master Min had been a trusted companion of mine for many years and some of our adventures were still mentioned in the Manor frequently. From his grin through the window-screen, I knew the Jaguar must have been a new acquisition, and the two limos behind meant he was here to stay for a while. His white silk scarf was flapping wildly in the wind. I couldn't help but let out a laugh, it was more of a 'biggles' moment, his dress as he stepped out the car showed the English Gentleman out for a day in the country complete with tweed jacket. He bounded up the steps to greet me heartily. "Sino. How goes it chappy? It's been too long." He almost ripped my arm from the socket shaking my hand. "Master Min. Indeed to long my old friend. I see you are still the rogue Top, the others are complaining about." "Hah, glad to see I'm still the topic of conversation. You like the car." He pointed over admiring it whilst considering his next words. "I like the scarf, Biggles." I said indicating his choice of wardrobe. "Dress to impress and all that." He scoffed. "1956 Jaguar Roadster. Acquired it from a most unreasonable chap last week right after I took his estate, the regions filled with these upstarts, so much for the good old days what? Despite it to say his hide is now displayed next to that American girls on my wall, you know, the one from the club where the." "Yes, yes I remember the one." I jumped in quickly to quell the tale before it came public knowledge. "You seem to forget old friend in the good old days we were the upstarts." Thankfully, before our trip down memory lane continued, one of Min's slave's appeared at his side holding two leashes with another two slaves attached and in tow. "I see your prepared for your stay." "Got to have something to pass the time and keep me amused old chap." We both smiled as I led my old friend to his suite in the VIP wing, his large entourage in tow. "Anything you need, speak to Tristan I've reserved you a chamber as always." I made a hasty retreat at that point before any more tales of the past came-to-light. I spent the rest of the morning warning Tristan on the dangers of Min, his reputation was wild even by the Manor's standards, and his ability to turn an informal party into one massive orgy was somewhat of a legend. I sat there thinking back to when we first left the service of our respective Mistress' and started out on our own. Our military might back then was somewhat lower than our status. I had spent 5 months talking to Generals and other military officials in hopes of receiving some backing. We finally agreed to get them altogether and hold talks. At least that was my plan. Within 20 minutes of all our guests arriving Min walked in with full leathers on and over a dozen trained subs in tow. Within an hour of his arrival, the whole room was engaged in anything but talks. That wouldn't have been too damaging if it hadn't been for the chocolate sauce wrestling taking place in the middle of the room. I was utterly amused at the site of one of the Generals parading round the room naked with a harness and butt-plug horsetail, by a petite blonde intermittently taking swipes at his ass with a riding crop. Only Min could turn a bunch of stuffy paper-pushers into sex craved deviants. The grin on his face, showed how pleased he was with his handiwork. It was then I spotted the lovely blonde Major. I had her on her back in an instant kissing her deeply while fondling her breasts. I kissed her continuously, sucking her lower lip then tasting the skin on her neck. It was as though my tongue was on a long thorough journey over her body. I sucked, licked and nipped her nipples until she was gasping. I continued to lap her belly button and down to her bush. I didn't eat her though, instead I licked my way down one thigh, nipping at her calf then sucking her toes. Only on my way back up her body did I finally seek the nub nestled away, sucking at it until she nearly screamed. When I finally entered her, I had her legs over my shoulders and both my hands tormented her breast's, as I pumped hard into her. It was a long, hard ride. Her hips met my every move enjoying my roughness. Just after she stopped coming, I pulled out and shot my load all over her dress shirt. By the end of the night every guest in the room had agreed to support us, that and receiving a lifetime membership to our respective clubs. I seem to remember the dry cleaning cost was ungodly. Fond memories. Tristan seemed amused by my recount of the tale, but understood that my intentions were one of control. The last thing I needed was another immense cleaning bill. More and more guests piled through the door every hour, and nearly every one of them wanted an audience to convey their congratulations on our upcoming connubial. Amy and I had received gifts and praise from what seemed like an ever-growing flow of people. Master Min had sent one of his favourite slaves as a present for Amy along with a wonderful South African rhinoceros-hide whip for myself, which I was later informed was called a Sjambok. To be honest I was more interested in the slave, Summer. I had to admire Min's fine eye for detail. He knew before I had even told him of my intention to train Amy as a Mistress after the Rose Ceremony, perhaps that was why our friendship had lasted for so long. A few hours later, I had retreated to my chamber to sign off some paperwork, and in truth to avoid public scrutiny for a while. Strange I thought to myself considering I am in nature an exhibitionist, however that said one does not necessarily eat Filet Mignon every day of the week. I should have known better, I should have told Tristan that I was not to be contacted. I really shouldn't have picked up the phone. I honestly couldn't remember when I had spoken to Security last, but to be told there was a situation in the lobby that required my attention meant something big was happening. I had a suspicion and I just hoped it wasn't whom I thought. I raced down to the lobby to be greeted by a sight which I should have been shocked, no, not the right word, annoyed by, instead all I could do was suppress a grin spreading from ear to ear. Security trying there best to break up the ever-evolving scene between Min and 4 subs. Min looked over never stopping from his assault on a lovely little brunette, bullwhip in hand, keeping security from breaking up his little display. To the side a blonde was sandwiched in between 2 male servants pounding away for all they were worth. A loud crack of the bullwhip aimed toward one of the security officers head brought me back to my senses. "Just like old times." I said still trying to lose the mirth in my voice, before putting on my most masterful scornful faces. "Just like old times old chap, the chocolate sauce for the wrestling match is on ice as we speak." He continued pounding the brunette whilst smiling broadly to all and sundry. I knew he was deadly serious about the sauce. I also knew myself it should have stopped there but to be honest I felt the hedonist awaken in me and felt tempted to join in. Tristan stood smiling at me probably realising what my thoughts were. "Clear the lobby of all the guests and call off Security." I said waving the security off with my hand. Tristan almost fell to the floor, not fully taking in my orders and in part to the scene in front of him. "Jolly sporting of you old chap." Min jumped in. "Now we need more play things, you rusty over here." Sarah had picked the worst possible time to walk through the lobby. "She's mine." I snapped quickly before Min had any pause for thought. Insulted my dear redhead Sarah was to be his new plaything. "Master." Sarah looked over to me unsure of what to do before averting her eyes to the floor. "It's ok pet. Disrobe and come to me." She immediately dropped the dress to the floor and crawled over to my feet. "Great googly moogly." Min chorused watching Sarah as her dress pooled at her feet before speeding up his assault on the brunette. "I never realised what talent you had here." I shot a scolding look over at Min. "Master Min!" "Well, what do you expect me to say? She's a little honey pot. It seems someone's forgotten how to share!" "We'll see about that." I lost before I started. By accepting his challenge, I conceded defeat. Gods why didn't I stop the scene when I had the chance, still as always if I was going to join the battle I was going to fight like hell in the battle. "Tristan get in here." Tristan came running back into the lobby. He knelt at my feet next to Sarah. "Get me my equipment and get some subs in here sharpish." Two minutes later, the lobby began filling with slaves. An hour later, the whole room was filled with naked sweaty bodies all engaged in some form of devious sexual act. It was glorious. I finally gave up the battle when the chocolate sauce wrestling and naked leapfrog games began I just went with the flow. I actually forgot how much fun chocolate sauce wrestling was. God I was going to be paying the cleaning bill for years to come. Of course, that would wait; I was too busy pounding into that brunette's ass whilst trying to keep my footing, not an easy matter when covered in chocolate sauce. She was wonderfully responsive though. The last thing I remember was receiving a fantastic blowjob from Sarah she slid to her knees, and grabbed my cock. She covered it with kisses, worshipping it, before she took it whole into her mouth. She loved blowjobs, and attacked my dick with vigour. She reached around to squeeze my butt, as she increased her pace. I looked over to find Min in some kind of kinky game of Twister with a smile on his face, bullwhip still in hand. The last sound I heard before slipping into an unconscious stupor was the sound of the clock striking Midnight followed by "Woo Hoo, choc's away old boy!" The undeniable sound of Master Min, the rogue Top and ultimate hedonist, enjoying the ample delight's of my dear Sarah, hanging on for dear life before collapsing in a spent heap on the floor. Master Sosino hopes you enjoyed your time reading some of his many adventures, please feel free to vote if you wish or send feedback, after all Sosino can only know how his art is appreciated if told by you, I am slightly biased where my own work is involved. All comments greatly appreciated. Understanding Amy Ch. 05 Firstly, I want to thank everyone who has read my work and sent me feedback. Secondly and most importantly, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Enjoy! Sosino. I felt the dream would never end, from my rose ceremony to the beautiful tropical vista I am currently surrounded by. Vanilla is not a word I use to describe myself very often, however compare the beauty and atmosphere of this magical isle where time stands still, the manor seems a tad stale, so rushed and tense. I realised this only the other day as I watched my betrothed run from the warm clear water, droplets of which were clinging to her magnificent bronzed body. Her firm breasts struggling from confinement from her bikini top, the bottoms hugging her hips as she seemed to float gracefully towards me. Her smile so blindingly bright and energised seemed to smother the blazing sun above our heads. The smile never left her face as she patted her body dry with her towel, before lounging back down on the sun recliner, her body drawing the suns rays toward her as if drawn against their will. I continued to stare at her face and that blinding smile for a long while, something I had been doing a lot of late. She looked at me with a bemused look on her face. I could swear my cheeks coloured. "What's funny?" I asked. "Your doing it again, staring at me I mean, with the goofy schoolboy look on your face." "Have I told you, your beautiful today?" The little schoolboy had been caught peeping again. "About 10, maybe 15 times today, not that I'm complaining mind you, it is only lunchtime you've got plenty more time to say it some more." She flashed that enchanting smile at me, gods my heart skipped a beat every single time. "It's true you know." It was entrapment; I was completely infatuated with this magical nymph of mine. "You wanna do my back?" She said simply, tossing me the sun lotion before turning on her stomach slowly. I needed no more encouragement and managed to fire just enough synapses to move. "That's my bitch." The mood was easy, natural. We both laughed. I implemented my revenge with precision allowing a big dollop of cold sun lotion to hit her back, almost seeing the visible shiver run up and down her spine. I began drawing little circles with my finger at the small of her back. Rubbing no not the right word, massaging the lotion into her soft, bronzed skin. My fingers nimble and quick removing any tension from the muscles as I covered her skin. I watched Amy arch her brow as I slowly undid the tie for the bikini top; by the time I had reached the small of her back again, she was cooing softly, the little schoolboy had another mischievous thought. I gently slid my hands to the side of Amy's hips and teasingly untied the bows holding her bikini bottoms on. Slowly I slid the material down a fraction of an inch then massaged the exposed flesh before sliding the material down some more, time was not a concern I was prepared to continue massaging her for the rest of the day and beyond. After a few more manoeuvres the silky purple material was resting on her thighs, Amy never said a word instead she shifted slightly to allow me to remove the bikini bottom completely. I continued the massage of her wonderfully firm yet soft ass and began to run my finger down the cleft of her cheeks. I gently pushed my finger against her. "Behave you." I pushed again ever so lightly. "Sino. BEHAVE." She giggled teasingly pushing her hips up towards my fingers. I slapped her ass lightly as she undulated her hips and moaned oh so softly. I moved my finger to her again and waited for the safe word, I waited for a sign from her to stop, and it never came. I probed with my finger a little further, within minutes she was rocking her hips and moaning into the towel she had been using to rest her head on minutes before. She was glowing as she arched her hips up. "This means war you know." She said trembling as my finger continued it assault on her. I knew she was serious. I found myself pinned under her moments later her tongue passionately seeking mine her nipples lightly brushing my chest as she posted against my groin, when I finally entered her I was in ecstasy. A utopian fog swarmed my mind. Our actions were becoming more lustful, as I held her lotion-covered body her breasts bounced freely as the slight breeze brushed past our bodies. We never slowed or made any attempt to stop even as an elderly couple walked past us, in-fact Amy increased the pace, she rode me harder and harder, her breasts bouncing wildly, she threw her hair wildly in the breeze, the old man's Speedo's tented immediately, he was grinning broadly. I understood his situation immediately any man would have reacted exactly the same way. What I presume to be his wife was horrified at our naked bodies engaged in such a carnal pleasure, she angrily pulled at his arm quickly leading him away scolding him for watching such a 'Sinful scene'. We both came together kissing passionately. I had barely recovered from my stupor as Amy grabbed my hand leading me the water we didn't bother with our clothes, it was the last time we wore anything on the beach. She held me tightly to her body as we drifted in the water; she kissed me again before breaking the kiss to beam her smile at me as she had the night of our rose ceremony. ---- Master Min true to his form had turned my rose ceremony into a grand affair indeed. The ball room and most of the entrance foyer to the manor was lavishly decorated with the centrepiece being a small alter with a group of candles burning brightly, as I stood there with Min my red rose in hand, my mind was racing, as I anxiously waited for Amy to appear. A cacophony of noise filled my mind. When I saw Amy walking towards me time almost seemed to stop, every step taking an hour my heart beating with each footfall, the noise in my head dissipated as another noise entered, love songs, trumpets the same chorus of angels I heard only a few weeks before when I knew we were destined to be together. I soaked up Amy's image. Her hair was marvellous, braided with flowers strewn into her braids, a fetching and simple dress that allowed every glorious curve of her body to be seen. Her collar secured around her neck, which was only worn for ceremonies such as this and would be removed within minutes of the conclusion of the ceremony, Amy had earned that privilege long ago. In her hand's she held a single white rose not quite in full bloom. We stood facing each other I could smell her perfume, I removed her collar and passed it quickly through the flames of the candles, symbolising the removing of all impurities, all outside influences burned away in the heat of my desire to protect and defend Amy. As I fastened the collar around her slender neck, I made my declaration to her to protect her and guide her for all eternity. I offered her my red rose pricking her finger with one of the thorns allowing two drops of blood to fall on her white rose. I remember watching Amy close her eyes as I did this, before she nodded slightly for me to proceed. I pricked my own finger with the rose letting one-drop of blood fall alone and the second drop to fall on top of hers. I was taking her virginity all over again whilst at the same time showing I was willing to shed my blood to protect her. I felt intoxicated as Amy and I pressed our fingers together and vowed to be joined by blood for eternity. ---- I was staring again, analysing Amy's body as she lay on the sun recliner, her eyes blessedly closed her breasts rising and falling peacefully, her nipples wonderfully erect with the slight breeze. She was glowing again. All was well with the world, my world. Then, came the question. I had been expecting it to be asked some time ago and wondered why she had chosen now to ask it. Did she feel she was now ready to know the answer? Would it lead to more questions? It was such a simple question to ask me. With an answer to which so many meanings and interpretations can be made. "How do you know what I want before I do, how do you know me so well?" "Experience, a keen eye and the truth." My answer had been prepared a long time ago. "What truth?" Amy looked at me searching for the answer in my eyes. "The truth of the Dominant's Credo." "What's that?" God that was a question I could have spent days talking about. My mind raced for a simple yet complete answer. "The very nature of being a Dom, the very core the truth and the understanding of power." I paused. Her eyes never left mine. "The truth being I have no real power over you." She looked perplexed. "You showed me things that I would never have done before, I have reached levels that were only unobtainable before. How can you say that you have no power over me?" "A leader would say power flows from the top down, in most case this may be true, in the relationship our the lifestyle the opposite is true, that being power flows from the bottom. You obey only because you choose to. Nothing compels you to apart from your trust in me to protect you. Just as you now give consent you can choose to take it away at any time, it is the reason for safe words. You could break your bond with me at any time it would break my heart, I would be incomplete." I paused, I had too, the very thought of it brought pangs of pain shooting through my body. "I would have to let you go, consent is vital, trust paramount." She looked at me long and hard thinking about my words. She turned looking out over the water for a while. "I understand." She kept looking out at the water for long moments. "How do you know when the sub is true?" That one made me think, it was the question, which led to my training as a Master. Was it possible Amy was ready to be trained as a Mistress? That question in it's self would need to be thought over, maybe a test would be called for, she would have to witness my ambivalence towards her to understand the truth of the power exchange. "Total surrender and complete obedience." The softness of my voice was unintentional. "Anyone can be a 'bottom' or play a submissive role you see it all the time, think of all the guests we have at the manor. They spend a few weeks having their hides flogged by my subs before going home to the wife and kids, paying their taxes, going to work, mowing the lawns and having once a week vanilla sex if their lucky. It's fake and obvious. You and the others don't 'bottom' you surrender yourselves to me and trust that I can maintain and protect your personal power. In return, I give you ultimate pleasure and nurture you sensual side and I show you the way to new extremes." "I understand." She said after long moments of deep thinking. She was serious; I honestly believed she did understand what I had said to her. I would have to test the theory before saying anymore. We sat together holding hands until the sun began to set before heading back to the cabin. A short time later I was lying on the bed still thinking about our conversation earlier, was Amy ready to be trained as a Mistress, would it be a road I was willing to travel down. I heard the water from the shower hitting the floor and the gentle moans of Amy as she showered, such a sensual creature so responsive to tactile responses. Memories floated through my thought stream on working that magnificent ass with a paddle or her hairbrush. I would watch it colour beautifully under my hand before resting my cheek on it. I was shaken out of my lull. Amy was calling me to wash her back. "Certainly Mistress." I replied half jokingly and half intentionally reminding her of our respective roles which seemed to blur in and out of reality of late. "Mistress Amy, I like the sound of that." She smiled that wicked smile of hers again, all was right with the world once more. I sensually began to massage her back. Within minutes, her muscles were like putty in my hands. I stepped into the shower completely holding her against my body. She pushed her ass into me moaning softly whilst bracing herself against the wall. I traced along the contours of her arms down her back across her hips and up over her breasts. She raised her right leg slightly indicating what she wanted. "Take me...please." I did nothing, I didn't move. "Master please...take me." I pulled her into me filling her forcefully. She moaned leaning her head back onto my shoulders. I could smell the lingering scent of the shampoo in her hair. I continued pounding into her for all I was worth slowing when I felt she was close. The third time she came close to release, I pulled out of her and turned her to face me, her breasts mashing against my chest, our tongues dancing together feverishly. I grabbed her thigh and hooked it around my waist impaling her again. She was wet and primed and begging me for release in between small pants of her laboured breathes. It took all of my resolve to pull out of her the fourth time she came close. She looked at me confused and hurt as I left the shower and walked back into the bedroom. I couldn't look her in the eyes. I felt guilty about doing this but it was an important lesson. She came to me in short order and assumed the position by the bed. Her deportment was superb. "Master. Permission to speak?" She was still trembling and her arousal was ever apparent. "Granted." "Have I displeased you in some way Master?" The hurt in her voice made my heart sink. "Dear sweet child, you could never displease me, however all that has been said to you today, you must remember as you have power over me I have power over you. The power to grant or deny myself at any given time and for no reason." "I understand master, ambivalence is one of the many aspects of the exchange of power." My heart leapt in my chest. "Do we continue? Remember if you are contrite at any time you must stop or irreparable harm may be done." "I understand Master, and I am ready, when do we proceed?" "Soon, for now lets sort out that itch of yours." I could not deny Amy or myself a moment longer plus the way she was squirming was sending me wild. I pulled her up to me and locked her mouth against mine, thrusting into her, she met every thrust and ground her hips into mine. It was unspoken her training was beginning. We had taken stock and realised how fragile the lifestyle can be if not prepared. We came quickly and powerfully panting into each other mouths. I looked into her eyes dreading I may see something I didn't want to see, instead I breathed a sigh as I saw passion, loving and adoration. The mirror reflection of my own eyes locked onto hers. "You'll never let me go...will you master?" Her voice nearly cracked, her eyes filled with tears waiting for my response. "Never, just promise me the same." She smiled at me, I didn't need a response, and we