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Balance

By: LPGfan



The wedding was, as countless guests had commented, "simply lovely." My sister had wed her boyfriend of five years at a mountain resort in Montana in the late afternoon sun, and I have to admit, it was beautiful. I dislike formal weddings, as does my sister, and her outdoorsy touch was everywhere: no bridesmaids' dresses, no veil, no predictable wedding music. Just two young kids getting hitched in the view of the mountains and their friends, with cocktails before the ceremony—a nice touch, that.

Unfortunately, all the lovey-kissy that goes hand in hand with weddings contrasted starkly with my own relationship. It had been a tough year for me and my girlfriend Kayla, and it was most painful at the wedding, because when we received news of the engagement, our relationship was at its peak. We were thought by all to be next in line for the altar, and we talked openly about it—where and how we'd want to do it, who would be invited, what a crazy institution marriage is, how we'd never want to face divorce. Only now, a year later, was it clear that we would likely never be married, and were in fact headed in the opposite direction. The wedding felt to me, and I think to her as well, like a last obligation, a heavy farewell to what we could have been.

It was a combination of factors that had led to my dissatisfaction—her increasing prudishness as our relationship deepened emotionally, her general melancholy and need to be a savior to her tortured lot of friends, most of whom wanted a reliable shoulder to cry on. She was increasingly depressed, and my attempts to break that cycle succeeded, but only for a few hours. If that makes me sound insensitive, well, you try it. She had become unavailable emotionally, and the sex, which used to leave us both devastated and groaning into each other's flesh and hair, was all but gone. I had taken to masturbating alone once a day just to keep my own head straight.

After the ceremony, Kayla and I went back to our cabin to grab a sweater. She looked good in her summer dress, and we'd been around so many people for the past few days; it was a rare moment alone. As she bent over her suitcase, I stepped up behind her and began to massage her ass, sliding the edge of my palm between her cheeks.

"You know, we don't have to rush right back," I said softly.

She straightened up, sweater in hand. 

"Your mom is going to want to take pictures."

"Oh hell, they can wait. Just a quickie," I said, as I tried to pull her back to me.

"I really think we should get going. Maybe later?" she said, pulling away and grabbing her purse. 

And that's how it had been. Maybe I got spoiled along the way, but as a 31 year-old who had thankfully experienced several long-term relationships and many hook-ups, I was used to not having to initiate all the time, and asking for sex just seemed gross. Emasculating, even. Honestly, and at the risk of sounding like—oh, whatever. I consider myself attractive, and meeting women has always felt natural. Maybe it's having younger sisters: you get to know what upsets a woman, and how to communicate your thoughts to them. Jesus. I hate explaining this. Let's just say that I have no comprehension about men who complain that they never get head, or that they get nervous approaching a strange woman. Women want sex just like men do—they just don't always express those wants in the same way.

As we strolled back to the reception/dinner, I was pissed, and all the more on edge for not having had sex, but I marveled at the surroundings. Pine trees and glistening lakes were a welcome change from NYC, where I'd been for the past several years. I was excited for my sister and her new husband, who is a genuinely good guy. 

Back at the reception, I did all the required stuff: dance, toast, laugh, drink; but I did most of it without Kayla. She had found a few people to talk to, and seemed to be enjoying herself. She gave me a nice kiss after my toast, but for the most part, I was free to chat up my sister, her husband and her friends. Which is how I met Audrey.

Audrey was a friend of my sister's I'd heard about but never met. She was one of her hippy friends, I thought, but upon meeting her, I realized that she didn't fit the stereotype. She was maybe 5'5", with medium blonde hair, a cute, round face with a great smile. What kept catching my eyes, however, were her breasts. Full and natural, with a slight valley of cleavage showing through the top of her light dress, I could feel how they felt by looking at them. I'm not the type to get a full erection by looking at a clothed woman, but I did feel myself swell up and begin to brush further down my leg as I shifted or stepped out of someone's way on the crowded patio. 

Audrey was gorgeous. The sun kept catching the hair at her temples and making it shine, and when our eyes met, it was shyly at first, and then more daring. I caught myself once looking at her with no conversation at all to support such a gaze. 

As the band wound down later in the evening, Kayla walked over to me and said she wanted to go to bed, but that I should stay up. From the look in her eyes, I could tell that arguing wasn't worth it. I could guilt her into staying up, but what was the point? There would be no sex, or unfulfilling sex at that, and she was plainly tired. I watched her walk into the shadows toward the cabin. 

I tried getting back into the swing of things, but many guests had gone to bed, and even my sister was hard to talk to, as she was buzzed on all the attention. I grabbed another drink and wandered toward the lake. I realized in the full moonlight that two people approaching me on the path were Audrey and another girl. I said 'hi' as we passed, and then stopped to stare at the lake, stealing glances back the two friends. They paused, hugged, and then Audrey started to walk back toward me. 

"What are you up to?" she asked. 

"Nothing, just walking," I replied.

"You any good with a canoe?" she asked. 

"It's one of my favorite things to do," I replied truthfully. The resort had a few canoes and kayaks set up next to the lake, and I'd already been out a couple of times in the preceding days, once with Kayla (briefly) and again by myself, just to float and watch the sky.

"But are you good with one? Because I'm a bit tipsy, and they say water and alcohol don't mix." She laughed and I smiled back.

"You don't seem drunk to me," I said.

"Oh, I'm not too bad. I just don't want to be the responsible one," she said.

Twenty minutes later, we were floating on the lake, me at the stern, paddling every so often, but mostly just floating and talking. Eventually she turned on her seat to face me, about five feet away, causing the canoe to rock a bit. We had made it to the far end of the lake, a good half mile from the resort.

"Careful!"

"Would it be possible to get back in if we tipped it?" she asked.

"We're not going to find out," I said, not sure of the answer.

We talked about a few mundane things and then about our respective relationships. She was unhappy in much the same way I was. Her boyfriend, Pete, had skipped the wedding so he could study for his business school exams.

Our conversation trailed off, and as I looked up at the moon, I felt her eyes on me. I returned her stare, and we just sat there, floating, staring at one another. I smiled, and so did she, but neither of us looked away. It dawned on me that we would be kissing at that moment if not for the unstable nature of canoes. 

Finally, dumbly, I opened my mouth:

"I want so much to kiss you, but..."

Audrey smiled more and began, ever so carefully, to lean forward, hands on either side of the boat, as I sought to counterbalance her movements from the other end. I thought we'd surely end up wet, but didn't really care at the moment. I wanted her lips on mine, and I needed to touch her.

"Whoa—"

I realized in my stupor that I would have to meet her halfway, or we'd have all our weight on one end. I began trying to get to her the same way, weight opposite hers to compensate. I wished I'd skipped my last gin and tonic. 

The canoe was an old aluminum model, and it was big. Three ballast bars across the midsection made for touch-and-go hurdles—we each had to cross one. The canoe tipped dangerously, and we both crouched low, laughing and swearing, but were quickly back to the task of getting to one another. 

When we finally met, with one bar between us, we knelt, and kissed softly for one moment, before we were grasping one another by the neck. She tasted sweet, faintly like fruit, and her kisses were wet and open. We stared at each other while kissing, still ravenous with our eyes, and her grip on the back of my neck tightened until it was painful. 

I reached up her dress immediately, fighting the thin fabric as it bunch around my fingertips, and held her ass in my palm, squeezing it and pulling her toward me. We were both pressed against the metal bar between us. I dropped my head to her breast, wanting to kiss her and suckle her at the same time, as she gasped and began to wrestle with my belt.

The canoe swayed, and we froze, trying to regain our balance.

"We can do this," she said, "slowly."

I smiled at her, realizing that we were thinking the same thing: we can—and will—fuck on this boat, no matter how hard it is.

She got my pants down enough to free my cock, which she cupped and lightly stroked with both hands. She bent and took the head in her warm mouth, sucking and leaning back, letting it pop audibly from her lips. She slid down further and squeezed and pulled with the muscles in the back of her throat. My thoughts, all at once, were: does she like me more than her boyfriend? do I care? what if Kayla finds out? I don't care. Is she as impossibly great as she seems? Will I end up marrying Audrey? Jesus, shut up!

As these thoughts swirled around my head, Audrey pulled up and looked at me, eyes watery from exertion.

"You have a great cock."

I responded by reaching out and taking her shoulders in my hands, lifting to signal her to stand up slowly. I lifted the edge of her dress and pulled her panties down to her knees, and using the bar for support, leaned forward to lick her pussy. 

"Wait," she said, sounding annoyed. "This fucking dress is not going to stop me from watching you do that."

The boat swayed as she unbuttoned and unzipped her dress and bra from behind, and as she lifted it over her head, as it squeezed her breasts upward, until finally she was standing above me, her breasts perfect and round in the moonlight, naked. The boat tipped again, and her hands went to my shoulders. She righted herself and pulled my head to her pussy, her fingers in my hair for support. 

I arched my head as much as I could as I spread her lips with my tongue, flattening it and licking slowly up toward her pussy. Her short, soft curls tickled my brow and nose as I tasted her salty essence. She moaned and I wanted so much to take her ass in my hands for more control, more leverage, but to do so would have meant capsizing. Instead, I had to go slowly agonizingly so, until her knees began to tremble and her grip on my hair tightened. 

"Oh god I'm gonna come," she groaned, shaking and bucking against my mouth and face. We almost went over as she ground her clit hard against my upper lip, and the water made lapping noises at the side of the canoe.

"That was so hard," she said, breathing hard, and I knew just what she meant. It's one thing to have to be quiet when you fuck, or masturbate, for fear of getting cuaght, but it's another thing altogether to have to maintain your balance when you come, for fear of drowning.

We laughed and she squatted down to recover. We looked into one another's eyes and laughed quietly, conspiratorially, as though we'd just skipped out on a bill. 

I couldn't help but caress her breasts, which looked made for caressing, or sucking, or nuzzling up next to for a post-coital nap.

"I need to be inside you," I said, as my cock stuck dumbly skyward, angry at its predicament. She pulled at my pants and helped me get them off. 