both knew the answer without it being spoken. I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the night, from the amazing massage Amy gave me, to the slow sensual blowjob in the shower, even when she was screaming for release as I paddled her ass and thighs with her hairbrush, I only wished I could keep her like this all the time, primed, ready and skin beautifully coloured. We drifted into sleep locked in each other's arms. Over the next few days, I had set Amy various tasks to complete, which she applied herself to whole-heartedly. We spent the third day idling on the beach. Our new friend the old man in the Speedo's, was beginning to make regular walks past Amy trying to catch brief glimpses of her lithe body. A flash of breast or ass, then Amy began to up the intensity of the brief encounters finding excuses to bend over to pick something up she had dropped, or opening her legs slightly as she turned over whilst he walked past. She was indeed becoming aware of what a wonderfully hedonistic, and sexually charged little creature she was. I was accustomed to having an audience now and then. There is always an element of performance inherent in the sessions I conduct. I was delightfully surprised to find Amy had invited our voyeuristic friend to join us for a drink; his eyes were large as saucers as he sat staring at Amy, who was making small talk, talk about boys finding a window to the local Bordello. I was interested to see how far Amy would take this. It wasn't exactly a challenge, Amy soon had him eating out of the palm of her hand, fetching and carrying drinks and towels around for her, her natural charm almost completely entrancing him, she was amazing. I had to admire the skill of her work. Amy's innocence as she asked him to lotion her back made me smile, even my resolve faltered at that task. Our friend's eyes bulged out of their sockets and he was unable to answer instead nodding his head almost in disbelief at his luck. His hands moved hesitantly at first before growing bolder caressing her back, he was in a daze. Amy worked him like a charm giggling and playing ticklish in all the right places, he rushed her feet and calf's which I thought was a pity, however he made up for that becoming very adventurous on her thighs working her legs open slowly under the pretence of not wanting her to burn. Surprisingly he stopped at her ass not daring to move his fingers another millimetre. Amy whined slightly in that little girl voice of hers, all fight left in his body dissipated instantly. His hands were unsure at first trembling visibly, scared he may cross the invisible line of consent any second, when Amy moaned and arched her hips slightly, he instantly began to knead her flesh as though mixing bread dough, no pleasure no enjoyment for my dear sweet Amy, just his pure lust driving him on. Amy's eyes met mine. I was tempted to stop this before he hurt her, something which Amy saw in my eyes, she looked at me her eyes seemed to call to me, don't fight me on this they said, I can handle it. My heart was pounding in my chest, blood rushing to my brain. Against my better judgement, I did nothing. God, what was she doing? I stared in disbelief as she rolled on her back and pulled him over straddling her waist, the arrogant bastard had the nerve to look over at me smirking, and I was riled. His revenge would be something I would savour for quite some time. The idea of his hide decorating my wall was a pleasing one, but unfeasible given the situation we were in. Only my trust in Amy held me back from finding the nearest deadly object. How I wished for my riding crop right then. His smirk continued as he leaned down to kiss her sweet lips. What a virile stud he thought he was. My heart was pounding. Amy placed a finger over his lips as they were millimetres from hers, pushing his body back to a sitting position. "You have not earned that right, mister." Her voice purred. His confusion was clear, my mind racing a thousand miles an hour, Amy was grasping what I had taught her, denial can be a great tool at her disposal and she was using it better than I could have hoped. His discomfort was so rewarding. He watched spell bound as she ran her finger over her stomach and over her breasts before continuing up her neck and tracing the outline of her lips, such a sensual act. His blood almost burst from his beet red cheeks as she sucked her finger into her mouth. His whole body tensed, his feet digging into the sand, his humiliation complete with the now soiled Speedo's he was wearing. He quickly backed off Amy almost crossing his legs hiding his embarrassment, apologising for anything he could think about backing away from us all the time. I laughed a cold callous laugh very intentionally I might add. I sat staring at Amy as she took a drink of water from her bottle by the foot of the sun recliner looking very pleased with herself and her latest coupe. "Gah!" She said bobbing her tongue out at me. "Lotion." "So?" I began before thinking better about finishing that particular sentence. Understanding Amy Ch. 05 "I can understand the attraction, it's a heady power, the power to grant or deny his needs, his very eagerness to please me for the slightest hope of pleasure." "Shame he was blinkered by lust and unable to realise it was always out of his reach." I said bitterly. "I don't know about that, he may have had some promise...." "What? Mister watch me come as a girl simulates oral sex with her finger." I nearly shot out of the recliner. Amy almost belly laughed at my reaction. What a minx, she knew just how to push my buttons. "Not a patch on you Master." Still trying to suppress the mirth, she was feeling. "You'll pay, gods you'll pay." I said pulling her towards me. My mouth was hungry for her again. I was thinking hanging her on a hook upside down would be a good idea at that time. Instead, my mind turned to mush as her tongue hungrily sought mine. Our voyeuristic friend didn't come past us again, which in my mind was a blessing although Amy would need to find another victim to seduce, no doubt it would be me I thought to myself absently. It had been a lovely night, warm and tranquil, a light smell of lavender filled the air, Amy was leaning against me her head resting on my shoulder my fingers absently playing with her hair. I sighed contently feeling the warmth of her body next to mine. We had sat like that since the sun had begun to set. I could still taste the wild mushroom sauce and champagne from dinner on my tongue. Amy was beginning to doze lightly her head still resting on my shoulders. I began to stare at the candle on the table, the light soothing and calming me. ---- The candlelight flickered as the chain was quickly passed through it link by link, representing all the events which had led Amy and I to be joined, each link interlocking with the next to complete the chain. The candles flame purifying our time together and burning away the bad from our lives until they were just distant memories and only the good remained. As the chain was wrapped around our bodies binding our souls together until only the whole emerged. I looked at Amy searching to find the right words to convey my feelings for her, those two little words rang in my ears. "I know." The party was in full swing and my ears were still ringing from the congratulations an hour after the ceremony. When I finally got within touching distance of Amy again her hair was flowing naturally, it was bedroom hair and looked marvellous. I pulled her close to me, one hand resting on her ass pulling her hips to mine the other hand fingering her hair, the kiss was intense and my knees were beginning to buckle. We mingled some more and danced for a while. That's when I spotted Min staring at us tapping his foot impatiently, checking his watch every few seconds. A smile crossed my lips as I remembered the look on his face as he promised to keep for want of a better word the 'reception' free of sexual activity until Amy and I withdrew to my chambers. I actually enjoyed seeing him squirm for a while. We granted his request an hour or so later, by that time Amy and I were nearly vibrating out of our clothes anyway. We didn't hesitate as the door to my chambers closed behind us. She was kissing me long and deep, I nearly ripped her dress in two before it slipped down and pooled at her ankles, Amy was anticipating, not one stitch of underwear. I lifted her up into my arms to carry her to the bed. I didn't even bother getting undressed I just pulled out my cock and pushed into her, Amy wrapped her long legs around my waist and started matching my thrusts, while I tweaked and pulled at her nipples. It was not a romantic occasion, it was all heat and lust and just short of brutal. We were too primed for slow and sensual it would have been an unimaginable torture. We both came quickly and powerfully panting and staring into each other's eyes. I stood up removing my jacket smiling; I could still taste Amy on my lips. "Planning on uncovering more than your cock then?" She asked watching me undress slowly. A hint of mirth lingered on her honey like voice. I prowled towards her like a wolf hunting for prey, ravaging her naked body, torturing her nipples, sucking licking and biting them to hardness, whilst I pushed two fingers inside her, she gasped against my neck at the extra stimulus as her foot slid over my returning hardness. I kept her primed for the majority of the night, varying my assault on her body slowly torturing one area of skin before moving to the next. She was exhausted and totally spent. Her limbs lead weights, she could barely move. She just lay there panting, her eyes closing with every breath. "I hope you don't expect this all the time." I mumbled before returning to those delectable nipples. "Every night, should be plenty." She barely managed to finish the sentence before the waves of pleasure hit her again. She was thrashing wildly on the bed as the last ounce of strength left her body "As long as you've got a realistic perspective then." I said grinning flopping on my back next to her. Our cases were packed and we were due to leave in a few hours, I found myself walking aimlessly letting my feet wonder, I was on the beach again allowing the sand to warm my toes staring out at the water. "Beautiful isn't it." I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Any comments are greatly appreciated and I will of course reply to any which have e-mail addys attached. Sosino Understanding Bondage Let me help you understand my views on this. Dom/sub relationships are not about the bondage or the spanking or calling one Sir - or the other any sort of pet names - but it more on the way that two people interact. There are some assumptions that can be made - but then while interacting - no assumptions should be made - that is where you need to find out your partner. I am very much into the bondage aspect -- think about it for a second -- all of these images with the fancy rope are not blindfolded - but I would imagine that you would have to be blindfolded during the tying. This can not be done super fast - and if you struggled - the artwork of the rope would not be done well. So imagine the time that it would take - to get the ropes so artistically over and around you body -- think about being blind folded and my hands and the rope as they together move over your body -- the rope staying there -- you feel the pressure of it -- little by little you can relax your body - and still you will not move -- the rope bind you -- till you are completely tied -- it is a peace of living art - you are that art -- now like any other artist I would want to admire my art. Do you when you cook -- or bake a cake -- want to eat it right away - or do you want to savor in the creation of what you just made -- smell it - look at it - take it all in -- yes eventually consume it - for that is it's purpose -- just as you as my living art -- I would want to consume you - fulfill you - Take you. The patience of the rope hopefully had done it's trick on you - making you understand your vulnerability - and also knowing - that you have given me your body to manipulate -- The roller coaster you ride for thrills -- knowing that the track will be safe - but then again you are not driving the little car and it goes along the track -- you have no control over it -- the tying of the rope is like the clack clack clack of going up the first hill in that little cart -- knowing that the wild ride is soon to come. Once tied -- and adored -- I begin to explore you body -- there is no way for you to move my hands to where you want them -- or twist your body for me to reach the area you want my hands - but this is truly my exploration of you --for this the blindfold would come off -- you can witness my journey over your body -- and the visual impact of your restriction just makes the physical one that you were feeling - so much more real -- If I have done my job well -- you are just wet with desire - wanting to have me -- wanting me to come to the climax -- but that is in my control - and I never let you forget that -- You gave me that gift while I was tying you up -- at this point you would want to take it back -- you would want to cum - feel me inside you - but again -- because of the gift of your consent earlier -- I don't give you that opportunity to take control - you struggle a little bit -- you want so badly -- being a strong minded woman - you are used to getting to a point in "I Want" and you go after and get it -- but not this time -- Finally you stop the struggling -- you have let go - you resign your self to the fact that I will please you -- that your wants and needs will be taken care of - and all you have to do is allow them to happen to you -- That does not mean not participate in them - but like good ballroom dancers -- you follow my lead - you know that the master plan is mine - you look toward my body for clues -- and adjust accordingly because you know that it is safe to do so - and that I will be building to a mutual ecstasy -- Thus at this time - the ropes start coming off -- but not all at one time -- slowly like the beginning -- anticipation is the key -- You wanted this - you were wanting a lover that took his time -- that would take you to this height -- and even though you might feel like you are there - and you want to now fuck like a wild animal -- you feel my control -- my touch -- keeping that beast at bay -- but bringing it to the surface -- letting it serve me -- and eventually bringing out the beast in me -- I have teased that beast in me all this time - all those touches and manipulations of your body -- has awoken that beast in me - but it is slow to rise because he knows that I am in control - but he looks for the time that he can come out - but that is only when we are joined - and you are mine completely will I let him out. In that moment you feel me cum inside you - I growl and can come close to biting your neck - the beast is so much in control --every pore in my body open's up as well - my body is covered with a thin layer of sweat as you hear the beast like noises come out of me -- I hope you cum again with me this time -- but I know that I have made you cum several time before this moment -- showing you how I manipulate your body -- and actually at this split moment I don't care if you cum - I don't care at all -- gone is the human in me - just the beast revealed - but in a few moments that passes -- I withdraw from you -- a lay down -- catching my breath -- and I offer your my feet to rub (the only place I do not sweat - and ohhhhhhh a foot rub feels so good after I cum) - Through your action of rubbing my feet - I feel the emotion in you - the adoration that you have - for taking you to that place - I can also feel the pride you have - for you have witnessed me out of control -- and you know what we have participated in was pure passion -- something that could never be achieved in a 10 minute romp on the bed. So now you know what I think about bondage. Understanding Emmalyn [NOTE: this is a story about lesbian incest play between sisters, but seen form a different perspective from the two who enjoy each other so intimately. This is a story seen from the eyes of their mother, who sees a change in her beautiful lovely daughters. It isn't full of sex, but I hope you enjoy it as a story anyway. Always happy to hear comments, even if I can't reply to all of them. Cassie xx] * On reflection, I blame much of it myself. I had, like so many women of my generation, lived a selfish life; freed from the burdens of housework and poverty that my own mother or grandmother were burdened with. Free of the constant, never-ending, soul-destroying chores that were lifted by the invention of the refrigerator, the washing machine, and the vacuum cleaner, to name but three wonderful devices. I took advantage of freedoms not available to earlier generations. Sexual freedom to express myself before marriage. Moral freedom to vote for whoever the hell I liked. Employment freedom to have a career, earn money and do what I wanted. And I had done so for many years; enjoying life to the full. Travelling the world, getting drunk, getting stoned, getting into trouble and getting laid too. And for many of those years, I had done so with Gerard, my beloved husband. I had met Gerard when I was a sixteen year old art student, and was smitten immediately. He was tall and handsome with a shock of bright ginger hair and a pair of workers hands like shovels. But he was an artist at heart, and those hands could create wonderful paintings and pictures with a talent I could never match. He and I fell in love at first sight, and I vowed never to look at another man as long as I had Gerard. We married when I was nineteen, and I spent the next four years with him travelling the world and living the life I wanted, making a career of my work as a junior architect, and enjoying life in childless bliss. And then came Emma and Carolyn. My beautiful twin girls, quite unexpected and unplanned, they changed our lives completely. We decided to settle down and Gerard got a job as a merchant seaman, following the career his father had taken, rather than his passion as an artist. Gerard was often away for very long periods, months at a time, and I became depressed and lonely raising my two girls on my own. I was frustrated in my work, being limited to the home but, sad to say, I was more frustrated with my sex life the longer that Gerard stayed away. I had always enjoyed a very active sex life with Gerard; adventurous and open to lots of games and new ideas. And I knew deep down that it wasn't as a result of appeasing my man, but of my own wilful sexual freedom. I enjoyed sex. Enjoyed it a lot and missed it terribly when Gerard wasn't there. But I stuck to my vow of faithfulness. Almost. I never once slept with another man but, when the opportunity arose one evening with a friend, I released my sexual tension for the first time with another woman. It was like a revelation. I had never before considered lesbian sex but, with my friend, was opened up to a whole new world of pleasure. My friend was a single mother who had a son at the same school as my twin girls. Emma and Carolyn were both six years old; difficult and demanding, and my friend's son was the same. It was during one such difficult episode, near the school grounds, that we first traded words. My girls were arguing; fighting with each other as girls do, and I was trying to keep control of them. I remember lifting my voice to talk to them; hearing another woman doing the same. I stamped my foot and shouted out at Carolyn and, to my surprise, the woman near to me turned round and shouted back "What?!" We collapsed into a fit of giggles at that; learning she had the same name as my daughter, and struck up a fast friendship. My friend (whose name was spelt Carolin, as I later found out), was a single mother who, like me, found raising her child difficult. We spent many long hours together talking and finding similarities. We went to the cinema together and dinner together, eager for each other's company. Carolin was a few years younger than me but we could have been sisters, for as much as we looked the same. Carolin, like me, had long blonde hair, a pretty face and was very much a girl's girl. She loved fashion and would drag me round the shops pining over the latest clothes. We both had trim figures, and ended up swapping clothes on a regular basis. One evening, with Carolin's son staying round at my house and a baby-sitter employed for the evening, we went out clubbing. We had an outrageous time, getting drunk and acting like teenagers again. At one point during the evening, with some guys hitting on us and asking if we were sisters, we went into the ladies room and, giggling and laughing, swapped clothes in a shared cubicle. It was a close and confined space, and more than once I remember rubbing up against Carolin's well-toned body. But the atmosphere, and the alcohol, had knocked any silly inhibitions out of me. When we emerged, some minutes later, the poor confused guys did not know what to do or who to look at and we, of course, found it terribly funny. We had got a taxi back to my place and, sitting down with a final glass of wine to round the evening off, Carolin had exclaimed that she absolutely had to give me back my red dress before she went to bed. I told her just to drop it in the washing basket near to the spare room where her son was sleeping, but she insisted that I should have the dress back there and then, and had stood up in front of me and slipped it off her shoulders. She really did have a wonderful body; toned and well proportioned, and I felt a little envious as she stood there in front of me, flaunting her physique, and the lingerie that framed it. Blue satin panties, riding high up onto her hips exposing her long legs, with just a tracing edge of lace. Full bra squeezing together her wonderful breasts. I could not help but stare a little. She dropped the dress onto my lap and sat down next to me. "You know why I'm single, don't you?" she said to me, still smiling. I had made some half-funny reply about how it must have been the clothes she wore, but she ignored it and kept smiling at me. "You know why I don't have a boyfriend, don't you?" she said, repeating "Don't you?" through her sassy smile and half-closed eye lashes. It was at that moment that I realised what she was hinting at, and where I was. "I want my dress back." she had said to me. "Can you give it back to me?" And I knew what she was asking. In that moment; drunk and (although I didn't realise it until much much later) very horny, I stood up and unclipped her dress, letting it fall to my feet. I sat back down, feeling self-conscious in my own ordinary underwear, leaving her dress on the floor. "There" I had said to her, not looking up. "Happy now?" Carolin had said "Very." Then she leaned across and touched my knee. I shivered, but did not flinch. And I didn't say anything when she leaned across the sofa toward me. I didn't say anything when I felt her breath on my cheek, or her lips on my skin. Then I didn't say anything at all after that. I wasn't able to as her lips covered my own and I kissed another woman for the very first time. Carolin took me on my first few steps to Sapphic love that night, and what a road it was! She led me to my own bedroom, laid me on my own bed, and made love to me with a sensuousness and gentleness that I had never known or previously imagined. I tingled at her touch and loved every soft curve of her body, every smooth touch of her fingertips, every kiss she planted on me. And when, after a time I could not begin to estimate, she lowered her mouth between my legs and took me with her tongue, I felt an ecstasy I could barely contain. I shoved my fingers into my mouth, for fear of crying out at the intense pleasure her exploring tongue was giving to me. I remember looking down my own body, staring oddly at the sight of another woman taking me so intimately as I lay naked with my legs spread wide open. Carolin used her fingers as deftly as her tongue; exploring the landscape of my body with her fingertips, then reaching inside me to pleasure me manually. When she kissed me, lips and mouth covered in the scent and taste of my own sex, I felt another illicit thrill. And when she guided be between her own long, lithe legs to the tufted mound between, I hesitated only a moment before I took the sex of another woman into my mouth. The taste, the touch, the feeling and the emotions were heavenly. We made love all night, sleeping lightly, touching each other frequently. And, close to dawn, Carolin left me with a kiss. By breakfast, with my two girls teasing Carolin's son, there was only the faintest hint that we had been so passionate during the night. Carolin and I acted impeccably in public, and passionately behind closed doors. For five months we shared a love affair that had my heart beating every time I thought of