"Yes," was all she said, as she stood again, shakily, and bent forward at the waist, offering her ass up to me. I stood slowly and pressed the head of my cock against her puffy pink lips, savoring the resistance and friction from her blonde hairs. I pushed forward and felt her yield, felt the outer muscles part, and shoved into her warm depth.

The canoe rocked violently, and we both bent suddenly, closer to the floor of the boat, to avoid tipping.

"Fuck!" we both said, and then started laughing at the 'jinx-buy-me-a-coke' synchronicity of our utterance. My cock didn't find it funny, however, and apparently neither did her pussy, as we both scrambled back into our positions. 

The results were the same. The more I tried to properly fuck her, the closer we came to being literal casualties of lust. I was at a loss, and about to suggest we just paddle to shore and take our chances there, when Audrey said,

"Do you mind getting your ass wet?"

"No. I don't mind anything now. What do I do."

"Lie down on the bottom, and I'll straddle you and fuck you from on top."

It sounded grand, if a bit cold. Again, I didn't care. I lay down as carefully as I could, and Audrey put her feet to either side of my waist, holding the middle bar for support. She sank down and I positioned my cock at her lips.

"Mmmmm there," she said, and she gently began fucking the top half of my cock, testing the water, so to speak. As we both realized that this was a much safer way, she began to push down harder, and I began to meet her coming up, my ass coming off the cold metal a couple of inches at a time. The contrast between the wet metal on my backside and the gushy warm wetness of her plump pussy was too much. I reached forward and rubbed her clit with my thumb as we still rather delicately fucked, her milky tits rolling and bouncing with each thrust. 

The canoe began to make the same lapping/slapping noises it had earlier. It sounded obscene, but I was looking up at a clear bright moon, and one of the most naturally beautiful faces I'd ever seen, eyes half-closed, perspiring slightly, mouth ajar, and if the spasms on my cock were any indication, a face building toward the clenched teeth and creased brow of orgasm.

I felt myself building, and in the midst of it all, I needed to ask.

"Aud...can I..."

"Yes. Come in me. Come hard, baby. I'm gonna too," she said in a half-whisper, half-pant."

I thrust up hard, not caring about tipping the goddamn boat anymore, just wanting to get as deep as I could for once in the whole balancing act, to hit bottom and shoot as much of myself as I could into this sexy woman.

"Oh, Aud-rey," I said in a stutter, my cock exploding into her as she bit her lip while her fingertips danced on her clit.

She made a series of strange moans and collapsed in slow motion on the bar above my chest, her breasts hanging forward. I had no energy to sit up and suckle them.

We rowed back, not talking much, and with the light behind us and knowing that I had to go back to my cabin and she to hers, I felt, I don't know, like an American Indian. Like I'd been on a mission, and now it was completed. I laughed to myself, rather sure that Audrey wouldn't get it, and not wanting to seem totally goofed up on her just yet.

We slid into shore and shared a lingering kiss. I walked her back to her cabin, and took my time getting back to mine. My feet felt firmer on the earth than they had in a long time. 

Balance



As I entered my dressing room, I knew I was late. I had promised to pick you up from the airport and unfortunately I was delayed by a last minute crisis at work. I should have just gone on to meet the plane, but this is Georgia in the summer and I was covered in sweat! I needed a quick shower to clean up.

I had, as is my habit, gone straight into my large closet, my personal dressing room, to get dressed, knowing that it would be faster to dress in there than running around my room looking for clothes to wear. 

I had just finished dressing when I heard the door to my bedroom open and keys jingle against the doorknob. I stood behind the door of the dressing room hoping you weren't to angry at me for leaving you stranded. When I peeked, I saw you standing there with a smirk on your face. Slowly you walked toward the closet. I pleaded my case. 

"I'm sorry, but work was a mad house. I couldn't leave." Slowly a glow began in your eyes, while a smile crossed your face. 

"That's OK...you will just owe me. Owe me Big!" 

"I owe you? What?" I knew this game and was relieved by the humour in your voice. 

"Well we could start with dinner. I am hungry."...was your seemingly generous reply

Laughingly, I left to prepare dinner. Hoping to make up for the errors of the evening, I placed a bottle of wine in the freezer to chill. I heard you come up behind me when the phone ran and knowing you had no wish to speak to anyone, I picked up the receiver. As I struggled to get the survey taker off the phone, you unbuttoned my blouse. Your hands encased the silk of my bra. Thumbs teasingly brush over my nipples. I tried to get off the phone, but you stopped me. I felt your head move, your mouth hover near my ear. 

"You don't need hang up. Let them talk."

A warm wave began at my earlobe and continued down my neck. One of your hands pulls me into you, the other widens the opening of my blouse. I struggle to keep my breath under control, my mind bouncing between you and the conversation. I gasp suddenly when you wickedly pinch a hardened nipple and I quickly cover with a cough. I can feel you laughing into my neck while I apologize to the unaware caller. 

My body enjoys the feel of you, the hardness of your chest at my back. I stifle a giggle into my arm, when I realize you had opened my bra. Unconsciously, my body stiffens and my back arches as your hands caress my body. I cannot keep my mind from wandering. The conversation loses interest for me as your hands weave a spell on me. 

I turn to scold you, but you simply pull me against you. You lean over and gripped a nipple with your teeth, not quite hurting, a sharp deep pleasure shot down inside me and I fought a groan low in my throat. The caller finally realized I was not fully involved in the topic and decided to find another home to disturb. I reached back to hang the phone up causing my body to arch offering my aching nipples to your mouth. 

You pull my blouse and the bra straps down, sucking my nipples into your hot mouth. Your hands reach up to pull and over my shoulders to pull my breasts further into your mouth. I just stood, vibrating, arms still inside my unbuttoned blouse, my flesh hot as you sent near-orgasmic excitement through me with that hot pointed tongue and sharp teeth. The tip of your tongue lightly tracing small circles around each nipple, raising goose bumps in the dark areola. You felt me tremble as I arched. A hunger for more drives my body in search for your elusive tongue and ardent mouth.

But you stopped, your hands trailing warm as they slid down my arms and then from around my waist. I struggled to regain some composure and tried to replace my blouse, my face warm from our exertions.

"No take them both off. I like the view."

I open my eyes to see you standing over the stove tasting the sauce I had put on to boil your eyes sparkling through your glasses. 

"Is it ready?"...I ask somewhat shakily, trying to create some semblance of normal.

"Almost"... you say, a smirk lighting up your face. 

I set the table while you pull the wine from the freezer. I watch you move around me in the kitchen from the corners of my eyes. Hoping, wondering when you will touch me. Afraid of every movement, yearning to feel you again. You laugh as you realize your every move causes me to jump uncontrollably. 

"Am I making you nervous?"...You jokingly ask. 

"Yes"...I try to joke but all that comes out is a squeak that starts you laughing again. 

Defiantly I tell you..."I'm not nervous just uncomfortable in a skirt with no blouse." 

I take it off as you watch. Your eyes following the material slide along my thighs and then down my legs. The fire I see in them intensifies the flames growing inside me. Your hands tighten around the wine bottle just as they had while clasping me moments before. 

"I have decided to dress casually for dinner tonight." ...was all I could manage to say as I trembled under your visual onslaught. 

Your smile was wicked and held a pledge of pleasure, as you answered. "By all means go ahead. You have had a rather draining day."

We sit at the table talking about mundane things over dinner, when I feel a finger slipped inside the waistband of my panties under the table. I stumbled over my words as you move. You could make me forget my name with just your hands. My panties were soaked and I could feel my juices cooling on the bare thighs under the table. 

I stammered, remembering your mouth as it caressed my breasts. My nipples hardened with longing just to feel you there again. My cunt burned where you brushed me, the hairs you touched sending a spark of fire along each nerve, igniting every fiber in me. I slowly spread my thighs apart silently pleading for you to continue. 

Yet again you stopped and all I could do was pant. My excitement was so powerful I could not bear to move. It was as though I held a furnace between my legs, and yet you laughed. The world swirled around me as my pulse pounded a primal rhythm in my ears. My nipples were diamond hard, my pussy enflamed and soaked, my skin flush and you were there amused -- enjoying my very obvious distress. 

"Are you having trouble breathing?"...I simply nodded no, not daring to speak. 

My hands were clumsy with lust as I tried to eat. My glass shaking when I tried to lift the wine to my lips. I spilled more than I drank, your warm chuckle strumming my ears. I felt the table move as the coolness of the wine eased the burning in my flesh. 

Suddenly that ease was replaced by a familiar tug. You were kneeling in front of me. Your tongue trapping the drops as they fell. A wicked smile played over your mouth as I noticed your hand reach for the wine.

"Shall I cool you off?" 

I jumped as you poured the wine between my breasts. I felt it trail its way along my belly, leading your tongue ever lower. My back arching, my head hanging over the back of the chair. A loud gasp escaped from me as I felt the chilled liquid roll into my cunt. Your mouth closed around my swollen clit. The cool swallowed by the heat from you mouth. 

"Please"... I begged. "I need you inside me." 

My breathing was jerky while you closed my legs and removed my panties. I was already soaked when I felt fingers slithering in my pussy. I lifted my legs high and placed them over your shoulders, longing to feel them deep inside. My hips squirmed as you teased the entrance, never allowing me the release I craved. Never having any maidenly modesty I begged.

"Fuck me, I need it so badly, you don't know how badly. Please don't tease me." 

You startled me working your large warm tongue between my throbbing wet labia. You flicked my clit as your fingers slowly moved in and out of my slit. I felt the blood pounding in my head as once again you stopped. 

As I felt you moving away from me, I sat shaking and panting, wondering why you have been teasing me all night. When, finally I could open my eyes I saw you sitting across the table. 

"Debts are terrible things...aren't they?".. is all you laughingly said.



Balance & Equilibrium



Light rain had been drifting down from the heavens all morning. The dark, foreboding rain clouds above might actually be smoke, and the drizzle falling to the earth could be spurting from an emergency sprinkling system which had been set off due to it. However, the only trace of fire in the Green Hills Cemetery resided in Penelope Baker's heart, which had been smouldering for two days straight. 

No amount of rain could extinguish the searing flames licking at her soul. 