her. Those five months even included a short spell where Gerard, my beloved Gerard, came home from see and loved me as only he could. That was when I felt the first true pangs of guilt; not that I'd shared such intimate moments with Carolin, but that I would still think of her, want her, while Gerard was with me. And, almost five months to the day after she first made love to me, Carolin took me to my bedroom and made love to me again; slowly, passionately, with great skill and dexterity, holding back no passion, showing no inhibition. I had my head thrown back, enjoying the skill and ecstasy of her oral passion, when I heard the door creak open. I looked over and saw my beautiful little girl Emma staring at us; her teddy bear hanging limply from one hand. My heart sank. Sank so low I cannot to this day remember what words I spoke to my little girl, or what look I gave her in the face of my sapphic shame. In the morning, Carolin and I had thought the moment past us, but when Emma started telling her sister that Gabriel's mummy had been playing nurses with me, and had hurt me, I got angry and shouted at her. Emma had cried, and only her sister's consolation had quietened her down. Carolyn and Emma were wonderful like that; oh they would fight like kittens, sometimes incessantly, but if either of them were truly hurt or upset, the other would always be able to calm them down. I felt a new shame then; the shame that I had upset my little girl, and could not console her. It was that, more than anything, that led me to end the affair with Carolin. There were some rocky patches between us after that, but Carolin eventually moved town, and removed both the difficulty and the temptation. I was glad to have put the episode behind me, and was looking forward to Gerard's next return; clearer in my head than I had been for many months. It was in this lightness of moods that I received the news. It came in the form of a letter; handwritten to me from a man I had never heard of before. His name was Henry Norton. Captain Henry Norton. He was the captain of the boat - Unaha's Clasp, a small freighter working the Mediterranean - where Gerard was working his latest contract. I remember reading through the letter at least twice, looking for the part of it that made sense to me, or the part I had missed. There must have been something, surely, that explained the odd words the captain used. Surely 'lost at sea' meant that Gerard was alone somewhere; frightened and waiting for someone to collect him. I got angry at the letter, tried to ring the number written underneath the captain's spidery signature. If Gerard was lost, shouldn't someone be out there looking for him? But the letter said nothing of a search party, or a rescue attempt. Of course, looking back, I think I realized straight away what the letter was telling me, but refused to accept it. Christmas was only a few weeks away, and the girls were looking forward to having Gerard home as much as I. Everything had been prepared for a lovely stay at home. But Gerard was 'lost at sea'. He had been taken from me, from us. And it broke my heart. I stumbled through life after that; lost and alone but for the love and need of my two beautiful daughters. I resigned myself to my solitude, making pledge after pledge not to be so selfish; sure that Gerard's death was some kind of punishment for the unfaithful Sapphic affair I'd had with Carolin. I devoted myself to my daughters; watched them and loved them as they grew into beautiful girls, tenacious teenagers, and wonderfully independent young women. The two, despite conscious efforts to find their own independence through clothes and make-up, remained identical. Both grew into tall young girls; lithe and athletic, with a love of sports and outdoor activities. Both had this wonderful long cascade of fiery red hair; streaked with blonde locks that looked for all the world like tinted highlights. Carolyn proved to be the artist; talented with a brush or a pencil, a natural ear for music, and a great lover of books. Emma was more the mathematician; absorbed and fascinated by numbers and, from about the age of twelve, besotted with the mysteries of the universe. But so obvious was their shared sameness that, by the time they were twelve or thirteen, they had picked up the shared nickname of "Emmalyn", combining their two first names into one. At first it was a teasing name (as so many are), but it seemed to strike a chord with both my girls, and they stuck with it. Not to me, of course, but I would hear other girls refer to "Emmalyn" as if either of the two would suffice for their enquiry. In many ways, Emma and Carolyn were as different as chalk and cheese; as unlike each other as any of their many friends. But I had encouraged the girls to always be there for each other, and their bond was something magical, intuitive and special. They would finish each other's sentences, feed each other bits of food without thinking or asking for it. They would jealously guard each other's wardrobe, but were able to share and enjoy anything the other had. It was a wonderful time to watch over these two girls; and only a little sad to see them grow out of being my two little girls, and into two strong, intelligence and independent young women. I spoke occasionally to Carolin, who kept in touch as the years went by. She had married, eventually, to a man who I suspected was as open about love as she was. She sent messages from time to time, but I didn't always answer them. I had moved on in my life, and was content with my lot. I thought about that as I tidied away the washed and dried clothes from the airing room. More than ten years had passed since Gerard had died without me saying goodbye to him, or sorry to him. And in that time I had wasted years in my own depression. Wasted years and the chance (maybe) to have a career all of my own. Instead of the MD I could have been, I spent three days in the week at the local library; working long hours during the day and into the evening to earn our family's keep. And yet now, as I watched with resignation rather than horror as more and more of my once-lustrous blonde hair turned to grey, and as my once-envious figure struggled to pretend I was still young, I realized I was content. Not quite happy, but content. And for the blessing of my two lovely daughters, that was enough. I sorted out some of Emma's underwear as I thought wistfully of the years that had passed. I was still in that kind of daydream when I opened her underwear drawer and put away her fresh clothes. I suppose that's why, when my hand brushed against something unusual, that I took hold of it and drew it out of the drawer without a second thought. With a little shock, I stared at the long, slim, bright red vibrator that had been hiding in my daughter's underwear drawer. I stare at it dumbly for a few moments, just trying to accept the knowledge that my beautiful little Emma was sexually active. Of course was is! I chided myself. She's very nearly a grown woman. But still a part of me was sad to see my little girl lose one more string to her childhood. I turned the vibrator in my hands, noticing a long, jagged scratch along one curve near the base, and wondered what had made it. Then, quite self-consciously, I put the toy back into her drawer and went about the rest of the washing. I went to the other side of the room and put away Carolyn's clothes, but found nothing there. After the washing, I got on with the rest of the business of the day. I had some plans to send off for a small building contract I had won, and was keen to get some more housework finished before the girls got back home. I got a call just after lunch from Carolyn, who told me that her and Emma would be staying at a friend's house that night for a party. I was immediately concerned (as every mother would be), and wanted to know who the friend was, where they were staying, and what kind of party it would be. "It's an orgy, mom." said Carolyn. "At the house of some guy who makes porn films. He's inviting all his axe-murdering friends over and there'll be loads of drugs there." "Carolyyyyn...." "Mom, it's a party. Me and Ems are going together. We'll be fine. We'll look out for each other. You know we do." And it was true. I knew they would look out for each other. I told her it would be okay, but one of them should ring me in the evening to let me know they were okay. I heard back from them some time later. It was very noisy in the background, but Carolyn was shouting at me that she and her sister were fine. I went to bed, content, and dreamed of nothing in particular. The girls got home some time in the early afternoon, and both looked very much the worse for the wear. I was prepared to give them both a talking to, but ended up feeling sorry for them; making them some light lunch and hot drinks. The two stayed up in their room and closed the door. Carolyn and Emma had lived in different rooms for only a short period during their lives. When they were both thirteen, I converted the spare room into a bedroom for Carolyn, and urged her to enjoy her own space there. Carolyn was reluctant at first to leave her sister to go to a much smaller room, and complained bitterly. I told her over and over that it would be good for her to find her own space, and that she would thank me for it in no time. But she neither thanked me, nor enjoyed her own space. I would often find them crammed together in one or other's room. On some occasions, they would end up sleeping together in the same room; curled up like spoons in one or other's single beds. Eventually, I decided that I would accept the defeat of all the hard work I had put into decorating the room, and move Carolyn back into the double room with Emma. I was convinced, for many months afterwards, that Carolyn would cry out for her own space again, or Emma would complain that her sister was being too greedy on her return, but again I was wrong. Neither girl complained in even the slightest tones about sharing their room once more. And it had stayed that way ever since. Lord knows how they managed to find time and space to entertain each other's friends. The day after the girls' return from their party, they both went to college and went back to the usual house routine. I tidied and cleaned and washed and paid the bills and, when I was putting away more of the girl's clothes, I nothing other on my mind than the dinner I would be making for my daughters that evening. I was even thinking about getting some lasagne sheets from the supermarket when I felt something hard at the back of Carolyn's top drawer and pulled it out. It was a long, slim red vibrator, just like her sister's. I giggled a bit and held the toy up to look at it. Ah well, I thought. It's just like my girls to get active at the same age, and just like twins to get the same toy. Or almost. This one had a sticky feel to it as I held it. I turned it round in my fingers and noticed a jagged scratch near the bottom of the toy. That seemed odd to me, but I couldn't figure out why. I put the toy away and, on an impulse, brought my fingers up to my mouth. I wanted to get the sticky feeling off my fingers but didn't want to rub my hands onto my clothes or the clean washing. My fingers tasted earthy and sweet at the same time, and it was only later on that I felt some kind of shock, or embarrassment, at what I had done. Understanding Emmalyn It was the same later, but still stuck in my subconscious, that I realized that the jagged scratch at the bottom of the sex toy wasn't just like the one Emma had. Not a co-incidence at all. It wasn't like Emma's sex toy. It was Emma's sex toy, and my twin girls had been sharing it. But, like I said, that realisation came much later. I finished my chores and went out to get the groceries. It was a long and boring (and seemingly daily) task, but I didn't mind as it got me out of the house and, on that day, I'd been trying to get rid of a splitting headache. I was juggling two large brown bags and trying to fish out my door keys on my return home that I realised I wasn't going to be able to do both at the same time. One of the bags was almost certainly going to split. I was just about resigned to putting bags down when I thought 'to hell with it', and went round to the back door I knew was already open. I went in carefully, and quietly, and set the bags on the kitchen table. I was about to put the kettle on when I heard a creak from upstairs. Curious, rather that concerned at that point, and still feeling the thump thump thump of the ache in my head, I left the groceries and slowly, quietly, made my way upstairs. I remember walking across the landing, clearly hearing noises from my girls' room. I remember approaching the just-open door. It was as my hand touched the doorknob that time did one of those spinning pirouettes, where so much can happen in quick succession, that you might as well say that "it all happened at once". This is what happened to me when I walked to my girls' room that day. The first thing I saw, the very first thing, was a girl's hand, pressed down against the bed sheets on Carolyn's side of the room, bunching the sheets into a fist between her fingers. The arm that hand belonged to came next into view, then the head. Or hair. Fiery red hair with sunny blonde streaks. One of my girls. She had her head hung low between her shoulders and I could see her other arm positioned in the same way; her other hand bunching a fist against the bed sheets. Twin peaks of her young breasts lay slung beneath the line of her shoulders, bobbing slightly in tat split-second glance. My first thought was of alarm. My God, one of my girls was being attacked in her room. Then, as I saw Carolyn turn her face slightly toward me (knowing in that micro-instant that it was Carolyn, not Emma), I could see the beading of sweat beneath her fringe, her closed eyes and the open 'O' made by her mouth. That first, urgent instinct to rush into the room and protect her was halted only by the shuddering panic of realizing what I was watching; not an attack, but something far more intimate. A new emotion rose to my cheeks; embarrassment and pride mixed together. I had caught my daughter making love. I was about to withdraw, to go downstairs and pretend I hadn't seen or heard anything, carry on with the day and hope not to betray my discovery to Carolyn later on, when I saw another hand reach out into my field of vision. A small, delicate, feminine hand. At that moment, another realization hit me. It was not a boyfriend but a girlfriend who was engaged in some kind of lovemaking with Carolyn. Before I could even process that thought, the door twitched open on it hinges and I saw the images I would never forget in my whole life. What I saw, transfixed as I stood at the door, was the view of my Carolyn, naked and on all fours a-top the sheets of her own bed, legs spread and head hung low, sweet, pert breasts bobbing naked beneath her frame. Behind her, gripping her hips with both hands, and wearing a belt with a long slim pink sex toy attached to the end, was the person screwing Carolyn into a sweaty, sexual passion. And the image could have been reversed. For the person making love to my beautiful daughter Carolyn was not only a girl, as I suspected, but her own twin sister; my other daughter Emma. I stood, for moments of time I could not tell you how long, and watched Emma drive the strap-on dildo backwards and forwards into the space between Carolyn's rounded ass cheeks. I saw Emma's body, athletic muscles taut with the exertion, pull and push against her sister. I saw the long cascade of Emmas's hair bob up and down as she thrust her pretend-cock in and out of her twin sister; her nipples, erect and hard, jutting from breasts bouncing with the rhythm. I saw her beautifully painted red nails dig into the flesh of her sister's hips and knead, pull, knead, pull. I opened my mouth to speak but found that I was dry. I had no words for what I was seeing. Some part of my brain, some hind part that I had no control over, moved my legs backwards, and thank God it did. The same part of my brain turned me around and, mouth still open in a shocked 'O' that so resembled the sexual ecstasy of my little girl's face, I walked away from the room where my twin daughters were fucking each other like bitches in heat. I went down stairs, made myself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, staring into space as my coffee went cold, untouched. I was numb, my mind blank. I simply could not process what I had seen, and began to think of it as a mirage, or some kind of waking nightmare. I must have been mistaken and, holding onto that thought, slumped forward onto the table. I heard the shattering of the cup as it was knocked, cold contents and all, onto the floor, but nothing else. ***** It was Emma who I saw first. Emma's beautiful, young face, her eyes such a deep color of green with that wild fringe of red hair, that my eyes focussed on when I opened them. "Mom? Mom!" The concern in her voice w3as so genuine, so real, that it nearly broke my heart. I struggled to get up, if only to tell my little girl that I was okay. My head hurt terribly and I winced with the movement. "Mom, are you okay? Mom say something, please!" I waved a hand. Give me a moment. Give me a moment. I sat up carefully, feeling Carolyn's hands beneath my shoulders, helping me to a sitting position. I shook my head a little, seeing where I was. In the kitchen; next to the table. Groceries lay on the table, one spilled from the brown bag that had contained it. The floor was clear. I looked up at Emma, then Carolyn. "My...my head..." I said, hearing the words sound like those of a drunk woman. "Careful mom" this was Carolyn. "You must have collapsed or something and hit your head. Did you hurt anywhere else? Your hip? Legs?" I shook my head and struggled to sit. "No, I... I came home and..." I looked round for the coffee cup I had knocked over. "The coffee" I said. "Made a mess." Carolyn and Emma looked at each other for a moment; shared one of those "Emmalyn" looks. "There's no mess mom" said Emma. "You just came in and must had fallen straight over." "No, I knocked the cup" I said, rubbing a sore spot at my right temple near my eye. "I came in, put the groceries down and then.... Then I..." I looked up in alarm, afraid to voice what I had done, and seen, next. But the look on my daughters' faces was on shared confusion, and concern. I then felt another wave of embarrassment race through me. Oh to be such a fool! To think that I had confused such a strange and terrible nightmare - that vision of my girls in some kind of incestuous lesbian tryst - with what had actually happened. I had collapsed, yes of course I had, had collapsed after the headache had got worse and worse. And had a nightmare. Thank God my two girls were both okay. Thank God. I reach out my arms and let them help me up. The I hugged them both. Hugged them tightly. "Thank you" I whispered. "Thank you." "Mom are you okay?" "You'd better have a lie-down mom. I'll get you some aspirin. Ems and I will sort out the groceries." I nodded my head, let them help me to my room, then shooed them away as I took off my outer clothes and lay on my bed. I slept, eventually, and dreamed. In my dreams, I was in the house once more (it was our house, but a much grander affair altogether), and calling out for my old friend Carolin. I was young once again, with my slim figure wrapped in a short summer dress, and my red hair spilling down from a loose pony-tail. Everywhere the rooms were white, and I skipped passed a very grand staircase, calling out my friend's name. Eventually, I head her shouting. "I'm here! I'm here!" I followed the voice, lips curled into an impish smile. It was my friend Carolin and I wanted to be with her. I followed the voice to her bedroom (why she had a bedroom in my house, I didn't know, or question). I skipped up to the door and pushed it open. The large, French windows were open and small gust of warm, summery air was moving the net curtains in front of it. Everywhere was white, but on the big double bed, Carolin looked up at me from her half-lying pose, her red hair and blue satin underwear seeming almost too real, too colorful against the backdrop. She smiled at me and I felt my heart skip a beat. I smiled back, so pleased to see my old friend looking as gorgeous as the first night we made love together. I slipped the shoulder straps from my summer dress and let it fall to the floor at my naked feet. I stepped up the bed as Carolin curled a finger, beckoning me closer. Her hair had those beautiful blonde streaks in the thick red- [No, that wasn't right. Carolin had blonde hair, not blonde streaks] -and she arched her back, those long, athletic muscles straining against her skin. [No, Carolin was slim, but not athletic] She curled her finger at me as I crawled naked onto the bed. The lust in her eyes was unmistakable, and I drank in every tiny detail of it. "Do you love me?" She said. I nodded, knowing that I did; wholly, completely. Loved her as much as any woman can love another woman. More, somehow, in fact. "I love you too. So much" she said, creeping toward me with lips that ached to be kissed. As she closed her mouth onto mine, her long red hair spilled forward- [Carolin's was blonde, not red] And whispered my name into my ear: "Oh I love you so much, Emma- [My name isn't Emma] "-kiss me. Make love to me." I did. Couldn't have stopped if I wanted to, Was overtaken with the burning desire - no, need - to touch and be touched by her. I reached a hand to her stomach, slipping my fingertips beneath the blue lace trim of her panties and feeling the soft red curls between her legs; so similar to mine. "Oh Carolyn!" [Carolin] "I love you Emma" [Not my name] We came to each other on the bed and wrapped our arms, legs, tongues in sexual abandonment, identical red hair spilling and tangling into each others'. ***** I awoke with a start, heart thudding and stomach cramping. A feeling of nausea swiftly passed and at once I realized how hot I was; that I was flushed and, (ashamed even now to mention it) very horny. I got up and showered in my en-suite cubicle, trying not, when I closed my eyes, to think of my old friend Carolin, or the memories of my Sapphic lovemaking all those years ago. After the shower, I got changed into some comfortable old clothes (no guests or visitors tonight, so no need to dress up), and went out. There was the low buzz of TV or radio in the background; too droning to make out, but unmistakable. As I closed the door behind me, I heard a scuffling noise and the media sounds changed urgently. I stepped into the light, rubbing my eyes. Emma was slouched into one of the deep sofas in the sitting room, watching TV with a remote control in her hand. As I looked up, the image on the big screen shifted from a sit-com or soap opera to a sports channel, then to a news channel. Emma was dressed in her pyjamas; thick top two sizes too big, short flannel pants, and thick green bed-socks. "Hey mom." she said, turning slightly but face still hidden by the thick curtain of reddish-blonde hair. "Hey yourself." I said, sitting down carefully at one of the other sofas set 90° from the one Emma sat at. There was no sign of Carolyn. "Where's your sister?" I said, closing my eyes and rubbing them gently with my hand. The TV clicked off and Emma sat forward on the seat. "Uh, she's gone to bed already. It's pretty late mom." I stared at the clock on the wall and couldn't focus on the difference between the hour hand and the minute hand. I took Emma's word for it. "How are you feeling, mom?" Emma had turned fully to me, knees squeezed together and elbows resting just above them as though she were perched on a thin ledge. "I'm fine. I'm..." I wasn't, and I knew it. Right there I had the burning urge to tell my daughter about the waking nightmare I'd had; about the image of her having sex with her sister in their room. Wanted to blurt it all out and then have a good laugh with her as the feelings and silliness went away. Perhaps I should have done that. But I didn't. And something was changed because of it. "I must have just come over all funny when I brought in the shopping. I think I'll call Doctor Allen in the morning." "Do you want me to stay home with you mom?" "No, it's okay sweetie. You've got your college work. You and Carolyn too, because I know you'll ask her in the morning." Emma smiled, the action lighting up her face with a beauty I wished I had at her age. We talked some more, but Emma was clearly tired. Eventually she got up, hugging her pyjama top tight around her chest as she did so. She kissed me goodnight, then went upstairs to her and Carolyn's room. I told her to snuggle up tight as the nights were cold. I sat on the sofa and turned to a television I rarely watched these days. Like my daughter, I used the remote control to flick through a number of channels before eventually feeling drowsy. Whether it was from exhaustion, or some other thing (the bump on my head from when I hit the floor maybe), I eventually slumped against the sofa and slept. The TV auto-switched off. And the DVD player remained untouched, forgotten. I woke up suddenly, but not with a start. The first thing I felt was the ache in my neck from where I had curled up on the sofa. Then I felt the cold. I got up, shivering, and looked at the clock. It was not yet dawn, but the last, darkest, coldest hours of night time. I made my way slowly upstairs, hushing my steps so I wouldn't wake my daughters. I got to the landing and then, before heading to my room, crept over to the girls' room and opened the door to check on them; an old habit I did from time to time. The light from the hallway carved a slice into the darkness of their room and there - sure enough - was the huddled bump of Carolyn asleep on her bed. The light spilled onto her upturned face and she rolled involuntarily. As she did so, I saw the closeness of another shape beside her and my heart got caught once more. There; unmistakably, was Emma lying in her sister's bed. As Carolyn rolled to her side, Emma rolled with her, spooning up against her sister and settling her arm around Carolyn's chest. The girls looked identical; their long red hair both tied up in pony tails and spilling in red streamers behind them. Emma shifted against the pillow, nuzzling her sister's neck to find a comfortable spot. The two girls settled within moments, and lay contentedly together. They looked lovely. I had seen the girls sleep together, of course. Many times over many years. Especially when it was cold. But that was when they were little girls, not grown women. That was before I had- I checked myself, closed the door to their room and went to bed. Too much, I told myself. Too much had happened and I couldn't understand it. Sleep. I needed sleep. I went to my room and slept. In the morning, when the radio brought me to a proper waking, and daylight was streaming through the slits in the curtains, I felt much better. Much more refreshed. At breakfast, I cooked the girls a hearty one; to make up for not having a proper dinner (or so I assumed) the night before. We sat round the table, slouching in pyjamas and dressing gowns, talking about the local news. But what I really wanted to talk about- what I felt I needed to clear my head - was about yesterday's events. "Were you very cold last night Emma?" I said, raising the question as though it had just popped into my mind. Emma looked up and me, then back to her bowl of cereal. "Nope." "Oh. It's just that I, uh. I checked in on you last night and you were curled up in Carolyn's bed." The two girls shared an 'Emmalyn' look over their breakfasts. "You looked so sweet, the two of you." I continued. "Just like you used to do when you were both younger. Only you're bigger now. You do know those are single beds, right? Thank Goodness neither of you weighs much!" I smiled, chuckling at the hollow comment. There was a silence. Far too long to be comfortable. And Carolyn's response didn't sound right. "We do it a lot, mom." she said. The discomfort around the table got a little cooler. "But why? Are the rooms too cold? I could turn up the heating..." "No, it's not that. We just- we just like cuddling up sometimes, that's all." Emma shot her sister a glare and growled a warning. But Carolyn shrugged. "But honey" I said, smiling and still trying to be reasonable, "You can cuddle up to Mr Jingles. He's been your teddy bear since forever." "Yeah mom" Carolyn replied, raising her eyebrows in casual defiance. "I'm, like, a grown woman now. Mr Jingles is nice to have in bed but he's not exactly cuddle material. But Ems is." She said the last words to her sister, winking. Emma had grown pink spots on her cheeks but wasn't saying anything. "Well" I said, not quite holding back the anger welling up inside me. "There are plenty of people to cuddle up to, I'm sure. And, and there's nothing wrong with cuddling your sister, but you know it's not right! It's not-" "Why not mom? Why isn't it right?" "Carolyn, leave it." "No, I won't 'leave it', Emma. Why isn't okay for me and Emma to cuddle up. We're sisters, right? Twin sisters. We've shared everything we've ever had, so why not some intimacy, huh?" "Carolyn!" Emma reached for her sister, but Carolyn shrugged her away. "Carolyn Louise; you stop that right now!" I said, stammering. "You can't- you can't-" "I can't what, mom: cuddle up with another woman? Oh please don't give me that line, mom. Not you of all people!" "What do you mean, 'not me of all people?" "Would you rather we brought home someone from college? Or a nightclub? Or a-" she paused here for a moment, "-stranger? Is that what you'd prefer mom? That we fucked some stranger to get our kicks?" "I said, what do you mean, 'not me of all people?" Carolyn went to answer, the flame in her eyes all fire and brimstone, but then she stopped herself. Dropped her spoon onto the table and got up. "I'm done." she said, and stormed off. Emma sat quietly in her chair staring at her untouched, unwanted cereal. I sat, stunned for a moment, too shocked to say anything. What was Carolyn saying? What exactly did she mean by the 'intimacy' she and Emma shared? "Emma, honey. Emma what was your sister talking about?" Emma shook her head, unable or unwilling to answer. "Emma, sweetie-" I reached across the table for her hand but she shook her head again and flinched away from me." "Mom, you wouldn't understand." "Understand what, honey?" "Between me and Carolyn. You just wouldn't." I went to reach out for her again, but Emma jerked backwards from the table and got up. Face flushed, eyes staring at her feet, she half walked-half stumbled away to the room she shared with her sister. I sat for a moment, confused and-. And if I had to put a word to the feeling, heartbroken. That's what I felt like. Heartbroken. I didn't know why. I got up, my own breakfast untouched, and went back to my own bedroom. I lay down for a while, but couldn't sleep. Then I went and had a long, long shower. I stood under the hot rainfall in my little en-suite cubicle and let the water patter onto my skin and drain away my fears. I stood for a very long time, until the hot water started to run cold and my feet were getting sore. When I went back out into the main house, dressed in clothes and my familiar old tenacious mood, I found it was empty. Even the kitchen table was free from the unwanted breakfasts we had fought above earlier on. My daughters had cleared up and cleared out for the day. I called the Library, told them I would be in after lunch, and went back to the sofa. Understanding Emmalyn I picked up the remote control and started to flick through the channels. At the touch of a button I did not mean to press, the DVD player began to whir and, when it started to read the disc in its tray, a new image flickered onto the screen. The image went from dark, the dark red, and fuzzy. There was some muffled sound then everything became a fuzzy bright light before refocusing. "There. It's on." Emma's voice. And Emma's face, retreating from the close-up of the camera. Emma retreated a little way and I could see that the video was shot in the girls' room upstairs. Emma went and sat down on a chair in the middle of the room next to her sister. Both girls were grinning; first at each other, then at the camera. "Okay, okay" said Emma. "Web video number one. My name is Emmalyn-" "And my name is Emmalyn too!" said Carolyn, sitting next to her. My two girls had adopted identical poses and were dressed exactly the same; sneakers, gym pants (exposing a whole lot of leg), and white tennis tops. Both wore identical make-up (making them look really very grown up), and had their hair brushed straight behind their backs. Identical twins to start with, they had played on this and could have looked like clones. In the video, Emma gave her sister a short, disapproving look and returned her smile to the camera. "This is my other self, Emmalyn. Who's a little bit naughty." She said that last bit with an exaggerated stage whisper, hand cocked to mouth. Carolyn nodded enthusiastically. "And today, I - we - are going to act out one of our favorite scenes for you." Carolyn pouted heavily. "Hey" she said. "Should that be 'I am going to act out...', or 'we are going to act out...'?" Emma smiled through this and said, out of the corner of her mouth, "It doesn't matter, dummy. They can see we're the same person split into two. I don't think they care about our grammar." "Oh right" said Carolyn, acting up the happy idiot. "They care about our tits, right?" At this, she grabbed her own breasts and squeezed them together. Emma swatted at her sister absent mindedly. "Not yet! Not yet!" she said in that stage whisper again. "Okay. This time we'll act out the scene. Remember, this is an interpretation, not a Shakespearean production." A wagged finger reinforced this point. Then the two girls shifted to face each other; each planting their hands on their knees and sitting upright. "Oh Rhett! Rhett-" said Carolyn, acting up the part of Scarlet O'Hara from 'Gone with the wind', "Rhett, whatever is going to become of us?" "Frankly, my dear" said, in a deep drawl, "I don't give a damn!" Then the two girls leaned into one another and kissed on the lips. At first, they kissed lightly but then, as their kisses began to take on more urgency, I watched as Carolyn reach out with her right hand and squeeze her sister's breast. At this, Emma drew back from the kiss with an exasperated look on her face. "Emmalyn!" she said. "Yes, Emmalyn?" replied her sister. "I'm pretty sure that in the film, Scarlet doesn't grab Rhett Butler's tits." Carolyn giggled, then said to Emma; "But I like them. I really do." this last comment was to the camera. Emma turned back to the camera, her pretend-professional smile once more on her lips. "Thank you for watching. In the next web vid, we'll be looking at another great kissing scene from the movies." "What about the boobies?" said Carolyn, grabbing her own once again. Emma ignored her and got up. She stepped up to the camera, blew it a kiss from very close-up, Impish and exquisite at the same time, then switched it off. The screen went dark. I sat for a moment, dumbfounded. I had just watched my twin girls kissing each other. Touching each other. For a moment, silence filled the room, and my head. Then the screen burst into life once more. This time, the two girls were much closer to the camera; only an arm's length away. Their heads, shoulders and chests filled the screen as they sat almost hip-to-hip beside each other. Both were dressed in shirts or blouses (it was difficult to tell, these days), and were once again made-up identically. "Hi. This is Emmalyn." said Emma. "And Emmalyn." said her sister. "This is web vid number... what number is it, Emmalyn?" "Who knows? Who cares?" "Right. This is web vid number whatever. And this is a quick scene we both really really like from one of our favorite films." "Right." "This is the 'Homecoming' scene from 'Daisy Does Desiree' a Sappho-lite production." Emma turned to her sister; almost nose to nose, and started panting. "I never thought you'd come back, Daisy!" she said, theatrically. "You said that you didn't love me!" "I don't, bitch. I just want you for your gorgeous body. Prepare to be ravished!" With that two girls leaned into each other and started kissing furiously. Not just lips, but tongues; flashing around each other's mouths like whips. They did this for a long time, kissing passionately. Then, as if on some pre-arranged signal, they reached out and started undoing each other's shirt buttons. They struggled out of their shirts - never once breaking from their kiss - and exposed their naked breasts side-on to the camera. They reach out once more, touching, holding and squeezing each other's breasts as the passion of their kissing rose to even greater levels. I watched as Emma took her sister's nipple between finger and thumb and squeeze hard on the raised bud. Carolyn moaned but did not break off the embrace for a moment. She reached out in return and- The screen went blank. I dropped the remote control having made sure I could see no more. "Oh girls." I said, breathing the words quietly. "Oh my girls, what has happened?" It later, much later in the day, after I'd called in to the library to say I was feeling sick (which was true), that I got up and moved. I went upstairs, not really knowing what I was going to do, and found myself walking towards the girls' room. I opened the door and the familiar smell - the combined, dual scent of them both - flooded into me. It was a scent both earthy and sweet at the same time; he scent of their sweat from clothes worn and waiting to be washed. The scent of lotions, hairsprays and body sprays. The scent of cosmetics used to make the body beautiful. The scent of their bedclothes; not covered in sweat but somehow infused with the scent of who they were. It was the scent I had grown to love with every tiny molecule of my heart. From the very minute they had been born; had come out from between my own legs and into the world as their own people, I had loved them and tended to them. It was, in many ways, the most comforting - the most homely - scent I could ever imagine. I thought I would be revulsed by it. Thought that what I had seen and heard (and yes; I was now convinced that I had caught them engaged in sex together the other day), would bubble away like some horrible kernel of hate within me. And that this kernel of hatred and revulsion would be overpowered by the dual scent of them from their room. But it wasn't. I could still feel nothing but love for my beautiful daughters. Could never wish on them the ire of that hateful revulsion. What I felt, as I began to realise, was a different emotion. A mixed emotion. Ignorance - dreadful, awful ignorance of how I could not have known about their obvious feelings for each other, their angst, their own emotions. Ignorance of the fact that these two stunningly beautiful girls had grown into their own sexual melodrama without me even noticing. And shame. Not the shame that you might expect; the shame of daughters blighting my expectations of them, or acting in a debauched way. Not that shame at all. It was the shame that if they were doing anything wrong, it had been my fault. '...don't give me that line, mom. Not you of all people!' I sat down on Carolyn's bed. Carolyn's bed where only hours earlier the two sisters had slept within each other's arms. Where only a day previously they had stripped and fucked each other; pumped full of hormones and a rage of passion for each other, sweat dripping from their brows, saliva spilling from their mouths, hot wetness trickling from between each other's legs. I sat on the edge of the bed and cried. I cried and cried until it left me heaving for breath in hard ragged sobs. I thought about everything I could from when the girls made that change from pre-teens obsessed with nothing more important than dolls and chocolate and pretty things, to young women; tormented by widening hips, growing breasts and relentless waves of hormones, coursing through their bodies without a by-or-leave as they did. I tried to pick out where and when it was that I had so blindly missed their feelings for each other. Their 'intimacy' for each other. I could not. I only dreaded that there was some other influence, other than that I was aware of, which was compelled them towards each other. And then, the realization hit me. There was. And it was my fault. In a suddenness that made me feel foolish, I knew exactly where my fault lay. I had even dreamed the clue to it last night. Carolin. More than a decade had passed since that night when Emma had caught me in a passionate embrace with the other woman. More than ten years and only that one tiny glimpse into that image of Sapphic intimacy. But it had been enough. And, of course, Carolin and I had looked so similar. It must have been that thought which had fermented and blossomed and swelled in Emma's mind as she grew and tried to understand and contain all those raging hormones through her teenage years. And it must have been that blossoming thought she shared with her twin sister. And now the two were, what? Lesbians? Lovers? Or just sexually curious? I could not tell, and was suddenly overcome with the grief of my own guilt. I curled up on the bed where my two daughters had rubbed and touched and entered each other. Lay my head close to the pillow where the shared smell of their sex and sweat and scent filed my nostrils, and closed my eyes. And slept. I awoke a few hours later, somehow feeling much more refreshed than I expected to. I inhaled deeply of that scent the two girls shared and, in some kind, wonderful way, had an epiphany of sorts. And my epiphany told me this: Neither of my girls were cruel. Neither were stupid or vindictive or aggressive. Neither of them did drugs (of that I was fairly sure). Neither of them were in trouble with the authorities. And neither of them - I hoped and wished with all my heart - hated their mother. And that, I realized, was the most important thing in the world. So I decided to confront this issue positively and, in some way, come to understand this "Emmalyn" my daughters professed to be. I got up and went back downstairs to the lounge. I sat down, switched on the TV and picked up the remote. I hesitated only a few moments, then pressed the 'resume' button to switch to DVD. The screen flickered and I steeled myself to see the girls as they were in that last pose; naked from the chest up; groping each other and kissing passionately. But the video had not frozen at that point. It had rolled on to its conclusion and returned back to the root menu. I studied the menu for a moment, looking not at the tiny moving thumbnails, showing images of my girls in any number of clinches. I looked at the details beside each thumbnail. At the number of scenes, and date when each was recorded. There were seven scenes. And the earliest one went back over a year and a half ago. A year and a half! I barely expected them to be sexually curious, let alone active, at that age. The most recent scene was barely a few weeks old. Hand trembling slightly, I selected the first scene and pressed 'play'. Emma was seated in the middle of the room, side on to the camera. She definitely looked younger; it showed in her cheekbones and her face, if not her clothes. She was wearing jogging pants and a white t-shirt, similar to the clothes her and Carolyn were wearing in another of the scenes. The camera blurred, then Carolyn hurried back from the close-up view (where no doubt she'd initiated the recording) and took a seat opposite her sister, facing her. The two composed themselves for a moment, then sat still; hands on their laps. Eventually, Emma raised her right hand up to her face, leaning forward and touching a spot close to the corner of her mouth. Moving at exactly the same time, Carolyn raised her left hand and copied her sister's movements. Emma turned her head a little to the left, Carolyn a little to the right. Emma sat back, and so did Carolyn. Emma smiled and mouthed out the words 'one, two, three' and then the two of them leaned forwards quickly and shouted "Boo!" before falling back and laughing. The mirror spell was broken and the two had to compose themselves for a moment. Then they folded their hands back onto their laps once more. This time, they repeated their movements but when Carolyn copied her sister's leaning motion forward, Emma didn't stop. She reach out and kissed her sister on the lips, then sat back and laughed like crazy. Carolyn laughed to, but looked a little stunned. She got up and turned the video off. The screen stayed blank and I pressed the 'root menu' button. I looked through the thumbnails and selected one where both the girls were dressed differently. I wanted, hoped, to see them talking to each other, or to a third person, rather than act out some invented role. I selected the fifth scene, where the moving thumbnail showed them not as identical twins but as two girls facing away from each other. The screen flickered to that one and I saw Emma's hand reach back from the camera as it came into focus. Carolyn was dressed in her prom gown; a beautiful shimmering lilac dress that had thin shoulder straps a tailored bodice that perfectly accentuated her slim figure. It had a criss-cross lattice of laces at the back, and fell almost to her ankles. But in this camera view, I could only see as far as her waist. She had all her make-up on, her long red hair pinned up against her head, but looked sad and stared away from the camera. Emma re-emerged into view, dressed sloppily for bed as she always preferred to do, hair gathered up in a pony-tail. She did not acknowledge the camera and I knew right away that this was another acted part. I wanted to turn it off, but couldn't. Carolyn looked so sad, I had to see why. Emma reached out a hand and touched her sister's shoulder tentatively. "Hey sis. How are you-" "Go away. Leave me alone." She shrugged the hand off her shoulder. Emma looked a bit stunned, but only in an acted way. "Hey" she said, defensively. "I was only checking to see if you were okay. It's like, one hour from your big date and you looked a little sad." "I am a little sad, but you wouldn't understand." "I wouldn't understand? Of course I would. I know we have some secrets, like your hot date for tonight, but we understand everything about each other, right?" Emma replaced her hand on her sister's shoulder, and this time it wasn't rejected. "No. You wouldn't. You see there's something about me that you don't understand. I'm a- I'm a-" "What is it, sis? You can tell me anything." "I'm a lesbian. There. I've said it. I'm a lesbian. I love other girls. When I dream about sex, it's not with boys but with girls." "Hey" said Emma, stroking her sister's shoulder in soft, little sweeps, "It's okay. I'm a lesbian too." Carolyn reached across her chest and placed her hand on Emma's, holding it for sympathy or comfort. She smiled sadly. "Thanks sis, but it's not just that. There's one special girl who I love more than anyone else." At this, Emma shifted and moved up close behind her sister. She licked her lips and said; "Is it me, sis? Is that who you dream about?" Carolyn nodded. "Good." said Emma. "Because in my dreams it's you who I think of too." She planted a soft kiss on the side of Carolyn's neck and her sister shivered a little (if there was anything unrehearsed about this little scene to that point, it was that shiver). Emma then sat back and started to play with the laces at the back of Carolyn's gown, loosing them with no particular hurry. "Somehow, I've always known; ever since we were little girls." "Known what?" said Carolyn, unmoving as her sister undressed her. "Known that you and I would feel this way. Like it was meant to be. Somehow, I've always felt this way; knowing that only I could understand the way you feel." The laces fell apart and the gown began to slip from Carolyn's bare shoulders. "How do I feel?" said Carolyn, shrugging slightly to let the gown slip further down. Emma finished with the laces and smoothed her hands across her sister's back, then up over her shoulders to remove the gown. Carolyn shrugged it off and reached behind her with both hands. Her breasts were high and softly rounded. Her nipples dark and jutting from her breasts like hard nubs. Emma reached her hands around her sister's body and traced her fingertips over Carolyn's breasts (again that shiver - that genuine shiver), and held her. The two embraced, back-to-back, and Emma squeezed her sister's breasts hard. "You feel that you want me so bad, it'll tear you apart if you don't get me. But if you revealed this secret, it would ruin everything." "Yes." "But you don't have to be worried. I want you just as much." Carolyn turned, finally and embraced her twin sister with a long, slow passionate kiss. I sat there, watching my two beautiful daughters kiss one another and, for the first time, realized that they were indeed beautiful. Each had those high, proud cheekbones, pale skin, deep green eyes and full red lips that we so often see in models and movie stars of the like. And even their hair; Carolyn's tied up around her head, Emma's bound back in a pony-tail that snaked down between her shoulder blades, even that hair had the awesome twin quality of being exactly the right shade and length to suit the girl's looks, complexion and figure. As you'd expect of a famous movie star. But they were my girls in real life. And they were beautiful. Each of them was a beautiful girl but together... ...together they were dazzling; mirroring each other's smiles and gestures and touches and words. Each displaying the same love and passion in equal amounts. I could not hate them. Couldn't hate them for whatever intimacy they shared. It was then' at that moment so perfectly adjusted to the