In the sea of black umbrellas, a singular one stood out like a beacon shining from a lighthouse. It was splashed with every colour the human eye could interpret, giving it a bright, cheery look that would be offensive on the best of days. Such an object had no business being in a cemetery, for it shattered the sweet melancholy mood that a graveyard should bask in. 

The rainbow umbrella would be an item that a young child would purchase, not, you would imagine, an elderly woman who was prone to periodic bouts of dementia. Perhaps the bizarre purchase of this item was another facet of her illness, one of which Penny had no knowledge of. Dementia to Penny was the equivalent of a television to a chimpanzee – alien and beyond her understanding. 

Penny tore her eyes away from the distracting umbrella – a distraction which was quite welcome – and focused them on the coffin that lay ten feet away. A reverend stood eminently at its head, bible in hand, reading from it certain passages that the parents of the deceased had requested. His voice was sombre and filled with a whimsical empathy, yet despite his kind words Penny received little comfort. 

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," reverend Thomas uttered, finalising the verses. He closed the leather bound book and glanced around at the small gathering. Penny detected a sadness in him that emulated her own, which was strange because, from what she could gather, the man had never met Brian Jackson.

'And he never would,' she thought. 

The coffin, which had been carved out of a beautiful red gum, descended slowly into the ground and the surrounding mourners struck up a symphony of sniffles, sobs and loud whimpers. Brian's father, Joseph, was so stricken by his grief that he fell to his knees and covered his face with hands that resembled a giant bear's paws, proceeding to cry into them with such a powerful display of raw emotion that Penny's heart almost couldn't handle it. 

Tears slid down her face and she tightened her grip around the waist of her best friend, Jacob McCloud. It seemed as if she was faring far better than him. Both had been close friends with Brian, although Jake had known him since primary school. With twenty years of companionship suddenly flooding back from the deepest archives of his memory, Brian's death had sent Jake spiralling into a depression that no amount of coaxing could bring him out of. He had always been such a jovial person, quick to laugh and make others do likewise. It scared Penny to death to see him plunge into such a dark void, and it seemed there was nothing she could do to bring him back.

Like the moisture from the sky, Jake's eyes had been leaking all day long. Every now and then Penny would wipe at his face with a handkerchief, but streams of tears and droplets of rain would re-emerge the moment the pink cloth left his skin.

Neither of them cared enough to protect themselves from the pouring rain; the thought of securing an umbrella for both of them had never entered Penny's mind. Thus, they were saturated from head to toe. Jake's unruly hair sat slicked back from his forehead, his black suit appeared a shade darker, and his handsome face was lined with beads of rain, perhaps descending from the heavens with the sole purpose to cleanse him of his tears. 

Clad in a pair of dark blue denim jeans and a black leather jacket, the only tell-tale signs that she was soaked were the streams of water from the tip of her ponytail and a similarly bathed face to Jake's. 

One by one, people shuffled up to the yawning hole in the ground, paying their last respects by plucking a single white rose from the wicker basket and tossing it inside. Penny slipped her hand into Jake's and led him forward. Their steps were small and it took twice as long to cover the distance than everyone else, but in circumstances such as these there was no hurry.

They both selected a rose and shuffled up to the grave. "Goodbye," Jake said softly, letting a single rose fall from his hand. It flipped end over end and bounced off the lid of the coffin, disappearing down the thin gap that separated Brian's new home from the sheer walls of earth that surrounded it.

"I'll never forget you," Penny whispered. She got down on her haunches and dropped her rose inside, weighing her underhand toss so perfectly that the flower landed on the centre of the coffin. For some unknown reason it was important that it didn't follow a similar fate to Jake's.

Friends, family and apparent strangers quickly materialised at their sides and disappeared twice as fast, not wanting to linger so close to where Death had used the sharp blade of its scythe. This silly superstition mainly extends from the fear that ebbs through people when they sense Death's presence. Typically, when confronted by the dying or the dead, every single person finds themself plunged headfirst into the realisation that their grasp on life is tenuous and often short-lived. Each passing mourner that paid their respects could smell, see and sense the fragility of their very existence, and fleeing Brian's grave diminished the overwhelming notion that, someday, sometime, somewhere, they were all going to be in receivership of a service not unlike the one taking place for Brian Jackson.

Penny and Jake were riveted to the spot, unable and unwilling to move, letting their mutual silence and downward gazes say their true goodbyes. Jake's hand was soft and warm, and without his touch Penny knew that she would feel lonelier than she had ever felt in her life. 

After enough time had passed, she turned to him, gave his hand a gentle squeeze and attempted to smile. "C'mon, let's go," she said. 

"Okay," he sighed. 

As if the traditional roles between dancing partners had been reversed, Penny led her grieving friend away from the newly filled plot and negotiated their path through the crowd. No one spoke. The air of morbidity was so dense that Penny thought she would choke on it. People were either walking around aimlessly or standing still nervously, unsure of what they were doing and where they were going. 

What could you do? 

How were you supposed to react? 

The life of a twenty-year-old had been extinguished so suddenly. Nothing prepares you for this eventuation. There are no lessons taught in school that educate you on the finer points of how to deal with the loss of a loved one and the grief that comes attached. 

They weaved in and out of the gravestones, each becoming bigger and more deteriorated as they exited the contemporary section of the cemetery and worked their way through the older. Headstones are rarely used nowadays; most people opt for a simple plaque with a small photograph of the deceased. 

And then, as if they never existed, the decrepit, century-old monuments were left in their wake and they passed through the cast iron gates that served as an entrance to the Green Hills Cemetery. Gravel crunched underfoot as they crossed the parking lot to Penny's car. It was a run-down yellow Volkswagen, the same make and model as that lovable bug Herbie from the Disney movies of the same name. Sometimes she joked that it was the fifth Beatle, but not today. 

Penny slipped behind the wheel while Jake dropped himself into the passenger seat. Usually his posture was impeccable, but today he slouched like a disinterested high schooler. He looked defeated, world weary, forcing Penny to override her own anguish for the time being in order to keep a close eye on him. 

A part of her wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him. Not a friendly peck on the cheek mind you, but a full-on, passionate, I-love-you-forever type of kiss that you read about in books and dream about in dreams. They had been best friends for six years, and for the last three she had developed an intense crush on him that now, more than ever, filled her with a desperate yearning to hold him in her arms.

Penny gazed at Jake through blurred eyes. Every trickle of water could be felt as it traced a unique pathway down her face, along her neck and underneath the collar of her leather jacket. The droplets of rain wracked her body with sporadic tremors, but she didn't switch on the heater because the chill was the only stimulus that made her feel alive. 

"I can't feel anything," Jake said. 

His hands matched the ghostly white of his face, so, thinking that he was freezing, Penny slipped her hands into his and rubbed at his flesh in an attempt to create enough friction to warm him up. "Is that better?" she asked.

"I didn't mean it like that." His voice was cold and distant, devoid of any emotion. "It's like I'm dead. I feel…nothing."

No words of wisdom fell from her mouth. All she could do was remain silent, because any advice in the context of bereavement would sound false and contrived. Talking is overrated. Simply touching his hands conveyed a deeper sense of respect than any clichéd meanderings could ever do.

Cars started pulling out around them, most likely heading back to the church for the post-funeral reception. "Would you like to go to the reception they're holding at the church?" she asked. It seemed rather tacky to effectively celebrate a loved one's passing by holding a party, but Penny guessed that most people gained a certain measure of comfort in the fact that life does indeed go on. Eating produces energy, and energy is what keeps the body functioning. Without it, we would all be paid a visit by the scythe-carrying figure draped in a midnight-black cloak.

"No. I want to be alone right now."

"Where would you like me to take you?"

"I…I don't care. Just take me someplace where there aren't any people."

"Okay," she said, giving his hands a final squeeze before starting the car.

A swirl of colour entered the rear view mirror as Penny manoeuvred the vehicle out of the parking lot, producing a stark contrast against the grey backdrop of clouds. It was Mrs. Meyer, twirling her rainbow umbrella like an elderly version of Mary Poppins, which would forever haunt her dreams when images of Brian Jackson's funeral graced them. 

A period of time passed where neither of them dared to speak. Hundreds of different memories of Brian overlapped her vision of the road, none for any other reason than because everything she saw reminded her of him: the town municipal tip where the three of them used to play, Mr. Swanson's hundred-year-old oak in which they climbed like monkeys every day after school, their old bus stop, Mrs. Brewer's candy store, and so on and so on. Everything reminded her of Brian.

They drove past the fire hydrant on the corner of Marble Street and Pride Court. The sight of that cylindrical object produced the first genuine smile that had adorned Penny's face in the two days since she'd heard the shocking news of Brian's death. A few giggles followed, causing Jake to turn in his seat and scrutinise her face.

Her smile transformed into a grin. "Do you remember the summer when Brian discovered a way to turn on that fire hydrant?" she said. A faint smile lingered on his lips and he nodded. "God that day was hot. We went to the pool but for some reason it was closed. Damn, I can't remember why it was closed."

Jake chuckled and he broke out into a giant grin. "How can you not remember? Ryan Jenkins broke in the previous night, not before eating a ton of food followed by an entire box of laxatives. It took them two days to clean all the shit out of the pool."

"Oh yeah!" Penny laughed. "Ryan gloated about that for months; he thought it was the coolest thing he'd ever done. Anyway, what about Brian though. I'll never forget the moment he turned on the fire hydrant and it blew him out into the street."

More laughter filled the car as they both reminisced over that long ago day. Brian had somehow gotten his grubby little hands on a hydrant key, which is a crank with a hexagonal slot that you insert into the top of the hydrant so that you can turn it on. Being the ever lovable goof that he was, Brian stood in front of the nozzle when he rotated the crank, and was subsequently blown to the ground due to the awesome pressure he unleashed when he opened the valve. 

Jake's face suddenly morphed into a mask of pain and their laughter subsided. "I miss him already, Pen. Jesus Christ, I miss him so much and it's only been two days." 

"I miss him too."

A two-storey building came into view, which was broken up into sixteen individual one-bedroom flats that made a dog's kennel look like a mansion. The builder who laid the bricks had done a shocking job. On the bottom storey, between most bricks, if you looked close enough, you could see large cracks splitting through the poorly mixed mortar. If gone unfixed by the landlord – an alcoholic who was typically barely conscious enough to remember his own name – the upper storey would eventually collapse on the lower one, hopefully long after Penny's lease ended. 