timings of a movie or TV show, that the front door opened, and I heard the high bright laughter of Carolyn spill in to the house. Emma's voice, drifted in from behind and then, almost immediately the laughing stopped. The movement faltered. "Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus Christ." I hadn't moved, and the video filling the TV screen in front of me continued to show the two sisters kissing passionately as drapes of clothes were taken off and abandoned. I felt my heart thudding in my chest as I picked up the remote control, levelled it at the TV screen and pressed the button to switch it off. The silence that followed was pregnant, and belligerent. I forced myself to take a few measured breaths, then leaned forward and stood up. Still no sound or movement behind me. It took another effort of will to turn around and look at the girls. But I did. Emma was wearing jeans and boots, with a t-shirt covered by a trademark sloppy cardigan. Her hair spilled freely around her shoulders. Carolyn worse a tight, above-knee skirt with tights or stockings and two-inch business shoes, with a blouse and jacket that made her look far more businesslike than her usual look. As if to contrast her sister on this day (of all days), Carolyn's hair was tied back into a pony-tail. Carolyn was staring at the floor, cheeks burning with hot redness. Emma, for her part, was staring at the now darkened TV screen; face as white as a sheet, unable to tear her gaze from the images she must have saw that I was watching. I stared from one to the other, feeling my heart thud heavily beneath my ribs. I took two steps toward them, and saw Emma flinch as though I were going to strike her. I stopped. Felt a tear roll down my cheek. Then stepped forward again. Understanding Emmalyn "Oh my girls." I said. "My poor, poor girls." I carried on toward them, arms open and unmindful of Emma's flinch, or Carolyn's rooted gaze. I stepped up to my daughters and pulled them toward me, holding them in an embrace, wishing, willing the love I had for them to flow out of my arms to them. Gradually, I felt Carolyn's hand gingerly creep around the small of my back, then Emma's a little higher. I hugged them closer, crying tears into the softly scented hair of each girl in turn. "My beautiful beautiful girls. Oh I love you so much." I said, even though the words were half choked and muffled by blonde-streaked red hair. We stood together for a long while. Eventually, I felt the arms around my back tighten and pull me in to the shared embrace. And then, when we had stepped away from each other, I kissed each of them on the cheek and went into the kitchen to make dinner. I wanted us all to have a special meal. Just because we were all together again. Later, much later, when night had drawn in and I had found some measure of peace within myself once more, I crept upstairs and opened the door to Emma and Carolyn's room. The shaft of light from the hallway knifed in on Carolyn's empty bed. I stepped in further, and stopped when I saw the curled-up double form lying close together under the covers of Emma's bed. All clothes, jeans, tops, skirts and underwear - even pyjamas - had been discarded on the floor. An arm, bare to the shoulder and connected to a hear of blonde-streaked red hair whose owner even I could identify, was slung lazily over the other form in the bed. Both girls slept peacefully. I crept away slowly and closed the door quietly. I had nothing but love for my daughters, and I knew that even the events of the last few days were nothing but a harsh test of that love. I did not understand why they had found such intimacy with one another. Especially when they had everyone and everything to choose from. Perhaps it was the incident I had with Carolin all those years ago. Perhaps it was that uncanny sameness they shared - even for identical twins. I did not know. But I would have time. As much time as I would need for understanding 'Emmalyn'. End Understanding Human Sexuality A quick look in this "how to" section will reveal a veritable cornucopia of guides about why men and women do various things, or the precise mechanics of foreplay, or even how to "get laid" if you're a geeky guy. These can all be useful, but there's a tremendous amount of subjectivity involved in these discourses. The purpose of this rather brief essay is to disseminate a more scientific understanding of both male and female sexuality in terms of evolutionary biology. Before we delve into men and women, we must first understand the rather simple mechanism of natural selection. The genetic imperative is a simple one: replication. In a world of limited size/resources, which is commonly referred to as a "Malthusian world," those able to produce the best/most/best equipped progeny, survive and are "selected" by overwhelming the less advantaged. As Richard Dawkins eloquently demonstrated in The Selfish Gene, complex organisms are akin to highly developed vehicles for Genes, and specifically serve their single imperative. Humans are unique in their capacity to cooperate with non-kin members of the same species, however we are still essentially the same sorts of vehicles as other organisms. The only other prerequisite for approaching human sexual behavior in terms of biology, is understanding the separation of proximal and ultimate causation. Proximal causes can be understood as emotional drives or feelings. Ultimate causation is the logic underlying these urges. The latter is what we will examine here. Now, onto the topic at hand: human sexuality. Men: Males are simple creatures (in terms of sexuality). Facial hair appears to be one of the most prominent sexually selected physical attributes particular to men. The human penis and testes are both relatively large (in relation to our body mass) compared to other primates. The size of the human penis is directly correlated to the size of the human vagina, which is necessarily large to accommodate birthing a child who has gestated for 9 months and has a fucking big skull. The shape of the human penis creates a squeegee-like effect with repeated thrusting (this, in conjunction with examples to follow, has been understood to function as a means of removing competing sperm from other males that may reside in a woman's vagina and within the cervical cavity, which indicates early humans were likely adapted to promiscuous mating). The large testes of the human male (relative to the rather small testes of our close relative the gorilla) are capable of producing hundreds of millions of sperm. Empirical studies (see Sperm Wars) have demonstrated that men unconsciously control the amount of sperm they ejaculate based on the probability of the presence of other competing sperm in the female, as well as based on the amount of time that has past since they last copulated with the given female, maxing out on average at about 600 million sperm. Another point of interest supporting the promiscuous mating hypothesis, is known as the "Coolidge effect." It turns out that the human male (along with a myriad of other mammals adapted to promiscuous mating) is capable of performing sexually multiple times in a row, without the assistance of Viagra, under certain circumstances. The first circumstance occurs when a male is presented with the opportunity to fertilize multiple different women. The second occurs when another male is present, and the second male releases sperm into the female in question after the first. In this case, as long as the first male is conscious of this activity, he will be able to once again perform sexually, and inject additional sperm into the female. Women: Females are a tad more complex than males, in a sexual sense. The most prominent sexually selected attribute women exhibit appears to be breasts (while other primates have breasts, most of them tend to physically morph into features indistinguishable from their male counterparts when not in the stage of nursing children). As a result of the long gestation and weaning period of human offspring, females are far more selective when it comes to sex. They also exhibit an interesting attribute that is seen in some (but not all) of the other great apes. This attribute is called occult ovulation. It basically means that the human female is highly skilled at hiding (not only from males, but her own conscious mind) the exact times at which her body will be capable of fertilization. This attribute helps the female obscure paternity from males, and in conjunction with other factors, allows her to more actively select paternity for her offspring from sexual partners. Another fascinating, though not entirely explainable phenomenon is called cervical tenting. Cervical tenting occurs when a woman achieves orgasm. At that point, the cervical opening assumes a shape that looks a bit like an elephant trunk, and functions as a straw, and with each contraction it angles down into the vagina and sucks up either vaginal fluid (which is acidic and, once incorporated into the cervical mucus, will reduce the likelihood of fertilization) or, if it present, sperm (increasing the chances of fertilization). Ultimate motivations: Men, who in promiscuous situations have only nominal assurance of paternity, and have little invested in child bearing, have a tendency to mate with as many females as possible (in order to assure maximum replication of their genes). Monogamous situations, which seem to occur as humans achieve longer lifespans, change this formula a bit, as paternity is more clearly assured, and the male has more to gain by investing resources into his progeny. In such situations the male becomes more heavily invested in child rearing, and less inclined to engage in promiscuous behavior (though one would expect vestigial urges to remain). Females are assured of genetic relatedness to their offspring, regardless of the sexual conventions of her culture. As previously mentioned, long periods of gestation combined with protracted periods of nursing make the female highly invested in selecting the proper male to father her offspring. Highly promiscuous societies like the Canela appear to obscure paternity in an effort to build social cohesion and discourage infanticidal urges and the like. In monogamous societies, the female still has motivation to "cheat." This urge is demonstrated in many other animals including certain birds previously assumed to be monagmous, that frequently "cheat," when possible, to procure superior sperm for fertilization. The logic behind this motivation is rooted in the female's guaranteed genetic relatedness. In either monogamous or promiscuous situations, the female's optimal strategy is to attempt to find the best possible sperm donor, in conjunction with the best possible provider (not necessarily the same individuals) to support her family. Conclusions: Putting moral judgments aside, it is important to realize the causation of our various urges. Ultimate "happiness", inasmuch as happiness is defined as satiating all of one's desires, is rarely achieved. In both promiscuous and monogamous societies various natural urges are suppressed. In the former type of society, jealousy is "evil" and is punished as such. In the latter type, promiscuity is "evil" and likewise punished. Obviously there are individuals able to transcend cultural limitations in either case, but these are exceptions to the rule. What is important to understand here is that these proximal urges are rooted in a single, logical genetic imperative. This seems rather simple, but it has dramatic implications when it comes to morality. Understanding Mother My mother had gone shopping. I expected her to be gone at least an hour, maybe two, but at least one. She was having a diner party on Saturday evening for three or four of her best girlfriends where they would sit around, drink wine and whine about how badly they had been mistreated by their, here fill in the blanks, husbands, boyfriends, brothers, fathers, etc, and they could always find an extra etc. when the conversation slowed. So, here I was, a healthy 18 year old with a strong libido and testosterone flooded brain and a penis needing but a random thought to get hard. My father had died when I was twelve and mother dated a few times, unsuccessfully, and then decided to wait until I was eighteen before venturing into the dating waters again. She told me that she wanted a man for her, not one who had to be responsible for me or felt an obligation. I didn't understand but simply accepted it. After all, having her all to myself seemed like a good thing. We got along well, she liked me and I liked her. She was funny, smart, educated and seemed to understand boys. At least she didn't get all crazy like some of my friend's mother did when they did "boy" things such as getting all dirty playing ball or working on cars or just "doing stuff". Yeah, she was pretty cool. She stood about 5 foot seven inches and weighed about 145 pounds, with a 36 C bra and size six panties. Oh, yeah, you knew where this was going. I had recently developed a fetish for my mother's lingerie. It was just so "female" and as a lustful young man it was becoming very hard to resist. Her perfume had always smelled good and it always made me feel comfortable. It was the other smells that were to get my major attention and this day was the day I had decided to get a real chance to smell "those other smells". I had discovered "those other smells" quite by accident. Our house had a basement and all the dirty clothes were simply dropped down the "laundry chute" into a big hamper close to the washer and dryer. Until last week, that was the extent of my thoughts about dirty clothes. They went down the chute and came back clean and folded. But last week I got a lot more educated. I had thrown a pair of pants down the chute, just like always. I was getting dressed to go out with some friends. When I went to put my money in my pocket I couldn't find it. I had a feeling of panic, where did I lose it? I searched the floor, under the bed, in the drawers, all to no avail. Then, a bolt of "OH, I know" hit me and I went down to the basement to the laundry basket under the chute, knowing I had left the money in the pants I had tossed the other day. The basket was about half full and I started pulling out the clothes on top. Shirts, socks, a skirt or two, more socks...And then a bra. I could smell the perfume and put the bra to my nose for a better whiff. It was silky with a bit of lace. Nice, and though I had seen her bra many times before, and even seen her in them, today was different. I got a funny feeling in my crotch. There was a line between my nose and my crotch. Next I pulled out a pair of panties and as I was pulling them away from the basket I caught the scent of them. WOW! The line between my nose and my crotch became a super highway between my nose and my penis. It just grew hard. Fast. Real hard and real fast. The smell was more than perfume. It was another smell, one I had not noticed before and it got my whole attention. My body became a total sexual organ, my hands so very aware of the soft sensual feeling ( I didn't know then how to describe it, but knew how it felt) that added a new dimension to the erotic nature of the total experience. All this before I even brought them to my nose and face. My fingertips relayed a message. There was another path, actually a broadening path, between my fingers and my penis. I brought the panties to my nose, and took a deeper whiff. That is when I really noticed a lot more than the perfume. I didn't have any idea what it was, only that it caused my body to shake and my hands to start rubbing the silky material all over my face. Just then I heard the garage door opening and the sound of my mother's car. With but moments before she was in the garage and able to see me I put the bra back, stuffed the panties in my pocket, grabbed my dirty pants and started looking for my money, finding it just as the car pulled in. "HI, Jason," my mother said as she opened the door. "Are you doing laundry now?" "No, I just had to get my money," I replied, and as I did so I became aware of the tent in my pants, the redness of my flushed face, heck my whole body, and quickly turned away saying "I'm late, have to get going" as I rushed back upstairs to finish dressing. I closed my bedroom door and stood , still yet shaking all over. I had just had one of the most erotic experiences of my life. My hard on was tenting my trousers and aching for relief. I was panting, not from the exertion of running up the stairs but from the sexual feelings and tension in my body. And I was so aware of the panties in my pocket, just waiting for me to pull them out to sniff and fondle. (984) I was still shaking a little from the sexual excitement overload. Just them my mother knocked on my door, a real banging knock, and asked me to open the door. Still trembling a bit and with a tent in my pants I opened the door and facing away from my mother went to my desk and computer to hide my situation. "What are your plans for later, Jason? You know I'm having my friends over this evening. Will you be home?" I had no idea of plans, mine or hers at this moment, but I quickly said "I'm going to the movies with a couple of the guys." I quickly added, "And, no, I don't know which movie yet." "What's that hanging out of your pocket, Jason? Are those my panties?" My mind raced to the garage and my quickly stuffing the pink panties in my pocket. In my haste I apparently did a poor job and the pink panties were a bright contrast to my brown trousers. Nice color combination, but a very visible "I'm caught" contrast now. She walked over to me, reached down, and pulled the fabric from my pocket. I stood there mortified, ashamed at being caught, feeling like a real pervert. The only blessing was that my hard-on was beginning to shrink. "What are you doing with my panties, Jason?" Thinking quickly I said, "they must have got caught in my hand when I put my money in my pocket, mom." "Let me see your money Jason." Now I had a problem. The money is in my right pocket and the panties were in my left pocket. As I reached to get the money both my mother and I realized the same thing. I had grabbed her panties in addition to the money. "Jason, why did you take my panties?" Stammering I replied "I don't know," the standard answer of all little kids, which I was beginning to feel like right now. "Oh, Jason, don't feel bad. I think I know why you took my panties. They are so female and you are a young man full of hormones and females' smell and clothing can be very exciting. Were you going to masturbate with them?" "Of course you were, I understand. Come here, honey, and give your mother a big hug. Come here." I did as I was told, walking in to her open arms, my hard on no longer shrinking but growing. My mother put her arms around me and pulled me real close to her, pushing her lower body against mine. I felt her pushing against my stiff penis, almost grinding against me. I felt her breasts against my chest and my penis got even stiffer, more rigid. "I can feel your excitement, Jason, and it is just fine. Don't be ashamed or upset, but mothers know things about boys and men. It is natural for men to get excited by females, it is nature's way for the human race to continue." She put her hands on my lower back and rubbed some more. It was too much and in my very high state of arousal I started to cum. Right then, right there against my mother. My whole body became stiff, my breathing turned ragged and heavy, and my mother just held me and started cooing in my ear. "It's OK, honey, just let it happen. Just enjoy the moment, Jason. Just enjoy what is happening right now. Just enjoy how my body feels against yours. I am enjoying it, you should just enjoy it too." I was silent, she was quiet and we just stood there for a few minutes longer until I stopped shaking and my breathing slowed a bit. Then she pushed me away a bit, looked down at the big wet spot on my pants and asked, "Feel better now, honey? Of course you do. Mothers know." She tossed the panties on the bed, turned and walked out of the room saying, "I'll leave so you can get changed.. Remember your mother loves you, Jason." I looked at the panties laying there and started to get another hard-on. Understanding My Place! Let me see if I can give you an idea of how things came to be, before you decide I'm crazy! About six months ago, my husband of six years decided I no longer made him excited. He said that whatever it was that had made him love me, no longer was there. He filed for divorce sighting, irreconcilable differences. All of which came as a complete surprise to me at the time. He stated that I had not lived up to my side of the marriage, because in his opinion, I no longer provided sex! It was only after looking back at the past two years that I realized I had gained a considerable amount of weight, about thirty pounds, and had let myself go. I guess I thought that Ron still loved me, but I never really gave it any thought, being satisfied that he would always be there for me. Needless to say, when the paperwork arrived, I knew that that was not the truth! It was at that point that I took a long hard look at whom I had become, both inside and out, and decided a major change was needed. Ron agreed to pay me a small amount of alimony until I could get back on my feet. I had never really wanted, or needed to find a job while we were together, as Ron had a very lucrative business. It wasn't until I found myself looking for a place to live with no means of support myself that I realized some of the things that Ron had sighted. I found a modest one-bedroom apartment not far from downtown. It afforded a nice view of the riverside skyline and was very close to all the nightlife of our small city. I never really noticed that people around town were so friendly as I had always depended on Ron for everything; a mistake I only now was realizing had been a mistake! I guess I am a bit of a homebody, because I had never really wanted to go out and mingle unless Ron had a party or meeting at which he wanted me to attend. Now I found myself looking at an empty apartment, looking at the small amount of personal items I had accumulated in our six years together. My entire life fit into a small packing box and one overnight bag! Ron had taken me out to a furniture store and bought enough furniture to make it seem quite homey. He made sure that I had enough money to get by for a few months, and had left me a small amount of money to start a bank account. I guess I should have been outraged at the amount, being used to total access to our account for all those years, but in my mind I was satisfied at him giving me anything at all. That just went to show where my head had been at the time. I was still blaming myself for allowing things to get to the point where he had felt it necessary to leave me. After about three weeks of feeling sorry for myself, I found a job waiting tables at a local sports club. The clientele was a mixture of older people during the day and the occasional couple or two, but for the most part it was usually empty. That was fine with me to start, I had never really had any experience doing waitressing work and the owner said that I would get the hang of it soon enough. Arlund, the owner, was a nice guy, tall about six foot five, nicely proportion. He had graying brown hair that he kept cut short, and a nicely trimmed mustache, also graying. He had a way about him that immediately made me feel comfortable and welcome. Arlund seemed to be decidedly upset at the description my ex had used to describe me. "Your not fat Connie! Most guys would call you nicely padded! I myself like a woman who's not all skin and bones." he said nicely. I could see that he was sincere, but looking at my five foot three frame, I decided that the weight I had put on was not at all attractive. I could remember looking a lot better when Ron and I had met ten years earlier. The reflection in the mirror no longer looked like anyone I ever thought I'd be. "Well Arlund, I guess I see something completely different. There was a time when I could turn a few heads with the way I looked!" I murmured at my reflection. "I'll tell you what Con, why don't you join me for a little get together I'm attending with some friends of mine? You needn't feel uncomfortable about meeting them; they're all just plain ordinary folks, and no super-models in the bunch I promise you. If after the party you still feel the way you do, I'd be happy to help you out anyway I can OK?" he smiled. The warmth and genuine concern for my well-being was more than I had seen in quite a long time. Arlund's smile was warm and not at all what I had originally thought of the gruff exterior he projected. I decided that a night out might be just what I needed. Arlund seemed to take my far off look as an agreement to the date. "Good, then pack an overnight bag, and I'll pick you up at seven, we have a long way to