Penny steered the car into her allocated parking space and got out. Instead of sprinting through the rain like some kind of idiot, Penny ambled towards her flat as slowly as possible, a forlorn Jake plodding along behind her like a faithful servant. She tilted her face skyward and droplets of water splattered against her skin, sending more shivers through her body. Each tremor felt like she was experiencing a miniature orgasm and her nipples hardened.

They arrived at her front door and removed their shoes. Even though the flat's carpet was thoroughly ruined by the previous tenants, it was impossible for her to purge the instinct to remove all footwear before entering a house, courtesy of parents who had spent a lifetime drilling it into her. 

A small – but very clean – kitchen greeted them when they entered the apartment. Beyond the kitchen was the lounge room, hardly any larger than the size of your average shoe box. Despite its shortcomings in regards to space, the interior of her flat had a very lived-in feel about it: the walls were decorated with images of forests, beaches and waterfalls, all perfectly captured from exotic locations from around the globe; plants were suspended from the ceiling in ceramic pots that she had painted; knitted blankets draped over the old, otherwise ugly two-seater couch; and hundreds of knick-knacks lined the shelves of her bookcase. 

To someone with a lot of money it probably wouldn't seem like much – to her it was home.

She made a bee-line towards her bedroom and motioned for Jake to follow. Even as she crossed the threshold that separated her bedroom from the lounge room, the intent of taking Jake in there was lost on her. It was as if some higher force was guiding her actions and she was merely a marionette, dancing to a tune that was beyond her comprehension. 

Still on autopilot, she closed the door after Jake entered and then went and turned on her off-the-shelf, cheapo electric heater. Its internal fan whirred to life and blew out a stream of warm air. 

Jake's eyes met hers and she instantly knew why she had brought him into her bedroom. 

Two beautiful green eyes gazed curiously at her from across the room, eyes which were filled with so much despair and confusion that she would do anything to distract him – as Mrs. Meyer's multi-coloured umbrella had similarly distracted her – from the constant awareness that he was never going to see Brian again.

If Penny was to learn anything from this day – other than the fragility of human life – it was that when it came time for her to meet her maker, she wanted to regret nothing. 

"Why are we in your bedroom?" he asked.

Penny didn't answer him. Instead, she walked over to where he stood and placed her hands on his shoulders. The silky material of his suit jacket was sodden from the rain.

"Take off your clothes," she said. 

Three years of pent-up sexual frustration threatened to burst out of her, forcing Penny to consciously keep a stranglehold on every ounce of her desire. Some may consider it a sign of disrespect to want to have sex with a friend on the very day another had been buried, but this sudden urge to make love sprung from the very notion that life was far too short to waste. 

Her inability to declare her love for him stemmed from a deep-seated fear that he would not feel likewise, and this might cause their friendship to fall apart. It only now occurred to her that if Jake were a true friend, one that stood by you at any cost, he would accept her feelings and not allow them to ruin the wonderful friendship they had spent so many years building.

Jake blinked at her. "Excuse me?" he blurted.

"Take off your clothes," she repeated.

There's a certain way a man looks at you when he finds you attractive. It can most usually be found in a lingering stare or in that timeless red-faced sideways flicker of the eyes when a girl meets a man's gaze. On numerous occasions Penny had found both Brian and Jake giving her body the once over, but that's a far cry from being an indication that either of them wanted to take things to a whole new level. Every man looks a girl over; it doesn't mean he wants to spend hours touching what he sees.

Not that she was an ugly duckling. Guys who had fancied her in the past had showered her with flattery, focusing especially on her big brown eyes, friendly smile, chestnut-coloured hair and her beautifully shaped behind. Although the men who had slept with her had never complained, Penny would prefer to be a little slimmer around the midriff and a lot bulkier when it came to her boobs. They were pert and nicely shaped; she just wished they were a little bigger.

"You're having me on, right?" he said, producing an unsure smile. 

"Nope, I'm being utterly serious."

The desire to kiss him stole over her again, only this time, unlike in the car, Penny didn't resist the temptation. She placed a hand on the back of his slick neck and pulled their bodies together, while her other hand journeyed from his shoulder, down his flanks and around his waist. Their faces were only inches apart. Jake's eyes were wide with shock. Her lips were trembling – she was more nervous than the first time she kissed a boy. 

"What are you doing?" Jake whispered. 

"I'm going to kiss you."

Penny tilted her face and brushed her lips against Jake's. They were cold and wet, but they were also very soft in texture, offering no resistance to her unexpected, overly affectionate kiss. For the time being she was content with limiting her kisses to simple pecks, but her heart surged with the hope of feeling her tongue slide against his. 

With her lips tingling with excitement, Penny broke the contact between their mouths and pulled her face back until she could focus her eyes properly on his. If inclined, it was entirely possible for her to lose herself in those twin green pools; such was their beauty and hypnotic hold over her. 

He tentatively slipped his arms around her waist as she did likewise around his neck, their bodies easing into one another's orbit with an awkwardness that afflicts all couples who share such an intimate embrace for the first time. 

"You…just kissed me," he murmured.

Trembling with a mixture of fear and giddy rapture, she nodded her head and said, "Yes, I just kissed you."

"Why now?" he asked softly. "Of all the days you could have picked, why today?"

"Because as scared as I am about ruining what we have, I'm even more petrified of never knowing what could have been. I've felt this way about you for a very long time, and I don't want to spend another three years of my life not telling you how I feel."




Balance & Equilibrium



Jake removed his right arm from around her waist, brought his hand up to the side of her neck and proceeded to caress her slick skin with unparallel affection. Although that alone made her shiver with delight, he also brushed his thumb over her lips and along her cheek in time with the motion of his palm, which was really turning her to slush. 

"So tell me how you feel," he said.

She felt her cheeks flush crimson. "I think it's obvious, don't you?"

Jake gave her a quick kiss on the lips and managed a small smile. "I'd like to hear it, that's all. Please?"

"You're not making this easy on me, are you?"

"Nope. C'mon, if you tell me how you feel, I'll return the favour."

Could she tell Jake that she loved him with all her heart? Was it possible to inform him that there were some nights where she lay in bed gazing at the glow-in-the-dark universe stuck to her ceiling, meticulously constructing conversations in her head not unlike this one, where she would tell him all, omit nothing? 

Far too embarrassed to confess her heart to him under his intense scrutiny, Penny lowered her chin into the crook of his shoulder and brushed her lips against his ear. His hand scaled the side of her neck and ended its journey underneath her sopping ponytail, where it gently kneaded her flesh in a successful attempt to relax her jittery nerves. 

It felt so nice being held in his arms, to be touching him like this. Although she had been in bodily contact with Jake all day long, this was the first time it had been sexual in nature. 

"You really want to know how I feel?" Penny asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," he replied, the tone of his voice similar to Penny's.

"I…" She swallowed back a huge lump in her throat and forced herself to continue. "I…love you. I love you more than anything in the world."

Jake didn't say anything for what felt like a very long time, yet probably only amounted to a minute or two. Steeling herself for the worst, Penny gathered the courage to face him but was taken aback by what she was confronted with. Tears were streaming out of Jake's eyes, having travelled so far down his face that they threatened to drip off the edge of his jaw. 

There's something to be said about seeing a grown man cry. Males the world over have this absurd notion that women want their men to be made of stone, both in their hearts and in their minds, when nothing could be further from the truth. Penny, as with practically every single one of her girlfriends, didn't want to be intimately involved with someone who was the emotional equivalent of a rusty blender. 

Penny often believed that the strongest connections made between two people are when they are at their most vulnerable. Although she wasn't quite certain why Jake had opened up the floodgates, something tightened in her chest and her own eyes discharged a salty liquid of their own.

"You really love me?" Jake said, his voice resembling that of a child's.

Her arms tightened around his neck, making their bodies grind together with a host of pleasurable results. "More than anything in the whole wide world."

A brief silence floated over them and the only sound resonating through the room was the incessant 'ping' as each droplet of rain fell from the sky and collided with the aluminium roof. It was relaxing, especially when heard while embracing the man she was madly in love with.

"I have something I have to tell you," Jake said. He looked uncomfortable, as if what he had to say was bad news. 

Another lump – or perhaps the very same one – slid up from her stomach and lodged itself in the back of her throat. "Okay?" she croaked.

"I think you better sit down."

They disentangled themselves from one another and Jake took her hand. He guided her over to her queen-sized bed and they sat down on the edge, both of them lacing their fingers together. Generally considered to be something of a neat freak, for once it didn't faze Penny that their clothes would dampen the linen that their butts were parked on.

"Well?" she enquired nervously.

Jake wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his suit jacket, took a deep breath and said, "Brian was in love with you."

Penny blinked and her skin broke out into millions of tiny goosebumps. "What?"

"We both fell in love with you the very day we met you. It was the first day of ninth grade and you'd moved to our town over the summer. Your dad transferred here for work, didn't he?"

"Yes," she said, giving a small nod. 

Wanting to escape the 'big smoke,' her father, the store manager of a prospering menswear chain, had decided to pull up the stakes and move from the city of Melbourne to a medium-sized rural township in the countryside. Being something of a tomboy, it was no surprise that, upon her first week at Green Hills High, she'd struck gold in becoming instant pals with two of the town's most mischievous boys. 

"I remember it like yesterday," he continued, "walking into the homeroom, that bloody air conditioner making that obnoxious rattle. Brian and I were chatting about something inane, probably how much we wished the summer holidays could go on for the rest of our lives, and then….we both saw you. I can't vouch for Brian, but the instant I laid eyes on you I knew that my heart belonged to you."

It was without a doubt the most romantic thing anybody had ever said to her. Despite the fact that she had unearthed a secret that her best friend had taken with him to the grave, all she could focus on were Jake's admissions of a love she reciprocated in kind. For now she wished to attend to the more positive aspects of what Jake had to tell her; there would be plenty of time later on to reflect on the morbid. 

"Why didn't either of you ever tell me?" 

"Fear," he replied simply. "Plain old fear. Both of us were terrified that we would ruin everything – our friendships with you and each other. We may not have had the same parents, but we were brothers. And I guess you could say that we made a silent promise to one another that we would never jeopardise what we had."

Penny tore her eyes away from Jake's and lowered her gaze to her lap. "I loved Brian so much, but I didn't love him the same way I love you."

It saddened her that she was already utilising the past tense whenever she referred to Brian. It was a healthy sign, but that didn't ease the pain that would be forever etched into her soul.

Operating again under that bizarre auto-pilot, Penny ascended from the mattress and unzipped her leather jacket. It slid away from her shoulders and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, but Jake grabbed her by the wrists before she could raise her t-shirt above her head. His hands were soft and warm, touching her with the tenderness of a cardiovascular surgeon operating on a patient's heart.

"Pen, we can't do this," he said.

"Why can't we?"

"Because…because it would be like I'm capitalising on Brian's death."

"Is that what you're doing?"

"Of course not," he said, letting go of her wrists.

Penny reached out with a tentative hand and cupped the side of his face, which was still slick with moisture. "Like you, I can't feel a thing." She wrapped the fingers of her other hand around his right wrist and guided his palm to the slope of her left breast. "Do you know what this is?" she asked.

"It's your boob," Jake said, his face turning as crimson as an overripe tomato.

She shook her head and laid her own hand flat against his, forcing it to press even firmer against her body. Having him touch her in this way made her heart gallop faster than Phar Lap, the famous racehorse that won the 1930 Melbourne Cup. 

"Do you know what this is?" she repeated.

"It's your heart," he blurted, finally catching her meaning. 

"And it feels so cold at the moment. For two days straight all I've felt is the sorrow of Brian's death. It's not that I want to forget about him, what I want is to feel something else other than this aching loneliness. I want to feel you, Jake. I need to touch you and kiss you and feel you deep inside me, because I'm so damn lonely at the moment. Not only that, I want to make you feel something, too. I want to make us feel alive."

"Oh, Pen," Jake whispered. His hand dropped away from her breast and she immediately felt her ass being groped through her denim jeans. Moments later she was pulled towards him and her legs banged against his. Not quite knowing what he wanted her to do, she climbed onto the bed and straddled his thighs, waiting until he'd retracted his hands before letting her rump use his knees as a seat.

Being the full-blooded male that he was, Jake's eyes became distracted by the fact that her breasts were barely inches away from his face. Rain had dribbled down her neck and had partially soaked her cotton t-shirt, which now clung alluringly to her unsupported breasts. Disappointment would've reigned supreme had he not taken this opportunity to have a nice long look at them.

Penny wrapped her arms around his neck and, taking this as his cue, Jake placed his hands on her hips. Eventually, after perving on her chest for what seemed like an acceptable period of time, his lovely eyes met hers, and they were tinged with just the right amount of playfulness and embarrassment. 

Naturally his face was still streaked with melancholy – as was hers – but it was also apparent that, like Penny, he yearned to feel something else. 

"I don't think he would see this as insulting his memory," she said. "If anything, I think he would be glad that we were making it through the day together."

Unlike a lot of men, Jake was constantly surrounded by an intoxicating aroma. Even when he was sweaty his odour was rather pleasant, but right now his natural scent, overlayed with the refreshing smell of Lynx Java deodorant, made her weak at the knees. 

Everything about Jake made her moist: his intelligence, sharp wit, his compassion for others and the fact that he was one of the sexiest guys she'd ever encountered. His prowess in terms of bedroom antics had been a constant curiosity for her, especially late at night when, at the height of her sexual frustration, she would play with herself to the many vivid fantasies that starred her dear friend Jacob McCloud.

His hands drifted underneath her t-shirt and caressed the small of her back in lazy circles, sending a low voltage tingle coursing through her body. 

"Do you still want me to take off my clothes?" Jake asked.

Penny's mouth curled into a smile. "Mhmm, I want you as naked as the day you were born."

"Care to give a guy a hand?"

"Of course."

Despite being a cheap, nameless electric heater, it had managed to raise the room's temperature to a level that would accommodate nudity without discomfort. Her slender fingers shook as she undid the buttons on his jacket, but she wasn't cold. A fuzzy warmth spread from her crotch like wildfire, heating various parts of her body that remained chilled from her saturated garments. 

Jake seemed rather content to remain a bystander, leaving her to spread his jacket open and slide it down his arms. The next item to make an exit was his silk tie, its perfectly cinched knot falling apart with a gentle tug. 

All of her movements were languid, more comparable to the animal with the shell than that of the fur in the classic race between turtle and hare. There was no rush. Everything would be experienced in its own due course; hurrying would only spoil the consummation of their love.

"You are so beautiful," he said, his eyes shimmering as they roamed hers. "I've wanted to tell you how beautiful you are for so long."

"Thank you," Penny whispered, and then kissed him. His lips kissed back with an uncharacteristic gentleness, surprising Penny because most of the men she'd kissed had generally been just a little too rough. But not Jake. His kisses were soft and deeply sensual, adding more fuel to the raging furnace between her thighs. 

Getting hotter by the second, Penny used her arms as a fulcrum and pulled her torso against his, which was now covered only by his long-sleeve shirt. Her tongue eased from her mouth with the caution of a frightened turtle poking its head out from its shell, and then, when his mouth opened upon contact, she pushed her tongue inside and searched for his. 

"Mmm," she sighed. Their hands rubbed at each other's bodies as their tongues toyed. His palms coasted higher up her back, caressing every contour of bare skin that was at his disposal. 

It had been a full year since a man had kissed Penny, her last relationship having fallen apart yet again because she had still been in love with another man. This man. The man in her arms who was kissing her in a way that she'd never been kissed. Jacob McCloud, friend, companion…now also lover. That last part made her smile like a lovesick puppy, which halted their first make out session.

They moved their faces back and Jake offered her a warm smile. "What're you smiling about?" he asked.

"This," she stated. "Kissing you, touching you, loving you; it all feels better than I could ever possibly imagine."

"I don't think I've ever been this happy and sad at the same time."

Penny's smile faltered. "Do you still want to make love?"

"Yes, I most certainly do," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "Sex is the last thing I expected today, but making love to you feels strangely right. I need you…I need you more than I've needed anyone in my life, and I'm not referring primarily to sex."

"I know that, silly," she said. And then a playful smile spread across her lips. "But you do need me for sex, right?"

One of Jake's hands slid out from underneath her t-shirt and cupped the back of her head. He leaned in and showered her face in light kisses, and then moved down to her neck where he nuzzled the tender most part of her throat. The fire between her thighs was burning so intensely that her hot juices started to leak from her entrance.

"Oh, God," she cried. "Y-you didn't answer my question."

Jake flicked his tongue against her earlobe and then sucked on the fleshy part, which was a major turn-on for Penny. His hands were constantly on the move, always rubbing and caressing her, stimulating her in some way, never once staying stationary for more than a second at a time. 

"What question?" he breathed.

The question now seemed quite redundant, for it was self-explanatory that Jake definitely wanted to get inside her panties – not that she was wearing any. 

"Sex," she whimpered. "Do you need me for sex?"

"Yes."

"Say the words. If I'm going to believe you, I need to hear you say them."

He gave her ear a goodbye lick, pulled away and took her face in his hands. A few beads of moisture had accumulated on his brow, while his face, which had been slick not two minutes ago, was now drier than the Sahara desert. There was a particular look in his eyes that made her want to close her legs and squirm about, because it was without a doubt the very look a man gives a woman when he wants to spend hours playing with what he sees. 

"Penelope Louise Baker, I need to make love to you. I've never needed to make love to someone as much as I need to right now."

"Good," she purred. "Because if you had've told me that you loved me only for my mind, I would've been a very angry young woman." 

They shared another heart-melting kiss, one consisting of passionate murmurs, sliding tongues and quivering lips. Keeping their hands off one another was nigh on impossible. Not only was Jake a fantastic kisser, he also knew how to handle a girl – never once did he touch her in a way that wasn't sexy. 

Why oh why didn't she save herself the heartache and confess her love for him sooner?! 

She started undoing the buttons on his shirt with a blind clumsiness, not wanting to relinquish the sensation of his massaging tongue just yet. The last button escaped its home and Penny spread his shirt open. Without having to be told, he dropped his hands away from her body so that she could slide his shirt down his arms.

A carpenter's apprentice by trade, Jacob McCloud's body was in tip-top condition due to the physical nature of his job. Hefting heavy bags of cement, constructing framework, fixing heavy sheets of plaster to the walls and ceilings of houses; all this kept his physique lean and very easy on the eye. Not only that, he also maintained a strict dietary routine that made Penny blush with shame. 

Penny removed her tongue from his mouth and gulped in some much-needed oxygen. "Oh wow," she huffed, "you really know how to kiss."

His hands, now mobile after the removal of his shirt, zeroed in on the hem of her t-shirt and tugged the fabric up her body. The material flew up her torso with the velocity of a sail being raised on a yacht, and with reaction time born from playing tennis since she was five, she raised her arms before her t-shirt's journey was impeded by her armpits. 

The t-shirt flailed away and Penny was left nude from the waist up. "You're so gorgeous," Jake sighed, letting his gaze wander back and forth between her face and her breasts. 

Smudges of pink materialised on her cheeks and she felt her skin burn as if branded by a big 'E' for embarrassment. Already stiff from being chilled by the icy rain, her nipples ached under his admirable gaze. They desperately wanted stimulation – to be played with, licked and sucked. 

"Steady on, cowboy. I wouldn't go that far." She cupped her breasts and gave them a generous squeeze. "I wish that these were a little bigger."

"They're beautiful, just like every other part of you." 

Jake brushed her hands aside and filled his palms with her soft, pale flesh. The reason why the male species were fascinated with breasts would be forever lost on Penny (something to do with being breast fed, wasn't it?), but right now she was indebted to whatever drove men crazy for them. It didn't just feel good – it felt spectacular! And when Jake caressed her nipples with his thumbs, she arched her back and expelled a gasp of pleasure. 

"Does this feel good, Pen?" Jake asked.