drive tonight!" he snickered as I looked up in surprise. "But, but, I don't know what to take with me. Where are we going? Is it a formal thing or what?" I stammered, not realizing I had indeed just agreed to accompany him. "Just relax Con", he said beginning to massage my shoulders in a more than familiar way. "Everyone you'll meet tonight will be dressed the same, casual! You don't need to put on any airs around them I promise." he said. I guess I just took his word for it and started getting excited about meeting a new circle of friends. Little did I realize at the time how much that decision would change my life so completely! Arlund's smile took on a more possessive look whenever he mentioned us going to the weekend gathering. I guess in my excitement, I hadn't seen the gleam in his eyes, then! We closed early that day, because Arlund wanted to give me time to get ready. There wasn't any real need to keep it open, as no one had been in in over an hour. So, I rushed home to shower and put a small overnight bag together. With a somewhat distasteful look at my reflection, I dressed in what I thought would be "casual" clothing. I had decided on jeans and a warm pullover sweater, which hid the bulges that I no longer wanted anyone seeing. I teased out my hair a little so that I didn't look too demure, and applied some modest make-up. I looked at my image and realized maybe I wasn't so bad after all! Around six thirty, the phone rang, it was Arlund letting me know he was on his way to pick me up. I felt a chill of excitement as he said, "Hope your wearing next to nothing Con, I like to play on my long drives!" As I hung up the phone, it occurred to me what he might have meant. I looked back at my image and found myself wondering if he had meant something else? It also occurred to me that it had been quite a long time since I had had any intimate contact with a man, and if Arlund was indeed interested, I could do a lot worse! I quickly found myself changing into a more drastically revealing top. The sweater was no longer an option, if I wanted to impress Arlund. I have a rather large breasts, to be honest, since I gained the weight, you could say they are huge! I wear a forty DD, and they are all mine, nothing phony about them. I guess of all the things that I am proud of, they are the most impressive attributes I can still see. I chose the one top that Ron had always said looked great on me, then decided to let my hair down, so to speak, and went braless! I hoped that it wasn't too much me showing, but after all, he had said he liked to play, didn't he? Just in case I was wrong, I threw on a button down denim shirt, in case I had misunderstood! Within about fifteen minutes I heard a knock on my door. I checked my look again in the mirror, one last time, before opening the door to let Arlund in. He quickly took in the humble surroundings, my state of dress and said, "I think the shirt is a bit much for tonight Connie, it doesn't go with the rest of the outfit!" Before I had a chance to say a word, he began to unbutton the shirt and pulled it off. I was speechless at his, seeming easiness with the way he assumed I wouldn't mind. At first I wanted to ask whom the hell he thought he was to just take off my shirt? Yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny voice, just told me to let it go, and I let him take it off and deposit it on the arm of the chair. "There, that's much better!" he said with a gleam in his eye. Arlund was now plainly staring at my unrestrained tits pressing out against the silky fabric of my blouse. He made no attempt to hide the fact that they were the sole objects of his attention. I felt a bit embarrassed at his obvious stare and tried to cover myself a bit by reaching for my overnight bag. "You know Con, I think I am a good judge of people's character. You don't get where I am by second-guessing a first impression. Do you believe I have any ill will towards your safety this weekend?" he asked. "Well, of course not Arlund." I stammered as his deep blue eyes locked on mine. "I'm just not really very comfortable with myself since my divorce. Ron made it very plain to me, that I was not the woman I once was!" "Fuck Ron", Arlund groaned, "He's no longer in the picture. As soon as you admit to that, the sooner you can go on!" I looked at him for a minute and knew, somehow, that he was right! I was still living in the past, and this was my chance to start putting that part of my life behind me! With a shrug and a smile, I nodded my head and said, "OK, what is it you want me to do?" I still do not know why I said that. It was like another person's voice from deep inside just took over, and I found myself just wanting to agree to whatever Arlund wanted of me. I guess it was at that point that the old Connie, just gave up and let the new one break out. "OK, first you have to tell me that you trust me to not allow anything bad happen to you! Second, you must do exactly as I say, without hesitation", he said in a more serious voice. I don't understand what happened to the old me, but the new one readily agreed. I found myself wondering what I had just given up, and agreed to? It didn't take long for me to find out either. "Are you ready to go then?" he asked. I looked at him for some sign as to what I should do, and he held open the door for me with a look of total ownership! I found myself hurrying to his glance at the door. I also felt a wave of anticipation, at what else awaited the new me this weekend. As soon as we reached the car, Arlund has a BMW roadster. I put my small bag behind the seat and slid in to the most comfortable car seat I have ever felt! I knew right then that if, for no other reason, the car ride alone would be well worth the trip. Arlund got in and started the car with a quick smile in my direction. He also leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek! "OK, here we go!" he said with a devilish look. I watched as he smoothly took us from my apartment, to the Interstate. I sank back into the seat getting comfortable for the long ride ahead. The stereo was on a Blues channel, one Arlund kept on, on the back-bar radio. I began to relax a little when Arlund said, "I usually like to drive with the top down, and do you mind?" I figured, why not? I began to look for the button or switch that would activate the cars convertible top. He started to laugh at my apparent inability to find it. "You misunderstand Connie, I meant, I want you to take off YOUR top!" he snickered, as what he really wanted hit home. I looked at him as if he had six heads; who did he think he was? Yet, within seconds, I also found my hands, dutifully pulling the top over my head, exposing my very excited tits to his eyes. A warm flush of embarrassment washed over me, as I realized I was also very visible, to any passing car as well! My rather large nipples hardened at the thought of a passer-by seeing me topless! I could also feel myself getting rather damp at the thought as well. What kind of power did this man have over me, that I would just do as he said without a second thought? I never would have considered myself so compliant, before tonight! A tried to think of anything but what was now happening, I tried to concentrate, to no avail. Arlund smiled at my obvious discomfort, and added to it by saying, "You might as well take off those jeans as well. I want to have free access to all of your wonderful body. We have three hours to go and I intend to enjoy this ride!" I felt another wave of embarrassment rush through my body. How could I let this be happening? I hadn't allowed even Ron to see me naked in two years! Was I just going to allow this man to give me orders, without any argument? Yet, before I could form the words that would put an end to all this; I found myself doing exactly as he ordered. Even in the tight confines of the small seat, I shimmied out of the jeans, and without being asked, took off my panties as well. I was now totally naked to my boss' eyes! "Now put those behind the seat! You will not need them again before we head home!" he smiled. I did as I was told, and found myself waiting to see what he had in mind for me next! It wasn't long before I got my answer. "Now Connie, lets see what you have hidden down there! I told you, I like to play on my long rides!" he whispered. Without hesitation I parted my legs to give him an unfettered view of my, now very excited, damp pussy! My mind was screaming for me to put a stop to all of this, and yet my body betrayed me by reaching an unasked for small climax! I was almost humiliated by my body's final betrayal! As I would come to find out, it would not be the last time! I sat awaiting Arlund's next command like a child waiting for my Dad's approval. Arlund ran his hand from the top of my stomach, just below my breasts, to just above the hairline of my pulsing vaginal lips. A tremor of pleasure at having a man's touch quickly set off a tidal flow of juices onto the seat. His gentle, but insistent touch was more familiar than I had ever thought I would feel again. I let my mind go, and just enjoyed the touch of a knowing mans caress! "Now Connie, I am going to tell you what will be happening this weekend. I do not want you to say anything, just listen!" he said with much more authority than before. I kept my mouth shut and listened as he continued to describe what awaited me. "You will be one of a few new slaves at our little get together. As such, a certain amount of obedience is required of the new pets! As I have not had time to train you correctly, I will expect you to listen, watch and learn. If you disobey any command, you will be punished, by me, and by the one whom you offended, am I being perfectly clear?" Again my brain was screaming to tell him off, yet my mouth responded with, "Yes Sir!" before I had a chance to form any other thought! "Good, that's a very good start! I think that after this weekend, you will find that you have found your little niche' in life!" he said, almost too certain of his assessment. How could I allow this to happen without any resistance? Yet, as his fingers grazed the lips of my swollen pussy lips, I lost any thought of arguing with him. Electric sparks of pleasure screamed up my spine at the touch of his fingertips. I wanted to feel the pleasure that Arlund's fingers promised; and I would do anything at the moment to gain that pleasurable release! "Are you enjoying the ride my pet?" he whispered. All I could feel now was his expert fingers as they gently rubbed to tip of my clitoris. I began to moan in total surrender to his awesome ability to make me squirm. I wanted very badly to cum, I would do anything to reach then next stage of my orgasmic bliss! My eyes were sealed shut, my breath coming in sharp quick intakes, as time and again he would cause me to jerk as he passed another digit over my clit! "Yes Sir", I managed between clenched teeth, as sparks of pleasure shot continuously up my spine. "Oohh yessss, God that feels so wonderful!" My hips were now jumping up to meet his fingers, in hopes that he would use them to allow me my much-needed release! I felt no shame at my uninhibited behavior. I just wanted to reach that place of pleasure; I had not been in a very long time. I was now quickly approaching that point. As if he knew the exact moment when I would be at a point just before no return, Arlund pulled away his hand, leaving me on the brink of a colossal orgasm. The panic that ran through my mind, that I would not reach what was just in sight, made me mad with need. I grabbed his hand pulling desperately to make him finish! He simply pushed my hands down to my sides and announced, "I'm not ready to let you get off that easy, Pet!" My mind and body were in a total mass of confusion as to what he meant? I was so close; I could feel my very soul on the edge of release. My body was jerking in spasms at the door to release. I looked at Arlund with an expression of pure panic. "W-why'd you s-s-stop?" I begged. The pleasure, almost achieved, was quite simply just out of reach! "I believe it is not for you to ask the questions pet, but to do as your instructed, yes? I have to see that you will obey instructions at anytime, without hesitation! Do you understand?" he asked, with no emotion at all on his face. I gulped down the panic in my voice and replied. "Yes Sir, I understand!" Every fiber in my being was screaming for release, yet my mouth again betrayed me. I genuinely wanted to please Arlund, and nothing else mattered to me now. It was he that would allow me to reach my, much needed climax, and I now wanted that more than anything! "Pull down my zipper, carefully! Show me how much you want me to allow you to climax. If you do a good job, I'll reward you with you own orgasm!" he said, with no show of humor. Just for a millisecond my mind screamed at his audacity. Here I was on the brink of insanity, and he wanted me to pleasure him before "allowing" me an end to my bodies torment. Yet again, I found myself doing just as I was told. With practiced ease, I pulled down the zipper to his pants, and gently guided his rock hard cock to freedom. I was slightly shocked at the girth of his pole. Although he was no larger than Ron's, he was more than twice as thick as anything I had ever seen! I was wondering if, indeed I could accommodate his wishes? Yet again, I found myself doing just as I had been instructed. I opened my mouth, stretching to get the bulbous head inside my mouth. The taste of a cock again in my mouth, made my mouth water. It felt good to be able to give a man pleasure, and know it was me that was causing his excitement! Within a few minutes, I had begun a steady rhythm of slurping and sucking all I could manage to cram into my mouth. The feel of his hot flesh burning my tongue drove me on faster. His moans of pleasure were like magic to my ears, and pushed me to eagerly try harder to bring him to his climax! My reward did not take long, as I felt his cock stiffen harder in my mouth, and a torrent of cum spray deep down my throat. I was nearly gagging on the amount of cum he shot. I gulped for air and to swallow every drop I could manage. After what seemed forever, Arlund finally began to go flaccid in my hungry mouth. I licked every drop off his quickly deflating cock, not letting a single drop escape me. "Yes my Pet, that was very, very good! I am proud of you!" he said between gasps of breath. For some reason, the fact that I had pleased him, made me quite proud of myself. I knew that I wanted his praise, even though I didn't understand why. It felt wonderful to hear I had done something to make Arlund proud of me! I was beginning to realize that; maybe if Ron had been a little more appreciative of my talents, we would still be together. Yet, at this moment, Arlund was the only person I cared about, he was the one who made me feel good about myself; even if it was for something so bad! "As promised, my Pet!" he said. He then reached under his seat and produced a large, rubber vibrator. It was nearly as big as he was! "I would like to see you pleasure yourself with this, until you reach your own orgasm. As you can see, your talents have left me in no condition to reciprocate!" His look of total satisfaction made me very proud of myself, and without a thought to what I was doing; I took the vibrator and plunged it all they way into my sopping wet pussy. Understanding My Place! The effect was almost immediate, as the vibrations from the tool quickly had its desired affect. Within a few moments I was feeling the waves of my, long pent-up climax, come crashing down inside me. I jerked and spasmed uncontrollably in the tiny seat, rockets of pleasure sending my mind spaceward, as I climaxed almost continuously. I felt all modesty leave me, as I ground furiously onto the rubber cock. I didn't care that Arlund was looking on, or that any car that passed by, would be able to see what I was doing. It felt wonderful to finally reach the massive orgasm Arlund had withheld. My body tensed to stiffness at the final wave of me orgasm. I could feel all the blood rushing to the point of boiling in my pussy. With a final scream of pleasure, I melted uselessly, into Arlund's passenger seat. After about tem minutes, I finally felt sanity coming back into focus. As I looked into Arlund's eyes, I could see he was smiling broadly! "You'll do just fine Connie! I think I may have found my Pet after all!" he said in a most loving way. All I could think to say was, "Yes Sir, I believe you have at that!" The rest of what happened that weekend will have to wait until next time! Let's just say for now, I am not the person I was. I have Arlund, and a few others to thank for my awakening! Understanding Proper English Understand Proper English Like What I talk Seventh revision. Includes some suggestions and requests by readers from all over the place. More demented ravings by The Wanderer (with some help from readers and friends). A note and disclaimer by The Wanderer. The original synopsis for this document, it plainly said "English as The Wanderer writes it" if you don't like that, "Bollocks!" I've been kicking around this country for over sixty years now. If a reader hasn't come across the words being used in the same context, there ain't much that I can do about it. This originally was a list of words and phrases that I've come into contact with over the years and their use as I understand them. If you don't like my list, then write your own bleeding one. On the other hand there are many words and phrases I've haven't heard and I'm happy to add them if you'd like to send them to me This is not and does not claim to be a complete list of English colloquial words and phrases. It is just a list of them that I have commonly come across or might use in my stories and that I'm have been made aware that some folks might not be familiar with and have difficulty understanding. Plus there are some words and information that I've added purely for interest value. If you find you have trouble understanding something in one of my tales, you could well find the answer here. If you don't, please feel free to drop me a line and I will try to explain it to you, then I can add it to this list. However, I must point out there are many variations in the use and meaning of the words in different parts of the UK. I'll ask my fellow countrymen to help me here, if they spot any, what they consider inconsistencies in the list; please let me know what the word commonly means where you live and then I can add that to the list. To make life easy, please mark all emails on this subject "Do What?" Colloquial words in the UK, can take on different meanings depending on the context, your location and/or whose company they are used in. I've already mentioned about different meanings in different parts of the UK. Please don't blame me if you use the wrong word in the wrong way or part of the country and find yourself in a compromising situation. As an example, I'll take the word "Prat" or "Pratt". (Both spellings are in common use.) "Prat" is a word you wouldn't normally use when the vicar comes to tea. But it can be used in mixed company where it should normally be taken to mean "A foolish person". However when used amongst the boys, maybe in anger down at the pub or in the workplace, it can also mean the backside or buttocks. To try to explain further, if a friend does something silly or stupid, you can call him a Prat - often phrased "You silly Prat!" (Preferably with a smile on your face). You are in effect calling him a fool, and he'll generally laugh with you. However if you call somebody a Prat in an argument or because you don't like them. Then you are, in effect, calling them an arsehole. Any resultant punch-up is your own responsibility, not mine! A word about rhyming slang. This is attributed to having been created by Cockney's in East London. But the same idea can often be found in use all over the country. In Cockney rhyming slang, usually only the one part (normally the first, but not always) of the rhyme is used. This is a useful way to tell whether someone is "putting it on", and it is not his/her usual form of speech. i.e. if someone was referring to a new suit they might say "How'd you like the whistle?" They should definitely not say, "Do you like my new Whistle and Flute? I have included some of the rhyming slang that some members of my family - who were not Cockneys by the way - used in their normal speech whilst I was growing up. Most of these will, on occasions, still be heard and understood in nearly all of Southeast England. I'm not too sure about the rest of the UK; but to my knowledge, I have normally been understood. Just a little note about grammar! I often get comments on some of the grammar in my tales of woe. Well, I'll just say that normally my stories are told in the first person and I try to write as people think and talk. In your thoughts and when you speak, you don't think and talk in proper grammatical English. Well, I don't and I'm afraid I've never come across anyone who actually does. I'm not trying to write bloody English textbooks here! And one further point. English English and American English are not spelt the same. Actually if it comes down to brass tacks we use a slightly different alphabet. We have Z pronounced zed, whereas over the pond, I'm pretty sure they have a Z pronounced zee! It might not sound like much but it does make a difference. There are quite a few, sometimes subtle and sometimes not so subtle differences between British and American spelling that show-up with regularity. Especially for me, because both of the editors who have kindly accepted the unenviable task of reading through my stories to try to make some sense of them, come from the other side of the pond. Actually I think they are both closet masochists, but don't let on that I told you. English dictionaries differentiate between colloquial English, slang and coarse slang. Quite a lot of what can be found bellow can be considered as belonging to the later definition. DC The Wanderer Abbreviations - Police officer ranks. PC - Police Constable, DC - Detective Constable, DS - Detective Sergeant, DI - Detective Inspector, DCI - Detective Chief Inspector. There are more but you get the general idea. Also in the past, I think that many of them could be prefixed by a "W", to denote a female police officer, political correctness and women's lib have made the distinction obsolete. A lady of the night -- A Prostitute A Monkey -- £500 A Pony -- £25 A runner -- (he did a runner) -- Run away from a situation or responsibilities. A4 -- Standard European paper size as used in most offices. AC/DC -- Bisexual. Across the pond -- the other side of the Atlantic Affray -- A breach of the peace by fighting or rioting in public. Catchall offence, can be used by the British police to arrest anybody whose actions could be construed to instil fear in the general public. Antipodes -- Australia and New Zealand Any Bottle -- Any good Artic (articulated lorry) -- A lorry consisting of two or more sections connected by a flexible joint. (In North America a semi-trailer). Are you still with us? -- Are you understanding what (1) we are saying? (2) is going on. At her majesty's pleasure -- In prison Ay-Up -- Used when attracting someone's attention. Back door (on the road) -- Someone travelling behind you, that you are reporting road conditions to or the presence of the police approaching from the rear. Usually by CB radio. Ball and chain -- The wife Bedlam -- A scene of uproar and confusion; a madhouse; an asylum. (From the Victorian mental "Hospital of St Mary of Bethlehem" in Lambeth London. Now the Imperial War Museum.) [Out of interest my family routes are in Lambeth] Boat race (The Boat Race) -- Traditional yearly race between Oxford and Cambridge university rowing eight's held over a course on the river Thames in London. Considered to be the toughest race of its kind. Before you can say Jack Robinson. -- Something happening extremely quickly Between you, me and the gatepost. -- Keep this to yourself. Blimey -- Expressing surprise or alarm. Blew-out -- Something that was planned and then cancelled Bloomin -- I haven't got the foggiest idea, I can never recall anyone ever using the word, except characters pretending to be English in the movies. I can only assume they thought it up to replace the blasphemies in common use. Boffin -- scientist or technician, originally a person engaged in scientific (esp. military) research. Now is commonly understood to mane any scientist or technician Bollocks -- Testicles, also a term of frustration or insult. Hey, just heard that Wilma Flintstone used the word in one of the Flintstones cartoons, apparently there was a little bit of strife over it. Bonnet (in reference to automobiles) -- Engine cover (in North America, the hood) Bottle/d out -- Chicken/ed out. Boot (in reference to automobiles) -- luggage compartment (in North America, the trunk) Bottoms up! -- Cheers Brass tacks -- actual details; real business (get down to brass tacks). Brief (1) (My Brief) -- Solicitor or barrister representing the person talking. Attorney or lawyer in U.S. Brief (2) -- Legal document allowing the holder to undertake his profession i.e. a truck or bus drivers licence. Bristols (Bristol City's) -- Breasts; tits (rhyming slang) Bristol fashion -- All ship shape and Bristol fashion is/was a nautical term meaning "All ready to put to sea". Nowadays it is taken to mean everything is prepared and ready, as it should be. BT -- British Telecom the main landline telephone service supplier in the UK. Well they supply and maintain the exchanges lines etc. Bullshit -- I believe what you just said is untrue. (You know, what politicians talk.) Bullshitter -- Someone who talks bullshit (tells lies) to make themselves appear what they are not. (Bloody hell politicians again!) Bungalow -- Single storeyed (note spelling) house Chinese box (in reference to automobiles, trucks etc.) -- Awkward or unusual gearbox gate. (Layout of gears on selector.) Clean ticket/brief/licence -- Driver licence without any penalty points. See points. Cobblers -- nonsense. Don't talk cobblers. Cockney -- A native of East London, born within sound of Bow Bells. It can be considered an extreme insult to call other Londoners Cockneys, both to them and to true Cockneys. If you don't know a person's origin, don't use the name. Colonial cousin -- In theory any person who is a citizen of one of GB's current or former colonies. In practice, it mostly appears to be reserved to refer to citizens of the USA. Canadians for example are often referred to as Colonial Brothers/Sisters. Or (but less common) our brothers and sisters from across the pond. Cor -- Expressing surprise, excitement, etc. (useable in polite company) Cor Blimey -- Expressing surprise, excitement, etc. (useable in a little less polite company) Could I have that in writing? -- Someone has made a compliment or said something flattering about the speaker. Daisy's (Daisy roots) -- Boots (rhyming slang) Didicoi -- A gypsy or itinerant tinker. Derv -- Diesel fuel (from Diesel Engine Road Vehicle) Ding-dong -- 1. An intense argument or fight. 2. A riotous party. Dodgy -- Illegal, awkward, unreliable, tricky. Doolally -- Loose one's cool, get excited or angry very vocally Do what? -- I don't understand what (1) you are talking about (2) you want me to do. Don't get out of your pram -- Don't lose your temper or get annoyed Drekly -- Cornish word, derived from directly with the meaning of immediately. But tempered by the laid-back attitude of the Cornish people. When someone says they will do something Drekly, it will be done with their sense of urgency, not yours! Duff -- worthless, counterfeit, useless, broken. Duffed-up -- Beaten-up. Duffer -- an inefficient, useless, or stupid person. Quite often an old person, "old duffer". A bit like me really! Eff / Effing -- A slightly less offensive replacement for Fuck and Fucking. Emmett -- Non-local person, (West Country) normally applies to holidaymakers. Falling down water -- Alcoholic drink, normally beer, ale or lager Fanny -- Generally the buttocks. Caution: in many parts of the UK, it's used to refer to the female genitalia. Feel one's ears burning. -- Believe someone is talking about you behind your back. Flat -- A set of rooms, usually on one floor, used as a residence. For all I know. -- I have no knowledge on the subject. This statement is normally followed by an unlikely explanation of what has just happened. For what its worth. -- The speaker is not sure whether their opinion is important to you, but they are going to give it to you anyway. Frog -- French person Front -- Impudence; insolently disrespectful; impertinent. He/she's got some front! Front door (on the road) -- Someone travelling ahead of you reporting back to you on road conditions etc. or the presence of the police. Usually by CB radio. Fuddy-duddy -- old-fashioned or quaintly fussy person. Fuzz the police or can refer to the hair around the genitals. Hence the expression "grabbed by the fuzz can mean being arrested, Or something much more painful Get back into your pram -- You've lost your temper. Get your emotions under control. Get cracking! -- Move quickly Git -- A silly or contemptible person. Gift of the gab -- the facility of speaking eloquently or profusely. Normally someone with the gift of the gab will talk you out of your money, or almost any woman into bed. Glove box (in reference to automobiles) -- Locker built into a cars dashboard usually with a cover flap on it. Go faster stripes -- The assortment of bolt on goodies that are fitted to standard production cars to make them look like they are something they aren't, like rally or up-rated cars. See Poser. Go juice -- Petrol or diesel fuel Go on, I'll buy it! -- I don't know the answer - I might believe what you are telling me. Goolies -- The testicles Goose -- Grope, poke or pinch someone's bottom. Normally unwelcome. Governor (Guv or Guv-na) -- The Licensee of a Public House or Bar. In work, the boss Grog -- Alcoholic spirit watered down. Originally the rum ration that was issued to the Royal Navy seamen. Guinea -- Sum of money equal to 21 old British shillings (now £1.05) was often used in auctions and by the legal profession. Yes, it was a con to make the headline price look less, 20gns = £21. Gulper -- Gulp of a RN sailors rum ration given to another sailor in return for a favour. Hard-shoulder (on the road) -- carriageway along side a motorway for use in emergency's only. HMG -- Her Majesty's Government Head case -- see Nutter Heath Robinson -- Absurdly ingenious and impracticable in design or construction. That quite often, but not always, works! Hello, hello, hello! -- An expression supposedly used by English policemen. That 'sort' disappeared donkeys' years ago. Here we go again. -- A repeat of a usually unpleasant experience is about to start. Hoi polloi -- in use "the hoi polloi" (note, no caps) 1. the masses; the common people. 2. the majority. Hood (in reference to automobiles) -- Folding canvas roof on a convertible or sports car. Hooray Henry -- (note, capital letters are used) a rich ineffectual young man, esp. one who is fashionable, extroverted, and conventional. Although it's handy if you went to the right public school, and mummy or daddy has a few bob in the bank (its not actually necessary for them to pay their bills), or at least one of them has some spurious claim to a title of some kind. The most important prerequisites to becoming a Hooray Henry appear to be. A. speaking with a plum in your mouth (or at least trying too). B. Looking down on anyone who actually does a job of work with there hands for a living. C. And - most importantly - ensuring that everyone in whatever establishment you are in at the time, knows that they/he have arrived. The normally method of achieving this is by speaking - not shouting - as loudly as humanly possible. How come…? -- Why was that? Hump (1) -- Have sexual intercourse with. Hump (2) -- A fit of depression or vexation. The 'h' is often dropped in pronunciation i.e. "He's got the ump!" I didn't get/come off the boat yesterday! -- You're not fooling me, I'm not that dumb. I wasn't born yesterday. -- That's bullshit, don't take me for a fool! I've got a bone to pick with you! -- There's something I'm not happy about, and I believe you are responsible. Jack Robinson -- Before you can say "Jack Robinson" is a way of expressing immediacy; something will be done straight away. There is one suggested origin involving the habit of an eccentric gentleman who was renowned for his constant change of mind. He often abandoned a social call and you had to be quick to catch Jack Robinson. This is the origin given in 1811. (ref: http://www.phrases.org.uk). Jam Sandwich -- Police car. Derives from police cars had an orange stripe around them; English police cars tend to have yellow and blue reflective panels nowadays. JCB -- A type of mechanical excavator with a shovel at the front and a digging arm at the rear. Named after J. C. Bamford, the original makers. Although made by other manufacturers as well, JCB appears to have become the generic name. Jungle juice -- Alcoholic beverage, normally a spirit or cocktail Karzi -- Lavatory, if being specific, the pan. Keep schtum -- Keep your mouth shut and tell no one Keep your shirt on! -- Don't lose your temper or get annoyed Keep your hair on! -- Don't lose your temper or get annoyed Kosher -- Legal. Everything is as it should be. kibosh (also kybosh) -- "put the kibosh on" put an end to; finally dispose of. (also can mean "nonsense", but I've never come across it being used that way). Knackered -- Sometimes pronounced "k-nackered", extremely tired after working hard or a strenuous physical workout. "He's knackered himself." Knackers -- The testicles. Knickers -- Ladies panties. Lady Muck -- Woman with delusions of grandeur. Laid-back -- Relaxed, unbothered, easygoing. Lash-up -- A makeshift or improvised structure or arrangement. Lay/laid -- Have/had sexual intercourse. Left hooker (in reference to automobiles) -- Left hand drive vehicle. Leg it -- Run for it Leg-less -- inebriated, pissed as a newt. Let the cat out of the bag. -- Divulge a secret Like Fuck -- I'm not going to accept that. Lively -- Run for it Loo -- Toilet Look lively -- Be alert and/or move quickly Look Sharp! -- Be alert and/or move quickly Lord Muck -- Man with delusions of grandeur Make it snappy! -- Hurry up Make yourself scarce -- Vacate the immediate area as soon and as quickly as possible Maisonette -- A part of a house, block of flats, etc., forming separate living accommodations, usually having a separate entrance accessible from outside the building on ground level. If they have a communal entrance they are usually (but not always) termed as flats. Moniker -- Name MT -- empty. Normally written on the outside of closed containers. Mum's the word! -- This is a secrete tell no one My better half. -- My spouse Nature calls. -- I need to go to the lavatory. Navvy -- A labourer employed in building or excavating roads, canals, etc. Generally Irish nowadays, and it is/was often used as a generic term for Irish building workers who were famed for getting the job done. Nice one --(or more often "Nice one Son!") a congratulation for a job well done. Comes from a football supporter's chant. Understanding Proper English Nick -- The act of stealing something. Nick (2) -- The act of arrest by a police officer. Nick (3) -- Refers to the condition of something i.e. in good nick. Nick (4) -- Police station or prison Nick (5) Australian slang -- Move quickly or furtively Nitty-gritty -- The realities or practical details of a matter. Not Kosher -- Illegal or something isn't as it should be Nutcase -- A crazy or foolish person. Could be considered dangerous. Nutter -- A crazy person. Generally considered dangerous. Old Duffer -- Old man. On a loosing wicket. -- In an augment that can't be won. A no-win situation. On the game (She's on the game!) -- A female working as a prostitute On top of the world -- Extremely happy and feeling good Over the pond -- The other side of the Atlantic ocean (Northern Hemisphere) Pax -- A call for a truce. Pax (2) -- Short hand used in the travel industry to describe a number of people on a tour, aircraft etc. i.e. 40 Pax or sometimes written Pax 40 = means there are forty people in the group. Palaver -- a prolonged or tiresome affair or business Pear Shaped -- Something has not gone as planned, normally disastrously wrong. Piece on the side -- Mistress or second girlfriend. Pie-eyed -- inebriated Pigs might fly. -- What has just been said is untrue or is highly unlikely to be true. Pissed as a newt -- inebriated, Leg-less Play the game -- Act in a fair manner and/or play within the rules of the game. Pocket (in reference to automobiles) -- Compartment built into a car's door for the purpose of storing junk. Normally the wrong shape or size to fit anything of use into. But the reviewers in car magazines will go into raptures over them. Points (in reference to automobiles and driving) -- Points are collected on driving licences for driving violations. Once you collect too many you are suspended from driving. Poseur or Poser -- Person who has an inflated opinion of himself and/or his looks and thinks that everybody is admiring him (when actually they are usually laughing at him). Normally he drives a flash car and seems to think that the size of his penis is somehow related to the noise the cars exhaust makes. Girls who date posers have a very disappointing sex life. Prat -- A foolish person or buttocks / arse. When used to describe someone not liked, he's being called an arsehole. Prang -- Accident. Originally a RAF term for damaging or crashing an aircraft. Now sometimes used to refer to minor road traffic accidents Puts out (She puts out) -- She will have sexual intercourse. Putting it on -- Pretending to be something you are not. Quicker than greased lightning -- something happening extremely quickly Rag -- Normally "Rag Week", excuse for college and university students to get up to all kinds of nefarious mischief, under the guise of collecting for charity. Not quite as high profile as they used to be in my day. Right hooker (in reference to automobiles) -- Right hand drive vehicle. Rise and shine! -- Get out of bed quickly and look fresh! Rocking Horse Shit -- An extremely rare commodity. Difficult, if not impossible to obtain! Roger or rogering -- Have/having sexual intercourse with. Rozer -- Police officer Run for it! -- Vacate the immediate area as soon and as quickly as possible Sally Ann -- Salvation Army SAS -- UK armed forces, Special Air Service. SBS -- UK armed forces, Special Boat Squadron, marine equivalent of the Special Air Service. Scarper -- Run away as quickly as you can. Scarpered -- Has run away or escaped Scrubber -- A sexually promiscuous woman. Sectioned -- Cause a person to be compulsorily committed to a psychiatric hospital in accordance with a section of the mental health act. Shag / Shagged -- sexual intercourse, had sexual intercourse. Shagged out -- Extremely tired, after working hard or a strenuous physical workout. Alright yes, see the entry above as well! She who must be obeyed -- The wife Shift your arse -- Get a move on or move to a different seat. Silly cow -- stupid woman. Insult that can sometimes be used in jest. Sippers -- Sip of a RN sailors Rum ration given to another sailor in return for a favour. Slapper -- Woman of loose morals Smeg / Smegging -- I believe a word invented by the writers of the TV series Red Dwarf. Intended - I believe - to replace the words fuck and fucking (or any similar blasphemies) that the character would most likely have used in real life. They now appear to have entered the popular vernacular. Any Scouser's who know different, I'd be glad to here from you? Snog / Snogging -- kiss / kissing. Long unbroken kiss. Spiv -- A man often characterised by flashy dress, who makes a living by illicit or unscrupulous dealings. Rarely used nowadays Sprog -- a child; a baby Squire -- For addressing another man. Shows respect but not subservience. Most often used by Taxi Cab and commercial vehicle drivers Strides -- Trousers Strife -- Trouble of any kind Stroppy -- bad-tempered; awkward to deal with. Suspension -- Woman's large breasts, as in "Look at the suspension on that!" Sweeper -- Someone who has the job of following behind a group to make sure no one gets lost and/or that no evidence of the groups passing is noticeable. (From sweeping up.) Tacho (tachograph) -- Device fitted to all heavy goods vehicles and coaches, that records time it is in motion and its speed. To prevent the driver from exceeding his statutory permitted driving hours or the speed limit. Taking the Mickey -- Making fun of someone Tail end Charley -- Someone at the rear of the group of people or a convoy of vehicles. Tail gate/ing -- Driving too close to the vehicle in front. Terraced house -- any one of a row of houses joined by party walls. That's a turn-up for the book! -- An unexpected occurrence. Something so rare a note should be made of it. That's rich! -- That's ridiculous! The Bill -- The Police The Job -- The name police officers use to refer to their profession. The Nick -- A police station, a prison, The penny dropped -- The meaning of what is being said or is happening has finally been understood The salt of the earth. -- An expression used to describe people who are reliable, but who don't necessarily appear to be. The Scrubs -- Wormwood Scrubs Prison in West London. The Smoke -- Refers to a large urban conurbation. Commonly Birmingham, London or Manchester by people in the surrounding areas. But I believe it is also used to refer to other large towns or cities. The world and his wife. -- Anybody and everybody. The Zoo -- (to a Londoner) the Zoological Gardens in Regents Park London, which claims to be the first true zoo in the world. However the sign outside says London Zoo nowadays. Throw a Wobbly -- Have a fit of nerves or temper. Titfer (tit for tat) -- Hat (rhyming slang) Tits up -- A plan has gone wrong. I believe its origin come from sheep who die when they get stuck on their back when they are trying to roll. Ton -- A ton; the ton. 100 miles per hour. Tosspot -- Insult - Generally used to describe an incompetent idiot. Tosser -- See tosspot Totter -- someone collects sells usable items from refuse and around the streets as an occupation. Totty -- Good looking females who could be looking for male company, (That night club was is always full of totty). It's not a normally considered a derogatory term. Just a general description. Two a penny. -- Very cheap and common Up for it -- prepared to try something, (anything!). U.S. -- useless; no longer serviceable. Village Bike -- woman or girl who "puts out" to anyone. V.O.R. (in reference to road vehicles) Vehicle Of Road, un-roadworthy. Wag -- A person who can be humorous or likes to play practical jokes. Wakey wakey -- Wake up and get with it. Wanker -- Insult - Man who masturbates all the time. Generally used to describe someone who is incompetent at their job or what they are trying to do. Were you born in a barn/field? -- You've left the door open. Close it! What the fuck? -- Expression of surprise normally querying what is happening. Where's it too. -- Where do/can I find it. (Cornish) Whistle (Whistle and flute) -- Gentleman's two or three piece Suit (Rhyming Slang) Wide-boy -- originally a man skilled in dishonest practices or a spiv. But nowadays often refers to anyone who's got "the gift of the gab" and really can't (or shouldn't) be trusted. Most car salesmen and company wolves included. Wobbly -- Illegal; unreliable. Wonders will never cease! -- (1) Something has happened that you never thought would. (2) Someone has done something that you never expected him or her to do. Words fail me -- You stupid idiot, I just don't know how to describe my feelings about what you have done Working Girl -- A prostitute Yonks -- a long time (haven't seen them for yonks). Zonked out -- see Knackered If it ain't listed, drop me a line and I'll try to add it. Further notes: Another point that can confuse some folks is how we English number the floors in buildings. Which some folk have found little difficult to understand at first sight or if you haven't visited the country (or some other country where the same system is used). Its getting confusing for us as well now, because there seems to have been a change in the way things are done in the last twenty years or so. But to specify the difference, the floors are often called "levels" in these newer buildings. Right back to the old way of doing things. The floor at ground level has by tradition been called the ground floor. The next floor up is called the first floor and so on. Consequently a first floor flat or office is to be found on the second storey of the building. Lift (elevator) panels are often numbered G, 1, 2 etc. (Although if they are labelled L1, L2, L3 etc. Level 1 is the ground or street level floor, if you're lucky). -------------------------- I noted the other day that someone didn't understand one of the common acronyms that are in use in the UK. I'm working on adding some of those to this list the future. There are many that I've heard over the years but can't bring them to mind at the present time, I'd be please if the readers can send any they know of to me. -------------------------- I've also came across a free site that some folks might prove helpful, http://www.phrases.org.uk This document is under permanent revision. The Wanderer Understanding the Sublime Introduction Life is a journey that each of make alone. Along that journey, meeting different people happens, passengers sometimes embark on the journey, and sometimes passengers exit to go on their own journey. From the route travelled feedback from others and learning from experience occurs causing a change in direction on the jounery. My journey has taken me to Literotica, especially the stories and bulletin boards. If someone were to ask me, what is one area that my knowledge is increasing form being on Literotica? The response I would give, the biggest evolution of I have seen is my opinion of cuckolding and I feel my definition is evolving. For those who have read my writings may know my experience with cuckolding has been with one strand of cuckolding and from my time on Literotica I have come to appreciate that there are other strands too. In addition, from my experience on Literotica, I feel there is an underlying assumption, by some readers, that cuckolding and cheating are synonymous. Cheating involves a violation of trust, due to a violation of boundaries and the breakdown of communication the leads one partner to meet their needs outside of the relationship. Whereas cuckolding involves, maintaining trust through an open discussion about the subject, establishing boundaries, and working as a team to maintain the established boundaries. When discussing cuckolding, an underlying assumption is the relationship is healthy and the decision is a mutual decision respecting each other's needs. This implies cuckolding continues as long as the couple agrees that it can continue and in the event one of them decides they no longer want to continue, they are capable of going back to a monogamous relationship. Therefore, the root of the difference comes from cuckolding is done in the open and done to the extent that the couple is agreeable versus an activity that is done in the cloak of secrecy. Before continuing, it is important to define cuckolding since each person defines it differently. Cuckolding involves the involvement of another person in a relationship either on a short-term or long-term basis that requires consent of the non-participating individual. This means describing cuckolding is not possible by providing a simple definition, due to the many cuckolding variations that exist. Instead I feel cuckolding is best described by using a spectrum definition. A spectrum definition for cuckolding means examining: the presence or absence of: domination / submission in the relationship, the degree to which describing the relationship as an open relationship, the length of relationships, and the number of relationships, and the frequency that contact with the other person occurs. Ideally, I believe, cuckolding is something a couple should consider only after having some type of group sex experience together. Reason for this belief is grounded in the belief that by having the group sex experience a couple understands what is involved, understands if cuckolding is an option for them, and develop communication skills needed to help them work through a cuckolding experience. Now, I realize that we do not live in the ideal world but the real world, which means people / couples do not operate as expected. For couples who do not come to cuckolding as an extension of their group sex experience, I feel, there are at least four reasons. Therefore, when I write about cuckolding in the article, I am talking about an activity that covers a spectrum of possibilities. The above definition may seem puzzling to some and I will try to provide a few examples as to how I envision cuckolding being expressed. One example is a typical scenario of the male feeling inadequate about penis size or is quite submissive in the relationship. In order for the male to address the inadequacy or to express his submissive nature in the relationship, the couple enters into cuckolding. This scenario will score high on domination / submission along, scoring high with the relationship being whereby the submissive male remains monogamous and scoring high on the other aspects. My feeling this comes about due to the couple waning to incorporate domination / submission into their relationship or it could, in some cases, come about as a way to maintain the relationship. Another example would be similar to the above example but this time