"Uh huh," she groaned.

"How about this?" He trapped her pebbly nipples between both thumbs and forefingers and squeezed, first gently and then, when they were harder than two small uncut diamonds, his pinches became a little firmer. 

She screwed her eyes shut and her mouth fell open in a silent moan. The growing itch between her legs was rapidly causing her discomfort, and if left unscratched it may leave irreparable psychological damage. But for now Jake seemed content with getting her worked up by teasing her nipples instead of attending to the major artery of her sex drive.

"Suck them," she gasped, still staring at the backs of her eyelids.

Seconds later his hands disappeared and she tensed at the absence of his loving touch, but relaxed once again when she felt his tongue lick the areola of her left breast. He tormented her nipple, never allowing his tongue to pass over the stiff nub as it explored the entire landscape of her juicy melon. Unable to withstand the torture of being teased any longer, she forced her breast against his mouth and then drove the nipple between his lips, not before grabbing the back of his head and lacing her hands through his hair – a precautionary measure in case he dared to have the gall to escape. 

"Oh, God," she cried softly. "Mmm, that's it, suck it."

His mouth created a tight vacuum and his lips milked her nipple, leaving his hands free to wander the silky smooth contours of her back. It was at this point that her free hand navigated its way between their bodies and touched down on the crotch of her jeans, proceeding to undo the cool metallic button and manipulate the zipper until all the spiky teeth had parted company. 

Cool air rushed in and assaulted the slick outer lips of her pussy, but this was merely an illusion. The temperature of the room was more than adequate – that little electric heater had been a real find! – it was the molten heat emanating from the epicentre of her arousal which was the real culprit. 




Balance & Equilibrium



Penny, fearing that she would explode if her pussy didn't get some serious attention fast, inserted her hand inside her rain-soaked jeans and massaged the entire length of her slit. An involuntary shudder lifted her ass away from Jake's knees and drove her breast against his face, smothering him.

Laughing with surprise, he let the breast pop from his mouth and immediately went back to fondling them, only becoming aware of her naughty antics when her fingers produced a slushy, slightly sticky resonance that was music to his ears. 

"What are you doing" he said, his eyes leaping wide as he alternated between staring at the entrance to her jeans and into her deeply expressive, slightly lust-ridden brown eyes. 

"What does it look like?" she moaned.

"It looks like you're playing with yourself!"

Penny grinned at him and stroked the side of his face. "Sweetie, that's exactly what I'm doing."

"You…you aren't wearing any panties, are you?"

"No."

"Do you always go commando?"

"No, not always. Putting on underwear seemed like a rather trivial thing to bother with today."

Jake's eyes turned misty and Penny sensed that tears weren't far behind. Before he could succumb to the heart-wrenching sadness of Brian's death, Penny extracted her hand from between her legs and eased two of her shiny digits into his mouth. 

"Taste good?" she enquired.

"Mhmm," he moaned, giving her a slight nod of the head.

She retrieved her fingers when he finished sucking them dry, pleased to see that she'd thwarted the onslaught of negative thoughts that he had almost become inundated with. 

"Did you like watching me play with myself?"

"I loved watching you do it."

A corner of her mouth curled into a coy smile and her fingers found his left wrist. Jake was left handed, and the task she was allocating him required a certain level of dexterity that can only be found in a person's preferred hand. 

"Perhaps it's your turn to have a play with it, don't you think?"

"Y-yes," he said, a shaky tremor afflicting his husky voice. The fact that he was slightly bashful only made him cuter, which was a quality that, when it came to Jacob McCloud, was well and truly in stock. 

Everything about him made the butterflies flutter in her stomach: his tanned good looks, friendly smile, easy-going nature, hot body, and most importantly; he was just like Yogi – smarter than the average bear. 

Penny guided his hand downwards with such care and grace that it could be comparable to Neil Armstrong's gentle delivery of the Lunar Module to the surface of the Moon, and the giddy excitement that Jake was experiencing might have emulated the astronaut's as he, like Jake, was about to charter unknown territory for the first time.

The tips of his fingers ran through her sparse thatch of light-brown pubic hair. She always kept herself neatly groomed, making a habit out of shaving her pussy lips every Sunday morning, just in case rare moments such as this should arise. 

Masturbation is like going to the picture theatre by yourself; it's something you can do if you have to, but everyone knows it's more fun to have a partner to snuggle up to. 

When Jake's fingers came into contact with her vagina, sparks flew and fireworks burst though her body.

For some reason their conversation in the car made a brief appearance in her stream of consciousness. His utterings of feeling nothing had scared her silly, but now she sensed a profound change in him that made her as playful as a kitten.

"Do you feel that, Jake?" she asked, and then wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss.

"Yes," he sighed.

"What are you touching?"

Jake buried his face in her neck and proceeded to kiss and lick her throat. "I'm touching your pussy," he murmured against her hot skin.

His fingers rubbed back and forth, beginning at her clit and terminating at the point where her pussy, yearning to be filled with anything resembling a phallic object, desperately tried to suck his fingers deep inside. There was no way Jake could mistake her constantly contracting vaginal muscles for anything other than a deep-seated need to have her pussy stuffed, so again, mischievous brat that he had always been, he was being a real tease. 

"Tell me specifics. I want details, mister."

"It's warm," he groaned.

"Keep going."

"It's unbelievably wet, but also kind of sticky."

A shiver raced through her when his pinkie finger suddenly wormed its way into her tight opening, giving her immense pleasure despite his finger's lack of stature. It wriggled about for a few seconds and then made as hasty a retreat as it did an entrance. 

Men often understate the importance in the art of teasing. Many often dislike being in receivership, and even fewer return the favour. It was incredibly refreshing, albeit slightly frustrating, to find a man who embraced the sweet agony of delaying gratification. 

"So tight," he muttered, his lips vibrating along her flesh. "Your pussy is so tight."

"I do have a rather tiny pussy," she concluded breathlessly.

It was so small and tight that, as opposed to most women, a tinge of worry ebbed through her whenever she removed a man's trousers for the first time, because it was a frightening notion that he might be sporting an appendage that wouldn't fit inside her. 

Jake's fingers upped the ante and massaged her with a heightened sense of resolve. Each kiss and lick that made contact with her neck compounded her excitement, essentially reducing her to a putty-like substance as he showered her with affection. Her breathing became erratic, the tingle between her legs upgrading into a full-fledged quivering mess that was shooting bolts of pleasure through the millions of sensory receptors in her body. 

"Kiss me," she cried softly, too weak to grab the sides of his head and pull his mouth up to hers. 

He pulled his face away from her throat. "Where do you want to be kissed?" he asked.

"Everywhere," she whispered. Her eyes turned wet and it was impossible to unglue the dopey smile pasted to her lips. "But for now," she added, "I want you to kiss me on the mouth."

They shared a scintillating kiss filled with passion and sexual longing. It wasn't merely their tongues intertwining but also their hearts, which now, instead of beating out of sync as they had for so many years, pumped in time to the same tune. This was the way kissing was supposed to be – soft and deeply sensual, yet also gripped with an undercurrent of intensity that surged through the sharing of lips, tongues and assorted gasps and moans. 

Although she was already squirming around on his hand as if she had a whole platoon of ants stored in her jeans, the undulations of her hips increased ten-fold when he extracted it from between her legs. 

"Oh shit," she whimpered. "You are such a tease."

"Well, I don't want to ruin your appetite on finger food when the main course isn't too far away."

Penny struggled to maintain a no-nonsense frown, but her pouting demeanour was betrayed by a few girlish giggles. "I'll have you know that when it comes to my appetite, it's insatiable."

Two glistening fingers arrived at her mouth and eased between her lips, feeding her the sweet nectar that had flooded her pussy, which was undeniable proof that her level of arousal was leaning towards being extreme. She slurped his fingers clean with a variety of lewd noises that would make a nun cringe, if not faint dead away.

"You are so damn sexy," Jake admonished, removing his fingers. "I had no idea you could be this sexy."

"Thanks, cowboy. I have to admit, you have an unnerving knack for making me feel incredibly sexy. I'm never this confident when I'm with a guy."

"I love it when you call me that."

"What? Cowboy?"

He nodded. "It's cute," he said.

"A cute nickname for a cute guy," Penny shot back. The loss of motor function she had been temporarily afflicted with gradually dissipated – no thanks to his lack of stimulation downstairs – allowing her to dangle her arms around his neck and rub her breasts provocatively against his chest. 

"I want you," he sighed. "Oh boy, I want you so bad."

"Well, you've got me," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm totally and utterly yours for the wanting. But before we dig into the main course, you don't mind if I taste the entrée, do you?"

"And what would the entrée be?"

Penny licked her lips suggestively and offered him a come-hither look. "What do you think it is?"

"I asked first," he grinned.

"Okay, fair enough. Well…it involves sticking something very stiff into my mouth and sucking on it."

The look on his face was adorable. He reminded her of a little kid in a candy store, gazing with wide eyes at all the delicious edibles that lined shelf upon shelf, a virtual utopia for the young.

"Ahem…uh, how do you know that I'm…excited?"

"The conspicuous bulge in your trousers kind of gives you away," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, dropping her eyes to his crotch. She had become aware of this phenomenon the precise moment she straddled him on the bed, although the surface area of the protrusion had increased over time. 

This was very important to Penny. Jake was as hard as the proverbial rock and she hadn't even laid a finger on him. Although hardly romantic in any way, shape or form, this was quite possibly one of the finest compliments a man can bestow on his partner, because it implied an attraction so powerful that touching and looking was enough to get him highly aroused. 

Penny gave him a protracted kiss on the lips, combed her fingers through his slick hair and then rose from the bed. The silky, almost sensual motion of her body resembled that of a career stripper, not a florist in training. Perhaps she'd been the former in a previous life, because her body swayed to the beat of unheard music as she wriggled out of her jeans and yanked off her black socks. 

Being stark naked in front of her best friend felt as natural as a puma's instinct to stalk its prey. Penny experienced no uneasiness under Jake's oh-so-obvious scrutiny; a welcome change from the insecurities which had plagued her in the past.

"Undo your belt," she ordered. 