the male half of the couple is dominant with a submissive female partner. I feel, this could come about because the woman is in a high demanding role where she needs to be in control and this is one way for her to loose some control. Alternatively, I feel, this could come about from the couple wanting to have traditional roles and the woman does this not to please her husband. If you were to score this scenario it would score high on domination / submission, high on being an open relationship due to one person remaining monogamous, but scoring as it relates to relationship including number would be lower than the first example since this would most likely be a more controlled situation. Reason for the lower scoring on the number of relationships and length would most likely be due the amount of time needed before the woman agrees and her need to maintain her relationship with her partner. An addition example would be a couple exploring the idea of having sex with someone outside of the relationship. This would, most likely be a one-off or limited time experience that is not regularly repeated. Scoring this would result in a very low score for domination / submission due to the decision being about exploration. In addition, it would score low on being an option relationship since this experience would maintain emotional monogamy. Finally, it would score low on other aspects since it is about exploring and not maintaining a relationship. Typically couples that want to explore the idea, try something different, or fulfil a fantasy would pursue this type of scenario. A final example would be role-playing the idea. This implies that the couple does not physically involve a third person but plays out the idea. When scoring it this would mean domination / submission would be either moderate or low, depending on the scene. Others would be non-existent since there is not the involvement of a third person. Many readers is at this point may be asking what is the point of this review or essay? The answer to this question is not easy, since there seems to be some confusion about cuckolding and some hostility to it as a subject. The rest of this essay will examine some of the reasons why a couple might consider the idea. Motivation In the above paragraphs, I briefly touched on relationship variations where cuckolding might occur and in this section, I will go deeper by talking about what may motivate a couple. Motivation, simply put it is the reward that relationship receives for engaging in that behaviour and as long as the reward provides a benefit then the activity will continue. This implies a central question becomes, why some couples migrate towards cuckolding while other couples shun it. Fully answering that question would mean writing treaties on the subject and my focus is much narrower, focusing on the reasons why a couple would have a cuckolding experience, which is the focus of the rest of this article. Reward I am not going to get into a Psychology 101 discussion of positive and negative reinforcement, rewards. Instead, I am going to talk about the relationship between reward and motivation. Motivation, when describing cuckolding, is the willingness to participate in the experience and drive to see the activity through to completion. When it comes to cuckolding, the initial motivating reason may be arousal along with the plethora of emotions that it invokes. The combination of arousal and feelings can be quite intoxicating but with each sequential experience, the effect decreases. This means something needs to replace arousal in order to keep cuckolding a part of the relationship and if finding a replacement is not necessary then the relationship will not maintain cuckolding as part of the relationship. Thus, the relationship between reward and motivation means the two shares a symbiotic relationship that supports the other and once one of them loses their value, maintaining cuckolding becomes difficult. Society's Norms From birth message about roles and relationships bombard us. The messages come from religion, school, observing adults interact, and test our beliefs while searching for a partner that meets our needs. From there we incorporate some, rebel against others, and follow some norms until being able to replace it our belief regarding relationships resulting in a philosophy about what we believe is acceptable in a relationship. My feeling, one factor that I feel motivates couples towards cuckolding or conversely is the biggest barrier in exploring cuckolding is societal norms about relationships. For many couples adhering to the norms provide a level of stability for the relationship, a sense of security, and a lessening of anxiety because they are living within the expectations that is set. Adhering to societal norms does not ensure relationship success but can lessen conflict within the relationship, which can help with keeping the relationship stable. For couples that choose to divert from some of the societal norms cuckolding becomes a possibility, though not a guarantee. It is at this point when a couple will determine the extent that they will redefine societal norms for their relationship, the limits that it will place on their relationship, and the potential impact it may have. Couples who choose this route may risk being discovered, may risk being spurn by those around them, and may risk isolation if because they chose a different route. However, if a couple can successfully balance the desire to define their relationship based on their values, instead of society's, along with the anxiety that is created by not strictly adhering to society's expectation then may find happiness by having more control over their relationship. Final point, this does not mean a couple that chooses to live a more traditional life would not opt for a cuckold lifestyle nor does it mean that another reason might end their relationship. Likewise, it does not mean a couple that chooses a modern approach to relationships would not seek to become more traditional in their approach nor does it mean undertaking an alternative lifestyle will protect their relationship from ending. Therefore a relationship based on a shared belief that may conflict with society's values and allows cuckolding means, having a framework whereby each person's needs are met. Needs Need differs from a want because a need is something that must occur in order to maintain the relationship. Essentially this means without it, the relationship would cease to exist or at least be fraught with conflict. This can be risky for the relationship, since a need maybe one-sided whereby one person needs it to stay in the relationship while the other person does not. The differing value on the need puts pressure on the other to agree to fulfil the need or risk the relationship ending. Being able to negotiate need and communicate them becomes paramount for the survival of the relationship. I will now try to explain this by providing an example. For example, couple A decides to try a cuckold relationship because one of them has a higher sex drive and the other has a low sex drive. Couple A believes by meeting the need of the individual with the high sex drive by allowing a cuckold to occur pressure on the individual with the lower sex drive to have sex is eased thereby providing a level of stability in the relationship. Arguably, it is a need because the couple feel cuckolding is central to maintain the relationship. However, I believe, this is a want since other possibilities were not explored before option for cuckolding. This type of scenario also raises another issue regarding the impact on the relationship because the lower sex drive may not feel complete because they do not meet their partner's needs thereby adversely influencing their relationship and it does not address an underlying issue in the relationship the reason for the competing sex drives. An example where cuckolding might work is when one member of a couple has a disability affecting their sexual response and a cuckold could address both needs. A final need, though arguably a want, is a couple where one partner travels a lot and such an arrangement could meet a couple's need. Therefore, the defining feature of a need is a mutually agreeable approach in order to solve an issue that does not adversely influence the relationship. Wants / Exploration It is easy to confuse needs for wants. In this situation, a want is something that moves the relationship in a different direction and comes from the desire to try something different. This implies a want is not core to keep the relationship viable and it something for consideration. At this point, it is important to mention, a desire to explore is different than replacing something that is missing in the relationship or fix a trouble relationship. If the decision to try cuckolding is to fix or save a failing relationship then it is not want and probably a sign that cuckolding is the wrong choice until the issue is resolved. A typical couple that might consider this is a couple that is open to trying new things, evaluating them, and then deciding their next step. This implies that the couple has good relationship with solid communication, and some history together. Also, this implies that the reason for cuckolding maybe to share an experience and not necessarily being done to humiliate the other. Under this type of scenario the couple could explore an aspect of voyeurism, through the telling and reliving the experience. Resolution Under this type of motivation, the couple may want to explore cuckolding in order to resolve a question or a mundane issue that comes up without having an impact on the relationship. A question that cuckolding might be used to resolve would be, "what it would feel like if I did have sex with my first boyfriend?" Another question might be, "What would it be like to have sex with the guy that flirts with me while he takes my order at the coffee shop?" Alternatively, the mundane issue could be one partner not having as much sexual experience as the other, a boyfriend / girlfriend from the past, an attraction to someone outside of the relationship, or another issue. Compromise: Monogamy versus open relationship Arguably cuckolding can provide a solution for a couple that wants an open relationship but wants to maintain some level of monogamy. Unlike a threesome situation where emotional monogamy remains intact, in a cuckolding situation monogamy only remains for the partner who does not participate. It can be said that cuckolding contains elements of both an open relationship, for the individual participating and monogamy for the non-participating partner. Conclusion Life is a journey that provides many detours, dead-ends, scenic routes, and expressways. Every couple that exits on cuckolding will find that cuckolding will take them to different places with some staying on the cuckolding highway. In order for them to stay on the cuckolding highway, they need enough rewards to fuel their motivation that provides a benefit to each of them. Without having, a motivating reason, cuckolding ends requiring the couple to continue their journey together. However, for those that remain on the journey need to have a good map and have their route planned, otherwise they will get lost. Lastly, cuckolding like everything else in life is there for the consideration but it does not mean all of us have to partake in it. Instead it means appreciating the diversity that it brings, not judging people for their choices or claiming to have a prophecy regarding their relationship,. This means, someone else's journey may not be appropriate for us but we should take time to learn from it. By being able to learn form it, we can learn something a bit about ourselves, what motivates others, and integrate that learning into our lives. I am glad cuckolding is an option but it is something that I would not, necessarily, recommend for everyone. Understanding Your Man The prevailing sentiment among women in today's world seems to be that men are clods only interested in where they are going to get their next piece of ass, their next beer or the next 'mommy' to clean up after them. For the woman who truly wants to understand the man in their life or possibly for the female writer who would like to get out the stereotype writing of male characters and write on common male characteristics, here you go. The first thing that comes to mind is that women think men are shallow. I am talking about appearance here. What woman hates to see the stick figured models on television or in store window posters as you walk through the mall simply because you know that your man will probably take notice? He's looking at that poster and not at you and it makes you angry and even hurts. To begin with, your man is not trying to hurt you. Men like beautiful things, it's the way they're wired and that cannot be changed any more than a woman's natural tendancy to notice it. Women can berate and belittle their man for looking but all you will succeed at is pushing him away. Women usually associate the don't have's to the do have's when comparing the woman their man is looking at to themselves. Thing's such as she had bigger/smaller boobs, she is thinner, her lips are fuller her hair is longer/shorter, her legs are longer/thinner, her butt is tighter, fuller, slimmer, her teeth are whiter... this list can go on because this is how women react in this situation. Ladies, take a breath. Do you want to know what the true difference is? Put all of that other stuff out of your mind first. This is the big secret. She's fresh. She looks healthy. Before that shoot, before modeling, before walking out of her place these women took a lot of time getting ready and it shows. These women go through a cleaning ritual that shows through all of the makeup. They then apply their makeup for their look. Some heavy and trashy, some modest and elegant and so on. It's the look that works for them. Put some time into yourself. Don't try to look like one of the many countless beauties that your man sees. Reinvent yourself. Find hair and makeup that accentuates your individual design. Buy new clothes that are appropriate for your age and the look you want. I know, it is easier said than done, but do some research, talk to the ladies at the cosmetics counter, talk to the sales people on the floor. You will be surprised how much you can learn here. The one thing that is common to Pamela Anderson, Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Christy Brinkley, Jennifer Lopez or pornstar Sophie Sweet, they all look smooth and clean, they look healthy and guess what? Guys like to look at them. Have you ever seen these women nude or in tight clothes? Yes! They don't have cookie cutter bodies. Jennifer Lopez has small breasts and a huge butt as well as a small nose and thin hair. Does it matter? Hell no. Sophie Sweet has a killer butt, but... her breasts are tiny...doesn't matter either. Pam has huge breasts and a plastic surgery nightmare on her face, Britney has baby fat that pudges at her lower body, Lindsay has little more than a skeleton figure and Christie Brinkley is what?...Fifty years old? Ladies, pluck a guy off of the street and ask him...'Hey average guy would you kick any of these women out of bed?' You know the answer to that. 'Hell Nooooo!' Fact is ladies, you are no different than these women are. We all have 'flaws'. It's all in the presentation and your guy can be as attracted to you as him and other guys are to these women. Spend some time on yourself ladies. You don't have to be rich to do it. I guarantee you that your guy will be more than happy to have you spending money on yourself. Get a facial (full cleaning and makeup), get a massage and aroma therapy, get your hair done by a stylist and get yourself some new clothes. Not something J Lo is trying to sell you. Something that works for you. Look for pictures of women that have a similar build and shape that you like and use it. It sounds stupid but when you do all of this, have one goal in mind...To feel as clean and fresh as that model or actress looks. Your guy will be looking at you with new eyes, no matter what you think you look like. No one has anything on you. You've got to remember that not every guy wants or desires the aforementioned women. The media just tells you so because they want your money. You look the way you're supposed to look and that's perfection. If you know that you would look great thin and fit then start by correcting the quick things like the way you present what you have now... and then hit the gym. If you truly want it you'll find a way to do it. Whatever path you take to get the look you want, your guy is going to be looking at these women and thinking 'She ain't got nothing mine doesn't have.' ... and you'll know it. You'll be one of the women the guys at the mall are checking out... and your guy will notice that. :) Understanding Your Man Ladies, I'm going to let you into the male world so that you can understand your man and why he seems like such an insensitive prick most of the time. To start off in your understanding of men you need to realize and accept that men and women evolved differently. While women were evolving as gatherers and child rearers men evolved as hunters and physical creatures. Please don't take that as a sexist statement ladies. Most of you are already aware of that and if you look at the fossil record and history that's how the two genders evolved. The two primary natural roles for the two genders are still present today. Women still have the urge to gather (shopping) and nurture (kids, idiot husbands, sad or lonely friends, etc) Men still have the urge to hunt and be physical (hunting, fighting, war, sports, etc) That's just the way it is. Thousands upon thousands of years of these primal instincts don't just disappear overnight. When it comes to interactions between men and women there is something that women need to understand. Men are insensitive. Yes I said it. We are insensitive emotionally because for thousands of years it would have been viewed as a sign of weakness by the more dominant males and it would lead to the sensitive males being killed or driven out of the early tribes where humans started living together. That still exists today. It doesn't necessarily mean death today, but it can still lead other men to excluding sensitive men from certain activities. It is a survival technique. Men are much more sensitive than they were thousands of years ago so just be happy that we're as sensitive as we are and take solace in knowing that your great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great granddaughters have an outside chance of having men that are sensitive and on the same emotional level that they are. I'd now like to address some areas that will probably upset some of you. It is very important for women to look good and smell good for their man or to a man that they are interested in. Now a lot of women are probably yelling "bullshit" or "that's not fair" or something like that, but you need to listen and understand. There is a reason for it ladies...trust me. Men are hunters. For thousands of years men had to stalk and kill their prey. To that end men developed as very visual and scent sensitive creatures. We had the eyes of an eagle and the nose of a bloodhound. Those traits are still present today even though the need to stalk and kill prey has passed. Men have been bred for thousands of years to notice things visually and to notice scents. If the hunter isn't drawn to his prey visually or by smell he won't pursue it and he'll go hunting for something else. Do you understand now why it is important to look and smell good for your man? If you look appealing the hunter will take notice. If you smell good the hunter will take notice. I'm not saying that you have to dress in super sexy clothes all the time or that you have to wear gallons and gallons of perfume all the time, but a certain level isn't too much to ask is it? After all your hunter chose you over all others...but the hunter is naturally nomadic...he has to be given a reason to stay and prey that is constantly attracting him visually and through scent will keep him in one place. Many women HATE wearing lingerie, but you need to understand that you aren't wearing it for yourself. You're wearing it to catch the attention of your hunter. You're wearing it to stand out from the pack so that the hunter will pursue you above any other. The colors and the different textures of lingerie get the hunter's blood boiling and get him ready to go in for the kill...or in most cases with women...go in for some carnal pleasures. When it comes to normal clothes I understand that comfort is an issue for everyone, but from time to time throw on the short low cut dress or the short shorts and the tight top. Catching the hunter's attention is very simple and the hunter does notice when his prey looks good. Another topic to consider when discussing your appearance ladies is makeup. You don't have to wear it all the time, but putting some on when the hunter doesn't expect it doesn't go unnoticed. We've been bred for thousands of years to see red as a sign of health and fertility. So red lipstick, red nail polish, a red tint to some blush and you will look healthy and appealing to the hunter. Now let's talk about scent. Everything comes scented these days. Shampoo, conditioner, lotion, deodorant, perfume...EVERYTHING. Most of you probably know this, but it is important to coordinate the scent that you have. If you have lavender body lotion don't use vanilla shampoo or whatever. Find your products in the same scent so that you put off one uniform scent instead of several blended scents. Blending scents cancels them out and the hunter loses interest. You might not think that your deodorant has a strong enough smell to be noticed through the smell of your shampoo, but we are hunters...we can detect tiny variations in scent. Ladies if you wear perfume make sure that it compliments the other scented products that you're using. Additionally...gauge the reaction of the hunter to your perfume. If he says he likes it keep wearing it. If you see any sign that he doesn't like it try to find one that he does. Even if everyone else hates it the important thing is that YOUR HUNTER likes it. If the hunter has good looking good smelling prey he will stick around...he might even show you more often that he appreciates you. Men are simple creatures ladies. You evolved to gather, nurture, and want emotional closeness. Men were evolved to use the senses of sight and smell to track down what they want. If you look good and smell good your hunter will find you desirable. If you ever feel that your hunter's eyes are wandering throw on something sexy, slap on some red lipstick, make yourself smell great...and see what happens. If you do it right your hunter will club you over the head and drag you back to his cave...or maybe he'll drag you to your bedroom and ravage you the way that only your hunter can. I hope this has helped you ladies to better understand your hunter. Basically...we're stupid...treat us like we're stupid by attracting us with pretty colors and things that smell good. Oh...I understand that this comes off as a little one sided ladies. No I don't think there should be a double standard where women should look good and smell good for their man when the man can look bad and smell bad. Keeping your appearance and scent in a state that's desirable to your mate should be the goal for all people. The truth is though ladies that when it comes to what women want we have very little understanding. We operate on a much simpler level than you do. If men were a legal document they would have the subject headings and then one sentence that sums up the point of that subject. Women on the other hand would have the subject heading and then detailed descriptions of what the subject heading pertains to and all of the little nuances and special cases that pertain to the subject heading. We have the basics...you have the details. On behalf of all men I'm asking that you dumb things down for us ladies. Instead of taking 45 minutes giving us every little detail about how you want us to dress just smack us in the back of the head to get our attention and say "you need to start wearing nicer clothes". That kind of thing might not work with other women, it may take the 45 minutes with them, but 6 short simple words are all that it takes with a man. We might not do anything about it, but at least we'll understand what you want. Every man in a relationship with a woman has gone to his friends and something like "We...or should I say SHE talked for an hour and a half yesterday and I have no idea what the hell we were talking about." Simple inputs ladies...that's all we ask. I welcome a female response to this. Just remember...I'm a simple minded hunter...so use simple direct language or I'll have no idea what the hell you're saying.