Saliva accumulated in her mouth as she maintained her bedside vigil. The very thought of giving him a blowjob made her flush with anticipation. Her pussy twitched with envy, jealous that another set of lips would be tightening around what Jake was in the process of freeing. 

She gave her pussy a quick pat, temporarily sating it. All it needed was some love and attention, much like the domesticated feline that occasionally goes by the same name. 

Having undone the buckle, Jake jerked his belt through the loops securing it to his waist and tossed the piece of leather aside. Then, spurred on by a nude and very horny female in close proximity, he squirmed his way out of his saturated trousers, slipped off his white socks and shoved his underwear down his legs. 

The sight of his erection caused her to salivate profusely from both ends; her pussy, which she'd thought to have coaxed into a state of dormancy, now meowing to be fed instead of stroked. Never one to be a vegetarian, it wanted meat and demanded it now. 

'Too bad', she thought, 'I want to suck on it first.'

"Why don't you lie down and get comfy," she offered.

"O-okay," he stuttered. There was that glimmer of bashfulness again, a spark of nervousness, pleasing Penny that she had a profound affect on his psychology as well as his physiology. 

Jake scooted backwards until his head hovered above her fluffy pillow like an Apache helicopter, only it didn't execute a landing on the soft helipad because he'd braced himself into a half-sitting position by leaning on his elbows. 

Some girls flat-out loath giving head, and that was fine. Penny absolutely loved it. Maybe it was because she'd been blessed with partners who had reciprocated without fault, or perhaps she was genetically predisposed to derive pleasure from giving it. Whichever was the case, for Penny at least, going down on a man was not a downside to making love.

She padded across the mattress on all fours, feeling very much like a lioness prowling for her supper. When she arrived at his legs, she grabbed him by the ankles and spread them apart as easily as a pornographic movie starlet's.

"Hi there, Yogi Bear," she purred, slipping between his splayed legs and sandwiching her body snugly between his thighs.

His cock, now only an inch or two shy of her eyes and pointing at the ceiling, was beautiful. The skin was smooth and a shade whiter than the rest of his body, while the head was tinted with the same maroon blush rising in her cheeks. It wasn't huge by any standards (thank God!) but it certainly couldn't be classified as small – it hovered in a perfect balance between the two. No ugly veins rode the length of the shaft, and from what she could tell, the only imperfection was a barely perceptible curve from base to tip, which actually lent it a unique quality rather than detracting from its overall beauty. 

It was only after she'd gawked and gaped at his erection that she became aware of something quite funny. Giggles escaped her mouth as she stroked the twin sacks underneath the base of his shaft, which were roughly the size of two pieces of passionfruit. They were smooth and hairless, and right now, instead of sagging, the skin was drawn tight over his testicles. 

"You're going to have to explain this," she laughed.

"It's a long story."

Penny delivered a soft kiss to the tip of his penis and then beamed at him. "I'm not eating my entrée until you explain to me – in full detail – why you shave your balls."

"Okay, okay. Remember Keira?"

"Yes," she said with a nod. Keira Maguire had been Jake's last girlfriend, an upper-class snob who had surely only used him for his body. In the chess game of life, Keira would consider herself to be the queen – royalty, and quite possibly the most important piece on the board. All those surrounding her were considered to be her pawns, expendable and only employed to do her bidding. 

"Well, she kind of had a fetish. She loved sucking on my balls, so much so that she made me shave them on a constant basis."

"But that was eight months ago."

He grinned sheepishly. "I know. After we broke up I tried letting the hair grow back, but I had no idea how itchy it could get. Continuing to keep them shaved ended up being the lesser of two evils."

"Would you like me to lick them?" Penny asked, giving each testicle a gentle kiss. Deciding that the poor guy deserved at least a small measure of stimulation, she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and began stroking him with a firm grip.

"Uh huh," he groaned. "That would be super-nice."

The tip of her tongue grazed his flesh and left a thin trail of saliva. Her licks were hesitant, like the first steps of an infant learning to walk, merely testing the water before diving straight in. And then her excitement of having her mouth stationed between Jake's legs grew, as did the lengths and speed of her lapping tongue. 

Jake squirmed around like a tortoise on its back, the pleasure so earth shattering that his arms gave out and his head crash-landed to the pillow with an audible 'poof.' His primitive moans of delight encouraged her to slip into a higher gear, spurring her to kiss, lick and suck on him with wild abandon. 

Her lips shifted north and arrived at the base of the stiff object being caressed by her hand. She delivered a rapid-fire series of kisses up the underside until she made it to the tip, and then cocked her head and wrapped her silken lips around half his girth, proceeding to slide her mouth up and down as if she were playing a harmonica. However, this musical instrument, instead of being cold and metallic, was warm and fleshy, requiring Penny to suck instead of blow in order to produce the desired effect. 

"Oh, Pen. That feels incredible," Jake sighed, cupping the back of her head in an effort to hasten the movement of her lips. 

A great blowjob doesn't come down to technique alone – and this is universal for all things sexual – it requires a perfect balance of skill, enthusiasm and a connection to exist between both parties; on an emotional plane as well as the physical. Giving another person oral pleasure is a selfless act. The only satisfaction the giver can gain is through the knowledge that their actions are appeasing the receiver's sexual desires, and not just hurrying through so that they can switch roles. 

Penny's slick lips broke away from her makeshift musical instrument and repeatedly licked the entire length as if it had, by some small miracle, suddenly been coated in her favourite flavoured pancake topping – chocolate syrup. 

"I bet you want me to stick it deep into my mouth, don't you?" she teased between gigantic licks. 

"Oh, yes. God yes, please do."

On any other day she would have gone out of her way to torment him by using every trick a girl knows how. Her naughty streak egged her to take Jake to the outer limits, yet she was restrained by the unshakable cloud of melancholy that had plagued her for two whole days. 

Although gone unspoken, the sharing of their bodies had more to do with filling a void in their hearts rather than their loins. They were both without a doubt enjoying themselves, but not for one single moment was Brian ever completely exorcised from their minds.

Jake's fingers slipped around her ponytail and, using it as a rudder, steered her mouth towards the glistening tip of his penis. His entire erection was shiny with spittle, glimmering despite the meagre daylight being cast through the bedroom window.

Their eyes met as her lips stretched wide to accept his stiff, warm meat. It speared its way into her watering mouth, sliding all the way past her teeth until she couldn't fit any more in. 

Penny sat like that for a moment, staring into Jake's eyes with over half of his cock buried inside her mouth. 

Without warning her lips tightened and formed a seal that prevented air from entering or escaping, and then she initiated such a powerful suction that it put the Hoover vacuum company to shame. Jake's hips shuddered, the involuntarily gyrations making his shaft slide in and out of her mouth haphazardly.

Penny clamped her hand around the base and forced his ass into the mattress, using her weight to hold his humping hips steady. Then she coupled her hard sucking with a quick, deep bobbing action, letting the prickly edges of her teeth and the spongy surface of her tongue graze against him to induce optimum pleasure. 

"Penny…" he moaned breathlessly. "Oh, Penny. You have no idea how good that feels!"

Juicy slurps rose from his crotch, their pitch and lewdness increasing along with the duration of her superb blowjob. The culprit of each high-pitched squelch came care of her salivating mouth, which was ejecting such a copious amount of liquid down the underside of his engorged cock that it put Pavlov's dog to shame.

A part of her thirsted for his sperm, wanting nothing more than to coax him into spraying the inside of her mouth with his hot, sticky cum. Each man's load varied in taste and texture, and Penny's curiosity over Jake's was going as nuts as Spider-Man's instinctual danger sense. But whenever she intuited the immanency of his climax she would ease off the accelerator and coast along at a leisurely pace, always denying him access to the area marked 'point of no return.'

Sucking Jake off was making her so horny that her pussy was screaming with envy, not caring that it was committing one of the seven deadly sins. Hell, her pussy would happily commit all seven sins if it meant getting stuffed with the heavenly flesh her mouth was currently gorging on; for it was presently in the painful grip of a burning itch, one which could only be scratched by an orgasm. 




Balance Of Payments



This short extract from the memoirs of Evan Moore is provided for students as a study in economic opportunism.

Chapter 10 - THE ISLES OF HALCYON

That summer had been difficult. Firstly there was my internet company which, from its inception I had planned to sell once it reached an optimum size - but even so our parting almost seemed like having one's child fly the nest. Then there was my failing marriage. In my experience a divorce, however amicable, always leaves one with a sense of something lost - as I suppose there is. Thus, come the autumn, I was traumatized and in need of a sabbatical.

One evening - a drink or two taken in the yacht club - I expressed myself forcefully on the subject, whereupon John Hardstaff promptly offered me the use of his small sloop for a winter of solo sailing round the warm South Seas. It seemed the ideal restorative.

So it was that, having been casually cruising wherever my whim took me for close on a month, chance found me near the Halcyon Isles. I had not intended to call there. Indeed, I doubt if I would have been permitted entry given the taboo on visitors. However in the small hours of one morning  I collided with a drifting tree trunk and sustained a damaged bow which required an emergency dash for the nearest land.

The Halcyon Isles, as any schoolboy (sorry that's not PC, it should be school person - no to hell with it - school-kid) knows, are to be found just downwind of Paradise, where they share its congenial climate of blue skies, warm seas breaking onto coral sands, light rain at night and temperatures rarely far from the prevailing eighty degrees. With plentiful fish, fertile fields and abundant fruit on the trees, the living is easy. They present a Shangri-La for dropouts, dead beats and drifters - for who has a soul so dead they wouldn't prefer to languish in the Isles rather than slave for the taxes, traffic, and takeaways offered by advanced economies? Which is why the islanders, to protect their way of life, have turned their backs on the world and adopted a strict policy of no immigration, no tourists, no traders. In short, no visitors.	   

But if they have turned their backs on the delights of civilisation how do they fill their idle hours? Who provides their entertainment? 

Well what better than indulging natural desires? 

The islanders themselves, though small in number, are noble in stature. The males tall, athletic and well endowed and the women - words are inadequate to convey their bounteous charms. It seems inevitable, in a climate where clothes are largely unnecessary and even when worn are kept to a minimum, that there is a vast proclivity to the gratification of concupiscence - coitus, cunnilingus and fellatio become, as they should be, art forms. Indeed a vindication of art for art's sake. 

At least that was the way it had been until the Isles were struck by what scientists refer to as climate change.  The blue skies and warm seas were still to be enjoyed, but the rains largely disappeared, parching the crops and leaving the islanders dependent on fish for their food. Not that I was immediately aware of this since I had other things on my mind. 

As a shipwrecked mariner, I was given permission to stay for the time needed to repair John's boat, and since I had now become a legally authorized unfortunate, the islanders quickly showed their natural friendliness by suggesting that a good a place to lay my head would be the hut of a young widow. 

I soon became aware that sleeping was to be a minor part of her hospitality. Indeed just a single night at Choo Mee's demonstrated that though, after three wives and several girl friends, I considered myself well versed in matters sexual I still had much to learn. In consequence I procrastinated on the boat repair while broadening my education and enjoying the sweet life.

Occupied with the boat by day and Choo by night the weeks passed delightfully until she unexpectedly announced that she would be leaving me for a period in order to perform her duties at something called the Festival of First Joy. She was carefully vague as to exactly what those duties were - something to do with novices I gathered - and was uncertain precisely how long she would be gone because, as she did explain, the Festival was held on one of the smaller islands in the group and sailing there, and back, depended on the winds being from a suitable direction.

Alone I found time hanging heavily. I didn't want to work too hard and complete my repairs, but what to do instead, and how to fill my evenings? Thus it came about that, after a couple of days, I acquired a drinking companion and learned to appreciate the bite of fermented coconut milk - though not as much as my acquaintance who, most nights, after a few too many drinks had led him to regale me with the Islanders' woes I had to help to his hut.

He complained that the warming of the globe was ruining their lives; their principal crops failing they needed to import food, but they couldn't pay for it; they had no trade, no exports, thus no balance of payments. Their only hope seemed to be to relax their rules and open the Isles to tourists, even though that would bring the drop outs and tidal tripper trash. They were trying to resist, but for how long could they hold out? I sympathized with their problem but, at the time, gave it little thought, being impatient for the return of my Choo.

She was away for nigh on two weeks and when she finally appeared she looked tired and exhausted. So weak that the first night back, while she easily emptied my brimming balls, it took all my skill and perseverance to bring her to a climax - a far cry from her normally insatiable self. 

Afterwards I lay with her in my arms. 'Tell me all about it,' I said.

'About what?'

'This Festival of . . . what was it . . . First Joy?.'	 

'It's part of the coming of age customs of our boys and girls.'

'Yes, but why should it make you so weary?'

She was silent for a while - I'm still not sure if it was because she felt that I would disapprove - but eventually she said, 'It's to introduce the joys of sex to those who have attained their maturity in the last twelvemonth. 

'But don't they already know?'

'One or two, but not the majority since they are taught to hang on to their virginity until the time of the festival when they are declared to have come of age.'

'So how does it work? Do they all have a big orgy and screw one another?'

'No, our widows and widowers, mainly the older experienced men and women, take them to bed one at a time and teach them; or those who are not past it do.'

'That still does not explain why you're so exhausted.'

'There are only a very few widows of an age to participate, and we can't just fuck each boy once. We need to show them different techniques, so that by the end of the festival they are truly men, capable of properly pleasing a woman.'

'And the girls? Are they also taken several times?'

'Of course, how else could they learn to fully satisfy a man?'

'So you've been doing a lot of fucking?' I was rather - no, very - jealous.

'Yes, about a dozen times a day.' 

'No wonder you're tired. Well I can't compete with that. Still, whatever makes you happy.'

'Happy? No, none of us are. It's a duty that is put on us. We wish we could find some other way. We wouldn't mind the occasional session, but it's too much to continually have to endure their inexperience.'

I reckoned she was right. It's an odd man that doesn't prize the opportunity to deflower a virgin now and then, but all the time? Right then I didn't think on it as my balls were recharged and ready to resume the action; it was later while sleeping the sleep of the sexually satisfied that my subconscious attempted to relate one oddment to another.  I awoke with a solution clear in my mind.     

The basis of my idea was that while most men are content to merely fantasize about enjoying a tender innocent, and harvesting her maidenhead, there are many who are ready to put their money where their dreams are, and to pay a premium for the privilege. So, I reasoned, if we had a means of offering to a select few the privilege of initiating the island maidens (at a suitably a high price) it would both make a significant contribution to the economy of the islands and rescue the elders from their penance.

I mentioned it in passing to my drinking companion and, as I expected, the subsequent gossip soon took it to the attention of the chieftain and his advisors, who called on me to refine the details and to institute a scheme for the following year. 

The Islands Council decided that the prospective visiting cherry poppers should be restricted to the one small island where the deflowering ceremonies were customarily held. There I had a two hundred room hotel hastily erected; a runway - just long enough for executive jets - prepared; and started a small marketing plan, targeting the world's millionaires. By late spring we were accepting  reservations for the next Festival. 

I decreed there would be two types of room - deluxe, where we guaranteed that each night a new virgin would be provided for the guest's entertainment, and standard, where the maiden was merely a novice, guaranteed to have been unused prior to the commencement of the festival. 

Charges were set at a level that only the very wealthy could afford, but even so it quickly became apparent that demand exceeded supply; there being ample moneyed men who had no hesitation in paying the prices asked. By itself the project was set to make a significant contribution to the Island's balance of payments.

Two problems were foreseen. Firstly that our paying guests would be solely using the girls for their personal pleasure and thus any tuition was likely to be minimal, and secondly that we were only catering for a male clientele - what about the females? 

Well the second was the easier to solve - we split the Festival into two, the first week or ten days being devoted to the initiation of the girls, the second to the boys. I had anticipated a lower demand for the second period and had accordingly set a lower charge, but was pleasantly surprised at the number of liberated women of wealth looking for a toy boy to train.

Eventually the tuition question was solved when a survey unearthed several public spirited men and women who said they would be willing to give the new adults additional tutoring providing, the task was spread over a period and not made too onerous. 

Thus was born the Halcyon Academy of Erotic Performance.

Despite its success this, unfortunately, did not fully solve the fiscal problems afflicting the Islands. Since by now I was to all intents and purposes their finance minister, tasked to find a way to balance the books, I resolved to identify other means to plug the gap. The difficulty was that it appeared the only asset at our disposal was the Islanders' sexual prowess. How do you export erotic expertise? I had no idea. 

Along the way I had acquired a hut of my own to use as an office, and a staff of three, one of whom - female - acted as my secretary-cum-assistant. She, during the celebration of her birthday, succumbed to a surfeit of the fermented coconut milk; had an accident; and took to her bed. They say every cloud has a silver lining; in this case it was true since the need to find a temporary replacement gave me another answer.

Selecting a wealthy country we set up an Embassy in its capital city which, in addition to an Ambassador, we staffed with a large number of cultural attaches - positions for which we selected the most attractive of our newly initiated females. We opened it in style with a cocktail party for the diplomatic establishment and leading politicians at which our cultural attaches were briefed to make it clear that they had few duties and were somewhat bored, but were available, at a reasonable hourly rate, to provide discreet personal services for reputable diplomats and legislators. 

They soon found themselves unable to cope with the demand for their intimate services, and the size of the establishment had to be increased. It proved so remunerative that the opening of consulates in other major countries and cities was considered, but had to be dropped because of a lack of sufficient younger women to staff them. Indeed even the staffing of the Embassy itself soon became a problem since the girls hated the climate, particularly the colds rains and snow of winter, and drastic measures were required to keep their numbers up. 

Ultimately we decided to copy the procedure of one well known religion which requires its members, on attaining their majority, to serve abroad as a missionaries for a year; thus the Chieftain decreed that each maiden should, upon completing her erotic education, serve for twelve months as a cultural attaché - by her efforts serving to keep the economy afloat and also promoting the gospel of free love.

This, of course, left a shortage of nubile females within the Isles themselves, much to the dismay of our younger me, for while some males could also be employed at the Embassy to service female diplomats and politicians the demand was, understandably, lower.

It appeared that while the finances of the Islands might at last be in balance, the service to the community the Islanders required of their young adults was not. To achieve equality would demand a temporary  increase in the number of seductive females in the population which, even if achievable, was not sustainable year on year.  

We speculated that a limited amount of selective, short term immigration might solve the difficulty. The new hotel being only required during the Festival we had spare accommodation for eleven months of the year. In addition we had a surplus of our younger men ready for practical sessions; so we decided to run courses in sexual skills aimed at attractive, nubile, foreign females.  

This also proved a winner, it being most popular with wealthy magnates who sent their mistresses and bimbos that our trainers might develop their techniques. I am pleased to say that our Kama Sutra Degree became a widely recognized and sought after qualification, guaranteeing that any graduate would never be short of clients. Indeed many governments now make it a prerequisite for a woman's employment as an official hostess - though some also prefer applicants to have completed our advanced BDSM module.

It took me nigh on eighteen months to develop and prove the systems, but ultimately it was all up and running well. From an impoverished peoples the Islanders now had a surplus on their balance of payments - and no idea of what to spend it on. That was a problem they could solve themselves; for me it was time to move on. 

The Chieftain having passed a decree making me an honorary citizen I had no need to leave. Indeed, I had inadvertently put down the deepest of all roots, Choo Mee having presented me with a delightful daughter. She had also announced that we might expect a son in a few months.

But I'm not one to live the idle life and, reluctant though I was to go, the cut and thrust of commerce called me home. I still referred to it as home, but really I feel that the Islands were now my main abode, and  I make frequent visits both to see my offspring and to slake my desires in Choo Mee's adept arms - for I find that capitalist bimbos can no longer satisfy me. 

When I announced my departure the Islands Council trumped me by conferring on me the Office of the Old Goat - which means I must at least return for every Festival, since it carries with it the requirement to perform the opening ceremony by publicly popping the cherry of my choice. Not that the honour really matters - I could have refused it - but I just couldn't pass up the privilege that goes with it of selecting any two maidens from that year's graduating class to exclusively satisfy my desires for the ensuing year. But more of them in the next chapter.